Vanquished (10 page)

“I still don’t understand. You
mean you knew all of this—from the pirates?”

He shook his head.
“Only the bare bones.
But you were the only one she could
think of who might be worth the time and effort of nine Outriders jumping in
hot pursuit of the pirates.”

“She might be painting a false
trail.”

With his recollection of Captain
Ristos, he had reservations. The man would have no difficulty eliciting
information, even if he suspected the man wouldn’t have had to employ
time-honored tactics. Not with a woman. Neira read his expression of doubt.

“I assure you, Sovereign. My
former employer was thrilled to see the last of me.” There was no mistaking the
bitter satisfaction in her voice, and he stayed quiet.

****

She thought she would pass out
when confronted with a synopsis of her life by the last person—alien—she could
have imagined would possess that information. Just how much of a data base did
the Shadalla have? He said he knew Earth history, and his
turns
of phrase, as well as use of slang, was
dead-on, if sometimes quite
dated, but still… And he was still looking at her, into her, as though
determined to pull out all her secrets. But the Outriders weren’t looking for
her. She had nothing anyone wanted, knew nothing. If the military honored their
promise and left her alone—her thoughts staggered to a dead halt. The sovereign
didn’t know how she’d obtained her discharge, and he’d had one thing wrong.

“What is it, Neira?” There was
urgency in his tone, but it was also gentle and caressed her senses.

Maybe the part about the
discharge didn’t matter. Alexi was a nobody, unless his execution could be
fanned to a flame and
incite
the public.
But the other…
“I wasn’t rescued on Zores.” The words
escaped despite her. She
needed
to
tell him, couldn’t fight it any longer.

“The Juxtant’s allies didn’t have
you?” he asked, awareness darkening his handsome face.

“No,” she whispered, again unable
to lie to him. “Alexi—Petrov and I were found by a raiding party on Ureses.
Quite accidentally when a shield collapsed and they stumbled on the…lair.”

The room tilted crazily as the
last of her barriers tumbled down like that shield. They were undermined by
this alien’s intensity, her body’s attraction to him and the sense of something
far bigger than her, encroaching to swallow her whole. She’d been clinging to
control since being brought on board and no longer had the strength to hold on.
Her entire being told her to let him take the burden.

She could hear him faintly over
the roaring in her ears, calling out her name, then a fumbling at her hands as
she keeled over sideways. All that time learning to forget drained
away,
and she allowed the darkness filled with memories to
sweep her under.

“So,
the soldier bitch continues to resist, Modeed?” The whining voice of Somar
pierced through the pain and Neira tensed despite herself. She’d long since
learned that any response drew more unwelcome attention.

“She
does,” agreed Modeed, her very own private torturer nodding at his superior.
“Although at this stage of the war I doubt whatever she holds will be helpful,
sir.”

“You
are probably right. We have retreated to our last line, and we’ll be taking off
within hours. The Zorians will cover our retreat. The Shadalla have come to
bolster Earth forces and we all know what that means.” Somar made an unpleasant
barking sound as he casually ran his long nails up her exposed flank. She could
feel the flesh score and part beneath the razor sharp edges. “Bring this one,
and the willowy male. They will provide many hours of amusement. Kill the
others.”

The
futile lunge against the shackles, an attempt to get her hands around Somar’s
throat and squeeze until his pupilless eyes popped, earned her another burst of
agonizing energy from the devices attached to her temples. She’d bitten her
lips bloody to prevent her screams—and any sharing of the updated battle
plans—but a cry of pain escaped this time before Modeed shut it off. He
hovered, waiting for her scrambled mind to recover before he acted on his
orders, ever the sadist.

No
amount of disparaging self-talk kept her eyes open as he went from table to
table, dispatching—murdering—the other prisoners, all men and women under her
immediate command.
Nineteen of them, all her responsibility.
She couldn’t close off her ears, however, and the horrible sounds of their deaths
imprinted in her brain, already addled by the torture. The stench made her
gorge rise, and it was only Modeed’s precipitous return that unfortunately
saved her. He’d turned her enough in the restraints that she didn’t choke to
death on her own vomit, and that was the cruelest torture of all.

Waking
up in a light and airy room several lifetimes later, dressed in clean clothing,
her hair washed and her body healed and cleansed, had instilled some kind of
curious hope. She dared to think she’d been rescued, but then sank into the
depths of hopelessness when she recalled what had transpired in that battle on
Mars. And how she’d survived and her troops had not. She’d followed orders this
time, having learned her lesson while a captain. It didn’t matter that she had
possessed firsthand intelligence back then, and disregarded the brass’
instructions, winning a strategic choke point on one of Neptune’s moons. Free
thinking wasn’t allowed and she’d been demoted to sergeant. Her troops knew the
truth and that had been enough for her—until Mars. Once again the
intel
had been faulty and she’d led her troops into a trap,
back to being a good soldier. They’d acquitted themselves well against the
Juxtant and their allies, the Zorians, but in the end over half had died and
the rest captured.

She’d
explored the space, lost in her memories, berating herself and contemplating
the future, when a Juxtant male entered—and turned the bright chamber into the
darkest of dark. No…

Her body flooded with energy and
was enfolded in warmth. The memories faded. Vayne’s scent surrounded her and
his deep voice crooned in her ear.
“Neira.
I have you.
It’s fine. You’re safe.”

A part of her wanted to believe
him so badly it was a sweet taste in her throat. But he was all tangled up in
the reasons she’d fallen back into the past, and it made her struggle
desperately to get away, only to wish to weep when he released her. She rolled
up against the hull and flattened her back against the unforgiving heft of it.
Vayne lifted both arms to show his hands-off stance and the other male with him
busied himself packing away what looked like medical supplies.

