Captivate (Alien Cadets Book 2) Read online

  It was Faal’s voice, and he was describing her. “Repeat. The criminal is small, with two eyes, legs, and arms. Long brown hair on its head. It is to be detained at once, and held under Faal’s orders.” The words repeated, and Claire realized it was a recorded message, probably going to more than one shuttle right now.

  The three other Merith in the shuttle stared at her and Claire cringed back in her seat, expecting them to attack at any moment.

  “Come up here,” the pilot said firmly.

  Claire looked up, and saw the ugly Spo gesturing to her. “I cannot open the shuttle with you back there.” He was beginning to land again, and it looked like a larger city this time.

  “Just let me get out there. You’ll never see me again -” Claire said.

  One of the other Merith snorted. “No one will ever see you again. You’ve angered Faal.”

  Claire shuddered, and the pilot snapped his clawed fingers. “Come!”

  She went to where he said, skirting around his large mushroom shaped chair.

  “Sit,” he said, pointing to the floor next to him.

  Claire sank down, a cold, dead feeling sweeping through her. This was it. She should’ve known it would never work.

  The pilot brought the shuttle down into a huge airfield crowded with crafts. Claire looked longingly at the shuttle door as it opened, but she knew the Spo pilot could pin her to the floor in one jump if she tried to run. The other passengers left quickly, clearly glad that the pilot was going to deal with the fugitive.

  The Spo pilot cleared his throat with a rasp. “I see you, Cadet,” he said, his accent in Merith not much better than hers. “But you must not stay.”

  Claire frowned at him.

  “Not stay? Are you letting me go?” Claire clambered to her feet. “If Faal asks you...” She sputtered to a stop, afraid to hope.

  The Spo faded to orange. The color of disgust. “Faal... Faal stands always on two feet,” the Spo said. Two feet - that was the Spo stance prior to an attack. A two-footed stance suggested poise, balance, and a vicious inclination to attack anything that moved.

  The Spo shrugged. “You chose a good day to cross him.” He pointed to a huge spaceship that took up nearly a quarter of the field. It towered at least three stories above all the other ships. “That ship is called Final Say, it’s been commissioned by the Diarena. You could take it, get to Comboda or further.”

  Claire caught her breath, and almost smiled at the hideous Spo. Comboda was another of the main Merith planets, but definitely far away from here.

  “Who is the Diarena? Would she take me?”

  The Spo looked confused. “The Diarena is... the Diarena. The Pontifex’s wife. Do you not know? She and Faal have a feud. That is why I say you chose a good day. If any ship will take you away in defiance of Faal, it is hers.”

  Claire pulled out the money in the bag. Kit was fast asleep, thank heaven.

  “Is this enough?” she asked.

  “Not enough, no. Go to the aft entrance,” he pointed out one of the many ramps attached to the spaceship, “and ask to work. Tell them about Faal.”

  “Uh... thank you,” Claire said. Imagine thanking a Spo.

  The Spo clicked ominously. “The desert remains hot through the night,” he warned. “You may thank yourself if you make it to Comboda.”

  In other words, he thought the ship would still be dangerous for her, but a better chance than staying on this planet. The day time desert vs. the night time desert was a common Spo metaphor.

  Claire swallowed. Okay then. She nodded once to the Spo, and walked out into the cold breeze that swept across the busy airfield.

  CHAPTER 4

  Every step away from the shuttle made Claire feel more naked and exposed. The sky was coming overcast, with black clouds scudding in, turning the airfield dark, even though it couldn’t be later than mid-afternoon. The cold wind cut though her simple tunic and froze her bare legs.

  Ground-cars zipped around her at breakneck speeds and burly aliens, mainly Merith and Spo, unloaded crates, pallets, and huge pods from the incoming ships. Every time a Merith looked at her, Claire’s heart hammered and she fought the urge to run. She didn’t want to draw attention to herself by looking panicked, but it was all she could do to keep a calm pace.

