Alien Redemption [Clans of Kalquor 06]

by Tracy St. John

  The Matara’s naked torso had been skewered at the end of Emperor Mekyi’s uplifted blade.

  Her arms and legs draped over the First Clan’s necks like macabre stoles. The effect was hideous. A young, innocent woman, perhaps as sweet and gentle as Breft’s own Matara, had been made into a demented joke. The thought that Breft’s mate Amelia could have suffered such a fate made him want to shred the killer.

  He swallowed his rage. He had a job to do, women to keep safe. He forced himself to look the scene over carefully.

  “No blood.”

  Lidon nodded. “She was killed and cut apart elsewhere. Then the parts were washed clean.”

  “What’s that in her hand?” The square of paper Breft spied was tucked between two fingers that curled around Emperor Hartob’s jaw like a lover’s caress.

  “He left a note.”

  Well, that was new. Breft felt a surge of excitement. “Let’s have a look.”

  Lidon led him to a crate set next to the statue. Footprints showed others had already used it as a step. The figures of the statue were almost twice as tall as Breft. He stepped up and peered at the lettering on the note, careful to touch nothing so he wouldn’t contaminate the scene before Forensics had their way with it.

  Lidon quoted it as Breft read, probably for Raxstad’s benefit. “‘The Beast of New Bethlehem wakes and hunts its prey. The wages of war shall be paid.’”

  It felt wrong to be happy to have a message from the killer, what with his latest victim lying all over in pieces. Raxstad’s tone echoed Breft’s pleasure however, taking some of the guilt away. “A connection to the Slaughter of Innocents. And our first real clue as to the killer’s identity.”

  “So it would seem.” Breft thought about his next move. It only made sense that he immediately contact Emperor Bevau, Imperial Commander of the Kalquorian military. But the Slaughter of Innocents was a touchy subject. On the rebellious colony of New Bethlehem, more than two dozen of Earther women and children had been killed by a Kalquorian squad. The public was still unsure of how the horror had happened, and those who had been responsible were not known. There had been many accusations of a cover up, leveled not just at military leaders, but also the Imperial Clan itself.

  Breft was on very good terms with the Nobek Emperor. Raxstad was an actual close friend of Bevau’s. He wondered if asking pointed questions would jeopardize those relationships.

  Well, he would do his part to keep the link between the Matara murders and New Bethlehem quiet if it would solve his case. Breft stepped down from his perch and confronted his two officers. “Lidon, no one else is to see that note but Forensics. Everyone who does see it is under a gag order as to its contents until further notice.”

  Raxstad looked at the shield. Its effects were one-way, allowing the investigating officers to see the confused and excited crowd that waited for news. “The murders might come out as public knowledge now. If this Beast keeps leaving the bodies this way, we won’t be able to hide the fact we’ve got both a revolt and a serial killer on our hands.”

  Breft nodded. “Any report that the murders are related to New Bethlehem will only feed the frenzy. Even if we acknowledge the killings, that part must remain secret for now.”

  “Easier said than done,” Lidon opined. “My Dramok has told me there have been many covert attempts to find out who was directly responsible for the debacle there. People want someone to pay.”

  Breft frowned to hear that. Lidon’s clanmate, Admiral Dramok Tranis, would certainly know such things. The space fleet’s youngest admiral in history, Tranis had also been the captain of a spyship during the war. It had been his actions that had ended Earth’s aggressions, though not in the way anybody could have foreseen.

  Raxstad scowled as he eyed the scene carefully. “Could this be separate from the other killings? They’ve always been dumped in isolated areas, never been left out in public before.”

  Breft looked to Lidon, wanting his opinion on the matter. The scarred Nobek took a deep breath. “My vote is no. The mutilations have gotten progressively worse over time. The three victims before this one were also dismembered and washed.” He met Breft’s eyes. “He’s getting bolder. He’s showing off. Taunting us with her body and his letter. I have a feeling he will increase his rate of kills now.”

