Alien Redemption [Clans of Kalquor 06]

by Tracy St. John

  Taking advantage of Sletran’s growing calm, Erybet seized the opportunity to next share that Rachel knew all about New Bethlehem. Sletran turned away, but Rachel made him look at her. She didn’t write him a message, letting a passionate kiss tell the Nobek she still had faith in him.

  Once he was smiling at her again, she gave him and Conyod her opinion of the slaughter’s cause. Her assertion that someone else had purposely set the group up had some merit in Conyod’s view, but Erybet and Sletran quickly dismissed that notion.

  What about your informants? They were Earther, weren’t they? Maybe they were with the rebels, she typed.

  “The information would have been checked by the appropriate people,” Sletran insisted. He was relieved enough knowing Rachel believed in him that he spoke of the nightmare with ease.

  Conyod relaxed a little at the sight, but he knew Sletran was still struggling.

  Despite all the revelations, the rest of the day passed with lazy abandon. The clan indulged themselves with lovemaking, naps, soaking in the balcony’s whirlpool, and Rachel giving Sletran a lesson in how to make baked ravioli for dinner. They watched a vid of an orchestra playing an underwater concert on the oceanic world of Alneusia. Everything seemed perfect with the clan, but for the distant look Sletran occasionally got in his eyes. Conyod was convinced that the Nobek might very well have one of his spells.

  They went to bed late that night. Rachel fell asleep almost immediately, her back to Conyod so he could spoon her, her face pressed against Erybet’s chest. Knowing Sletran would not sleep until he thought the rest of the clan was safely slumbering, Conyod closed his eyes and concentrated on breathing deeply. He sensed Erybet do the same.

  Sletran’s chest rose and fell rhythmically against Conyod’s upper back. His arm was heavy against the Imdiko’s ribs where it crossed over to touch Rachel. The muscled thickness of the Nobek’s thigh slung over his. Time passed. No one moved. Conyod knew Sletran was tuned to feeling the least little shift from the rest of them, that he would be wide awake in an instant to determine everyone was all right. Wanting to move wasn’t a problem though; Conyod was comfortable. Too comfortable. He felt warm with his beloved Matara resting against his front and the safe weight of his Nobek against his back. Their even breaths soothed him. His mind began to drift after the first hour, reaching for sleep.

  A hand squeezed his shoulder. Conyod’s eyes flew open to see the Dramok looking at him over Rachel’s head. Coolness and a sense of loss alerted Conyod. Sletran no longer lay behind him. The welcome weight of the arm and leg that had been slung over him were gone.Warned by Erybet’s continued silence and gaze pointed elsewhere, Conyod slowly turned his head.

  Sletran sat on the edge of the bed, staring into space.

  Conyod whispered, “Sletran? Are you awake?”

  Despite his sharp hearing, the Nobek seemed to not hear him. He didn’t twitch. He simply sat and stared at nothing.

  Conyod looked at Erybet. “Be ready to follow if he goes,” the Dramok said.

  As if he’d been given a signal, Sletran stood. Moving carefully so as to not disturb Rachel, Conyod and Erybet slid out of the bed. When Sletran went to the closet and grabbed a black formsuit, his eyes still blank, the other two did the same. Dressed in the dark bodysuits with their traction boots on, Conyod realized they would all be nearly invisible in the night, with only the lighter colored flesh of their faces and hands easy to spy. With the weather so warm, putting on the long-sleeved neck-to-ankle garments suggested subterfuge. Whatever part of Sletran’s mind was operating, it did not want him to be seen.

  Sletran headed for the door, and Erybet followed on his heels. Conyod paused to look worriedly at Rachel, sleeping all alone in the great bed. Noting his concern, Erybet whispered,

  “The security system is armed. She will be all right. We need to hurry or he’ll get away.”

  Conyod nodded. He and Erybet rushed after their Nobek.

  Sletran got into the cliff’s transport, and they slipped in with him. His voice wooden and unfeeling, the Nobek said, “Exit, beach.” The door closed and Conyod felt the conveyance move.

  Seconds later, the transport door opened. The sounds of waves crashing onto the sand boomed into Conyod’s ear. Sletran stepped out onto the patio. There was a blur of movement, and he was gone.

