Chapter 3
THREE
Niir’s thoughts whirred as he led Calinae through the corridors.
He didn’t have to put her on his deck—in the room right next to his, for stars’ sake. It was reserved for higher ranking guests. Something about her made him want to keep her close. He didn’t trust her, or the other thirteen females of dubious origins.
If he could be certain of just one thing, it was this: the females were not from Rakol.
Someone was lying. He just didn’t know who.
He had no idea where to start with this female. He had a mountain of questions that had to be asked in a way that wouldn’t cause her to shut down. And nearly every time she opened her mouth, out came another puzzle to solve, with more questions.
They weren’t any species he was familiar with. They looked human, but they probably weren’t. If they were part human, however, Trak had a very big problem on his hands.
He stopped before the guest quarters and opened it with his handprint. “Accommodations are small, but provide everything you will need. There is a food dispensary against that wall, and a fully equipped washroom through there.” He pointed out things as she cautiously entered the chamber.
There really wasn’t much to it. A simple bunk, a compact closet, which was currently empty, and a table and chairs that all folded up against the wall.
“If you open the wardrobe and allow it to scan you, clothing will be processed and appear in there via the internal laundry delivery system. Most questions you have regarding your accommodations can be answered via the touch screen. Be sure to choose the universal language option. Otherwise, you will be dealing with Virilian, which is the default.” This was a lot of talking for him, someone who preferred to observe quietly.
Anna would be doing this, if she could communicate with Calinae.
He crossed his arms, for lack of anything better to do with them. “If you wish to look outside, window controls can also be accessed through the touch screen. There isn’t much to see out there, though.”
She looked to the window, which was covered by metal slats. “Just space.” She sounded exhausted. “I’ve never known a different view.”
Another question. He opened his mouth, then snapped it shut.
Now was not the time to interrogate her.
His next question would not help relax her, but the answer was essential to grasp what they were dealing with.
“Calinae, I must ask if members of your group were forced to do anything else while being held by the raiders?”
She didn’t need clarification, thankfully, as comprehension instantly dawned on her features.
“We weren’t touched. The few of us who struggled to work the flowers were punished with the withholding of food, but that was all.
The guards there seemed almost…afraid of us.
They never came near us without full bodysuits. We never even saw their faces.”
He nodded as his head worked through all the possibilities. More information was needed. He needed her to be comfortable for more questioning, and currently, she was anything but. “A medic will be coming by to run a diagnostic on you, as well. Is that acceptable?”
She looked up to him, worry swimming in her gold eyes. “The others need medical attention far more than I. Are they being housed nearby? May I see them?”
Niir frowned. She would not like his answer. “They will all receive medical attention and they are being housed in guest quarters on the standard residential deck,” he replied. “You will see them in due time.”
He watched her ire rise like the needle-sharp spikes on a wotta’s back. “Due time? What does that mean?” She mirrored his stance by folding her own arms. “If I am their ‘leader,’ as you decreed, I should have access to my people.”
She wasn’t wrong. He didn’t have a rebuttal to her statement other than to cringe inwardly and rattle off Virilian policy on the matter.
She really wouldn’t like it. “In the instance of a species of unknown origin, the specimen must be isolated until all relevant information is gathered to the officers’ satisfaction and all data archived. ”
Her eyes narrowed and her face reddened. He thought she might punch him in the nose. “Species of unknown origin?” she ground out. “I just told you our origin. There is nothing unknown about us.”
Niir stepped close, drawn by the sparks in her flashing eyes and the flush running along her high cheekbones. “Ah, Calinae.” His voice held a heavy purr that revealed more than he wished. “Everything about you is unknown.”
Niir’s primal side was not buried as deeply as most Virilians’.
He had been a mercenary for too long, enjoyed bloodlust a little too much, to fully hide his cravings.
He stepped into her space, crowding her a little.
The animal inside liked the way her pupils dilated and her lips parted.
He admired that she did not back away. He was aroused by the pulse throbbing in her neck, the flush on her cheeks.
The moment became charged with an odd, unexpected electricity.
Their gazes locked. And there, in her deep, golden eyes, the primal side of her winked back at him before being smothered by her glare and a sharp step backwards.
Niir felt a wave of heat wash over him and abruptly turned away. He strode from her quarters, shut the door and walked away with blood thrumming through his veins and need coiling in his gut.
This was not acceptable. He did not know what it was about this female that drew him so powerfully. Whatever it was, it had to be squashed. She was destined for another. Even if she wasn’t, she would never be his.
The primal beast that resided inside every Virilian’s soul lived very close to Niir’s surface.
