Dazon Agenda: Complete Collection

by Kit Tunstall

  She wasn’t completely sold on the mating flare thing he talked about, and she didn’t believe in soulmates, but she was willing to keep an open mind and see how the relationship progressed. What kind of future was there with a seven-foot alien who couldn’t go out in public without wearing his Mr. Bland disguise? She didn’t know, and it was something they would have to address after they tracked down the missing women and stopped the rogue scientist.

  After a quick shower, she made her way to the kitchen to have a bite to eat. Following her vigorous night in his arms, her body was screaming for sustenance.

  She was finally mollified when she found a note pinned to her refrigerator, written in very precise handwriting. The message was succinct:

  I’ve gone to investigate AmbaCorp. I’m not going inside at the moment, but will later this evening. In the meantime, could you find schematics for the business? That will be helpful for me tonight.

  R

  He hadn’t even taken time to sign his full name, but she took that as a good sign. She would obviously know who he was, and the simple initial seemed more intimate somehow than his full name would have been, especially if he had added his surname.

  Was that what aliens called their last name? He’d introduced himself as Ryland Breese, and she couldn’t help testing it out in her mind. Jada Breese. It sounded nice, but she shook her head at her own silliness and forced her attention to finishing the toast and cereal before moving to the computer to accomplish the task he’d requested.

  She suspected this was along the lines of busywork, because he considered it safe for her to stay at her computer and find information for him. Surely, he must have some sort of scanning device or advanced binoculars that would have allowed him to see the layout of the building from the exterior, but just in case it wasn’t simply a task he’d assigned so she would feel like she was contributing, she needed to get to work.

  She grimaced as she sank into the wheelchair again, hating it with every fiber of her being now that she was freed from the contraption. She never would have sat in it again, but her house was woefully under-furnished, and it was the only seat available at the computer table. She didn’t have a laptop, because she hadn’t been mobile enough to move it around her house before the nanobots, so she would just have to sit in the chair, but she vowed it would be the last time. Sometime today, she would find a way to get a new chair, and perhaps some other new furniture.

  She was deep in the files of the City Planning database when the door hummed, and light emanated from it. She didn’t bother to look up, not wanting to lose the data packet she was following, as she waited for Ryland to enter.

  The locks popped, and the door swung open. Almost immediately, she knew it wasn’t Ryland stepping into her space. She wasn’t certain how she knew that, but the person felt wrong to her.

  She looked up from her computer with dread and fear as she saw two people step into her apartment, both wearing black suits and looking very nondescript. She immediately recognized them as Mr. Bland disguises, and her first impulse was to push up from the chair and run for it.

  As they approached, she froze. She appeared to be paralyzed with fright, and though she wasn’t that good of an actress—she was certainly terrified—she wasn’t completely incapacitated by terror either. It occurred to her as the two aliens approached, their expressions revealing nothing, that it was to her benefit to appear to still be confined to the chair.

  If they realized she had been healed, they would know someone was on to them, though they might not know it was Ryland directly. She would be putting her lover at risk, along with herself. Either way, she didn’t think she could fight them off, so they were going to take her. This way, they would be lax about security if they thought she was immobilized.

  As they approached, she pressed her back into the chair and lifted her hands. “Who are you? What do you want?”

  “Remain calm, Jada Washington,” said Left Mr. Bland.

  “You’ve been recruited for a medical study,” said Right Mr. Bland as they boxed her in.

  Her heart was racing in her ears, and she didn’t have to fake the note of fear that made her voice shake. “What are you doing with me?”

  Neither bothered to answer her as they stood on either side of her chair, both men taking an arm of the wheelchair in one hand and hefting it, and her, seemingly with no difficulty at all. The show of strength was frightening and demoralizing, and she didn’t know if it was a deliberate display, or if they were simply no-nonsense in their collection practices. After four hundred women, they probably had their routine down pretty well, after all.

  As they walked past it, she managed to hit the button to turn off her computer, just in case they decided to look at her screen. Neither man seemed at all interested in it, and she was relieved. Otherwise, they would have seen just exactly what she was digging for in the City Planning Department’s database. That would have led to questions about why she wanted schematics for the building housing AmbaCorp, which was likely just a front for the alien kidnapping and breeding ring led by the mysterious Dr. Ha.

  Unfortunately for her, he was about to become far more known and less mysterious, since the doctor had clearly decided to enroll her in his so-called study. Jada was sure Dr. Ha was studying the women he’d stolen, but not in a benign fashion, and certainly not in a way that would benefit anyone with Kaiser’s Syndrome. She wasn’t entirely faking it when she whimpered and allowed some of her fear to show, which made her shake in the chair.

  She hoped Ryland would return soon. When he saw the wheelchair gone, would he realize what had happened? Surely he would know she wouldn’t have voluntarily taken it anywhere, and with the locks off the door, though there was no damage to them, he would surely comprehend someone had let themselves into her apartment and taken her. Once he came to that conclusion, he would immediately understand it was his half-brother and come for her.

