I could read Hastor easily and knew the bastard was omitting something deliberately. His shoulders were tense and he wouldn’t look directly at me. I wondered if I would have to alert Quinn if I could get the opportunity or if he would detect the subterfuge himself.
“I don’t trust you, Rathian, and I don’t particularly like you either. I know that we have no choice but to accept Rathian assistance at this point. However you should know, keeping us as your so-called guests for any longer than a reasonable amount of time to rid us of our scourge may be looked upon as an aggressive act against Xolia,” Quinn stated bluntly.
“Fine,” Hastor replied with a long put-upon sigh.
As Quinn and Del led the way from the Ready Room with Hastor and I following, I grabbed my mate’s arm. I hissed to him, “I know you are up to something, damn it. I don’t know what but I’m watching you.”
“Mind your manners, Brat,” Hastor growled. Pulling my hand free, he released me only after giving it a painful squeeze. He added, ”And mind your business. Keep your place or I shall remind you of it frequently.”
----------
Once the Rathian space runner had landed, Hastor joined us at the doorway. He pulled an overhead hatch open and yanked out an armful of brown material. He tossed something at each one of us and unfolded the cloth to reveal ankle length robes made of lightweight, tightly woven cloth. The deep hoods would protect us from the unruly sand and wind or so he had explained to me once during his period of banishment. The robes had small slits in the back for Rathian tails to slide through, allowing freedom of movement.
“Stay close behind me,” he ordered. He opened the ramp and disembarked without even a glance behind. He shouted back at us, “Watch out for the Boua Brush, it has wicked thorns that can pierce through flesh and bone.”
Sighing, I followed behind him to get a good look at my new home.
My first impression of Rathia was that it smelled of almost nothing, maybe dry dirt but even that was hard to detect with all the damn wind stealing my breath away. The next thing I noticed was the sting of sand against my face made me feel instantly sun burned. I imitated Hastor and pulled the hood further down until I could only see the ground under my feet.
The shifting dunes of smoke colored sand, so fine and gritty, made it difficult to walk. Each step was taxing, especially for my brother’s poor human mate who was panting heavily before we got very far. Quinn and I helped him while Hastor sprinted ahead nimbly, his tail twitching side to side.
“Would be handy to have one of those things,” I snarked. Irritably I shouted, “Hastor, we don’t all have tails to help us stay balanced in this shit. Slow down!”
Behind us I heard someone slip and curse in Xolian. I turned to see Kasen on his knees a mere hands width from one of the scrawny black bushes with wicked red tipped thorns. The twins helped him regain his feet. Kasen dusted himself off, waved us onwards and could be heard snarling, “Who would want to live here?”
I sighed again. Some home. For a hot, arid planet it struck one’s soul as cold and bleak. I knew I’d grow used to it eventually but for now it made me long for the green forests and shimmering rivers on Xolia.
We crossed over the final dune and came to a halt. Just ahead we could make out the low, wide buildings that made up the city. They were huddled close together and the thoroughfares were no wider than two Rathians could walk abreast. The structures had doorways of metal that glinted in the sunlight but no windows. The burning wind was whimpering and gasping as it passed through the long empty streets.
“Home again,” Hastor stated. I couldn’t tell if he had missed it or not.
“Where do you… where do we live, Haz?” I asked.
“Oh, nowhere in this part of the city,” he sneered. “These small homes are for the sick and maimed. You’ll meet one of my fellow whelps later. Father struck him in the face and he lost an eye because of it. He lives somewhere out here.”
“You don’t even know where your brother lives?” Del challenged.
Hastor gave him a shocked look of disdain, “Why would I care? He’s no longer fit to fight or breed. He’s lucky father let him live.”
“Let’s get inside somewhere, Hastor,” Quinn demanded. “Before we all die.”
“Pffft,” Hastor razzed. “This is not even our hottest season, Xolian.”
“Great,” I murmured. “At least it’s a dry heat.”
