Alien Outcast (Clans of Kalquor Book 12)

by Tracy St. John

  “Is he smart?”

  The question, spoken in a defensive tone, puzzled Piper. She shrugged. “When it comes to mechanics and technical tasks, he’s talented. As for overall intelligence, I’d put him on the level of an indifferent pre-adolescent student. Maybe he could learn more, if he applied himself. Or maybe not. But then, I’ve known plenty of grown Earthers who were at that level too.”

  “Did you like any of them?”

  “Some. A lack of wisdom—even common sense—didn’t bother me, so long as they were decent people. Consideration and support from my friends was more important than whether someone could add two and two.”

  “That’s all that matters to you?” Ulof faced her, his gaze intent.

  Feeling as if the Kalquorian was asking about more than what qualities Piper looked for in her friends, she gave him the most truthful answer she could come up with. “I’ll take a learning-challenged, loyal Tragoom over a brilliant asshole Earther any day.”

  Ulof beamed at her with a smile that lit his whole being. Piper forgot to breathe for an instant.

  Holy cats, he was a different person when he did that. Darned near cute, like a little boy walking in on his surprise birthday party. Where did that sweetheart come from?

  Even his tone, though delivered in a deep voice, was that of an exuberant youth. “What do you say we make your friend a meal he’d actually enjoy eating? Once we take dessert out to the fearless leaders, that is. If you don’t mind helping?”

  Piper bubbled that a Kalquorian would offer to do a kind deed for Ob. “I’d love to assist. Thank you, Ulof. That’s wonderful of you.”

  He hunched as if embarrassed, but the smile stayed plastered on his features. Piper could have hugged him.

  Who’d have imagined the man she’d first encountered flinging curses left and right, scowling fit to scare a demon, could also be an angel?

  A few minutes after delivering saucers of cake and reconstituted fruit to the dining room—food luscious to Piper’s deprived palate despite Ulof’s grumbling about third-rate ingredients—a slab of fatty meat hit a hot pan. The sizzle was deafening.

  “You do this by hand. Not in cookers or pre-configured warmers,” Piper marveled as Ulof flipped the hunk of ronka with a practice jerk. She eyed the hot cooktop with fascination. She hadn’t observed one since Earth. She’d never set eyes on one that used actual flames.

  He waved a dismissive hand at the banks of devices that would have prepared the food with a few buttons punched. “It’s more satisfying to cook with fire and tools. I find it cathartic, in a way. If someone has pissed me off, I pretend it’s their carcass I’m grilling.”

  Piper laughed. Ulof currently displayed an interesting mix of charm and danger. His emotions flickered all over the place, sometimes combining as they did now, depending on what they were talking about.

  I’m betting he has a hair-trigger temper, but when he loves someone, he does it with his whole heart.

  Ulof tossed the seared hunk onto a large tray, where juices and blood ran to pool around it. He clanged the pan to the cook surface, sending a shiver of ringing through the room.

  Piper wrinkled her nose. “Smells kind of off to me, but I’m no expert on ronka.”

  “No, you’re right. This slab somehow fell behind a drawer in the cooling unit and went unnoticed for weeks. I tracked down what smelled so bad just this afternoon and was about to toss it out.”

  “Ob has waxed eloquent about rancid flesh and how he misses eating it.”

  Ulof frowned over browning plant leaves in the recycling container. “No doubt, he prefers it mostly raw as well. Check the root bin, see if there’s anything going over in there. Stuff on the bottom would be most probable for that.”

  Piper went to the covered vat Ulof pointed out. She returned with irtu roots that had gone soft and brown in spots. At Ulof’s pleased nod, she dumped them in the congealing blood and grease surrounding the meat while he chopped up soggy bulbs of purplish-black ninoi.

  “Ob’s going to be beside himself. Can I have that leftover piece of cake? I don’t care what you say, it’s scrumptious.”

  “Your appetite has returned with a vengeance if you want to eat while smelling this meat. It’s almost as rank as that Tragoom. Go ahead.”

  Piper tucked into the spongy, moist dessert with delight. For a few minutes, there was only the pleasure of sweetness on her tongue and the soft tune Ulof hummed as he made Ob’s meal.

