Alien Hostage (3 page)

Tasha swallowed guilt. It would be okay. They were a good clan. They’d find the right girl eventually.

Chapter 2

Tasha grabbed a shower in her small quarters at the Matara Complex, a huge building located in the underground area not far from Clan Deg’s treehouse home. She dressed hurriedly in a matching skirt and top and slid on comfortable shoes. Refreshed and glowing from the excellent sex – and still wincing a bit over the conscience that didn’t want to let her go – she headed for the Royal House.

The home of the Imperial Clan and members of their family was dug into a cliff that hugged the powdery pink sand beach of Kalquor’s capital. Kalquorians preferred to make their homes in natural settings, not wanting to spoil the native beauty of their planet. The interiors of the cliff dwellings and businesses were thoroughly modern however. The love for nature did not keep the Kalquorians from enjoying the latest in technological advances.

Upon arrival at the royal apartments, Tasha was automatically ushered into the Imperial Clan’s home by a couple of swarthy Royal Guards who stood vigil at the entrance. She eyed the red armor-suited Nobeks with appreciation. They looked like pure brutality, an appearance she appreciated. Pretty men held little attraction for Tasha. Men should look like men, in her opinion. The rougher, the better.

The two fierce gents she swept by gave her a quick once-over, but their scowling visages didn’t change expression. Whether they examined her because they searched for possible urges of regicide or because they were men looking at a woman, she couldn’t tell. The Royal Guards didn’t take their duties lightly – when they weren’t traitors, at least.

There had been problems on Kalquor lately. It was getting harder to know who to trust.

Tasha wandered through the royal apartments. The smooth walls with their lighting panels, the firm yet slightly giving floors with their scattered furred rugs, the hand carved furnishings, the priceless artworks by masters throughout the known worlds ... the home held no hint that it resided within a cliff until one went on the balconies carved from the rock outside.

She waved and exchanged greetings with familiar faces of assistants and household staff. In the hallway, Dramok Emperor Clajak and his aide Korkla interrupted a quiet argument they were having to offer her bows and smiles.

“Trouble in paradise?” Tasha asked.

“My emperor is unhappy about the seating arrangements at tonight’s dinner,” Korkla said in his mild tone. The sharp-featured Dramok looked more amused than put out.

“He’s put Councilman Terbal within shouting distance,” Clajak scowled. “That man gets on my last nerve.”

“But he’s always in favor of everything you want done for Kalquor,” Tasha said. Her tone was mocking since she knew why Clajak couldn’t stand Dramok Terbal. The problems went far beyond the sycophant statements often delivered by the councilman.

“He’s a sniveling, lying piece of – ugh, don’t get me going again,” the emperor griped. Despite the note of complaint, he winked at Tasha.

She grinned at the handsome face framed with steel-colored hair. Clajak had an infamous temper, but he usually kept it aimed at those who made him mad.

In a loud, conspiratorial whisper, Tasha told Korkla, “No knives at my emperor’s place setting.”

Korkla laughed at that and Clajak’s trademark roguish grin spread over his face. “And none for Terbal to stick in my back,” he snickered.

“Noted.” Korkla smiled at Tasha. “I suppose you’re looking for your cousin? The empress is in her dressing room.”

“I figured. Chin up, Clajak. Tonight won’t last forever – especially if Terbal does get that knife in you.”

She walked off on his and Korkla’s laughter, searching for Jessica.

Tasha found her cousin in her private dressing room, along with what appeared to be an army of Kalquorian men dashing about in a flurry of activity. For the most part they were gentle-faced Imdikos, the breed that gravitated towards nurture and care of others. A couple of Dramoks also busied themselves calling out orders.

In the center of all the bustle sat the empress herself, Matara Jessica of Clan Clajak. Back on Earth she’d been plain old Jessica McInness, a nurse with no interest in fame or pretention.

Tasha had gotten used to Jessica’s lofty status as one of the Kalquorian Empire’s rulers for the most part. She still experienced moments when the sight of her cousin’s power brought her to a standstill. This was one of those moments as stylists crowded about Jessica, getting her ready for an important state dinner.

