Alien Outcast (Clans of Kalquor Book 12)

by Tracy St. John

  Kindness born of sympathy had changed all that.

  Nako’s gaze slid to Ob, and the disgust was palpable. He’d never had his life saved by a Tragoom, so Piper supposed she had to put up with the disdain.

  The captain said, “You understand, I have to confine your friend. For its safety, as much as ours.”

  “Lock him up?” Bad things could happen if Ob was held helpless in a cell, and Piper’s distrust sprang to hot life. “He’s not done anything—”

  Ob rested his heavy cloven hand on her shoulder. “It is best. I agree to stay in the brig. You talk to these Kalquorians. Tell them about the vessel coming.”

  He reminded her of their one true bargaining chip, a better ransom than threatening her worthless life. She demanded of Nako, “You promise Ob won’t be harmed? Swear to it, on your honor and empire, and I’ll give you the information to save your people.”

  “To save my people? That sounds rather dire, Matara.” His mouth quirked, as if he found her threats amusing.

  “What if I told you there is a spacecraft leaving in two days from the Bi’isil research lab that I came from, heading for your borders? A transport carrying death, Captain, murder designed by Bi’isil scientists. Death for the whole damned Kalquorian Empire. If it’s not stopped, every man, woman, and child with Kalquorian blood is doomed.” She stepped close to the hulking male, noting with hope how his eyes widened and the humor fled from his expression. “Is that dire enough for you?”

  Chapter 4

  Piper insisted on accompanying Ob to the brig, determined to keep him as safe as she was capable. She had to admit the containment cell wasn’t half bad, as such places went. It was cramped for a Tragoom. There was an open lavatory and nowhere to sit or lie down except for the floor, but it was clean. He’d been in worse. And because the cell was meant for Kalquorians, it wasn’t anything they wouldn’t inflict on their own kind.

  Best of all, Ob appeared content with the situation. He had confirmed the collar had ceased punishing him, and he was free of pain.

  “Water?” Subcommander Terig offered. He brought her a pouch from a cooling unit next to the currently unmanned security guard’s post.

  Piper almost snatched it from him in her greed to drink. The Bi’isils were a species that required blistering temperatures to survive. She’d sworn she’d been thirsty since the day she’d boarded their ship, back on Earth. It was only after she’d drained the pouch dry that she realized Ob was probably parched too.

  “Ob needs something to drink.” When neither the subcommander nor Captain Nako moved to fetch the Tragoom some water, she stared emphatically at them, caressing the knife she’d slid into a strip of cloth tied on her thigh.

  At last, Nako sighed. He jerked his head at Terig, who took Ob a couple of water pouches. In a brazen move, the Nobek shut down the entire containment holding Ob prisoner, as if daring the Tragoom to try to escape.

  Ob only accepted the pouches, snuffling eagerly as he said, “Gug.” His collar translated the word as, “Live.”

  Terig tilted his head and cast a confused glance at his captain, who returned the expression. Piper found a smile at the Kalquorians’ reaction. “That’s short for gugik daztu.” She struggled with the phlegmy grunts of the Tragoom language. At the way Ob’s triangular ears wiggled with amusement, she knew she’d failed. Oh well. “The phrase translates literally to ‘I will let you live.’ It’s how he says thank you. Tragooms rarely express gratitude, so that’s the best he can do.”

  Terig snorted and turned the containment field on. “Tragooms with manners. Now I’ve seen everything.”

  Nako’s gaze riveted on Piper. With Ob in no immediate danger, she did her best not to squirm under the Kalquorian’s unwavering regard.

  She still thought he had to be a decent person under that harsh façade. Terig too. Yet they were a far cry from the Kalquorians imprisoned on the lab installation. Those men had been polite to her, conscientious to a fault. Some of the Nobeks had been unrefined, several with an aura of restrained wildness. But none had been like the men of this raider.

  Nako and Terig and most of the others she’d seen since coming on board had a primal, raw quality. They exuded danger, even brutality. The scars they wore had little to do with it. She sensed they were imbued by animal instincts to hunt and take down weaker creatures, while possessing the kind of intelligence that would make them invincible.

