Alien Redemption [Clans of Kalquor 06] (29 page)

BOOK: Alien Redemption [Clans of Kalquor 06]
8.07Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

* * * *

Conyod stared at his Dramok. The Slaughter of Innocents on New Bethlehem was considered the most horrendous of crimes perpetrated as a result of the war with Earth.

Kalquorians and Earthers alike cried out for justice against those responsible, despite the military’s assertion it had all been a terrible mistake.

His clanmates had been party to that tragedy. Had ordered it carried out.

Erybet’s gaze was far away, looking into an unthinkable past. “It was beyond horrible when I got to the scene. I can’t even describe it to you. I won’t.” His eyes closed, and a single tear slid out from under one eye. “How could we have been so far off with our intelligence?”

“How could this happen?” Conyod asked. He couldn’t think of anything else to say.

“We still don’t know. The informant’s credentials were supposed to be solid. Our own intelligence said we’d find the rebels there.” Erybet swallowed. “Of course Sletran took it personally, claiming all the fault was his. He tried to stop Team B from setting off the explosives, but the com didn’t work properly, and…”

His voice died off. In the silence, Conyod thought of how protective his Nobek had always been, especially when it came to those weaker than himself. When Conyod had run away from home as a child to a strange town and been confronted by bullies, it had been Sletran who had come to his defense. Who had seen to it Conyod got back home safely. Had kept in touch and offered support on the blackest days when the Imdiko was at his lowest.

Sletran did not knowingly hurt those he felt deserved shelter and security. He sure as hell would never harm women and children.

Bad information and a shitty com connection killed those people. Not Sletran. Not my
Nobek.

But knowing Sletran as he did, Conyod knew his clanmate couldn’t help but blame himself.

Erybet was suffering from self-reproach as well. Yet they’d been left without resources to deal with the guilt, made to keep their torment a secret, even from their own Imdiko! It was wrong, and Conyod seethed at the faceless bureaucracy that had taken damaged psyches and left them to fester.

Anger made his voice hot. “You should have both instantly been placed on therapeutic leave. Analyzed, given coping instruction, all of it. At the very least.”

Erybet sounded tired. “Our orders keeping this classified came directly from the top. We knew there would be an outcry against the slaughter, unintentional as it was. As commanders directly responsible for the mission, both Sletran and I would be the target of attacks from enraged Kalquorians and Earthers.”

Conyod saw his point. “If it gets out, you could be murdered. People have been howling for the blood of those responsible since it happened.”

“Kalquorian men don’t kill women and children. And we don’t forgive those who do. It was kept a secret for our protection.”

Conyod leaned forward, slapping his palms hard on the table between them. “But it was a mistake! You didn’t know. You double checked everything. It wasn’t your faults!”

“Someone is to blame for all those deaths. I gave the order to Sletran. He led the teams.

We are directly responsible.”

His Dramok was hurting terribly, and Conyod ached for him. But he was at least coping.

He hadn’t given the final order. Their clanmate had.

“Erybet … Sletran will never forgive himself. Never.”

“I know.” He rubbed his temples, grimacing as if in pain. “New Bethlehem was a nightmare before the slaughter. We would have been changed men even without that last horror.”

Conyod stilled. There was more? “Tell me.”

Erybet drew in a huge breath. “The war was over, but the insurgents on that colony just wouldn’t let it go. They were made up of soldiers manning a secret military base hidden there.

We’d learned of the installation just before Earth’s Armageddon. They refused to give up the fight. They attacked us every chance they got, even if it meant killing themselves or their own.

They went after our people who were providing Earther refugees medical care, food, and shelter.

Your father and his aides too, and all they were doing was selling kestarsh.”

Conyod turned that over in his mind. He hadn’t known Vel had gone to New Bethlehem.

“You wouldn’t have known who was the enemy or who was friend among the Earthers.”

Erybet shook his head. “Even some of the women wanted us dead. And some were forced to attack us when loved ones like their children were held hostage. Shortly before the slaughter, a young beautiful female like Ray-Ray walked right into the camp Sletran and I were based out of. She wanted food, and we could tell she hadn’t eaten in a while. Of course she was allowed in.”

“Oh no. Did she—?”

“It was right at evening meal time. She walked into the dining facility and detonated the explosives she had strapped to her body. I lost a lot of men that day. Your parents’ head trainer Nif died along with a couple others Vel had brought. He was out of his mind with fury.”

“Nif? But I thought he was killed in a shuttle crash.”

“Vel was sworn to secrecy, the same as the rest of us.” Erybet shook his head. “Now you know why he’s so worried about your security here. He’s seen Earther women kill.”

Conyod swallowed the pain he felt, a mirror of what he saw in Erybet’s eyes. So much had been kept from him. Worst of all was what had happened to his clanmates. “I’m sorry, my Dramok.”

“So am I.” Erybet reached across to touch Conyod’s hair. “You didn’t ask for this broken clan you ended up with.”

His clanmates needed him. Desperately. Conyod had to find a way to get them off New Bethlehem, because he had no doubt both were still trapped there in a significant way.