  Conyod raced out, looking frantically into the moonless night. He didn’t see Sletran anywhere. “Damn!”

  Erybet pointed at the ground. The bit of starlight coming from the sky was enough for Conyod’s sensitive eyes to pick up traction-soled divots leading to the north. “We can follow his prints. Quickly, my Imdiko. We don’t want him to get too far ahead.”

  Conyod knew Erybet would be far better at tracking than he, so he followed his Dramok down the beach. The steps ran in a nearly straight line, keeping close to the cliff face. It was late enough that few if any marked their passage. Most windows from the cliff homes were dark, and shuttle traffic overhead was light. With the growl of the tide, they made no sound he could hear.

  They ran perhaps a mile before the tracks veered closer to the cliffs. Realizing they were nearing the opening in the rockface that led to the underground marketplace, Conyod ran faster to keep abreast of Erybet.

  What could Sletran possibly want in the market area? Only the clubs would be open at this time of night.

  They reached the entrance, right where Sletran’s footprints led. The men slowed.

  The route to the marketplace was dug straight through the rock, a well-lit tunnel for foot traffic to pass through. It was wide enough to allow emergency shuttles as well, the only vehicles allowed in the enclosed underground area. The path was definitely firmer beneath Conyod’s boots, allowing him to walk faster. The bad part was the smooth rock showed no footprints for them to follow. If they could move more quickly, then so could Sletran.

  “There he is,” Erybet said at the same moment Conyod sighted the lone figure up ahead.

  Having gained the tunnel, Sletran had slowed, walking in a casual manner. He might have been any late night partier, going to the market to seek a little fun in one of the clubs.

  Conyod sighed. “Thank goodness. I was afraid we’d lose him.”

  “We still could if he gets to the marketplace too far ahead of us. Let’s get as close as we can, but try not to alert him.”

  Conyod frowned. “He didn’t even realize we were with him before.”

  “No, but he’s playing casual now, trying to not draw attention to himself. His senses are on alert, and for all we know, he may not recognize us in the state he’s in. If we seem to be tracking him, it could make him run again. Or turn and fight.”

  Conyod’s frown deepened. He didn’t believe for one second that Sletran would try to hurt his clanmates. But he obeyed his Dramok, jogging lightly and almost soundlessly after Sletran.

  They were only a few yards back when Sletran reached the end of the tunnel, stepping from its well-lit environs to the night façade of the underground area. Seeing the Nobek turn away from the path that led to the market area had Conyod gaping in confusion.

  “He turned right. That means he’s going to the dwelling area,” he whispered to Erybet.

  “Why would he go that way, and at this hour? It’s too late to visit people. We don’t know anyone who lives over there, do we?”

  Erybet didn’t answer. His grim face was set as he pursued Sletran who had sped up again.

  Conyod was too busy trying to keep up to ask anything else.

  The path was more of the smooth rock that had once made up the cliffs and the mines of the area. On either side of it were trees, small wooded areas. With the ceiling vid showing the star-blanketed night sky overhead, Conyod could almost believe he was actually outdoors rather than underground. Even the air smelled earthy, with the fragrance of the newly leafing trees adding to the illusion.

  Conyod knew the trail ended about a mile up, turning into homes cut right out of the rock.

  Beyond those was
the unclanned Earther Matara complex, where they had moved Rachel in and moved her right back out only days later.

  Up ahead, Sletran’s trotting figure blurred and disappeared. Conyod halted and threw his hands up in frustration.

  “Not again! He’s left no footprints this time, not on the stone ground!”

  Erybet also stopped and turned to him. “I think I know where he’s headed, but we’ll have to hurry. Keep up with me.”

  He took off running, though not nearly as fast as Sletran had. Conyod raced after him, wondering where they would end up.

  He found out minutes later when Erybet led him to the Matara complex. There was a shimmering defensive wall around it, which Conyod hadn’t seen on his previous visits. Is this where Sletran had come? Why? Did it have something to do with the killings?

  “You cannot let your loyalty blind you to the possibility that I have lost all control.”

  Sletran’s words from earlier that day spoke in his head. Conyod grimly shoved the words away. His Nobek would never knowingly kill innocents.