  They frightened her. But they intrigued her too. Piper caught herself squirming despite her determination not to do so. She stopped.

  Nako spoke. “Tell me about this facility you escaped from?”

  She breathed a sigh of relief that he was ready to listen. “It’s a research laboratory, which you already knew. The Bi’isils on board experiment on humans, Tragooms, and your people.”

  A brow rose, its black arch bisected by a scar that showed Nako had once narrowly avoided being blinded in that eye. “Kalquorians are on that station?”

  “Until about a month ago, when the last of them died.” Piper swallowed. She hadn’t seen them breathe their last, but she’d read the reports.

  “Such imprisonment is against the bylaws of the Galactic Council. As is experimentation on sentient beings, whether they are members of the council or not.” Terig’s voice ran cold, then hot as rage took hold.

  “It’s long been suspected Bi’is was doing this.” Nako remained imperturbable. He continued to watch Piper with an unflinching stare. “Naturally, you have no substantiation of these allegations.”

  “Bastards never let any tangible proof get out of Bi’is space.” Terig kicked the wall hard enough that Piper was stunned a hole didn’t appear.

  “I have evidence of that and a lot more.” Piper let them absorb her declaration, waiting until their expressions turned startled before continuing. “Will you fly me to Kalquor so I can present it to your Imperial Clan? Or the Royal Council? They have to know what’s going on.”

  Nako physically shook himself before replying. “What about this death ship that was mentioned? What was that about?”

  “It carries a plague that will wipe you all out. Unless you’ve got more help out here—lots of destroyers, not just this little raider thing—you can’t stop it. It’ll be escorted by seven squadrons of hunter-killers.”

  Nako reverted to his unimpressed demeanor, as if she hadn’t just told him Bi’is was guilty of committing heinous crimes against Kalquorians. He dipped his head towards Terig. “Seven squadrons? My, my. Quite the armada, my Nobek.”

  “Please, if you would just take me to someone with authority.” Piper had come to the conclusion that Nako, as impressive as he was, was no real leader as far as Kalquor or its fleet were concerned. He was too coarse. Too casual. He and his men’s uniforms were worn and frayed. All evidence pointed to Nako being low in the empire’s hierarchy.

  He certainly wasn’t responding to her warnings as a real leader would. Impatient with his attitude, Piper added, “Look, don’t trouble yourselves. Let me and Ob fly Prince Yel’ek’s shuttle to Kalquor, and I’ll deal with it myself.”

  Nako scratched his nose. Curse the man, his attitude once again verged on amusement. “I’m afraid that wouldn’t be possible. That pretty pleasure cruiser you stole is barely more than a metal shell floating around in space. My men would have stripped bare by now.”

  When she stared at him, aghast, Terig added, “Living out here on the fringes, parts that happen to fly into our possession are most welcome. Things are hard to come by when you live on the outside of society.”

  Dread asserted itself, dropping a heavy weight into Piper’s stomach. “Wait a minute. You aren’t affiliated with the Kalquorian fleet?”

  Nako and Terig looked at each other. They erupted into laughter.

  Through his chuckles, Nako told her, “My dear, we’re about as unwelcome to the fleet as the Basma is to Kalquor. As a matter of fact, Kalquor is the last place we wish to show up. We’re strictly out for ourselves, and the empire be damned.�
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  “Although with the Basma’s fleet close at hand, they’re the ones who have to put up with our boarding and looting,” Terig added.

  “You’re pirates.” Piper could have cried as she realized who she’d ended up with. The past few months of gathering proof of Bi’is’s plans to destroy Kalquorian civilization, not to mention Ob nearly getting himself killed while helping her, had been for nothing.

  Once again, she’d failed. Once again, innocent people would die.

  I should have known this would end badly. I never get anything right.

  Matara Piper looked crushed, as if she’d lost all that mattered to her. Nako’s initial irritation at being called a pirate faded before that devastated expression. He had the crazy urge to rush over, gather her in his arms, and pet her until she felt better.

  And then other stuff, until he felt better too. Starting with kissing that pert, upturned nose. Then those full lips. Then the other lips between those incredible legs. Ancestors, what he wouldn’t do to make her smile and do lewd things with him.