  Breft went cold all over. He’d dealt with some sick, depraved minds in his career, but he’d never had to track down a serial killer before. He actually worried he might be out of his depth with this case.

  The precinct commander snapped, “I want every square inch of this place gone over twice.

  No, make that three times.”

  Lidon nodded. He stared at the head of the poor Matara, and his eyes went dark with fury.

  “If there is the slightest speck of evidence, we’ll find it. Nothing will be missed.”

  Chapter 6

  Rachel, Erybet, and Sletran spent a couple of hours shopping and enjoyed a nice lunch in an open-air café. Although it had always been Rachel’s experience that men didn’t particularly care for clothes shopping with women, her escorts had been courteous, patient, and forthcoming with their opinions, especially when they liked a particular dress or outfit. Their compliments when she tried clothes on had even made her feel pretty from time to time. She found herself genuinely liking Conyod’s clanmates. It didn’t hurt that they looked so good too.

  The only real cloud over their morning had been hearing about a murdered Matara that had been found in the market’s main square. Erybet had gone especially pale at that news and had questioned several shopkeepers as to the woman’s identity. No one had a name to share with him. Rachel wondered if he feared it was the woman they had gone on that date with, the one who’d rejected them. She hoped not and felt terrible for wishing the little bit of jealous ill she had on the woman.

  Erybet and Sletran had kept her away from the central market. “Nothing there except dining, fresh produce, meats, and the like anyway,” Sletran said. “No clothing shops.”

  The layout of the market fascinated Rachel. It boggled the mind to know they were deep underground. The outer boundaries possessed the nighttime entertainment spots, with live theaters, restaurants, and clubs. Rachel couldn’t imagine the kinds of clubs Kalquorians frequented, unless they were like the sports bars back on Earth. She knew some races had places to dance with booming beats for swaying, sweating bodies. She’d seen vids from other worlds and thought it looked fun, if blatantly sexual in some cases.

  Earth had outlawed entertainments like dancing for being too lascivious. The one exception was ballet. Even that had been carefully controlled to keep participants from touching each other inappropriately.

  Rachel had a hard time imagining Kalquorians doing either ballet or the more energetic and sexual shaking that comprised some races’ forms of dancing. Somehow, the idea of two serious, muscled fellows like Erybet and Sletran boogying down to a throbbing beat just didn’t translate.

  Hunting wild animals with spears? Sure. Chopping down trees? Okay. Wrestling crocodiles or whatever the equivalent might be on Kalquor? Absolutely. Executing graceful pirouettes or shaking their butts in wild rhythmic abandon?

  Definitely not.

  As one journeyed further into the interior, the next two levels of the market were more restaurants, along with shops that offered clothing, furnishings, decorative items … everything.

  Rachel couldn’t wrap her head around all the goods one could buy. There hadn’t been much money for her family back on Earth. Even those in her neighborhood who had money found it hard to buy the staples sometimes. Stores often had bare shelves. In her town, it wasn’t unheard of for riots to break out over a shipment of sneakers.

  Kalquor was a shopper’s paradise. And yet, even in the midst of all this plenty, her companions had told her that the very best goods weren’t on their planet.

  “If you want the absolute best craftsmanship with furnishings, jewelry, or even building supplies, Joshada is the place to g
o,” Erybet said. “They construct everything by hand, and with such precision and skill you’d swear it had been rendered by machine.”

  “The Joshadans are exceedingly talented,” Sletran agreed. “I saved most of my first year’s pay just so I could replace all my military-issued blades with ones commissioned on that planet.

  They are the best weapons I’ve ever wielded, better than even my blaster.”

  It had been an instructive tour, and Rachel now had nine new outfits, four pairs of shoes, and even some makeup. The clan had vexed her plenty over those purchases.

  It started with the first store they visited. She’d argued with Erybet to let her pay for her own clothes. She’d chosen four outfits already when she discovered he’d instructed the proprietor to take payment from his account.

  She furiously typed, I’m not about to take advantage of you. What if you decide not to clan me?

  The Dramok exchanged a look with Sletran, looking as if he was fighting to not smile.

