Alien Caged (11 page)

The field went back up.  Elisa kept her head down and pushed the cart ahead of her.  She dared to peek at the prisoners out of the corner of her eye.

Zemos gave her a small, almost imperceptible nod.  Elisa trained her eyes forward again and hurried down the corridor, getting out of maximum security well ahead of Remington.  She didn’t stick around to hear more threats from the hateful bastard; instead she headed to the kitchen as fast as she could prod the rattling cart.

She wasn’t sure she’d done the right thing, turning on her own kind to let Zemos know how much danger he and his clan and crew were in.  Yet with Remington’s face in her head, Elisa couldn’t find regret for her actions.

* * * *

As soon as both the Earthers left the area, Miragin offered his half-eaten meal to Oret.  Despite the stunned look on his Imdiko’s face, Zemos doubted Miragin had lost his appetite.  No matter what went on around him, Miragin never refused good food.

Oret’s scowl had nothing to do with his clanmate depriving himself on his behalf.  Despite the anger on the Nobek’s face, he kept his tone gentle.  “Eat, my Imdiko.  I’m fine.”

Miragin shook his head.  “You need your strength more than I do, especially if we’re going to make an escape attempt.  I’m dead weight when it comes to these things.”

“You are never dead weight.”  Oret brushed his fingers against Miragin’s eternally messy hair, but did not accept the offered tray.

The Imdiko did not give up so easily.  “Eat this.  You threw away your meal last night and you’ve only had half Zemos’ portion for lunch.  Please?”

Zemos agreed with his clanmate’s logic.  They could go for long stretches of time without food if the situation called for it, but Oret would most likely be in charge of their break out.  He did need all the strength and guile he could muster.

Zemos took the tray from Miragin and shoved it at his Nobek.  “Don’t make the poor man suffer by forcing him to stare overlong at the meatloaf he’s not getting.”

Oret snorted.  He touched Miragin’s hair again before taking the platter from Zemos.  He wolfed the food down in short order.

Miragin leaned against the sleeping bunk’s frame and folded his arms over his chest.  He cocked an eyebrow at Zemos.  “Bi’isil slaves, huh?”

Oret swallowed the last bite of food and tossed his empty tray on top of Zemos’.  “Those little gray bastards.  That’s against the Galactic Council’s articles of membership.  It would almost be worth going to Bi’is just so I could wrap my hands around their scrawny little throats.”

Zemos paced back and forth to relieve the tension that filled him.  “You’d be immobilized before you got anywhere near one and you know it.”

Miragin nodded.  “Then the instant one of their collars goes on – all that’s left is waiting on them and waiting to die when you inevitably fuck up one of their ridiculous rituals.  What did that escaped Plasian tell me?  There are two hundred and forty-eight steps just to serve a meal.  That doesn’t even include preparing it.  They take compulsion to an insane level.”

“Remind me again how that Plasian escaped Bi’is?” Zemos invited.  He’d read all of Miragin’s books, but the Imdiko was a prolific writer.  That particular story had been published decades ago, if he remembered correctly.

“A Tragoom slave grabbed hold of her by the neck.  He squeezed so hard, the nasty thing disrupted the command nodules in her collar.  That same collar protected her from being choked to death.  She pretended it still worked until she managed to stow away in an outgoing shuttle.”

Zemos frowned.  “The Galactic Council didn’t investigate the matter?  Plasius is a member planet.”

“This happened back when Bi’is wasn’t part of the collective.  The Plasian was five hundred years old when I interviewed her for
Empire and Enemy
, nearing the end of her life.  She’d been a girl when she was enslaved.  A most fascinating woman with a very delicate touch.”  Miragin grinned at the memory.

Oret joined the conversation.  “As long as we’re talking about escapes, shall we discuss ours?  Now that I have the means, that is.”

With a triumphant grin, he reached into his boot and pulled out a small silver box.  A thrill of excitement filled Zemos’ gut as he recognized Elisa’s frequency disruptor.