  “Where are you taking me?” she asked as they loaded her wheelchair into the van, securing her chair with straps. It was akin to the bus for the disabled that she often took to doctor’s appointments or scheduled to go shopping, but when they closed the door without answering, she saw there were no handles on the inside. Only they could let her out.

  She hoped when Ryland came for her that he was able to do so safely, and he wouldn’t be alone. She didn’t like the idea of him facing who knew how many, all of them aliens like him, which diminished the physical advantage he would have had over human assailants.

  “Hurry up, Ryland,” she whispered softly, allowing herself the comfort of speaking his name just once before she subsided into silence. Once she was at the facility, she would have to pretend like she had never heard of Ryland, and she would have to slip back into the invalid role, though it didn’t sit well with her.

  It was ironic that the device which had been her virtual prison for the last seven years was now one of the things that might end up saving her. The wheelchair was oddly comforting, or at least what it represented, as the van drove farther from her home and contact with Ryland.

  When the van stopped, Jada clung to the arms of the wheelchair and debated her chances of making a run for it despite her earlier plan. As the doors opened, the same two Mr. Blands stood there, but there were two more behind them, and she hesitated, perhaps too long to act, because the first two who had kidnapped her stepped into the van and unfastened the strap around her chair to wheel her down the ramp that folded from the van.

  She looked at them closely, searching for any sign of their true alien form, but their disguises were perfect, other than the fact that they looked almost identical. So did the other two as she got nearer, and she stiffened when one of them put a hand on her shoulder and gave her what was supposed to be a reassuring smile, though it simply sent chills racing up her spine.

  “Welcome to the program, Jada Washington.” The fourth alien held the door open, and they slipped inside the back entrance of a large building, which she presumed wa
s AmbaCorp, moving in procession, with one of the aliens pushing her chair, another one walking farther ahead, the fourth bringing up the rear, and the one who still had his creepy hand on her shoulder walking alongside as he looked down at her.

  She shuddered when his Mr. Bland disguised melted to become his true form. Almost immediately, she knew this had to be Ryland’s half-brother, Jorvak Ha. They shared some resemblance, though Ha’s features were rougher and more irregular. She grimaced in disgust.

  He must have mistaken her reaction for fear of his alien visage, which was a relief since she wasn’t supposed to know about his existence. He patted her shoulder in a reassuring fashion. “I know this seems frightening, Jada, but you have no reason to fear us. We need something from you, and in the end, we’ll ensure you’re healthy again.”

  She stiffened, glaring up at him. “What do you want from me?”

  “There’s something very unique about you, and the other women like you, and our species requires your assistance.”

  She knew exactly what he was talking about, but she couldn’t betray that knowledge. Instead, she forced a deadpan expression. “I’ve been told I’m a heckuva blogger, and I’m pretty gifted with hacking, though I’d appreciate you not telling anyone about that, so if you need either one of those skills, I’m the person for you. You could have just called me like normal…er, aliens?”

  His expression remained unchanged, so either he had no sense of humor, or she just wasn’t funny. “I’m afraid we need something more…fundamental from you and your compatriots.”

  She crossed her arms over her chest. “Like what? I’d like some answers before I go any farther.”

  The doctor patted her arm in a condescending fashion before finally removing his hand from her. “I’m afraid it doesn’t really matter what you want at this point, Jada. You’ve been recruited for a great honor, and a great duty. Our people will revere your contribution.”

  “That’s terrific,” she said darkly. “Am I going to be alive to see this great reverence, Doctor?” She cursed herself for uttering the slip even as he stiffened. “Or am I wrong in guessing you’re a mad scientist-type?” She held her breath as she waited to see if he would accept her attempts to cover her slipup without suspicion.

  After a moment, he simply gave her a brief nod. “I am a doctor, though hardly a mad scientist. I’m a revolutionary genius on my planet, though many do not yet recognize that. They will when we prove our success though. Oh yes, they will.”

  Great. He wasn’t a dedicated scientist. Instead, he was after the glory too. At least if he had been doing this horrible experiment strictly to save his people, it would have been slightly preferable. Not that there was any justification for kidnapping and forcibly harvesting genetic material from four hundred people, but it was even more reprehensible to know he was doing it for some sort of accolade by the Dazon. “And if I’d prefer to decline this honor?”

  He shook his head, his expression completely cold, though his tone was warmly sympathetic. “I’m afraid that isn’t an option, Jada. I must leave you now, but my assistants will see that you’re settled in after intake testing.”

  She stiffened again, her breath catching in her throat as she realized they planned to start right away. Fear nearly blinded her, because she was terrified of what they might do to her. As the doctor left them, and they detoured to the left down the hallway, she clenched her hands around the wheelchair as an even graver possibility occurred to her.

  What if they detected the nanobots in her bloodstream and realized she had a connection to one of their own? Or at least one of their own species, but not their group. How would they react? She wasn’t certain, but at the very least, it would remove Ryland’s ability to stage a surprise attack.