“Indeed, Brat, and soon you’ll grow used to it. Inside our home you’ll be quite comfortable being naked.”
I ignored his teasing. “So where is everybody? I mean this is the capitol city, heavily populated, right?”
Hastor barked a laugh. “It’s midday. No Rathian is dumb enough to be outside to bake. Come on, it’s a bit further to the palace. You’ll meet plenty of Raiders there.”
Del remarked as we walked on, “What would happen if you actually used a color on one of your buildings? You know, something besides grey and brown?”
Before my mate decided to rip Del’s face with his tail I quickly explained, “He’s being sarcastic, Hastor. Relax. He’s not actually suggesting that someone would paint a building blue or something outlandish like that.”
Beneath his hood I caught Hastor’s angry squint and he muttered, “If you ever do that, Brat, I’d kill you myself.”
----------
Amazingly we made it through the maze of streets to the city center without pissing off my mate further. The building ahead of us consisted of nothing but immense spires that seem to spear the bright, cloudless sky. There was a strange humming sound emanating from them. As we entered through a metal doorframe I laid my hand upon it and felt a deep vibration. Glancing upwards into darkness I turned to my mate, puzzled. “Where’s the vibration and sound coming from?”
It was Quinn that answered, “Natural ventilation and cooling system. Very clever. Rathians must live underground.”
Proudly, Hastor said, “Yes, exactly. We haven’t lived above ground in recorded history.”
Further inside the building, Hastor led us down several deep stairwells and then into a room with a large, empty center like an arena. The floor was covered in ornate woven rugs with red, black and brown geometric patterns.
“Do the Rathians make those or steal them?” Quinn asked.
Hastor shrugged. “Young Rathian male and female whelp make them. There are several types of rugs. These are special, intended for the Taking ceremony,” he answered, looking squarely at me, hungry and possessive. My heart raced.
He turned away from the arena area and pointed to the rows of benches surrounding it. He ordered the group gruffly, “Take a seat. They will serve us a meal and show you a traditional sword fight. It’s more of a ceremonial thing these days, meant for entertainment but hopefully someone will get maimed.”
We shed our robes and laid them aside behind us and watched as four combatants, three men and a woman dressed in the traditional short, leather kilts, entered the arena in front of us. They swished their swords through the air, squared off and waited for a command to begin.
“Interesting, I didn’t know the Rathian females were allowed to fight,” Quinn said. “I thought they were only for breeding and raising large families.”
Hastor replied, “You allow Elons to battle, don’t you, Xolian?”
“Of course,” Quinn said.
“Most of the females decide to become mated and breed but a few do not. Take my sister over there; she tried to kill our mother. As a reward for her bravery and cunning our father allowed her to join the Raider military.”
“Your sister tried to kill your mother?” Del asked. He rested his hands on his bulging belly as if to keep the children inside from hearing.
“Oh yes, that’s common on Rathia, little human,” Hastor explained. “We have many whelp because so many get killed before adulthood. Once we are adults, well, it’s up to us to rid society of the old, dead weight our parents have become.”
Hastor leaned forward and
called out, “Commence.”
I’m glad the fight was only ceremonial. It was bloody enough. If it been a fight to the death it would have been only slightly more vicious. Blades hacked and sliced at arms, legs and heads. Since they carried no shield there were plenty of shrieks of pain as a limb was slashed. I soon saw the sense of having dark red and brown rugs. They easily hid the bloodstains. The female was rushed by two opponents and thrown onto her back, held down by their combined weight. Leering at her, the third lifted his kilt-like Da’ Shari and revealed his engorged shaft.
Hastor growled low in his throat and the sharp quills on his arms and shoulders raised in anger. He stood up, tail whipping side to side barely missing my head. He shouted, “Raza, get up! You others, copulate with her somewhere else! Keep to the ceremony!”
The male raiders backed away and let the female rise. That was their mistake. Before they could respond she neatly slashed one on the arm with her sword. He crumpled to the floor howling as her blade dripped his gore onto the floor.