  He restrained himself with effort. The woman had information, information he didn’t necessarily want to hear. If he did hear it, he might have to reconsider his responsibilities. The fact he felt any responsibility to the empire, which had turned on him, pissed him off.

  Putting off the inevitable, Nako started by polishing his image for the woman. “Don’t think of us as pirates or outlaws. We’re having a minor spat with our fleet, that’s all.”

  Terig made a rude noise. Nako fixed him with a bald glare, then tried on a winning smile for his unexpected visitor…the pretty guest that wasn’t stinking up the brig.

  He still couldn’t stop himself from delaying hearing about what Piper planned to warn Kalquor of. Damn it, whatever Bi’is was up to couldn’t be that ominous, could it? Not with Maf playing nice with the big-heads. His reluctance to hear otherwise was why his tone came out condescending. “You say a death ship from Bi’is is on its way. You make it sound so impressive.”

  Piper scowled at the derision. “I’d expect you’d think so too, given all that Bi’is has done to your people. Starting with diverting half our shared ancestors from Ramaso to Earth as a private lab experiment.”

  Terig lent his own disbelief to the conversation. “Ah, the Lost Colonists legend.”

  “You’re familiar with it, then.”

  “A long-ago species escaped its dying planet. Some went to Kalquor, eventually evolving into my race. The rest headed for the planet Ramaso, but they never reached it and were never heard from again.” Terig recited the story in a bored tone.

  “Though Earth is rumored to have been where the would-be Ramasons somehow ended up. Which is why our two species are so similar.” Nako shrugged, his interest in the oft-contested theory minimal.

  Piper tapped her foot and tilted her head. She was probably displaying irritation, but instead, came off as adorable. “None of it is merely legend. It’s fact. The scientist in charge of the space lab, Dr. Wari’det, was quite proud of Bi’is’s accomplishments. He talked about the attack on the race headed to Ramaso as if he were there hundreds of thousands of years ago.”

  “Attack?”

  “Bi’is had been watching our ancestors from a distance, thinking of breeding a race of slaves docile to their wishes. Unaware of their existence, the colonists heading to Ramaso had no idea what was waiting for them. They also didn’t know about the wormhole in their path. Bi’is did. They swarmed the colonists’ convoy without warning, disabling the vessels that posed the biggest threat. With the colonists confused and afraid for the elders and children among them, it was simple to herd them into the wormhole, which took them to what we Earthers called the Andromeda Galaxy.”

  “Which is nowhere near Earth,” Terig pointed out.

  “But there is a vortex in that galaxy that leads straight to Earth,” Nako remembered. “Within the planet’s atmosphere.”

  “We named it the Dragon’s Triangle,” Piper confirmed. “It was several months’ journey from the first wormhole to that passage.”

  “They should have fought off the Bi’isils then,” Terig said.

  “The colonists’ transports hadn’t been constructed with crossing a wormhole passage in mind, and that first vortex was violent. Most of the vessels emerged, but considerably worse for wear. It was not difficult for the Bi’isils to force their prey into the second, more stable, wormhole. Having barely gotten through the journey in one piece, there was no resistance to landing on Earth, which was perfectly habitable.”

  Fascinated despite himself, Nako prodded, “And then what?”

  “Then the genetic manipulation began. The children of the Ramaso colonists were weakened by the Bi’isils. Hybridizing them with the hominids that already existed on Earth altered the stock further, until their descendants didn’t resemble the original group. Bi’is experimented and played with what they concocted, doing their damnedest to develop the perfect slave race.”

  “Yet they did not transplant those resulting beings to their world for such.”

  “They became distracted. Rival princes plunged Bi’is into a centuries-long civil war, and Bi’is abandoned the Earth project to fight. Then famine, plagues, and other sundry issues kept them occupied for even longer. By the time they returned to their lab on Earth, we’d moved out of the caves and begun civilizations of our own. Besides that, the Bi’is that came to check on us was a different society after all it had been through.”

  “Still assholes, I’m sure,” Terig grumbled.

