Alien Redemption [Clans of Kalquor 06]

by Tracy St. John

  It was hopeless. She was going to die just as life had such promise.

  On top of it all, she hurt. Her throat was still sore from Akrij choking her. Her face throbbed from the slaps he’d dealt. The hip she lay on ached. A small, hard lump beneath it felt like it was bruising her. She must have something in her pocket—

  Her eyes went wide. She had Sletran’s com and knife! But could she get to them and use either?

  Rachel wriggled, rolling slightly forward off the lump and twisting her hands to get at it.

  Her fingertips found the opening to the pocket and slipped in.

  Akrij growled. “You will remain still.”

  She wondered, Or what? You’ll kill me? Isn’t that the plan anyway, you crazy shit?

  She continued to move, discovering the com was no longer in her pocket. It must have fallen out during all the ruckus. Her fingertips found the small knife, however, and curled the handle into her palm. The blade was cold against her flesh.

  “I said, be still or I will set down now and make you scream!”

  Rachel froze, her eyes rolling up to look at her captor. His fangs were out, and a snarl fit to turn men to stone twisted his face as he glared down at her. She held absolutely still under that rabid stare, convinced he would reach down at any moment and snap her neck.

  The brutal expression slowly eased until Akrij looked similar to a normal person again. He shook his head at her, as if to relay deep disappointment. “Erybet and Sletran are important to me. They are blind enough to care for you. For that reason, I plan to not dismember you until after a quick, merciful death. But if you insist on defying me, you will die like the rest. Slowly.

  Painfully. You will pay for your treachery as they did.”

  He looked forward at the vid relaying his flight plan. His eyes glazed over for a moment.

  “So many to avenge. So many to atone for.”

  Pain replaced his savage expression, and he looked down at her once more. “Why do you hate us? Your Armageddon was an accident. We would have given you everything in reparation. And my men had nothing to do with it! They were good soldiers. The best. You had no right!”

  He was getting amped up again, and Rachel thought she would indeed die lying right here soon if he didn’t calm down. She lowered her eyes, afraid her stare would only feed Akrij’s madness. After a few endless seconds of silence, she sensed him looking away, returning his attention to the shuttle’s controls.

  She gave him a few moments to become as engrossed in piloting as he could. It was difficult when every instinct screamed at her to get moving, to do something. But she prevailed and at last judged the time was right. Keeping her movements as slight as possible, Rachel set the knife to the flex cord trapping her wrists and began sawing at it.

  She was still working to cut the bindings when Akrij landed the shuttle. As he stood, Rachel set the knife inside her palm and against the inner part of her arm, praying he wouldn’t notice it.

  Akrij looked down at her, his eyes empty. “All over soon,” he whispered.

  He yanked her up, sending pain sizzling down Rachel’s arm. She couldn’t help the groan, and she nearly dropped the knife. Grimly she hung on as he slung her over one shoulder and walked out of the shuttle.

  Rachel looked around her surroundings as he carried her, and her eyes widened. Those nearby mountains … the high grasses of the plains … Akrij had brought her near Conyod’s childhood home. Her head whipped around frantically as she tried to get her bearings. Yes, she was sure she recognized that slight rise in the distance to her right. If she was right, Conyod’s stables were on the other side of it.

  Rachel’s heart raced with hope. If she could just get away from Akrij, she might find help at Conyod’s stables or his parents’ house. But where the hell was the Nobek taking her?

  She rose up over his shoulder and twisted hard to see where he was headed. A derelict stable, the same round shape as she’d seen before with troughs surrounding it, loomed just ahead.

  Akrij took her into its dim environs, lit only by large cracks in the walls and roof.

  This is where he planned to kill her. With his shuttle parked where it was, no one would notice it unless they were on the mountains. The distance between this place and Conyod’s stable meant no one would hear her screams, especially with the gag muffling her. She was running out of time, but if she started cutting at the cord around her wrists again, Akrij would definitely notice.

  He carried her up to a wall that marked off an enclosure big enough for one kestarsh and dropped her onto the ground. The Nobek looked her over, the blankness waning to be replaced by that mad hatred again.