  Abruptly, the Imdiko asked, “Was it the yelling in there that killed your appetite? Or are you regretting having sex with my Dramok?”

  Piper choked on the cake, her face burning despite Ulof keeping his back to her. Once she stopped coughing, she burst out, “He told you?” If that son of a bitch had been bragging…

  “It’s not his style to show off about that kind of thing. I only know because he smells of you and you smell like him. Nice try with the follow-up shower. Unfortunately, soap doesn’t mask all of it.”

  Great. The whole crew—and that admiral—must have figured out that she’d screwed Nako. Humiliation had her pushing away the remainder of the cake.

  “I guess it wasn’t a smart move to sleep with your captain. I’m not saying Nako’s not a good guy—”

  “Ha!” Ulof barked laughter, glancing at her with that boyish grin. “Well, he’s a good guy where it counts. None of us on this ship are what you’d call saints, however.”

  “You have some rough edges.”

  “Rough edges. Aren’t you the polite lady?” He snorted and turned to face her, leaning up against the counter. “You aren’t going to hurt anyone’s feelings with the truth, Piper. We’re brutes. We’re loud, violent, uncouth, and lack even the slightest hint of polite manners. That includes your pal, Dramok Nako.”

  “Isn’t he your clanmate? Is he aware of your opinion of him?”

  “I remind him numerous times each day. He’s always glad to return the favor.” Ulof’s merriment eased, and he became more thoughtful. “It takes a particular kind of man to crew a raider. We don’t play by anyone’s set of rules, so the fleet has tended to overlook all but our worst deeds. As our captain, Nako is the toughest of the lot. But if you want a man who’s principled, brave, honest, and eventually does what’s best for everyone, he fits that bill too.”

  “I’m not looking for anyone to be serious with,” Piper hastened to protest. “What happened between us was an in-the-moment kind of thing. I just—oh, I don’t know. I suppose it would be nice to have people I can count on. Besides Ob.”

  “You didn’t have that before you ended up with the Bi’isils?”

  “No.” She answered him with finality, hoping he’d catch the hint that she had no intention of talking about her life before entering into the slave contract.

  He watched her for several seconds. Finally, he took half a dozen hesitant steps to reach her. Lifting his hand slowly, as if sure she’d slap it, he stroked her hair, his expression anxious but kind. “Don’t be mad. I didn’t mean anything by my question.”

  “I’m not mad. I just don’t like to talk about my life before I went to Bi’is.” It required all of Piper’s negligible pride to not lean into his touch. She had none of the strength she needed to walk off. Not when she was more starved for affection—for understanding—than she was for real food. Even though she deserved none of it.

  Ulof pulled away and didn’t try for more, as if intuiting her inner struggle to accept any gesture of care. His tone careful, he asked, “Okay. No talk of Earth. How did you wind up in Bi’is space?”

  “They were the first to show up in my area after Armageddon. I’d planned to give myself up to a Kalquorian rescue site, but the nearest was fifty miles away. I was exhausted and hungry. Then my mother died along the way. When the Bi’is transport showed up with food and promises in exchange for service, I signed on.”

  It was a very trimmed-down version of what had led her to becoming an experimental subject. The barest details were all Piper was will
ing to offer.

  To his credit, Ulof didn’t press her for specifics. He also didn’t offer meaningless sympathy. Instead, he crooked an eyebrow. In a ‘you should know better, young lady’ tone, he said, “You didn’t realize that most Bi’isil slaves don’t live very long? In fact, after so many years—almost six since Armageddon, right?”

  “Right.”

  “To have survived a Bi’isil master for that long, you’re something of a miracle.”

  “I knew the odds. It just didn’t matter anymore.” Before she could stop herself, she added, “It’s what I deserved.”

  Ulof started. “That’s harsh.”

  “I work to be a decent person. But I always mess up. I’ve hurt others. Badly.”

  “It stinks, doesn’t it? To do your best, then life shoves you face-first in a pile of shit anyway. No matter what you do, it’s never enough. You’re never good enough.” Anger filled his tone, and the thunderous darkness that made him appear demonic altered his features.