  But did Sletran know what he was doing right now?

  They skirted the shielded area, and Conyod searched the darkness for a sign of his clanmate.

  They’d only gone perhaps two dozen steps when lights came up all around, blinding him. He and Erybet froze.

  “Halt! Show me your hands!”

  Silhouettes moved between them and the lights, and Conyod blinked past the glare to see he and Erybet were surrounded by half a dozen Nobeks, all with blades drawn. Erybet slowly, carefully brought his hands out to from his sides, the fingers splayed wide to show he carried no weapons. Conyod did the same.

  “Do not move,” a voice growled in his ear. Rough hands ran all over his body, searching him thoroughly. Two other men were doing the same to his Dramok. Moments later, the guards stepped back.

  “They’re clear, sir.”

  A bearded Nobek, scowling ferociously, faced Erybet. He wasn’t as tall as Conyod’s Dramok, but the man was bulky with muscles that looked perfect for hurting people. “What is your business here? This is a Class 8 secured facility. Visitors are only permitted through the main gate and only during the daylight hours.”

  Erybet’s voice was steady, as if he didn’t have all those shiny blades and scary Nobeks with percussion blasters holstered at their hips surrounding him. “My Nobek sleepwalks. We followed him here.”

  The guard’s eyes widened. He seemed undecided as to whether to be confused or even more pissed off. “Is this a joke, Dramok…?”

  “Erybet.” He inclined his head only slightly in Conyod’s direction. “My Imdiko, Conyod.”

  When the guard’s gaze flicked towards him, Conyod dared to speak up. “It’s not a joke, sir.

  I’m a psychologist on staff at the hospital. My Nobek is a trauma case from the war. He wanders off with no memory of where he’s been. We’re only trying to help him.”

  The head guard regarded him for a moment with narrowed eyes, but some of the threat seemed to ease from his attitude. He looked over to the guard standing next to him, one of the men who’d searched Erybet. “Check their credentials.” To another he ordered, “Inform the chief we may have a Nobek wandering the grounds. Put the site on high alert.”

  As the guards muttered orders to their handhelds, the head guard told Erybet and Conyod,

  “You can put your hands down, but stay exactly where you are. You bolt, we’ll cut first and ask questions later.”

  “We’re not going anywhere.” Erybet’s head hung down. He looked defeated.

  For his part, Conyod chafed under the delay, worried about Sletran. Afraid that when the guards found his Nobek they’d do something that would hurt him. He continued to look around, trying to peer past the lights that made the night blaze.

  “Credentials confirmed,” reported the guard tasked with checking their identification.

  “Erybet, decorated company commander with military ground forces, currently on administrative leave. Commendation from the Imperial Commander himself. Conyod, psychological doctor working at the local hospital. Their Nobek is Sletran, decorated group commander with military ground forces, also currently on administrative leave. Also received an Imperial commendation.

  No record of arrests or incarcerations on any of them. They recently clanned one of our lottery Mataras, a Rachel Hicks. All information is on file here. And Commander Tudlu, you’d better have a look at this.”

  He showed Tudlu something on his handheld, something that widened the Nobek’s eyes.

  He stared at Erybet and opened his mouth to say something. Before he could speak, something on the head guard’s belt beeped. He pulled a com plug from the strap and put it in his ear.

  “Tudlu here. Yes. He’s where? Okay. He’s a war trauma case; don’t approach. We’ll bring his clanmates to him.” He listened and said, “The man is a highly decorated vet. Imperial ordered untouchable. You can contain but not attack. Just stay back until we get there.” To Erybet and Conyod, the guard said, “Your Nobek has been located. Come with me.”

  The six guards surrounded them. Erybet and Conyod followed Tudlu, escorted by the entire group. Conyod’s heart thumped fast. Judging from the half a conversation he’d heard, they hadn’t tried to take Sletran prisoner. Maybe they could get out of this in one piece after all.

  The complex to his left had been mostly hidden by a sharp rise in the landscape. As they walked, they reached an area where the ground flattened out, making the buildings and grounds easy to see. Conyod could even spy the lovely center courtyard between two of the living structures. He didn’t have much time to think about that because their group was joining another one of six Nobek security personnel. That detail faced away from the compound, looking into a stand of trees and bushes only a few yards away.