  She was close to hyperventilating by the time they stopped before a hydraulic door, and one of the aliens pressed a button on a metal pad by the wall to allow their entry. It was a cold and sterile room, filled with medical instruments and a large table in the middle that sent a shudder of dread down her spine when she saw the straps attached to it.

  She had known intellectually that they didn’t care about the women they were compulsorily recruiting, but seeing the reality up close and personally of just how ruthless and uncaring they were brought it home sharply. She and the other women like her were little more than lab rats to these people, to be confined and used as needed.

  She didn’t believe Dr. Ha’s promise about healing them when it was over. It was far more likely he would harvest everything useful from the lot of them and dispose of all the women, or simply leave them here in this warehouse facility to rot when he returned to Dazonia Major.

  She almost resisted on pure instinct when the two aliens still acting as her escorts came to her chair and took her arm, one on each side. At the last second, she realized if she was strapped into that bed, she would be completely at their mercy. If she remained passive and docile, and they believed she was too feeble to attempt an escape, perhaps she could persuade them not to fasten the straps.

  It was a risky proposition, but perhaps it would buy her some time. At the moment, the aliens probably weren’t looking for her to fight them off and run away, so she had the element of surprise on her side if she acted. The major flaw in that plan was the fact that she had no idea how to fight them off. They would have to be incapacitated, or they would alert the facility to her attempted escape. More likely, they would both, in conjunction, easily subdue her, and that would be the end of any possibility of escape.

  By the time she had settled on the least terrible of her two options, they had carried her and lifted her to the table/bed/chair, because it appeared to be able to form multiple positions as she saw from the joints and odd angles when they got her closer to it.

  They were gentle with her when they put her on the bed, but it wasn’t in a thoughtful way. It was more like the way one would handle an expensive object they didn’t want to break, and not because they had any concern for actually hurting her personally.

  One of the former Mr. Blands lifted the set of straps on his side, bringing them to her wrist. She pulled her arm away, shaking her head. “That’s hardly necessary. I assume you’ve seen my medical file? I can’t walk anywhere by myself for more than two or three steps. Where am I going to go, E.T.?”

  The alien grunted and looked at his companion, who shrugged. After a moment, they dropped the straps, allowing Jada to breathe just a bit easier as a surge of relief swept through her. It was a minor victory, absolutely minuscule in comparison to what she still had to accomplish if she wanted to survive this, but she was thankful for at least one thing going the way she had hoped.

  “I can handle this, Tredor.” The alien on her left nodded to the other alien before stepping back from her. He didn’t speak as he let himself out of the room, and she dared cling to that as another bit of good luck. Assuming he didn’t come back, it would be just her against one alien for now. Those were still intimidating odds, but she was more likely to succeed in a one-on-one situation.

  She tried to remain passive, waiting for the right moment, as the alien assistant bustled around her, hooking her up to machines and getting readings from things she had no idea how to interpret. She was successful in remaining quiet until the alien brought out a deceptively simple-looking device, similar to a screwdriver, though without the metal tip. It was more like the handle of the screwdriver, though not as ergonomically shaped for a human hand. She tensed as he got closer, holding another shiny metal object in his other hand. “What are you going to do to me?”

  “I need a tissue sample, Ms. Washington.”

  Her eyes widened as he lifted the cylindrical object and brought it closer to the outside of her bicep. “And just how do you plan to obtain it?”

  “This will numb the area.” He held up the can before spraying it on her arm. And then he held up the other device that was so ominously nondescript. “And this will allow me to take a sample.” He pressed a button, and a sh
ort laser beam shot out of it. She stiffened and tried to scoot farther away from him, pressing her back against the table. “Not with that pygmy light saber, you aren’t.”

  The alien arched a brow ridge, looking completely befuddled. “This device is a laser scalpel, Ms. Washington, and you’ll feel nothing, I assure you.”

  Since she still didn’t have a weapon or a plan, she closed her eyes and barely bit back a whimper as the alien brought his laser scalpel against her skin. A second later, the unpleasant scent of burning flesh filled the immediate area, but there was no pain.

  She dared to look down in time to see a big chunk of her flesh and muscle disappearing into a metal basin. Her stomach clenched with nausea when she saw the gaping wound, and she didn’t have to fake the impulse to vomit. She simply bent over to the left side and hurled.

  The alien made a sound that could have been exasperation or concern, and he quickly set down his implements on a stand near him. It looked like the same kind of metal tray that her doctor’s office used, and she wondered if they had outfitted AmbaCorp with human technology that was readily available, or if there were just some commonalities across their species. The first idea seemed more likely.

  As the alien walked around the table to deal with her mess, she was pleased to see he hadn’t taken time to put away the numbing spray or the laser scalpel. Cautiously, she reached for them one at a time with her right arm, pressing them close to her thigh in an attempt to shield her possession of them from his gaze. She didn’t dare risk using her left arm since he was so close to that side of her.

  He was too far away for her to practically stab him with the laser scalpel before he would realize what was occurring. Instead, she reclined with rigid posture, her hand curled around the laser scalpel as she waited for an opportunity.