  He obviously spoke from experience, but Piper was sure he hadn’t come close to committing the awful crimes she had. From what she’d seen, Ulof was honorable despite his hard edges. As honorable as Nako.

  She told him so. “You seem fine to me. I haven’t noticed anything about you that suggests otherwise.”

  He gestured at the kitchen around them. “Cooking well is all I’ve managed to accomplish as far as anything constructive. It took me fucking forever to make it to this point. I spent years cleaning up after cooks before I was even allowed to chop vegetables. Then I spent years getting that and the rest of the basics right. Nothing comes easily.”

  “Why is that?”

  “I have a learning disability that keeps me from retaining much except through constant practice and routine. My short-term memory is a sieve when it comes to learning new things.”

  No wonder he’d been so fascinated with how she felt about the intelligence of others. But a learning challenge and being smart were two different things. Hadn’t anyone taught him that?

  He continued to rant, as if a dam had burst within. “I’m also a dual breed. Not just a dual breed, but the worst type a man can be: an Imdiko-Nobek.”

  “How is that bad?”

  “I care about others, and I try to do right by them, but then they piss me off and I lose my shit. Instead of tending to them, I end up causing damage.” Ulof’s arms flailed and he lumbered back and forth, demonstrating his helpless anger at the situation.

  “You mean, you become violent?” Piper watched him with concern.

  “I used to fight with anyone who teased me for being stupid. Or if they picked on me for any reason. It happened a lot in training camp. While I was categorized as principally Imdiko, probably because there are so few of the breed running around for clans to snap up, I was sent to camp with Nobeks. My parents hoped I could learn to control my temper. It was a good way to gain an overall education, too. But I turned out to be too slow.” He tapped his temple to demonstrate he didn’t mean his physical ability to move quickly. “I didn’t do so great when it came to learning not to lash out in anger either. I’m the only person I’ve heard of who was tossed out of training camp because I was untrainable.”

  “You must have done something right. You ended up in the fleet, after all.”

  “As a kitchen drudge. Sweeping floors, scrubbing counters and sinks, the most menial tasks. In all honesty, I’ve spent more time in the brig and military prison camp than actually working on a ship.”

  “Prison camp?”

  “I kept fighting with those who screwed with me. Including those in authority.” Ulof was winding down. He stopped stomping and waving about. Despondence settled over him, a cloak Piper suspected he’d worn far too often.

  “Did you ever kill anyone? Did it end up that bad?”

  “I came close. That’s what got me locked up for several years. I attacked my commanding officer when he made fun of me in front of dozens of others. I tried to ignore him, but he kept at me and kept at me, encouraging everyone to laugh at the idiot Imdiko-Nobek until—” Ulof blew out a heavy breath and stopped pacing. “At least in prison, I was able to practice cooking until it stuck. In some ways, it saved me from turning into a worthless thug.”

  “You also belong to a clan. Nako and Terig must have found something special in you.”

  He almost smiled. “They accepted me for who I was. They were the first who did so. I could be my slow, angry self and they dealt with it. They put up with me.”

  “I’m sure there’s more to it than that. Just because you have challenges doesn’t mean you’re dumb. It means you have to work harder than most. That’s all.”

  “You sound like my clanmates. They even tell me I should pursue my dream, to work in terraforming.” His eyes lit before doubt filled his face.

  “Why don’t you?” Piper hurt for this man who hadn’t been given what he’d needed to achieve his hopes. She wanted to go back in time and scream at those who’d failed him, leaving him unsure of his full potential.

  “Terraforming? Do you know how complicated that is? Soil, climate, and environmental analyses to start with. Then the consideration of whether to use a containment or open system, if an atmosphere should be developed, soil amendments, the testing of what would actually grow in that soil—”

  “Sweet prophets, Ulof, you already understand everything about it!”

  He shook his head sadly. “I’ve only played with computer simulations, worldbuilding games. Doing it for real is far more complicated. At the rate I grasp instruction, I’d be stuck at the bottom, doing the most basic chores for years before I’d get anywhere.”

