Captivate (Alien Cadets Book 2) Read online

  “We’ve made some crutches for you to use, but you should eat and drink first. You’ve been out for nearly eighteen hours.” Nat had dark shadows under her eyes, and her voice had a forced cheeriness, but she didn’t seem to harbor any anger towards Claire. “I know Basher wants to talk to you as soon as possible,” Nat added.

  Something in the way she said Basher’s name made Claire blush, which confused her, but Nat didn’t notice. She waited until Claire had drunk half the glass of water, and then brought her a cup full of soup.

  “Eat up, I’m sure you’re starving. Unless the painkillers are making you ill?”

  “No… not yet.” She began to sip, wondering what she could say to Nat.

  “It’s – I don’t blame you,” Nat said, as though she could read Claire’s mind.

  Claire put down her soup and reached out to hold Nat’s hand. “I’m so sorry. I never meant for Akemi to get hurt. When I got Basher’s code, it was only for the ink. I don’t blame you if you don’t believe me, but we never even thought of Akemi until Faal showed up... ”

  Nat hunched forward suddenly, smothering a sob. “I know,” she said in a muffled voice. “Faal must have guessed something about her at the trial, when I arrived alone… and there have been rumors since. But beyond that, it was Akemi’s choice. It’s just... all I’ve ever wanted to do is protect her, and somehow I never can.”

  Claire didn’t know what to say, she couldn’t even put her arms around Nat, so she just squeezed her hand.

  "I - I think she was happy," Claire said eventually. "She said she felt free."

  Nat returned the pressure of her hand. “I hope so. She thinks I rescued her, but I never did. She was kidnapped because of me, and used in the Rik experiment. Now she’s in Faal’s hands... and don’t get me wrong, I’m so glad that he didn’t get you...”

  “But she’s your sister. I totally understand.”

  “Yes. My sister.” Nat took a deep breath. “And she would be telling me to get a grip if she could see me. So I will.” She wiped her eyes, and nudged Claire’s soup. “Keep eating. Basher keeps checking on you and I promised him I’d let him know when you were ready to talk.”

  “And... Sage?” Claire asked.

  “We haven’t seen or heard from any of them,” Nat said. “Also – well, never mind. I’ll let Basher tell you.”

  Several hours later, after getting cleaned up and trying to figure out how to use a crutch with one bad arm and one bad leg, Claire found herself back in the reception hall of the embassy. She looked up at the skylights in wonder, not quite able to believe that she’d made it out of the darkness of Faal’s ship to this place full of light.

  There were chairs set up. Basher and Nat sat next to her, and Sam and several Spo across from them. The room felt formal, with its copper and gold rings hanging from the ceiling and the rich carvings on the walls, but this meeting felt surprisingly informal. Sam and Basher each held a cup of coffee, real coffee, and Nat was sipping tea from a thermos.

  One of the Spo came late, entering from the rear of the room. “I apologize for making you wait,” he said. “However, I thought this one looked lonely.”

  On his shoulder perched a tiny, furry animal with long fingers and huge eyes.

  “Kit!” Claire said. “I can’t believe I forgot to ask about you.”

  He jumped to Claire’s lap and she cradled him awkwardly with one arm. “Oh, I missed you. Have you been in a cage all this time? Poor little guy.”

  Sam and Nat laughed, and Basher cleared his throat uncomfortably.

  “What?” Claire asked them, stroking Kit’s soft stomach.

  They looked at Basher, who shrugged. “I’ve let him out some,” he said. “I’m not heartless.”

  Kit squirmed loose of Claire’s arms and scrambled over Nat’s lap to climb up on him. Basher grabbed his tail and slung him up on his shoulder in a practiced motion.

  “Don’t let him fool you,” Sam said. “Kit’s been living in Basher’s pocket for weeks. He even has some of the Spo eating out of his hand.”

  “Anyway,” Basher said with emphasis, “We do have other things to discuss. Senator Fontley is dead. The ink that was stolen –”

  “Whoa, wait. The ink?” Claire asked.