  “How your kind can be so beautiful but so monstrous—” He broke off, shaking his head as if the puzzle in his sick mind was too much to unravel. He turned and walked to the opposite wall to rummage in a bin.

  Rachel sawed frantically at the cord while she looked around, searching for anything that might help her. Her gaze fell on a pile of fabric only three feet away. Clothes. Bloody clothes, ripped and torn and buzzing with insects Rachel thought might be the Kalquorian equivalent of flies. She continued to cut at her binding, but she couldn’t take her eyes off that heap of dresses, skirts, and blouses. How many had he killed?

  Akrij turned from the bin, the biggest knife she’d ever seen in his hands. The curved blade shined bright in the gloom. “Usually I’m better prepared than I was this morning,” he said, sounding almost conversational. “But when the emperor called me with the unexpected news, I had to hurry.”

  The way his emotions changed from one instant to the next kept Rachel on edge. He could lose control at any moment and kill her in a sudden burst of fury. She had to be ready. Her every move against the Nobek had to count.

  Marcus’ remembered voice whispered in her mind, and Rachel could suddenly see him, smiling with that devilish sweetness that only he could portray. “If you’ve got to fight, remember the best parts that will take a man down, Ray-Ray. Eyes, knees, or—” He winked at her.

  A flood of grief swept through her. Marcus was gone. So many more were dead, including the victims of the maniac stalking towards her. She would die too, within moments.

  The knife went through the last fiber of the flex cord. Her hands were free, but Akrij was standing over her now, filling her wide-eyed vision. And the knife in his hand that looked every bit as long as her entire arm was ready to send her on her way.

  He nodded and smiled. “The knife is sharp, Earther. You’ll never feel it when it slices your throat. A quick, painless death. More than you deserve.” He reached down, grabbed her hair, and used it to pull her up to her knees.

  Rachel didn’t think. She buried Sletran’s small blade in Akrij’s groin, pulled it out, and stabbed him again. He stared at her in surprise. Then he shrieked, a high-pitched sound that drilled through her skull. He fell, dropping his knife and grabbing at the knife protruding from his bleeding crotch.

  Rachel rolled to one side, grabbing at Akrij’s huge blade. It was sharp all right, parting the flex cord binding her ankles in one swipe and nicking her leg for good measure. She didn’t feel it. She was too busy lurching to her feet and heading towards the open door.

  Rachel burst into the sunlight and ran for her life.

  Snatching the gag from her mouth so that the loop of cloth fell to her collarbone, Rachel ran with all the speed she could muster. Getting rid of the gag allowed the air to fill her lungs all the better, to feed oxygen to her thundering heart. Her slippered feet pounded the ground as she flew towards that faraway rise on the plain. The tall, perfumed grass whispered ‘hurry, hurry’ against her as she made her legs go faster than they’d ever moved before.

  The roar of what might have been an ancient and horrific monster of legend interrupted the sweet singing of the lizard-like drils hiding in the grasses. Rachel jerked a quick glance over her shoulder and wished she hadn’t. Hunched over and staggering, Akrij was coming after her.

  Despite his injury
and shambling gait, the Nobek was still moving fast and gaining.

  The fucking bastard was catching up to her.

  Rachel no longer had his knife in her hand. She didn’t remember dropping it, but it was definitely gone. The rise and Conyod’s stables beyond it with hoped-for help were too far in the distance. She had no hope of getting away. Akrij was going to catch her and then he was going to kill her.

  She ran anyway, because she had to. She ran and ran, hearing his thudding footsteps pounding closer, his pained gasps and growls slipping ever nearer. He almost had her.

  The glint of metal in the sky ahead, the telltale humming approach of a shuttle … no, two shuttles … made Rachel change her course. They were zeroing in on her and she ran for them as fast as she could despite knowing it was too late. The cavalry had arrived, but the damsel in distress was already as good as dead. She kept running.

  The Nobek’s snarl was right behind her. A blow landed between her shoulder blades, knocking her to the ground. Then his tremendous weight landed on her back, and his fingers circled her throat.

  “I will not let you destroy more lives!” Akrij bellowed.

  He squeezed, choking her, taking her breath. Her lungs screamed for air. Rachel clawed at his hands instinctively, though she’d already resigned herself to the end. She only hoped it came quickly.

