Farseek_Lietenant's Mate

by T. J. Quinn

  "But why? I don't understand," Otian frowned and looked at him suspiciously. He figured it must be something illegal.

  " Let's get a drink," Hankura said coolly. "We can sit down in that corner over there and discuss this privately."

  Otian agreed, not exactly hiding his impatience as they entered the lounge and ordered a bottle of a Wholaskan liquor called carava. Leading Otian to a quiet corner in the dimly lit lounge, they seated themselves comfortably on the sofa that curved intimately about a small, round pedestal table. Momentarily, a service droid entered with two squat glasses and a bottle of the thick almost syrupy, magenta carava.

  Still silent, Hankura to open the bottle and half-filled each of their glasses before he began to speak.

  " I'm a Physician--- Aledan born and Velran trained. My wife is a Terran. Before we came here, we spent five years with the Federation explorations. Near the end of our tour, we were caught in the middle of the Tregan invasions. We lost a lot of friends in that conflict; we barely escaped with our lives. And even though we're psi-mates, it's taken us along time to put what we had back together again. Putting Zevus Mar back together after the fighting stopped helped. We made a lot of friends who wanted us to stay but we couldn't. We had planned to make our home here on Oltarin.

  "I’ telling you these things so you understand that I'm not playing games with you. I haven't got time for that and I'm certainly not in the mood."

  Pausing, Hankura took a swallow from his glass and Otian followed suit, waiting for him to continue.

  "Is it fair to estimate that 3 1/2 million credits will pay off your creditors and repair your ship?" Hankura asked bluntly.

  Otian swallowed, choking a little on the fiery tasting liquid. "Y-yes."

  " All right, then I can provide that without too much trouble. In exchange, as I said, I want passage for my wife and our two children and me to Velran as soon as possible." Then Hankura paused, quirking a dark eye brow knowingly at the young man across the table from him. "What's the catch, right?"

  "It crossed my mind," Otian admitted, keeping his youthful features schooled into an emotionless mask. But even without deliberate probing, Hankura could sense his churning in her emotions.

  "As I said, Chelle and I are psi-mates---grade eight. I’m mainly a telepath, but she is also a cycle psychokinetic healer. Our five-year-old son is dawning…"

  "That's it!" Otian snapped irritably, shaking his head ruefully. "You must really think I'm desperate if you think I'd take on a dawner."

  "I think you are," Hankura countered earnestly. "I think you're just as desperate as I am, Otian. Do you know what we've been through? My son has existed in a nearly unbroken catatonic state ever since his powers began to emerge several months ago. Chelle and I can't reach him. There's nothing we can do to help him. Nothing!"

  Hankura raised his glass to his lips again in took a deep pull, closing his Emerald eyes as the fiery drink burned its way down to his stomach.

  "Jamerin needs more help them we can give him. Will never have a normal life without the kind of help he can get on Velran. Velran is our only hope." He paused. "I won't lie to you Otian. There is some danger. Jamerin did have one lapse, and fortunately the damage to his governess was reversible. But--"

  "And you want me to take you to him on it my ship? Do you think I'm insane?" The young captain demanded indignantly.

  " He's my son." Hankura murmured vehemently.

  Otian calmed a little in the face of Hankura's quiet dignity.

  " Look, Otian. I can't deny that he's potentially dangerous. Any psi-path is potentially dangerous. If we had been there when he reached his particular crisis, his governess may not have been injured at all… But, we weren't there. On your ship, Chelle and I would both be there to monitor him constantly." Hankura continued. "It's most likely that none of your crew would have any contact with Jamerin at all. And I assure you, Otian that if you agree to my proposition, Chelle and I will do everything humanly possible to keep him under control."

  "What about your other child?"

  "Lara is three. Even though she's dawning too, her situation is entirely different. Her powers are coming gradually and she is in control. She is a lovely, gentle child, and we have no reason to suspect but she will have Jamerin's problems."

  " Goddess, Jesus, Buddha, and Allah!" Otian muttered and took an eye opening swallow of carava. "You've got me against the wall and you know it! If I turn you down, I'll lose my ship for sure. If I agree---I might still lose my ship and everything else."

  "Otian, I can't deny the facts, but I wouldn't risk my wife and daughter’s lives as well as my own if I believed anything like you fear would happen." He asserted.

  ” No, but we're talking about your son." Otian answered slowly. " I can't ignore the fact that your feelings might be clouding your judgment. Hankura, there's no getting around the fact that this could be an extremely dangerous proposition for us all."

  " And there could be no danger and all!" Hankura countered impatiently. " Damn it! He's my son." He glared, slamming his glass to the table so hard that the thick magenta liquid sloshed over the sides. "Because of Chelle and me, he's the way he is now. We have to take whatever risks there are to help them, or we will lose him forever. We have no choice!"

  Anger and frustration overwhelmed him, and Hankura felt himself quickly losing his perspective on the situation. It was just no good. Why couldn't load Ian see what this meant to him? Why wouldn't he understand?

  Hankura shook his head and jumped up from his seat without warning, his eyes flashing green sparks. He felt just as helpless now is when he was trying to claw his way out of the concrete cell in the Tregan prison camp to help Chelle.