  Basher rolled his eyes. “Yes, the ink. The ink you were planning to steal all along; so don’t play innocent. Apparently one of your friends managed to get into the medical room.”

  “Wow, that’s…” She was going to say ‘awesome,’ but suddenly realized how inappropriate that would be here.

  “It’s not ‘awesome’ at all,” Basher finished, as if he’d heard her. “It’s a major problem –”

  Sam held up his hands, “But it’s not our biggest problem right now. Let’s stay focused.”

  Claire felt her spirits lift now that she knew Sage and the others had the ink. At least their whole risk hadn’t been useless. Of course, if they had the ink... would she ever see any of them again? She’d realized that she would have to choose, eventually, whether to continue with the Rik or go back to the humans…

  Now the decision was out of her hands, and she didn’t know whether to be glad or sorry. Part of her was really and truly sad that Sage was gone, but another part of her was still reeling that he’d been willing to make such a despicable deal with Faal. And that part of her was truly relieved to be here.

  Just in a few hours, Claire had been shocked to realize how different it felt to be with a human rather than a Rik. In a hundred small ways it was apparent that Nat and Claire, though having almost nothing in common, shared a history... a species... a whole world.

  Nat’s spirit and her body had never been separated, never been anything different. It was a kind of wholesomeness that defied definition and yet expressed itself in everything she did. Perhaps that was what the Rik had seen in her, Claire mused.

  Sam and Nat recounted what had happened with Senator Fontley, for the official records.

  “Then the ground car hit the wall,” Sam ended, “And that was that. I was mostly protected by my restraints, and somehow Nat avoided all but bruises and a sprained ankle.”

  Basher shook his head. “I just wish Fontley hadn’t died.”

  Sam put a hand on Nat’s shoulder.

  “I can’t say that it was an accident,” Nat said slowly. “The car was out of control but the gun was firmly in my hands when I shot him. I considered him a clear danger to Sam and myself.”

  The Spo nodded, as if this was an obvious answer, though Claire could see that Basher was somewhat perturbed.

  “I believe you,” he said, “without question. But there’s going to be a hell of an inquiry...”

  Nat squared her shoulders. “It’s done. I’ll deal with an inquiry when I have to. Anyway, after that, Sam and I agreed to split up. He remained to speak to the Tergre security forces while they investigated, and I… uh, appropriated a vehicle. To get to Faal’s ship.”

  Basher snorted, but Sam grinned and squeezed Nat’s hand. “Hey, not everybody could convince a Vel to hand over their vehicle to an unknown alien in less than thirty seconds.”

  Basher squeezed his eyes shut in mock horror. “How much will that ‘convincing’ cost us?”

  Nat shook her head. “I had it delivered to his address this morning. All covered.”

  After that, the conversation turned into a technical discussion of diplomatic options, blood tests, and secure communications. Claire found her mind wandering. She missed having Akemi to translate for her. It was surprising to realize that Akemi’s loss was not a major priority to the Spo. Claire’s whole adventure, in fact, felt like little more than a side note to the wider situation here. They were all more concerned, even Sam and Basher, with the political fallout of the dissolved treaty and Fontley’s sudden demise.

  Nat periodically added to the discussion, but Claire wondered how she really felt. It struck her that Nat was still wearing a pair of Akemi’s glasses. She didn’t need them for the prescription and Akemi was no
longer able to communicate through them, but Nat still wore them. Tears filled Claire's eyes again, but she forced them back.

  “Before we split up,” Sam said, and Claire turned her attention back to him. “There’s one more thing I need to say.”

  He got up and knelt in front of Nat. “I don’t know what’s going to happen in the next few years, or even the next few months, but I know what I want to happen right now.”

  He pulled a small case out of his pocket and opened it up. Claire was surprised to see an engagement ring, a beautiful diamond cluster that sparkled even in the diffuse light of the room.

  “Natsuki Fujimara, will you marry me?”

  Nat looked easily more shocked than Claire. She looked from the ring to Sam and her face was completely blank. Her mouth was actually hanging open in surprise, which Claire had never seen anyone do before.