  Darkness rimmed her vision of the high grasses in front of her. Spots exploded before her eyes. The hum of shuttles overhead and a strange buzzing sound filled her ears. Then the blackness descended, finishing it, making it all go away. Rachel fell into the abyss. It was a relief to not have to fight anymore.

  * * * *

  The emperors’ shuttle had barely landed when Erybet slapped the latch release and hurtled out. Breft and his Global Security officers were already surrounding Rachel and Akrij’s still bodies, rolling the demented Nobek off Erybet’s Matara. Rachel lay facedown, her tiny body splayed across the crushed grass. A sound that was a half scream of despair, half roar of fury, burst from Erybet’s chest as he closed in on them.

  Bevau’s shout behind him warned Erybet the Nobek Emperor was hot on his heels.

  “Erybet! Halt!”

  The command only spurred Erybet to run faster. He would kill Akrij for hurting Rachel. He no longer cared why his commander had done the terrible things he’d done. Explanations didn’t matter anymore. The bastard would die.

  Raxstad’s body appeared right in front of him. Unable to stop or swerve, Erybet crashed right into the hugely muscled officer. Raxstad wrapped him up in a bearhug, pinning his arms to his sides. Bevau pressed in from behind, holding Erybet utterly helpless. He screamed and kicked at the pair.

  Raxstad shouted in his ear. “Your Matara is alive, Dramok! She will be fine. We hit them with a shockwave. Emergency medical is on its way to tend her.”

  His words penetrated, and Erybet strained to look over his shoulder at his fallen mate. “She lives?” He wanted to believe that. But she was so still.

  Lidon had been kneeling next to her. He got to his feet and joined the men holding Erybet.

  “She is very much alive. Her throat is bruised, but I don’t think he managed to do permanent damage.”

  Erybet sagged in Raxstad and Bevau’s grip, the relief making his knees unhinge for a moment. He recovered and straightened. “I need to see her.”

  Raxstad nodded to the emperor, and they let Erybet loose. “Go to her. She won’t wake, but you can hold her for now.”

  He stepped aside, and Erybet stumbled to his Matara. He knelt on the ground next to her and lifted her to his chest. Her eyes remained closed and her throat was already showing signs of bruising, but she breathed. Erybet let her exhale waft over his face. He kissed her slightly parted lips, exchanging breaths with her.

  In that instant, he had no doubt at all that he loved this woman. The knowledge was huge, threatening to crush him under its weight. Rachel was his mate. His beloved. And he’d nearly lost her. Had nearly lost them all. First Sletran to madness, and then Conyod, who he’d received word was expected to make a complete recovery despite a skull fracture.

  Behind him, Kivokan’s hated voice rose. “My Nobek is injured. Let me go to him!”

  Lips wrinkling back from his fangs, Erybet gently lowered Rachel to the ground and stood.

  Kivokan, still cuffed, had somehow been allowed to get off the Global Security shuttle and now stood at the unconscious Akrij’s feet. A small part of Erybet’s brain registered that his former commander was indeed bleeding and from a very sensitive area. Rachel had fought him, had made the strongest Nobek Erybet had ever known bleed. A flicker of pride came and went.

  Erybet was too angry to enjoy his beloved’s strength.

  Breft snarled at Kivokan. “Your Nobek will do more bleeding than this in the end. A small bit of the retribution owed to him.”

  The Dramok screamed, “It’s not his fault! His mind broke from all he saw in the war. He’s mentally incompetent!”

  Clajak stood next to Bevau, shaking all over. “And you knew it all along. Yet you let him kill over and over again.”

  “I was fixing him. I still can.”

  “Like you did your Imdiko?”

  “I’m still in the early stages of his rehabilitation. Restoring his functionality following the therapeutic mind cleansing—”

  Lidon was in his face the next moment. White showed all around his eyes. “You fucking mindwiped him? Breft, no mention of any major medical procedure for Trusec was in his files.”

  Breft’s voice was deadly. “Kivokan, did you give your Imdiko an unauthorized mindwipe?”

  Kivokan snapped his mouth shut. He shrank from the threatening Nobeks that loomed all around him.