  Her thoughts went around in circles, and her head pounded with every beat of her heart. If Faal had taken one of his own shuttles, he could already be here. Well, actually, she'd injured him with the tree, so probably he wouldn't be here, but he'd surely send his security detail to claim her, and probably the zookeeper too.

  Claire whipped her head around, certain she’d caught a glimpse of a Merith following her in yellow. All Faal’s security guys, elite members of his private militia, wore yellow.

  She didn’t see anyone now, perhaps it’d been a reflection...

  Claire picked up her pace, checking over her shoulder for anyone trying to shadow her. The Diarena’s ship was on the far side, still several hundred yards away.

  Claire shivered and her eyes filled with tears. She was probably the only human on this whole planet. If that ship wouldn’t take her, there was no one she could ask for help. The feeling of being hunted grew stronger and stronger. She kept walking, trying to keep a lookout in all directions, but she also had the perverse desire to end the suspense and wave her arms and yell, “Here I am, already!”

  “Stop it,” Claire told herself firmly. “You will not give up now.” She had made it this far. She would make it off this planet.

  Flash of yellow. No mistaking it.

  Claire dodged between two speeding ground-cars, and took off in a dead run. That was definitely a uniform on one of Faal’s people. Claire ducked behind a towering crate and waited until the yellow-suited guard passed. She knew there were more, and the longer she stayed on this airfield, the more danger she would be in.

  Claire didn’t try to hide now, she just ran as fast as she could toward the large ship.

  The airfield seemed to be laid out in rows of circles, with pads for six or seven ships grouped around a central elevator shaft that must lower into an underground complex beneath the air field.

  A few drops of rain fell on her exposed head, and burned her scalp. Claire glanced up. Dark clouds were now layered above her. Did this planet have an acidic water cycle? If the atmosphere was breathable, the water should be basically water, but...

  Another drop spattered onto her bare neck, and again there was a slight burn.

  A terrible stitch was forming in her side and she gasped for air. She hadn’t run this far in three years. Nearby Claire heard a shout, but she didn’t stop to look. She was nearly there.

  The cruiser Final Say loomed in front of her now, as big as a skyscraper lying on its side. The bulk of the cruiser rested on a double row of squat antigravity generators, giving it the strange appearance of a giant egg-carton. She had to get on that ship.

  Claire made it to the rear ramp and risked a quick look behind her. She was surprised to see no yellow suited guards. Had she lost them? Had she imagined it?

  The ramp was wide, easily big enough for four lanes of traffic, and opened into a huge loading bay, as big as a warehouse, equipped with two banked shuttles. At least a hundred crew bustled about, preparing for departure. Walking up the ramp, Claire felt exposed. There was no where to hide and the cold wind whistled around and under her.

  With a crack of thunder, the rain went from scattered to drenching in a matter of seconds. For a moment the water felt warm on her head and back, but then the tingly burn got worse.

  “Get out of the way, bruck!” someone shouted. Claire scurried to the side to let a huge forklift machine pass. ‘Bruck’ was a term she’d heard at the zoo, it meant roughly, “ugly thing I don’t know the name for.”

  Claire followed the forklift the last ten feet up the ramp. The rain was blowing in the mouth of the ship, and Claire stumbled another few feet in, to get fully out of the rain.

  The only people left on
the airfield were now covered by huge, cone shaped umbrellas. She saw two of the cone-covered aliens head toward the ramp, and thought she caught a glimpse of yellow under the translucent plastic.

  Claire looked wildly around, panicked. She slid into a gap in the thick wall, an 18-inch wide enclosure that offered shadows. She edged into the darkness sideways, and soon brushed up against giant gears. The loading ramp must fold up into the side of the ship, and these gears were the mechanism. Claire crouched down, fitting herself between two giant cogs on the lower gear. Her thawing ears began to burn as she waited, wondering if the yellow-shirts had seen her.

  After a few minutes, her heart began to decelerate again. She couldn’t stay here forever. This was a good place to get crushed if they started to close the ramp.

  A Merith female appeared at the mouth of the gap, silhouetted against the light.