  “Very well, Matara. The funds have already changed hands on these clothes, but I will pay for no more. I only insist you let me buy mid-meal.”

  She’d grudgingly okayed that. At the next shop she kept an eye on Erybet to make sure he didn’t arrange to pay for anything, and he didn’t. He commed Conyod instead, discussing dinner plans, along with private matters to judge from the whispered part of the conversation Rachel couldn’t hear. While he did that, Rachel’s feet were measured for shoes. The Dramok helped her debate the merits of four pairs she really liked until she narrowed her choices, reluctantly, to two pairs. Then she discovered Sletran had given the shop his account information. She scowled at him.

  “You didn’t say I couldn’t buy you something,” he pointed out.

  I’m saying it now.

  “Very well.”

  Promise. Both of you.

  Looking terribly amused but not daring to laugh, the two men swore they wouldn’t pay for any more of her purchases. Then Rachel noticed the size of the package Sletran carried out of the shoemaker’s store. The darned Nobek had bought her all four pairs of shoes she’d wanted instead of just the two she’d picked out. Gratitude warred with pride.

  You are so lucky I can’t speak my language and I don’t know yours well enough, because you’d be getting an earful right now, she told him.

  “The expression on your face is more than enough to terrify me, lovely Ray-Ray,” Sletran answered, looking nowhere near frightened. “Words are not necessary.”

  “Let’s try that shop next,” Erybet said, pointing at one with holograms of pretty dresses and casual wear, sized just right for an Earther girl. “I hear the prices are quite reasonable.”

  Certain she would be able to pay her own way this time, Rachel was thrilled to discover the clothing in the store was not only well made but indeed affordable for her government-issued allowance. She picked out four everyday outfits, and then splurged on a gorgeous dress. She wanted to look as pretty as possible for the clan that she was determined would soon be hers.

  Though she had protested Erybet and Sletran’s generosity, she was secretly pleased they’d tricked her into letting them buy her gifts. It made her hopeful they really liked her, that they would accept her into their clan so she could spend her life with Conyod. Contemplating the two muscled bodies totally naked was a delight too. It made her warm to think of being in bed with them, until she thought of how she’d have to be naked too.

  After she’d finalized her choices, Erybet took an exaggerated step away from her, his expression pretending terror. “I’m sorry to tell you this, Ray-Ray…”

  She narrowed her eyes at him. If they’d paid for this round of shopping after promising otherwise, she’d cuss them long and proper, even if it meant typing until her fingers fell off.

  “Conyod called ahead and gave them his account information. He’s paying for these.”

  Rachel’s mouth dropped open. She thought, What? But how had he known they’d be here?

  Well, it had been Erybet’s suggestion they go to this shop. And he’d had a private conversation with Conyod while she was fitted for shoes. She’d been had. Jerks.

  She threw her hands up in the air. I give up. What a bunch of macho creeps they were.

  Wonderful, macho creeps. She really did like them more by the moment.

  When Rachel next wanted to go into the shop run by an Earther woman that sold creams and makeup, Sletran looked askance. “You don’t need any of that, Ray-Ray. You’re beautiful without it.”

  Erybet snorted. “He’s right. I like you without your face painted. I hope you’re not one of those who wears so much it looks like a mask.”

  Sletran added, “Or drowns herself in perfumes.”

  Rachel stuck her tongue out at them and sashayed into the shop. The two men did not follow her in. She spent half an hour carefully choosing what she wanted and walked out with a silk carry bag bulging with her purchases. She almost laughed out loud at how dubious Erybet and Sletran looked. She decided not to tell them the bag was filled with mostly skin creams and scented shampoos, not that she had much hair to use them on. She’d never been one for much makeup either. She’d picked out a mascara the helpful owner had promised would enhance her short eyelashes and a softly tinted lipstick that could double for a blush if she wanted a little extra color.

  What she told the men was, It’s a girl thing. You’ll learn to love it.

  Erybet sighed. “You really don’t need it, my beauty.”