  " I gave you my offer," Hankura growled, fighting back his rising temper. "I'm in the directory. Com me by noon with your decision." With that Hankura started toward the exit.

  "But Hankura, I---" Otian protested, but the Aledan was already nearing the doorway on the far side of the lounge. "Hey, Hankura, wait!" The young captain called after him

  Hankura! It was the silent beckoning of his mate that stopped him just outside the lounge in the corridor, not Otian's voice. My darling, your feelings are clouding the issue. You know as well as I that Otian's fears aren't totally unfounded. Help him understand why we need to take the risks. Let yourself understand that he is troubled as well.

  "Hankura, you gotta understand…" Otian asserted and stopped abruptly at the vacant look in at the Aledan’s eyes.

  Then Hankura blinked his eyes into focus. "Yes, you're right Otian. I'm sorry." He said quietly, soothed inwardly by his mate's calmer assessment of the situation. "Our problem with Jamerin has become increasingly more difficult for me to deal with. I want to help him; I need to help him… But I haven't got the knowledge or the power to do it myself. Our only chance is to seek help from the Wholaskans on Velran. If I have to buy a ship to get there, we'll probably lose our home."

  Shoving his hands into the pockets of his khaki lounging slacks, Otian nodded. "I sort of know how you feel. You're offering me something I desperately need in exchange for something that seems simple on the surface. If it were just that simple, I'd jump that the chance. I'm tempted to take the chance anyway just so I can keep my ship. I want to help you, Hankura; you seem like a right kind of guy, but I might lose my ship either way I'd try it. And I've got 14 other people to think about besides myself. So far, since my father died, I haven't done very well by them. I don't want to make another mistake."

  " Well, I don't want it to be a mistake for either of us." Hankura said. "Why don't you discuss the matter with your crew. Maybe then, the dilemma will seem less formidable. You are welcome to come to our home and meet my family if it will help you make your decision---at your convenience. I will provide transportation."

  "Thank you." Otian nodded graciously. "I'll com you after I meet with my crew and let you know when we can come out."

  "Good, but make it soon. If we can't come to an agreement, I have
to make other arrangements quickly. Chelle and I have waited too long already."

  "I understand." Otian nodded again. "I’ll call a crew meeting as soon as I return to my ship. I'll com you soon.”

  "Fine." Hankura agreed. "We'll be waiting to hear from you."

  Then, with nothing more to say, Hankura headed through the terminal toward the hover port and his waiting craft. As he walked, he considered that maybe he shouldn't have sold the mran. Maybe he should've taken his son to Velran and booked passage for Chelle in Lara elsewhere.

  No. The mere prospect of six months’ separation from them left him aching inside. Separating the boy from his mother wouldn't help either. Too often, she was the only one who could soothe him when anger and fear drew him away from than living nightmare. Taking Jamerin to Velran just wasn't something he could do alone and a part of him was glad. So was Chelle.

  This had to work. It just had to.

  Otian watched the retreating figure's slip into the crowd and then started down the corridor to the docks and his ship. He knew what he had to do. Now he just had to convince the others it could work---and hope by the Goddess he was right!

  Psion Factor will soon be available at Amazon

  Excerpt from Abduction 2140

  Chapter One

  Whimpers and little cries filled the hallways of the mothership as the Slythonians walked around, preparing everything for the slaves’ auction. It was their job after all: provide the best slaves in all the galaxies.

  “Are the slaves ready, Eskol?” Rurik asked, his forked tongue hissing the words.

  The Slythonians would be easily described as huge lizards, able to walk on two feet, but still covered with brownish scales and with beady eyes, and let’s not forget their tail, hovering behind them, and known as a potent weapon they used whenever in need. They wore long, dark tunics that covered their bodies and several golden accessories, and the highest the rank the more accessories they would wear.

  But the Slythonians weren’t warriors; they preferred to let others fight while they dedicated their time to search the galaxies for the best slaves they could find. Their reputation as the best traders wasn’t built on words but on facts. They possessed the fastest spaceships and the best technology known in all the galaxies that money could buy. They were able to travel through space and time, likes others would cross the street to get to their homes.

  Coming from a small planet, without lofty ambitions, they had become the most known merchants in all galaxies, who stopped at nothing to get what they wanted, providing their clients with all they needed, no matter what that was.

  For that night’s auction, they had traveled very far; to gather a good group of specimens they were sure would sell quickly.

  “Yes, Captain Rurik. They all have been collared and prepare,” the trainer answered, bowing to his captain.

  “Show them to me.”

  “Of course, Captain Rurik,” he opened the gate leading to the slave cells and stepped aside to allow his Captain to go in.

  A long row of specialized cells sealed with metallic vertical bars and containing a simple bunker and small bathroom facilities lodged females from a few different species. Most of them had been purchased from their families, but others had simply been abducted.

  They only looked for humanoid slaves. Even species like theirs seemed to be more attracted to that kind of females, so amongst their slaves, you wouldn’t find women such as the Slythonians, unless, of course, a customer would specifically, ask for them.