  “Shwaa ankempt abeldingabe shwa?” she said. It was no language Claire had heard, but the Merith sounded angry.

  “I don’t...uh, don’t you speak Merith?” Claire asked, confused. “Or Spo?” she said in that language.

  The Merith female looked surprised, blinking her outer eyelid rapidly, but all she said was, “Of course I speak Merith. What are you doing here, bruck? We depart in half an hour.”

  “I would like to work for you, for the ship,” Claire said. “For travel.” She hoped she was making sense. She didn’t know the words for passage or barter.

  “So you crawl in and hide like a rat? We don’t need any crew.”

  Claire extricated herself from the gear, her wet hair clinging to her back as she edged awkwardly out of the gap toward the Merith.

  “I want to get off this planet, away from Faal,” Claire explained. “I was told the Diarena might... allow me to work on her ship.”

  The Merith backed up a step to let Claire out of the gap, and her eye closed slightly. Her translucent lid, the haw, was already covering her eye, probably because of the rain. The outer lid slid down half way while she thought. “The report about the criminal... that was you?”

  Claire nodded, but realized the alien didn’t recognize the gesture. “It was about me, but I’m not a criminal. I will work hard.”

  This Merith’s eye was a surprisingly beautiful shade of turquoise, with a pale yellow starburst around her slit pupil. She towered over Claire, nearly eight feet tall, which was quite tall for a female, and heavily muscled. Many Merith were completely bald, but this one had something like dreadlocks that hung past her shoulders.

  The Merith suddenly turned around and made a piercing whistle; Claire flinched and clutched instinctively at her tunic.

  A Spo came forward, shuffling on four legs, with his mantis-like movement. The Spo faces had a permanent smile under their mandibles, like a dolphin, and it still gave Claire the creeps.

  “This is the one Faal is looking for,” the Merith said. “Do we ask the Diarena?”

  The Spo washed fuchsia, curious.

  “What did you do?” he said to Claire.

  “I didn’t do anything. I left his zoo.”

  “And you are Rik? The Diarena doesn’t care for Rik.”

  “Rik? No, I’m human. From Earth.”

  The Spo considered her. He shifted his weight back and forth between his four feet, side to side, front to back. Claire caught herself staring at his large clawed feet, and jerked her gaze back up to his face.

  Suddenly he leaned forward and sniffed.

  “What’s in your bag?” he asked.

  “Um...” Kit was awake and mewling softly, but the Spo’s superior sense of hearing caught it before her.

  She reluctantly pulled her bag around and opened the drawstring to show the weskit inside. He was curled up in a ball, his paws tucked under his chin. His large silver eyes glowed in the light and he chattered at her.

  “Its okay, Kit. I’ll feed you soon,” said Claire in English. She closed the bag. “He’s no trouble, I’ll feed him myself. I just... I need to get off this planet. I’m willing to work hard to do it.”

  The Spo shifted his feet again. “Come with me. I’ll let you ask the Diarena.”

  Claire followed the Spo through the large loading bay and down a busy corridor. Most of the crew seemed to be Merith, but there were a few Spo like this one.

  “So the Diarena, is she...” Claire struggled, not knowing the word for queen. The Pontifex was one of the only Merith more powerful than Faal, and apparently this was his wife. “Does she have power?” Claire finally asked.

  The Spo twisted one eyestalk to look at her as he walked. “That is a strange question to ask about a Merith. They would say, “The smallest wings can ride the storm,” or something of that kind.”

  “What would you say?” Claire asked in his language.

  He turned a corner into a more posh hallway, lined with a subtly shiny cloth. “I would say...she is a survivor. If she helps you, it is for her. And do try not to drip on her things.”

  Claire wrung out her hair as they continued on. The Diarena had clearly taken possession of this ship. Many of the doors off this hall were missing, and heavy curtains covered the openings instead. Claire saw a sparkle in the hem of the cloth and wondered if jewels were sewn into them the way they were in some of Faal’s robes. The entire effect was more like that of a harem than a space ship.