He gave Oret’s back a good openhanded pounding in congratulations.  “You had the presence of mind to grab it when Remington tossed her at you!  Good job, my Nobek.”

“Trust me, I almost didn’t.  Having my arms filled with Elisa damned near erased my ability to think.”

Miragin laughed and hugged Oret before his expression dimmed.  “It’s only a partial disruptor though, right?  It doesn’t open more than that little slot she hands our food in through.”

Oret grinned at him.  “For now.”  He glanced down the corridor to assure himself Remington hadn’t come back into the cell block.  “Just keep an eye out for that swaggering piece of shit while I play with my new toy.”

The Nobek settled on the lower bunk and propped one foot on his thigh.  He twisted the slightly raised heel of his boot to reveal the hollow interior.  Tiny metal tools were hidden inside.  Oret selected one of them and used it to open the disruptor’s cover.

While he worked on the electronics within the device, Zemos stood where he could keep watch on the door leading to the guard office.  His body shielded Oret from the view of anyone who might glance inside the cell block.  Meanwhile, Miragin busied himself cleaning up the mess Oret’s dropped tray had made, sighing sadly over the bits of scattered meatloaf.

In a low tone Zemos knew Oret’s sharp hearing would detect, he asked, “How soon do you think?”

Oret’s murmur drifted back to him.  “This afternoon.  Tonight at the latest.”

Miragin matched the volume of their speech.  “That would mean the lazy guard will be on duty, wouldn’t it?  Coombs?”

Zemos said, “If they hold to their usual pattern.  This would be the day he and that disgusting shit Remington switch day for night.”

“Too bad,” Oret muttered.  “I would have liked to have had the opportunity to get my hands on that foul-mouthed
gurluck
.” 

Zemos nodded.  It would have been nice to make Remington pay for his abuse of Elisa.

That reminded him that she had stuck her neck out for them, giving them the destination they were bound for.  She had given them the warning even though it might have led to trouble for her. 

He hated that they would repay her kindness by betraying her.  He could see no other way of escape now but to take her as his hostage in the hopes it would keep Captain Walker at bay until they could get off this ship.  Zemos grimaced as hot anger tried to steal his resolve.  Elisa didn’t deserve to be used the way he would use her.  She deserved to be kept safe from all harm, cherished for the wonderful creature she was.

Then again, she had no real future on board the battlecruiser.  Her lot would continue to be too little food and too much danger.  It was Zemos’ understanding that Elisa was the sole female on board.  If men like Remington were the rule and kind but weak Joseph Walker were the exception, she could be harmed very badly.  It could be that making her Zemos’ prisoner would do Elisa a favor.

Zemos thought of taking her away with him, of making her a part of his clan.  He’d never held out any hope of gaining a Matara for himself, and he would be a fool to do so now.  Even in the unlikely event that Elisa would want to be the lifemate of three men, it was probable that he and his clanmates would die in the effort to escape the battlecruiser. 

Still, the fantasy intrigued him.  If Elisa didn’t want to go with them, Zemos could well imagine forcing her to.  And after that?  A sweet, slow seduction, in which his clan would ultimately win the Earther woman’s heart.  She would be kept safe and cared for as only Kalquorian men could do.

Under those circumstances, the Dramok thought he could be excused if he outright abducted the lovely little Earther.  If the opportunity presented itself, he would ... for her own good of course, Zemos told himself.

Chapter 6

Once she got to the end of the corridor, Elisa relaxed.  It turned out she’d done so too soon.

A hand closed on her upper arm and whirled her around with such force she nearly fell.  Barely catching her balance, Elisa looked up into the anger-twisted face of Remington. 

Her first instinct was to look around for help.  Unfortunately, they were alone in the halls in the detention part of the ship.  Elisa wasn’t sure Larsen would hear her if she screamed.

“Listen up, you tight little twat,” Remington snarled, bringing his face mere inches from hers.  “I meant what I said about you ratting on me about what happened back there.  I’ll make you very sorry if you do.”