Tasha tried to reconcile childhood memories of her younger cousin. Once upon a time, Jessica had been a tiny terror with flashing eyes and scabby knees. That little girl showed little resemblance to the self-possessed woman Tasha saw now. Jessica’s chestnut brown hair had been arranged in an elegant serpentine coil that wound to the back of her neck. Her delicate features, which reminded one of the elves of folklore, were enhanced by the most careful application of cosmetics. Jessica was not one to wear much makeup, but the small amount she’d allowed for tonight had been applied with an artist’s touch. Her fine-boned body was toned from the dancing she enjoyed for exercise. The slender column gown she wore was pink, setting off her lightly tanned skin so that it glowed.

Her eyes were the same as ever, one moment warm with caring and the next sparking with temper. Jessica and Clajak were a pair with their fiery temperaments, all right.

“Tasha, isn’t my mommy pretty?” a small voice asked.

Tasha located the owner of that sweet trill. Jessica’s youngest child Noelle sat on the sofa-like lounger in the room surrounded by piles of offered and rejected gowns. She beamed up at her second cousin with a child’s innocent delight as she clutched a doll that had been made to look just like her.

Tasha picked her way around shoes and dropped toiletries to join Noelle. The styling crew kept moving like busy bees about the hive, but they nodded and moved out of the way of Tasha’s passage. When she got to the lounger she collapsed next to Noelle as if having navigated the world’s trickiest obstacle course.

“Hi, sweetie! Yes, your mom is beautiful,” Tasha said, giving Noelle a kiss.

Her three-year-old second cousin snuggled up close to be held. Tasha’s nostrils filled with the little girl’s sweet, still-babyish scent. Noelle nearly crawled up in her lap in her desire to be kept close.

Noelle had been clingy the last six months since her older brother Wayne had gone off to Nobek training camp. The family had taken great pains to explain the situation to Noelle. Wayne was a young warrior personality. The camp would help him control his destructive tendencies, teaching him how to be a productive member of society. Yet even though Wayne came home on regular visits, Noelle still couldn’t quite grasp why he’d been sent away. She seemed to have the idea that she too might ‘disappear’ some day.

Tasha cuddled with the little girl. Nearing her fourth birthday, Noelle would have been big for her age had she been a full-blooded Earther. She was average for a Kalquorian, however. She had Jessica’s elfin features with a sharp nose and pointed chin, but from there her fathers’ heritage was obvious. She had the brown skin, purple cat-pupiled eyes, and tiny hinged fangs that would stay folded to the roof of her mouth until she reached puberty. Her frame also showed signs of growing muscularity, a natural benefit of the Kalquorian race. She would not be small-boned and slender like her Earther mother.

If not for her hair, it would have been impossible to tell which of Jessica’s three male mates had fathered Noelle. However, she possessed the mutation that made Clajak’s hair silvered steel, making it clear who her blood sire was. Not that it mattered one bit to Nobek Emperor Bevau or Imdiko Emperor Egilka. All three of Noelle’s legal fathers doted on her with equal love and regard. The same could be said of Wayne, who looked like a smaller version of Egilka. That Wayne had turned out to be a Nobek was a matter of obvious pride to Bevau, who had strutted around with a smug expression for days after the test results were announced. The way he had bragged to anyone who would listen, one would have thought the boy to be Bevau’s natural-born son.

It was the Kalquorian way for all men in a clan to accept each of their Matara’s children as their own. No one talked biology, at least not in public. A child was the reflection of all four of his or her parents.

Tasha hugged the much-loved princess close, feeling happiness that her own future children might have the advantages of so many fathers. If she could ever settle down to take a clan on as permanent mates, her conscience reminded her. She frowned.

Her momentary disquiet over the continued issues she had with commitment were forgotten as Jessica’s voice rose in irritation. “No, no, no! How many times have I told you I won’t wear that obnoxious thing? Get me something simple, for heaven’s sake.”