  “I love you,” Sam said. “And not just because you’ve saved my life at least three times now. You’ve been my best friend since I was thirteen, and considering what we’ve been through, that’s saying something. I’ve literally seen you sick, injured, burned, bloody, and asphyxiated and you’ve always been the most beautiful girl in the world. You are undoubtedly smarter than me, more perceptive, and frankly, incredible.” Sam smiled. “I’ve missed you the last few months, but now you’re back, and it means everything to me. Whatever the rest of our lives are like, I would like you to be my wife.”

  Nat swallowed and opened her mouth, but still didn’t say anything.

  Sam waited, but Nat seemed speechless. Finally he leaned forward and whispered, “You need to answer before this pause gets really long and awkward for everyone.”

  He smiled ruefully. “Plus, I asked Akemi about this several days ago and she said, ‘What are you waiting for? An alien invasion? Ask her already.’”

  Nat choked a little and finally leaned forward to put her hands on Sam’s shoulders, “Yes, I’ll marry you. Thank you.”

  Claire could see that there was something painful and deep behind the ‘thank you,’ but she didn’t know what. Apparently it communicated enough to Sam.

  He pulled her up and kissed her, and Claire swallowed a lump in her throat. She had to look away from them, but when she did, she met Basher's eyes. He was also looking away, while he absently stroked Kit with one hand. For a moment their eyes locked and Claire felt a slight shiver.

  She turned back to watch Sam slide the ring on Nat’s finger, and involuntarily pictured Sage. He’d said he loved her, but... Claire shook her head. She was too conflicted to continue the thought for now.

  She watched the Spo congratulate Sam and Nat, washing pale colors of pleasure that seemed just as appropriate to the impromptu celebration as Basher’s hearty handshake.

  Claire awkwardly hugged Sam and Nat, and admired the ring, as it seemed someone should. Sam darted a quick glance of thanks toward Basher and Claire realized she’d seen the ring before, in the video with Basher’s fiancé. He must have given it to Sam, after keeping it all these years. Claire looked away again, immediately sure that Basher had no idea Akemi had shown her any of his videos. Life was so strange.

  CHAPTER 46

  Basher was alone in his office when he saw the first news reports of the death chamber. The video showed an amphitheater. Tier upon tier of stone seats descended to a low central stage. The stage was littered with strange furniture that took Basher longer than it should have to identify. With a start, he recognized several of the objects as guillotines. They all looked different- but the general form was there: a platform of some sort, a rectangular track with a wicked blade, plus a rope or lever that released the blade...

  With that context he now recognized the rest of the objects. An electric chair, a stump with an ax sunk into it, and a hangman's noose, complete with trapdoor.

  Two rows of humans stood on the edge of the grisly stage. It looked like their hands were tied behind them.

  The newscasters were excited. “If you have not heard, the Merith have reopened one of their oldest death chambers on Merith Prime. This arena was built only a half a mile from the Pontifex’s palace, which dates back to the ancient Papal Era in Merith history.”

  Basher watched blankly. They can't... surely they won't...

  He could see Merith aliens in many of the tiered rows, and a whole unit of them on the ground, directing the proceedings. He'd heard of Merith death chambers in passing, but never seen one.

  The newscasters continued, “Used for condemned criminals and prisoners of war, Merith death chambers offer a fascinating insight into the Merith culture. Beyond their obvious entertainment value, the death chambers are known for their cultural diversity. The Merith will only execute an individual in a manner appropriate to his, her, or its planet of origin. Within this framework, their artists are free to create their own anthropological arguments in favor of different styles of execution.”

  There was no sound, but the executions began and continued for some minutes.

  Basher watched, frozen.

  “The Galactic Council has only today confirmed that the treaty between the Humans and the Rik has been dissolved. The Rik are no longer a sponsored species and have lost all status in the Galactic Council. Apparently the Merith were aware of the imminent decision, for no time seems to have been lost here.”

  Basher shook his head. This horrible event was already over. They weren't watching a live video feed; Faal must have planned this before he even came to Selta.