“You experienced a fugue state,
Neira. My medic administered a stimulant and a slow release relaxant now that
you’ve come back to us.”

The medic took his leave, and
Vayne perched on the far end of the bunk. The position allowed the lighting to
throw his features into stark relief, and despite the marked difference in eye
color and the existence of a pupil, she saw the similarities. She thought she
could credit the relaxant for the fact that her burgeoning scream transformed
into a low, anxious moan, but it escaped her nonetheless. Vayne turned his head
and gave her a considered glance, and the effects of the lighting vanished, but
she knew.

“You’re Juxtant.” Her comment
escaped on a harsh, low whisper past her closing throat and only the drugs kept
the terror under a modicum of control.

He went totally rigid, and she
saw him press his lips together rather than allow his mouth to drop open in
surprise. Then he closed his eyes for a moment, as if impossibly weary. She
watched him from the depths of her helplessness, wishing to lose her mind and
seek the oblivion of insanity.

Oddly, his quiet, measured
response held her together. “No. I’m Shadalla. The Juxtant are cousins, evil
animals, and a part of our race no self-respecting Shadalla would acknowledge
or accept.
Long since separate.
Eons separate. We
allied with the Home World because of the threat, if you recall.”

“Or you’ve found a way to mask
who you are.” There was accusation and hatred in her voice and she made no
attempt to hide them. Somehow she’d found some resolve, her mind ticking over
the possibilities.

****

Vayne marveled at her strength.
Neira had clearly experienced a flashback, perhaps a multitude of flashbacks of
her unmentionable time as a Juxtant prisoner. She thought he was one of that
evil spawn in disguise and was even now standing up to him. His desire and need
to protect and possess her nearly overcame the immediate, his cock so hard and
aching he felt lightheaded. He could give her such pleasure, replace those
terrible memories…but it wasn’t yet time. Only his rage at what she had to have
experienced as a captive of those monsters steadied his mind and kept him on
track.

“We evolved and they didn’t. We
could have destroyed your world and others, but we chose not to do so. We don’t
commit atrocities and as you must know, offer honorable work to those looking.
We don’t take slaves anymore.”

“You steal women.”

Fuck, it was back to that again.
A sticking point for certain, but what else was he to do?
“For
very good reason.
We cannot become extinct.”

She pushed harder on the
sensitive subject between them. “So why not approach the Home World? Make the
offer to Earth’s women just as you offer work to the men?”

“To do that would reveal our
vulnerability, Neira. Think on that. Who created our issue in the first place?
And if they aren’t aware of the success of their weapon, it wouldn’t be prudent
to hand them the information! We are uneasy allies.”

Passing a slender hand over her
eyes, she murmured, “Hell, I don’t know.” She dropped her hand and looked up at
him. “Do you think they won’t figure it out if you keep relieving ships of the
female passengers? All of a certain age?”

He waited patiently, and she
worked it through. “Oh. That’s why you use pirates. The Home World will think
the women were sold all over the quadrant. It’ll play a few times and then
what?”

“Then I’ll figure something else
out.”

She didn’t give him anything
further, and her body language remained the same. He decided to share
additional information, hoping she would offer more. He still suspected she was
the reason for the Outrider search. “I’ll supply some history on the Juxtant,
if you like.”

“I don’t like. In fact I’ll thank
you to quit talking about them.”

“You are calm with the medication
in your system, Neira. It has taken full effect.” That and she
was
borrowing his strength, whether she understood that or
not. It was his honor to share with her. “We should use the clarity.”

“Why? So you can find a way to
evade pursuit?”

“Do you believe your fellow
humans’ attempt is honorable, little warrior? Do you really want them to catch
up with us and take you back?”

That gave her pause. He saw her
quick mind consider it.

“No. It won’t be honorable. They
killed Alexi, you know.
My superiors.
The public
weren’t aware of him, so they didn’t waste time rehabilitating him.” Her voice
had taken on a pensive quality.

“Who is Petrov? And this Alexi?”
he asked, modulating his voice, trying not to react to his chosen being
rehabilitated
. He could imagine the
additional horrors she’d experienced, and at some point had to hear about them.
He would take all her pain unto himself, and the sooner the better.

With a twisted smile, she
answered.
“One and the same.
One of
my troopers.
The only other soldier Somar ordered transported, besides
me, from Mars.
To Ureses.
I thought of him as
Alexi—until Ureses. Then it was easier to call him by his last name. Distance
us.”

“
Somar
.”
Vayne could taste the other
man’s foul stench as if he were in the room.
Somar the
Procurer.
It was surely inappropriate to feel relief that this Petrov
who figured so often was but one of her troopers.
Now
deceased.
Although she clearly still felt responsible for him, part of
her quality of command.

“Do you know Somar?” Suspicion
laced her tone again.

“I do.
Personally
and by reputation.
He pretends to be a great warrior, when in truth he
procures things—and people—for his master. Ba—”

Her sudden lunge nearly caught
him off guard, but he didn’t have to defend against the press of her fingers
against his mouth. “Shh. Don’t
say
his name. He’ll
hear you.”

His chosen’s eyes were filled
with terrible fear and madness. The pupils were so wide the surrounding gold of
the iris was but a thin outline, shimmering eerily against the black. Vayne
wrapped her quivering body up, tucking her head under his chin to hold her
against him, blessing the drug the medic had administered. He had no doubt
Neira had been triggered and broken down into her past and only the medication
held her together. He felt her lapse once again into unconsciousness, but this
time it was controlled and healing as he poured his certitude and care past all
her desperate, crumbling defenses.