Hastor barked a delighted laugh, “Well done, Raza!”
His sister made a gesture at him I had learned was rude and sexually suggestive. This only made him laugh harder.
The remaining two male raiders lifted their wounded comrade and Raza followed behind them as they carried him from the arena.
The door opened and five Rathians joined us. None of them greeted Hastor or even looked at him. After they took their seats next to us Hastor indicated their group with a wave of his hand. Sounding bored he said, ”My idiot brothers and sisters. That one there who is missing the eye and half his ear is the one I told you about earlier.”
Quinn asked, “What are their names, Hastor?”
“I can’t remember the ugly female whelp’s name but the tall one is Dar or Far or something like that.”
The tall one remarked tightly, “Var.”
“Anyway, its not important. Only warriors are written into our songs and history books. Snar is a scholar or something idiotic.”
“A teacher,” Var corrected. He ducked easily beneath Hastor’s tail as it swung at his face.
Tables were soon brought in and set before us. Quickly, the food in large vessels followed suit. I reached to remove the lid from a pot but Hastor hissed his disapproval at me. “My family members eat first.”
Del wondered aloud, “Isn’t that rude? Most people feed guests first.”
Hastor carefully observed his brothers and sisters as they scooped the delicious smelling stew from the deep cooking pots and plopped it into their metal bowls, digging in. After a few minutes he indicated we could eat. He explained, “I don’t trust them not to poison me. They always eat first.”
----------
The meal was consumed in silence. Hastor’s sister and brothers kept an eye on him so did I but for different reasons, I was sure. They didn’t want to be taken in a surprise attack and I observed him around his guests. He treated us with a cold disdain initially, however when Quinn murmured something to Del, Hastor frowned in dismay.
“Do you actually love your human mate?” Hastor asked astounded. “I’ve seen you smile at him and touch his hand, his thigh. Love weakens the warrior’s spirit.”
Del smirked and replied, “Been weakened, have you, Quinn? I’d say you’re even stronger than before from being so protective.”
“You’ve never been in love, Hastor?” Quinn inquired, entwining Del’s fingers in between his larger, clawed ones. “Put it this way, Hastor, so you can consider it more accurately in Rathian terms. Haven’t you ever close enough to someone to trust them? Want to be with that person and miss them when they are not around?”
In amazement, I watched as Hastor’s gaze drew distant, his facial expression soften but only for a fleeting second. He sniffed in rebuke. “I’ve never been close to anyone. Certainly never let my guard down.”
“What about with my brother? No feelings for him as your mate?” asked Quinn.
I waited for my new mate’s answer. He had admitted before not to completely hating me. That was at least something. Hastor glanced at me then to my surprise held out his hand. When I took it I noticed his siblings staring at this unusual sight.
Hastor cleared his throat, started to speak and faltered. Thankfully I managed not to laugh at him. I might have lost my face had I done so. Finally Hastor said, “We are mates in blood. There is a tie between us that, Captain Quinn, is none of your or your fathers business.”
Del barked a laugh and raised his glass in a toast. “I’ll drink to that.”
With the mood lightened somewhat it was easier for the Xolians and human guests to speak with the Rathians.
Kasen was the first to take a chance. “Hastor, where are the guards? I thought we’d be kept in some dark dungeon somewhere.”
“You want to go? I could still take you there,” Hastor said lightly. Kasen shook his head so Hastor continued; “We don’t have guards on you. Go anywhere you wish. If you try to escape into the desert, you’ll die within a few days. Or something will put you out of your misery sooner.”
“Aren’t you afraid we’ll see something of strategic importance and steal it or report it to our King?” Kasen pressed.
Hastor grunted in mirth, his mouth full of the dark brown vegetable they had served. He flicked his hand to indicate the room. After swallowing, he remarked, “I’m certain, Xolian, your society has far more advancements. This is about as strategic as it gets. We keep an eye on each other, plot and scheme for control. What we have is stolen from other planets. We don’t even study it to copy it. We don’t need to, we steal more anyway.”