  “Explain this now, Kivokan, or I will tear your heart out of your chest this very instant,”

  Bevau growled.

  “And not one of us will stop him,” Breft added.

  “I had no choice,” Kivokan said. “He came to find the best location for the home we were going to build. When he found Akrij’s shuttle here, he went in the stables and found—”

  Kivokan stopped. He sagged to the ground at his insensible Nobek’s feet. “I had to do it.

  Trusec went insane from the shock. He couldn’t handle what Akrij had done.”

  “You stupid fuck,” Clajak snarled. “You stupid, sick fuck. You wiped your own Imdiko’s identity right out of his head!”

  “He was already gone!” Kivokan shouted back. “Akrij wept over it. He actually wept with regret and talked about killing himself. That’s when I knew my Nobek wasn’t lost. He still felt remorse, and that told me I could get him back. It’s just there was so much damage from New Bethlehem.”

  No one said a word. Everyone, Erybet included, simply stared in shock at Kivokan, not believing the horror of the story.

  Kivokan looked at each of them in turn, his eyes finally lighting on Erybet. “You know what Akrij went through! You were there with him!”

  Erybet’s fists clenched. “But I didn’t intentionally kill innocent women. Neither did Sletran. Akrij destroyed lives. He damned near destroyed my Nobek … my entire clan! And you let him do it!”

  Clajak nodded. “If anyone deserves execution more than Akrij, it’s you, Kivokan.”

  Kivokan’s eyes widened. “You can’t execute my Nobek! He’s as much a victim as anyone else. You can’t—”

  Erybet couldn’t listen to anymore. He darted forward, passing the Nobek officers with ease.

  Later, he would decide they had let him through, to gain some small measure of the abuse they all wanted to heap on Kivokan.

  At that moment, he didn’t pause to wonder how he’d gotten through elite fighters.

  Kivokan’s face, still puffy from the slaps Breft had dealt earlier at the headquarters, smashed beautifully beneath Erybet’s fist. The Dramok managed three hard punches before Kivokan dropped. Before Erybet could do anymore, Breft and Raxstad yanked him away.

  Breft’s tone was as comforting as
when he’d spoken to the unfortunate Trusec. “That’s all the damage I can allow you, Dramok. I’m sorry. I know he deserves so much more.”

  Bevau called, “If it will help, your clan will have a front row seat for his and Akrij’s executions. I guarantee it.”

  Erybet stared at Kivokan’s broken face, blood streaming, a number of his teeth now broken.

  He stood there, feeling all the blame he’d heaped upon himself for New Bethlehem, for Sletran’s emotional agony, for Conyod’s estrangement and injuries, and for Rachel nearly dying at the hands of his former commander, a man he had trusted above all others. And while he would have welcomed the opportunity to continue beating Kivokan and Akrij until they both died, he also knew it would never be enough to make up for the losses.

  Erybet staggered back to stand next to Rachel’s still senseless body. He looked down at her, at the bruises she bore. His head fell back and he screamed his grief and outrage to the blameless blue sky overhead, a long howl of unspeakable pain.

  Erybet fell to his knees and gathered Rachel in his arms to hold her close. Over her head, he stared at the moaning Kivokan and unconscious Akrij as officers dragged them to the shuttle.

  His voice grating with emotion too great to fully express, Erybet said, “You gurlucks almost took everything from me, the people I love best. You could be tortured for thousands of years, suffer millions of deaths, and you will never know enough pain, Kivokan. Never.”

  Erybet pulled Rachel closer still. He buried his face between the softness of her breasts, like a small boy seeking comfort in the shelter of his mother. It was an appropriate emotion; he’d never known such vulnerability as the knowledge of how easily loved ones could be lost.

  Chapter 20

  Rachel checked the chronometer when Degorsk wasn’t looking. Clan therapy time was almost up. This round hadn’t been too bad. In fact, the sessions for the last month had been pretty easy to get through.

  Only Sletran was still remanded fulltime to the psychiatric facility they’d all lived in since Global Security released him. The rest of the clan remained housed with him, loathe to go home without their Nobek. All three men still required one-on-one therapy six months after she and Conyod had nearly been killed by Akrij, and clan therapy was a given.