He could almost feel the fire in his veins and the weight of flaming horns curving off his skull.
It was a form that Niir had learned to draw forth when he was a hired mercenary in his youth.
With most Virilians, the primal form emerged maybe once in a lifetime, but for Niir, it was roused with any sort of passion.
He kept it buried by devoting himself to the research of languages and cultures needed for his position aboard Trak’s ship.
He could not allow his dealings with Calinae to break his control.
He arrived to the command center of the ship, which was now called “the bridge,” thanks to Anna and some human television show. Only senior crew were allowed there, which included Trak, Anna and Pizol, who lounged in his seat looking grumpy.
“Welcome back, Niir. Did you settle our beautiful guest in nicely?” asked Pizol.
Niir ignored the first officer, as he frequently did. “I think we have a problem.”
“If I had a credit for every time you told me that,” mused Trak.
“I’m serious.” Niir sank into his own seat, beside Trak. “These females are not what they appear to be.”
“You mean they’re not utterly ravishing and unattached?” moaned Pizol. “I still cannot believe I missed a mission involving rescuing fourteen beautiful females. Do you know how many times I’ve done this in my dreams?”
“Shut it, Pizol,” snapped Niir.
“Okay,” said Trak, all traces of humor fading away. “What have you got?”
“Everything about this is wrong,” he said, rubbing his temples where a headache had begun to throb. “First, the females speak Rakolin, the language spoken on the planet Rakol. They believe that is where they’re from.”
Trak snapped his fingers over and over. “Rakol… I know that name. Have we been there?”
“No. Every living thing on it died after the planet was struck by a massive comet over five thousand cycles ago. It then drifted into a neighboring planet’s orbit and to avoid collision, it was intentionally obliterated.
There is no Rakol. The language is considered dead.
It exists only in the minds of a few historians and the cultural databanks. ”
“Yet these fourteen females speak it?” asked Anna, leaning forward.
“Exclusively,” said Niir. “Except for Calinae. She was taught the universal language of the third quadrant because she is being groomed to wed Warlord Mek-la.” He spat out the name like a curse, which caused Trak’s brows to raise.
The warlord had never been their enemy. Not exactly an ally, either.
Like with many of their associates, he existed in the gray area of “business associate.”
“And you’re certain she has no idea about this?” asked Anna.
“I am not,” he replied. “I haven’t questioned her with any depth. She could be a very good actress.”
Pizol scratched his chin. “You know a lot of actresses, Niir.”
“I do. This female does not strike me as one.” He shrugged. “We will see.”
“Bloody hell,” Trak muttered. “But there’s more, isn’t there? You wouldn’t get worked up over a blown-up planet.”
Niir sighed. “The medic is visiting each one and treating any ailments they have. I asked him to get swabs and blood samples from each of them to scan their genetic makeup. I suspect they are part human.”
Anna’s green eyes narrowed. “If that turns out to be the case, someone is violating basic codes of species contact. There is no way the Earth Council would agree to this.”
“True.” Niir knew for a fact that the newly formed Earth Council, that was hashing out rules and safety measures for interspecies contact on their planet, had expressly forbid the harvesting of any human genetic material for any reason. “But it didn’t stop someone.”
“The obvious culprit is the warlord himself,” said Trak. “I’ll have to have a chat with him.”
Niir held up a hand. “Allow me to question Calinae more thoroughly before you do so,” he said. “Better to have more information, than less, with that one.”
“Better make it quick, Niir.” Pizol consulted his screens. “We are due to rendezvous with the warlord at the Sintra-1 space station in a few cycles.”
His narrowed gaze whipped to the first officer. “Why not Sislus, as originally agreed upon?”
Pizol shook his head. “Change of plan from Mek-la himself. He will retrieve them at the space station.”
Niir didn’t like that. Sintra-1 was much closer than Sislus, leaving them little time to get to the bottom of the mystery of these females’ origins. “Can we delay?”
Trak shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe our ship needs repairs, after our unfortunate encounter with Yerkin raiders? Maybe we have a fuel leak. What’s nearby?”
“Checking,” replied Anna, whose fingers flew over her screen. “The closest spot is a way station called Elos on Tugi-3.”
“That place is full of snooty pricks with too many credits,” said Pizol with disgust. “All wankery, no substance. Can’t get a decent drink there—the taga is shit and overpriced.”
“No argument there, mate.” Trak waved a hand. “That’s why the four of us and our female guests will be staying on the ship. Book hangar space, and quarters for the rest of the crew. We’re going to buy Niir some quality time with the mystery female.”