  The Spo held aside a forest green cloth and gestured for her to enter. The room smelled faintly of raw fish - in a sushi way, not a rancid way - and there was a sound like ocean waves in the background.

  The Diarena was alone, and finishing a meal. She looked delicate and poised as she sat before an ornately carved wooden table. Claire felt more self-conscious about her bare, dirty feet and wet hair than ever.

  “What is this?” the Diarena said in a high, clear voice. “You know how I loathe the Rik.”

  “It claims to be a human,” her escort explained. “But I still would not have bothered you except that it also claims to be... ah, eluding Faal. We have some evidence that this is true.”

  The Diarena stared at him as only a Merith can stare. The Spo bowed and withdrew, leaving Claire alone, which made her extremely uncomfortable. The Diarena was probably beautiful, as Merith went. She had a ridge of feathers along her shoulders that draped her like a cape, and a delicate, silvery-gray beak.

  “Tell me at once. What has Faal to say to me? Why did he send you?”

  “No! He didn’t send me. I don’t know who you are, but a pilot suggested I ask you to take me off planet. That’s all.”

  The Diarena was very still. “And you claim to be human?”

  “I am human. I was one of the Spo cadets, but then my mentor sold me to Faal.” Claire gestured to the tattoo on her cheek, it was the only evidence she could provide. “I’ve lived in his zoo for three years. If you’ve been there, you might have seen me.”

  The Diarena snapped her beak. “I do not visit Faal of Merith II, whatever my husband may do.”

  Claire bit her lip. She wasn’t sure exactly what dynamic was going on here, or how to convince this alien to help her.

  “I can do nothing illegal,” the Diarena continued. “If you are truly a criminal, I will be culpable for removing you from the planet.”

  “I’m not a criminal, I swear. The only thing I’ve done is escape from the zoo. I might have hurt Faal in the process, but it was self-defense.”

  The Diarena’s face twitched slightly, as if she might appreciate that, but she didn’t enlighten Claire. “Very well. I will take you on that assurance, but if I find you’ve deceived me, you will regret it.”

  She whistled softly and the Spo came back into the room. He must have been just behind the curtain.

  “She can stay until Comboda, possibly Selta, if she is useful. Take her to Kitteh’s quarters.”

  Claire followed him out and only now allowed herself a small sob of relief. If she could make it off this planet, she might actually have a chance to get home.

  CHAPTER 5

  Selta
>
  Tergre Mainspace

  The subterranean city of Upper Selta boasted one of the most diverse populations in the galaxy. It offered amnesty to criminals, anonymity to celebrities, and neutrality to the influential. On Selta, there were more laws against bounty hunters than thieves. If there was any place to leave a checkered life behind, or to find a new one, Selta was the place.

  Of course, Seltan authorities wanted order and security for their visitors and their residents, so there were laws. If, for instance, a Vel mistress was to shoot her porter for wasting time, she would be subject to severe penalties for endangering the lives of those around her. But if she happened to have caused a revolution that cost the lives of thousands of people, well, that was her own business, as long as she didn’t use her insurrectionist talent on Selta. She could live in great luxury and relative security, if she had the means to sustain it.

  Obscurity was even possible on Selta, where all the Council species were represented in staggering number, and even the new and reclusive Melifleurs were to be seen in secluded corners, letting their branches dance along the walls with the vibrations of a thousand feet. If you desired to disappear into a crowd, Selta had the crowd for you.

  These were the three foundations of Seltan society: immunity, security, and obscurity.

  Unfortunately for Basher, formerly a cop and now employed at the Spo embassy on Selta, he generally broke all three in the course of his work.

  Basher finally caught up with the handsome black woman in the western quadrant of Upper Selta, Section 42. He’d been following her trail for a week, and though he'd tried to be discreet, he wasn’t certain if she was aware of having a police tail or not.

  She appeared genuinely surprised and happy to see another human in this alien warren, just as any real human might have been. Basher sized her up again: good-looking, tall, expressive features, and most probably a Rik with a human body. The technical term was FAC, Fugitive Alien Counterfeit, but Basher shortened it to fake.