  “As you did with cooking. It took time and effort, but here you are. In charge of your own kitchen, with others working for you.”

  Ulof blinked at her. The wistful, boyish smile appeared again as he gazed at the room he ruled. “Yeah. Yeah, I did make this happen, didn’t I?” He waved her off, a scowl replacing the momentary hope. At least he didn’t appear defeated any longer as he checked on Ob’s tray. “Enough of this sob story. The grease is nice and congealed. The meat is lukewarm, perfect for the delicate palate of a Tragoom.”

  Piper laughed. “Ob won’t know how to cope with such treatment. He’s probably never had anything so scrumptious.”

  Her friend’s delighted surprise when Ulof gave him the food bore her out. Ob thanked Ulof over and over between mouthfuls, declaring it the best meal he’d ever had.

  Chapter 10

  Some of Nako’s irritation bled off as the most important concern to him was squared away. “We’re agreed then. We do everything we can to keep the infected women on the death ship alive, even though that virus could wipe out the Empire.”

  “I’ve done more than my share of damage to innocent lives. There must be a way to stop or divert that transport before it reaches any Kalquorian population. Besides, we need them as proof of Bi’is’s plans.” Piras appeared relieved at the consensus.

  Kila grimaced, though he’d been just as determined to spare the women as the other leaders. “I can’t imagine how. Even phased, there are only five raiders and an understaffed, beat-to-shit battlecruiser to fight two full squadrons of Bi’isil hunter-killers. That’s too tall an order.”

  “Then we need the fleet to come in and take care of the matter.” Sesin’s tone was testy. His had been the lone voice to assert the Earthers might have to be regarded as unavoidable casualties.

  Terig reminded him for perhaps the fourth instance, “We have no way to contact them. Not now that Piras’s crew has taken down the beacon arrays.”

  “So fix them!”

  “I fouled them up with the express purpose of keeping Maf’s assholes from easily repairing them. It will take days for full crews to get them back on line. Months for my men to do so.” Lokmi glared with defensive pride.

  “Then we fly out of the blackout zone and com the fleet.”

  “Not in time to keep the transport from reaching Laro S
tation and infecting everyone there.”

  Piras and Kila exchanged a look. That quick glance made Nako suspicious they knew something they weren’t sharing. However, Piras brought up another issue. “If the women do make it to Laro, that bastard Maf will execute them, simply because they’re Earthers. The fanatical bigot wouldn’t entertain a shred of sympathy for them.”

  Nako had a new thought. “Maybe he would if he knew the whole story. What if we told him Earthers have been proven to be descendants of the Lost Colonists? We do come from the same ancient ancestors. This whole idea of a pure Kalquor is pretty much a load of shit, in that context.”

  “I don’t know. I don’t know anything any longer.” Piras rubbed his eyes tiredly.

  Terig tapped the three remaining fingertips of his left hand on the table surface. “If Maf were aware of our common ancestors and if he were fully informed of Bi’is’s involvement with why we’re going extinct, would it convince him to battle the Bi’isils escorting the death ship?”

  Piras abruptly didn’t look exhausted any more. “You are not suggesting we work with that traitor? That murdering gurluck?”

  “Why not? You already have. You gave him Laro to go in deep and cripple a portion of his fleet.”

  The admiral snarled. “Which proves I’ve sold more than enough of my soul for the empire. I don’t have any left to spare.”

  Nako wasn’t interested in the man’s guilt complex, not when Terig had hit on a path that might solve all their difficulties. “Getting the Basma’s fleet to help solves a lot of problems. His destroyers can intercept the hunter-killer escorts and hold the death ship outside the borders. Meanwhile, one of the raiders can fly out of the silent zone and contact the Imperial Fleet, which could arrive before Bi’is sends reinforcements.”

  “You’re assuming Maf will listen to us,” Kila pointed out.

  “He probably won’t. His hatred of Earthers is beyond good sense,” Piras said.

  Nako slammed a fist to the table. “He has to listen. Admiral, I can’t think of another option that allows us to keep those women alive while saving the empire from them.”