He patted the butt of his blaster to make his point.  With his hectic face filling her vision, Elisa saw the terror behind his fury.  If she did tell Captain Walker about Remington tossing her in the Kalquorians’ cell, he’d be in a lot of trouble ... almost as much as she would find herself in. 

Their lives now depended on each other’s silence.  If either of them breathed a word of what had happened, they could both be found guilty of salacious behavior.  Elisa had no doubt that if she reported Remington, he’d make damned sure to take her with him. 

His assertion that Walker was no longer in control of the ship rang true.  Elisa also knew First Officer Chase hated having a woman on board.  This episode would give him every reason to put her on trial and get rid of the ‘temptation’ she posed to his crew.

She jerked loose from Remington.  Giving the guard the most withering look she could muster, Elisa turned her back on him.  Without a word, she walked off.

Instead of lurking in back corridors, Elisa made sure to keep to the most heavily traveled passageways as she returned to the kitchen.  It was lunchtime for many members of the crew.  She was now a part of the steady traffic that headed towards the mess hall.  It meant men looking at her and a few kissing noises and even more crude sounds to endure, but damn it, there were still plenty of good people left on board.  There had to be at least a few who would defend her if someone became too shameless in his comments as she passed. 

Yet Elisa noticed that most of the crew wore blasters on their hips now.  When had that started?  It wasn’t just ship’s security either.  Men wearing maintenance uniforms were armed, as well as one young man she recognized as a navigator.  There was another who piloted one of the fighters.

Elisa was so startled that she nearly stopped her cart in the middle of the busy thoroughfare.  It looked as though the mentality was leaning more towards every man for himself, right here within the battlecruiser.  There was a low hum of conversation among the men, but most were silent, eyeing each other with outright suspicion.  It was as if no one knew who was ally and who was enemy anymore.

The guarded mood scared Elisa more than any overt fighting would have.  The palpable tension felt as if it could explode at any moment.  She wondered if Captain Walker had become aware of it.

If only she knew how to pilot a shuttle or even a fighter, she might make a run for it.  In the past couple of years, Elisa had made a point of isolating herself as much as possible from the rest of the crew.  She’d been unaware that things had gotten to this point until just now.  More than ever, it seemed imperative she escape the ship.

Even if she could pilot, the knowledge that the ship was near Bi’is space meant Elisa was out of range of any Earther colony.  For all she knew, the ship she might use to escape could run out of power before she made it to any colony or space station, whether it be friendly or not.  What if a Kalquorian ship discovered her?  Would they shoot first or take her in?  How would Kalquorians treat her if they captured her?  With kindness, like the prisoners in the brig?  Would it matter to them that she was past the ability to bear children, having entered menopause two years prior?  What would they do with her?

More and more, Elisa wanted to go to Kalquor, especially if she could live with a clan like Zemos’.  Oh, who was she kidding?  She wasn’t interested in a clan
like
the one in maximum security.  She wanted to be with that clan only.  Zemos, Miragin, and even the frightening Oret made her feel warm and happy.  Those were the men, the only men, she wanted to be with.

That was looking like less and less a possibility all the time.

* * * *

For once, Elisa did not look forward to bringing Zemos’ clan their dinners.  She was too rattled from what had happened earlier in the day.  She especially did not want to see Remington again or face his threats.  His shift had ended before dinner service, but he tended to hang out with Coombs for a while to play cards or regale the quieter guard with stories of past exploits. 

Elisa relaxed when she saw that Coombs sat in the guard room alone, shuffling the tattered deck of cards over and over and watching an old vid of a gospel music concert.  Relief filled her entire body, along with the familiar delight that she was about to see the men she secretly adored.

She usually didn’t exchange more than the obligatory polite greeting with Coombs.  However, Remington’s absence made her almost giddy.  Her tone bright as the sun, Elisa said, “All alone tonight, huh?”