  She warmed to hear his words. His beauty. As if they already belonged together. Still, her stomach knotted nervously as she thought of her hidden scars, the damage he hadn’t yet seen.

  Rachel thought, We’ll find out what you think of my ‘beauty’ when you see the whole show.

  After a relaxed lunch, the trio decided to go to the clan’s home to wait for Conyod to finish work for the day. They left Rachel’s new wardrobe in the shuttle except for the splurge-y dress, a new pair of shoes (one of the pairs she’d rejected because while gorgeous, they were also impractical), and her makeup bag. Erybet carried these things in for her on the chance they would eat somewhere nice that night. No one had been able to decide what to do for the evening meal.

  Rachel looked over the home’s greeting room, noting with approval that while the furnishings were certainly nice, they weren’t overdone. She would be uncomfortable with opulence, she realized. It wasn’t a world she knew much about.

  What caught her attention almost immediately were the three framed drawings hanging on one wall. Not vid art, but actual hand-done work. She went close for a better look at the individual portraits of the clan, noting how Erybet’s face flushed at her interest.

  “Good, aren’t they?” Sletran said, his voice filled with pride. “My Dramok is quite talented.”

  Erybet shrugged and laid Rachel’s belongings carefully on the lounge seating. “They’re just sketches, really. I don’t know why Conyod insisted on putting them out.”

  Rachel stared, noting that the pictures must have been drawn before the war. The three men so skillfully depicted had none of the haunted expressions that underlaid even the happiest moments she’d seen them enjoy. There was a hopefulness to Conyod, confidence in Erybet, and strength in Sletran that had been eroded in the present versions. More than ever she felt a kinship with the clan.

  On her handheld she typed, Don’t be so modest, Erybet. These are wonderful. I couldn’t draw a straight line with a ruler.

  Sletran read her message too. “What interests or hobbies to you have, Ray-Ray? Besides starting revolutions, that is.”

  Rachel thought hard about the question. To answer him honestly, she would have to expose some hurts. They weren’t physically present but had left scars nonetheless.

  She told herself , No secrets from these guys, Ray-Ray, not if you plan to spend your life with them.

  Taking a steadying breath, she began the painful baring of her soul. When I was very young, I liked to sing and play the
church’s piano. My parents scraped up enough money for a few lessons. I thought I might be a musician some day, but then my dad got sick.

  Erybet’s voice was soft. “Your father is dead? From Armageddon?”

  He worked in a factory where dangerous chemicals were used, and the ventilation wasn’t very good. It cost a lot of money to go to the doctor. By the time we knew his lungs were damaged, it was too late.

  Rachel swallowed hard. Daddy had been gone for a long time now, having died when she was only eleven. It still hurt like a bitch.

  Two tight bands circled her; one around her waist and the other her shoulders. She blinked.

  Both men had put their arms around her. Their bodies crowded close to hers as they sought to comfort her. She wrapped their strength and concern around her like a security blanket.

  Erybet said, “I am so sorry you had to suffer such a loss, little one.”

  After a moment’s hesitation, Sletran asked, “Your mother?”

  Something went cold in Rachel at his question. Yes, she had loved Mama dearly, but that love was tinged with anger as well. Rachel had been forced to be strong for the both of them.

  She told the men , She fell apart after my father’s death. I quit school as soon as I turned 16

  and got a courier job to support us. She died a couple years later, I think of a broken heart more than anything else.

  “So you were unable to pursue your interest in singing and playing.”

  Between plotting the overthrow of the government and scratching out a living, the music fell to the wayside. I guess Conyod didn’t explain to you you’d be courting an uneducated, untalented, unskilled woman.

  While they read that, she let her head hang down. Until this moment, she hadn’t thought about her interrupted education or how she didn’t have much to offer anyone beyond maybe shoving out a few kids. Ugly, unbalanced, and stupid to boot. They’d never clan someone like her. It was a miracle Conyod had given her more than a passing thought.

  Disappointment hit hard. Erybet and Sletran couldn’t possibly want her. Not as a clanmate.