  “We have an excellent group this time,” the captain said as they walked down the hallway, pointing at the naked bodies of the slaves imprisoned in the cells.

  “Yes, Captain.”

  They reached the cells where they kept one of the two human females.

  “Open the cell,” the captain ordered, approaching the female in it.

  “Stand up for inspection, slave,” Eskol ordered the woman, and she reluctantly got up.

  “These Earthlings… I believe we should remove their body hair, permanently,” the captain suggested, observing her thoroughly, as he ran a finger through the woman’s arms, belly, and mound. “They don’t add anything to their bodies.”

  “Very well, we shall do it immediately.”

  “When did you capture these ones?” the captain asked, with a slight frown, barely perceptible under the scales covering his face.

  “In the year 2140, captain. May I know why do you ask?”

  “Look at them, Eskol. They look practically the same. The same hair color, the same eyes’ color, the same body type… are they related?” the captain pointed out.

  “No, captain. They were abducted in different continents. Earthlings have been experimenting with genetic improvement,” the slave master explained. “I guess that’s why they all started to look alike.”

  “When did they start doing that?”

  “According to our data, around the year 2100, captain.”

  “We must stop going to the future then. These females are too dull to interest our customers,” the captain ordered.

  “Who are you? Who gave you the right to bring us here?” the woman ranted furiously in response to the observations.

  “Shut up, female, you are not entitled to question us,” Eskol ordered the woman.

  “I won’t be shut up by you, you disgusting lizard,” as soon as the words came out of her mouth, the collar she had wrapped around her neck discharged some kind of drug into her body that immediately paralyzed the woman and inflicted excruciating pain, making her fall to the floor.

  The captain lets out a cruel laugh. “Eskol, didn’t you explain to them the function of the collar?” he asked, turning to look at his man while crouching next to the helpless female.

  “Of course, I did, Captain. I believe she chose not to believe in me.”

  Rurik grabbed a full fist of the woman’s hair and pulled her head up, forcing her to face him. “The collar you’re wearing will react that way every time you chose to disobey a direct order, female. Here, you are nothing more than merchandise, meant to answer questions, not ask them. Is that clear to you now?”

  The woman whimpered, as the drugs’ effect washed off, and nodded.

  He dropped her hair and stood up.

  “It is time to ring them,” he ordered the slave master. “Our customers will soon be here.”

  “Very well, captain. We shall proceed immediately.”

  The captain nodded and left the room.

  Eskol called his assistants and one by one, they took the females out of their cells and inserted small metallic rings on the female’s left nipple. It was the Slythonians’ brand, and all of their slaves carried one. Most masters would remove it after the purchase, but meanwhile, it was the traders’ way to identify their merchandise.

  The ring also carried a tracking device, in case some of the merchandise was stolen from the traders.

  Once the ring was inserted, Eskol proceeded to remove the human female’s body hair, leaving them with just their blonde manes, falling down their backs. The slaves were finally ready for the auction, and the customers were starting to arrive.

  The cells were opened, and he ordered them to form a line.

  Quickly, all of the females obeyed, none too anxious to experience the fate of the human female.

  “You shall follow my orders, immediately and in silence. I don’t want to hear any cries or whimpers. Are we clear?” he asked, with a stern tone.

  “Yes, sir,” the answers came promptly.

  “You will be taken to the auction room, and you shall wait there until you are summoned to the center of the stage,” he explained. “Don’t even try to escape, because your collars are programmed to stop any intent you make, and in addition to the pain you will feel, you will be severely punished for it. Are we clear?” he asked again.

  “Yes, sir.”

  Eskol turned to one of his men and asked him to take the women to the auction room before he turned one last time to fa
ce the slaves. “I expect your best behavior. Don’t you dare to make me look bad in front of my superiors or the customers.” The threat sounded even more ominous in his hissing tone, and no female would even dream in dismissing it.

  They left the room following the other Slythonian and Eskol joined Captain Rurik on the transportation room, where the customers were being expected.

  “Ah, Eskol, our first customers are arriving,” Captain Rurik informed when his slave master approached.

  “Right on time, captain. The slaves are ready and waiting in the auction room.”

  “Perfect.”

  Warriors and dignitaries from all the galaxies around arrived at the Slythonian’s mothership. They liked to use their ship for these auctions because their planet was in a remote area of the galaxy and few customers would travel that far for a simple auction.

  Captain Rurik was about to abandon the transportation room to start the auction when an unexpected customer was announced.

  Chapter Two

  Asgar looked out the window of his command center and stared at the starry night. He was on his way back to his home planet, after a new fruitless search for a possible breeding mate.

  For some reason the men of science from his planet were not able to explain, for the past one hundred years, only a female was born out of ten children. With numbers such as those, their population had decreased to the point the king and his council had to take measures on the subject. And though they had searched throughout the galaxy to find the appropriate mates for their males, so far, the search had not been successful. The females they had mated so far, had proven to be unable to carry the Zuvrakians children, and the future of his species was starting to look very dark.

  “Asgar, I have news that might interest you,” Egil, Asgar’s second in command informed, as he approached his superior.