  A smile ghosted on Piper’s lips and vanished just as quickly. “With the current rules of Bi’is governance having been established, not to mention more pragmatic leaders, establishing a slave race was deemed too wasteful of funds and effort. Why spend centuries altering a species when there were others willing to submit or sell their captives into bondage?”

  Nako had to admit her story was feasible, given what he knew of Bi’is and its meddling in other cultures. It neatly tied up not just the mystery of the missing colonists, but also why Earthers and Kalquorians were compatible when it came to breeding.

  He could only come up with a single quibble. “You would trust the word of a Bi’isil? You would believe his stories without question?”

  Piper smirked, returning some of his scorn in kind. Rather than pissing Nako off, it set off curling warmth in his belly. And points lower.

  “Captain, I trust my own eyes. Bi’isil museums and archives aren’t mere dusty buildings. They are monuments to the culture’s greatness, with every moment of triumph ruthlessly scrutinized, confirmed, and lauded.”

  “You went to Bi’is? I thought you were only a lab slave.”

  “I began as a lab subject. I became a personal slave to Dr. Wari’det when I—when I stopped being of use in that capacity. I had to travel back and forth from the station to Bi’is Prime to serve my master. He is—was—dedicated to not only the latest experiments, but past achievements as well.”

  “You say you killed him?” Terig’s gaze overtly traveled up and down her body, sizing her up.

  “I hope so. I tried my best.” Blushing at his obvious interest, she glanced down at the knife holstered against her thigh, beneath that appetizing high hem of her dress.

  What a woman. Nako forced himself to attend the important matter at hand. “You said you have proof.”

  “I’ve been recording what I can for the past year. I have a drive with all the information on the abducted Ramaso colonists, Bi’is’s experimentations on them and their descendants, Bi’is’s past attempts to destroy Kalquor, and the new plague campaign.”

  “Where is this drive?”

  She narrowed her gaze. “The last place you’d think to look. I’m not giving it up until I’m sure the right people will see it.”

  “Is that so?” Nako had a vision of stripping her down and conducting an intimately thorough search. He cleared his throat. “We’ll get to that later. Tell me about this plague and the death s
hip.”

  “The virus is on a supply transport the Basma is expecting from Bi’is. It’s bringing food and medical supplies to the rebels. The Basma is desperate for that shipment, because he’s afraid he’ll lose his followers if they have to go to strict rationing. Apparently, his rebellion is already in trouble, because the station he captured a few months ago is his last stronghold. The Empire recently won the rest from his grasp.”

  “You know a lot about what’s going on in Kalquor’s civil war.” Terig shot Nako a worried glance. They’d only learned about the Basma’s remaining forces having to fall back to Laro Station a week earlier, though it had been two months since his forces had lost the ability to attack major shipping lanes and six months after his Earther allies had fallen to loyal Kalquorian forces.

  “Prince Yel’ek was the Basma’s connection to Bi’is. Yel’ek and Dr. Wari’det hatched the whole plan.”

  Nako concentrated on the here and now. “Are the provisions from Bi’is tainted with the plague?”

  “No. They’re sending in over a hundred infected lab subjects. The virus is carried by Earther women.” Piper swallowed, her face pale.

  Terig scratched his head. “Earthers? But Maf can’t stand your kind. That’s what this whole damned war is about. He’ll return them to Bi’is in pieces.”

  “It makes no difference. All it takes is a moment’s exposure to the virus the women are infected with. It’s airborne, so no one even has to touch them. Worse still, it’s lethal to Kalquorians within a few days. One hundred percent transmission and fatalities in the test subjects.”

  Nako stopped breathing. He thought his heart might halt too. Next to him, Terig stood frozen, as thunderstruck as he.

  Piper kept talking, and as much as Nako wished to scream at her to shut up, he couldn’t utter a sound. “The Basma and his men will drop like flies once the first microbe comes in contact with any of them. Those who come from Kalquor to reclaim and clean up Laro will be infected in turn. While everything is in confusion, a second death ship will be sent into Kalquor space, in the hopes it will be picked up by your fleet as well. A two-pronged attack, so that the plague will sweep through the entire system, finishing the job the Bi’isils started centuries ago with the first virus.”