  The commander from that group stepped over to confer with Tudlu. “He’s just outside the perimeter, next to that rock. I damned near tripped over him. He’s sitting there, still as a statue, and not responding to anything we say.”

  Tudlu jerked his head at Erybet and Conyod. “Let’s go. The rest of you, surround the Nobek but do not threaten or engage with him.”

  The guards slid away, taking up positions around a large, decorative stone, big enough to come up to Conyod’s chest. The Imdiko saw his clanmate crouched in the rock’s shadow, staring towards the complex. Sletran looked both blank and alert all at once. It was a bizarre expression, one Conyod had never seen him wear before.

  He started towards him, moving between Erybet and Tudlu. “Sletran?”

  Tudlu’s thick arm, as strong and unyielding as a metal beam, swung out to block him, touching Conyod’s chest. Erybet stared at Tudlu and growled.

  The security guard kept his arm up, holding Conyod back. His tone was diplomatic, however. “Your pardon for my restraining your clanmate, Dramok, but if your Nobek wakes we don’t know what state of mind he’ll be in. I only wish to protect the Imdiko.”

  Conyod shoved against the unmoving barrier. “He would never hurt me.”

  Tudlu shook his head. “Probably not, but many men were changed by the war. My brother was one. He suffered a flashback and injured his Imdiko, something none of us thought he was capable of. I must insist you keep your distance until we know Sletran is safe for you to approach.”

  Erybet sounded tired. “He’s right, Conyod. Talk to Sletran from where you are.”

  Conyod stared at his Dramok in shock. The situation was ludicrous. Erybet knew Sletran would never harm him. But the look on Erybet’s face was firm, and Tudlu’s expression was even more uncompromising. They weren’t going to let him near his Nobek.

  Conyod gave in with bad grace. “Fine. I’ll wake him from here if I can.” He gave Tudlu a hot glare, curling his lip back to show a fang. “Stop touching me.”

  Tudlu lowered his arm. “I meant no insult, Imdiko.”

  Conyod turned away, centering his attention on the still motionless Sletran. “Sletran. My Nobek, wake up.”


  No response. Sletran stared at the compound like Conyod wasn’t even there.

  Conyod tried insults. “Damn it, wake up you crack-skulled Nobek! Do you know what an idiot you look like? Wake up!”

  Nothing. Conyod didn’t need anyone to tell him that eventually security was going to get tired of waiting. They’d take matters into their own hands, and Sletran could get hurt if his self-preservation snapped out of whatever hypnosis he was under.

  Then again, Sletran’s self-preservation looked pretty much out of whack, considering he was surrounded by a dozen knife-wielding Nobeks and remained unaware of it.

  That gave Conyod an idea. He warned the others, “Sletran’s going to want to protect me if this works. Stand back.”

  Before anyone could stop him, he let some of his panic feed into his voice and called,

  “Sletran, it’s Conyod. Help me, my Nobek!”

  Conyod saw an instant of wild desperation on Sletran’s face. The next instant Tudlu whirled away, hit hard by Sletran. Conyod didn’t get to see anything else before he was shoved down on the ground. He looked up to see Sletran standing over him in a defensive posture. The Nobek pushed Erybet behind them and twisted this way and that, keeping the security guards in sight.

  His growl was thunderous as he showed his fangs.

  Conyod felt relief that the Nobek was finally awake, but the guards were closing in and they obviously meant business. “Put your knives away!” he yelled. “It’s okay, Sletran. Stand down.

  No one is threatening me.”

  “No? Then why are they holding blades? Why did you yell?”

  Erybet said, “You were sleepwalking again, and we couldn’t wake you up. You wandered into their territory, Sletran. You are trespassing.”

  “We’re at fault here, not them. Stand down, damn it.” Conyod pushed at Sletran’s legs, making the now confused Nobek get out of the way so he could climb to his feet. His knees felt bruised.

  Sletran was finally easing, his fangs folding back. He jerked in a graceless circle, looking all around. “Where – where are we? The Matara complex?” Horror filled his face. “By the ancestors, why am I here?”