“If you steal from other planets, Hastor, why isn’t there more displays of riches and finery,” I questioned my mate.
“Most things we steal we use for the military. The Rathian commoners reap a few benefits of course. Free education and medical care if you join the military, for example,” Hastor explained, chewing on another bite.
“Then you’d think everyone would join the military,” Quinn remarked dryly. “But fewer seem to be doing that these days or so I’ve heard.”
“No, it’s true,” The Rathian named Var said. “The military is a lonely, dangerous job. Often far from Rathia. Fewer are choosing it. We don’t really see the point in dying trying to overtake other planets.”
Hastor’s snarl interrupted, but before he could shred his brother’s statement a bell sounded. The Rathian siblings stood up quickly and made for a far doorway. Hastor gathered our cloaks, tossing them to us. “Come along,” he said. “We’ve been summoned to the throne room.”
----------
As we entered the sprawling throne room occupied by only one ornate chair, I heard my First Father’s voice. Confused, I looked for him when I entered. His visage was projected on a view screen. He didn’t even pause speaking when we crossed in front of the screen so I wasn’t sure he could see us.
First Father was angry but calm. I knew that tone of voice. He had already reached the ‘I’m done with this idiot’ stage. “You will return the Xolians and humans at once. No negotiations. As I have already promised, if you do not, Xolia will take this as an act of war.”
The Raider King, standing next to his throne, grinned like a madman, which I’m sure was not far from the truth. “As you can see, Xolian King, I have the bridge crew right here. You may speak with the Captain if you wish.”
“Quinn, are you and the crew safe? Unharmed?” First father inquired.
Quinn spoke up, “The bridge crew is together, Sire, and we are fine. I’ve not seen the other crew members or our guest Kai in several hours.”
Hastor reassured him, “They are together not far away. They were fed and entertained as you were.”
“Yes, yes, they are well,” The Raider King snapped. “Let’s continue the negotiations. I don’t particularly like the smell of so many Xolians in my throne room.”
I was proud that First Father did not take the bait. “Release them or I promise you, you’ll b
e dealing with quite a few more if I have to send ground troops.”
“You can have them all, I don’t have any use for them. My slave houses and brothels are full. However, in payment for saving them, I want the ship,” The Raider King announced. He sat back into his throne and waited smugly.
Hastor leaned close to his sovereign and said quietly, “Sire, we may not want that ship after all.”
My mate paid the price for his boldness when the King swiped his cheek with an extended claw. “Why the Demons are you telling me this now. What’s wrong with the ship? A few slugs, can’t you handle that?” The King hissed back.
“Sire, these things divide over and over. The last report I received stated that the ship was infested and unsalvageable. They’ve gotten into the wiring, the computer systems, food – everywhere. They spread too quickly. The crew recommended to destroy the ship before the situation gets out of hand and spreads to Rathia. Already four of the cleanup team have been stung and carry the unborn larva in their wounds,” Hastor answered.
“Hmph,” The Raider King snarled. “And what glory then does this bring the Raidership, Hastor? We don’t even have a ship after the effort of sending you to rescue it. Tell me why I shouldn’t slay you right now.”
“You’ve saved a Xolian prince from a terrible fate. Xolia will be in your debt, of course, my King,” Hastor smoothly implied. “They have also given you the young prince to be a Rathian mate. He will be yours to guide and utilize as you see fit. Others will not dare to attack us with the prince residing in the palace and risk alienating Xolia.”
The King patted Hastor’s face, smearing the droplets of blood from the scratches as he did so. “I knew there was a reason I wanted your father and mother to let you live, Hastor.”
The raider King stood, approached the Xolian guests and in front of my First Father, the Xolian King announced, “I am releasing you at once, Captain. My liaison Hastor and his mate shall see to your transfer to our farthest moon. It’s as close as the Xolian fleet may come to our planet.”
Supernova Page 11