Tasha looked at the necklace one of the Dramok stylists held up, offering it for Jessica’s slender throat. She snickered. The thing was chunky with monstrous amethysts, sapphires, emeralds, and rubies. No doubt each stone cost a fortune, even discounting the rose gold chain they hung from. Tasha thought no one could possibly wear the necklace and hold their head up straight.

Jessica was not someone to boast of status and wealth, though as empress she possessed them in spades. Had she deigned to wear such a bauble, she would have gone from boasting to flaunting with no hint of modesty whatsoever.

The Dramok lowered the horrendous piece of jewelry, though he didn’t put it away. “My empress, your gown is minimal. You need something eye-catching.”

Jessica looked at her image in front of the full-length mirror. Tasha saw herself behind Jessica, full-figured, her hair a darker brown than her cousin’s, her face rounder. She had a moment of envy for the empress’s slight figure. It didn’t last. Kalquorian men appreciated lush women for the most part, and Tasha never lacked for companionship when she wanted it.

Jessica relented a little, though she waved the Dramok and the necklace away. “Fine, find something elaborate then. Just not that gaudy thing.” Her reflection caught Tasha’s gaze, and she rolled her eyes. “Don’t think for a second I picked that piece out. It was a gift from the ambassador to Tratsod. Have you ever seen anything so outrageous? Oh yes, this one is better. Thank you,” she added without taking a breath as the Dramok showed her an intricate but not too heavy gold piece. She held still as he fastened it around her neck.

The attendants went still, looking Jessica over with critical eyes. She looked too, turning this way and that to catch the full effect of her appearance in the mirror. Even though she nodded, her expression was far from approving.

She stated the subject of her displeasure in a flat tone. “These state functions are a waste of time. We’d get a lot more done if we weren’t eating dinners and being pleasant to dignitaries who are only interested in watching the Empire tear itself apart.”

Jessica’s stylists exchanged looks of nervous horror. Every few weeks the news vids recounted a new protest or riot. Outbursts, sometimes violent, happened monthly now. The diatribes from those who counted the past and current Imperial Clans as traitors to their people were frequent and getting louder.

Jessica saw the looks and shook her head at the lot of them. “Oh please don’t pretend we’re not on the verge of a civil war. You know it, I know it, I think even Noelle knows it.”

At the mention of her name, Noelle looked at her mother and smiled. Everyone relaxed to beam at the adorable person of their princess, and some of the tension bled from the room. Noelle had inherited her fair share of her parents’ tempers, but when she was happy, every heart in her vicinity melted.

Jessica’s gaze filled with love. Tasha saw her eyes brighten with emotion. In a choked voice she said, “That’s my girl. What do you think, gentlemen? If I have you dress your princess up and we blanket all frequencies with a vid of her precious little self, will everyone be too overcome to fight?”

The men added their enthusiastic agreement, many bowing in respect to their tiny steel-haired princess. Tasha saw in their eyes that they wholeheartedly concurred with Jessica’s assessment. Noelle was as natural a charmer as was possible for a three-year-old to be, just by virtue of her sweet face. Noelle giggled and waved to everyone, unsure why she was the center of adoring attention but enjoying it all the same.

For all her teasing and courageous words, Tasha detected a darkness in Jessica’s eyes. For the last few months, things had been mostly calm following a huge surge of violence all over Kalquor. Finding out that Earther women had been abducted six years prior by Kalquorians at the mandate of the previous Imperial Clan – Clajak’s fathers – had set the Empire on edge. That the resulting war between the two worlds had led to Earth’s destruction was a source of shame to the Kalquorian people.

Before the former emperors had been exposed as the architects of the abductions, hostility had already been simmering. There were not enough women to go around for all the clans who wished to attract them. The lottery was the fairest way to give everyone a decent chance, but it had its shortcomings. Men not lucky enough to be clanned, mostly the Nobeks who made up the majority of the Kalquorian breeds, could not legally claim women as their mates. That had recently erupted as a major issue among the people, Kalquorian and Earther alike.