  Suddenly Faal appeared on screen. He looked confident and at ease.

  “I wish only to assure humanity that these are not your fellow humans," Faal said, his voice effortlessly overriding the voice of the reporter. "These are fakes, to use the human vernacular that I am familiar with. They are Rik who had taken human bodies and who did not return to Earth during the general amnesty following their sentience trial.”

  Another three execution were shown.

  "This video will be broadcast throughout Merith mainspace in the coming weeks." Faal blinked leisurely. "We are not ashamed of this nor do we seek to hide it. If other species were wise, they would take similar steps. It is the beginning of our efforts to completely destroy any and every Rik who dares to take another body. Every sentient species must realize that this is a practice which must be entirely eradicated. The Rik can take anyone, any one, and steal their life, honor, and property."

  For the very first time, Basher heard something like sincerity in Faal's alien voice. His vendetta against Claire aside, he was absolutely in earnest about this.

  “Until the mere idea of this technology is anathema to the Rik, we will not stop. We will create a nightmare that will haunt the Rik for untold generations. This is just the beginning." He looked slowly, with measured contempt, at his invisible audience. "The Rik are a threat to you all, whether you play at being allies or not. And this may horrify you, but in the end you will thank us."

  Basher watched one more execution, clearly a sort of culmination, before stopping it. He sat perfectly still. What have we done?

  ***

  Sage rubbed the new tattoo on his wrist gingerly. It looked perfect, though it hurt like the dickens while Francois did it. ‘Like the dickens…” He didn’t even know what that phrase meant, but it came to his tongue naturally. If Claire were here, she could tell him. He stood in the tiny living room of yet another nondescript flat, but Claire was not here to bring life and humor to it this time.

  “Go out the side entrance to the third level,” Sage told the next group of Rik. They were also rubbing their wrists, but they looked elated.

  One of them paused as they left. “Sage, we already contacted a Tergre who’s willing to transport us if we have the tattoo. He’s asking nearly a thousand per head – but we can swing it.”

  “That’s good,” Sage said. “You should leave as soon as possible. Nowhere in Merith mainspace or influence will be safe for a long time.”

  “You can come with us, Sage. If it weren’t for you, none o
f us would be here.”

  Sage frowned. There was more than one way to look at that.

  “Let me know, we’ll be leaving tonight and he only has ninety spots.”

  Sage nodded. “I’ll let you know.”

  He waited for them to leave before having the next five Rik come up from a different entrance.

  Francois had done over a hundred tattoos in the last ten hours, and there were at least a hundred more to go. Sage had moved him to another flat than the one they’d stayed in before. Sage didn’t think Claire would lead anyone back to where they’d been, but it was a risk he couldn’t afford to take for the others who were depending on him.

  It had been surprisingly hard to leave, knowing that even if Claire tried to come find him, she wouldn’t be able to. He’d severed the last tie with her, and when he left Selta, his chances of ever seeing her again would be next to nothing.

  It was for the best, he thought, but then caught himself. The best for who? Not for him, but probably the best for her. There he was thinking selflessly again. It was insidious.

  Francois was looking at him with a twinkle in his eyes. “It’s not bad to change.”

  “Yes, it is,” Sage said, somewhat rudely. “Because it doesn’t do any good.”

  Francois levitated a chair out for him. “Have a seat. You haven’t rested since the day before yesterday.”

  Sage sat. He was tired. When Claire had been shot and Faal took her, he’d been panicked. Whatever theories he had about Faal wanting to keep her alive seemed suddenly optimistic beyond the point of foolishness. Faal would kill her, and that would be that.

  Sage had been desperately afraid for her.

  Anyway, the rest had happened. He’d known he had to disappear before the standoff was over, or Basher would only have arrested him again.

  Francois levitated him a glass of water.

  “Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome.” Francois meditatively swirled the remaining ink in its crystal container. “I am going to come with you.”

  “With me? Why? What about your restaurant?”

  “It can wait for me. I feel the urge to travel, and I feel the urge to travel with you.”