He said, “Now that I know what happened, maybe I can help.”

Erybet pursed his lips. “I don’t know how Sletran will take you knowing what happened. It would devastate him to think you feel any less for him.”

Conyod scowled. “You know I can’t censure him for an event so far out of his control.”

“I know, Conyod. But in his state of mind, I don’t know he’ll accept that. Help him, by all means. But proceed very carefully.”

Erybet was still stroking his hair, and Conyod leaned his cheek into the other man’s palm.

“Thank you for trusting me with this, Erybet. I’m sorry I’ve been such an ass pressuring you to disobey orders.”

The Dramok found a smile. “You haven’t been an ass. You’ve been a concerned Imdiko trying to help his clan. I only would have found fault if you’d been less insistent.”

He stood and came around the table to stand next to Conyod, who also rose to his feet. They stared at each other, and Conyod finally felt the emotional distance closed. He had his Dramok back. Not the same Dramok he’d had before the war, but one he knew despite the changes. It was a relief.

Erybet said in a soft voice, “I can’t begin to tell you how much better I feel now that you know. It’s been so hard to keep it from you.”

His arms wrapped around Conyod. The Imdiko returned the embrace. A portion of the weight had left him, but the greater part of it still remained.

Conyod was still reeling from Erybet’s story. He couldn’t begin to think of how he’d help Sletran recover, not from such a horrific tragedy, but it didn’t matter. He knew he would do no less than his damnedest to make it happen. He would try until death claimed one or both of them. Conyod had to get his Nobek back too.

Chapter 11

Breft essentially bullied his way into Emperor Bevau’s office in the Government House by walking into the reception area, stating he was there to see the military’s Imperial Commander, and telling the Imdiko who handled Bevau’s appointments that he’d wait until the monarch found time to see him. Then he and Lidon stood over the poor flustered man who insisted the schedule was full. Finally the receptionist fled into Bevau’s private room to consult with his superior. The Royal Guards standing at the entryway said nothing, as was usual for the elite Nobeks charged with keeping the emperor safe. They simply watched Breft and Lidon, who stared back with an equal lack of emotion. Men just doing their jobs, and neither side taking issue with the other.

The Imdiko came back out, scowling for all he was worth. “Emperor Bevau has graciously decided to make time for you, officers. You may go in.”

Without a hint of smugness, Breft offered the upset man a slight bow. “Thank you so much for seeing to our very important matter. It is appreciated.”

The Imdiko sat down at his computer without another word and began issuing commands to shuffle his superior’s appointments.

Breft and Lidon nodded to the Royal Guards as they passed into Bevau’s chamber. The Government House was a cliff building that also housed the Royal Council, which advised the Imperial Clan on all matters dealing with the wellbeing of Kalquor. Breft’s Dramok was a councilman himself, and a well-respected one at that. He had offices two floors below this one.

Half a dozen more Royal Guards stood at attention within the room. Breft and Lidon crossed the polished rock floor silently, neither looking anywhere but straight ahead towards one of three of Kalquor’s emperors. Bevau’s desk was against the far wall, a long, square metallic surface that held no less than four computers. Vid readouts floated in the air before the big Nobek.

Breft grimaced. Like most of his breed, he hated the administrative parts of his job. No doubt the emperor had a horrendous amount of such work to judge from the number of readouts and computers in front of him. Being the ruler of an empire was not something the Global Security officer would ever aspire to. Being the head of his precinct had enough such nonsense, so much so that sometimes Breft wished he hadn’t allowed himself to be promoted a year ago.

Then again, Bevau was a very rare Kalquorian. Though he was officially classified a Nobek, he was actually also half Imdiko. Maybe his nurturing side didn’t mind the filework portion of his position.

No one with good sense would ever discount the emperor’s fighting abilities just because of his supposed gentler nature. The tall man was a pure brute when angered. When his empress had been attacked shortly after joining his clan, Bevau had cut the head off one of her assailants.

With savage joy. Rumors said he’d made the man’s skull into a cup which he drank from every night before retiring, but Breft discounted that as pure absurdity. Empress Jessica would never allow such a barbaric trophy in her home, and that woman ruled the Imperial Clan.

Bevau ordered his vids paused and off before standing to greet them. The man was almost ridiculously handsome with perfect features and long, spiraling curls that reached to the middle of his back. His sleeveless black formsuit, complete with the royal purple trim, clung to a well-muscled body. Dark scars on his veined biceps were fighting marks of honor any Nobek would be proud to wear.

Handsome or not, Bevau’s disapproval was plain to see. His black brows knit together over narrowed eyes and his lips thinned in a frown. Before Breft and Lidon could properly greet their ruler, he snapped, “I received your message this morning, and I assume that’s why you’re here.

Do you have any idea of the hell New Bethlehem was for our men?”

Breft and Lidon bowed deeply. Keeping his tone carefully respectful, Breft said, “Thank you for seeing us on such short notice, my emperor. To answer your question, I know it was one of the worst spots during the war.”

“As well as after the war. In fact, it got worse once the official hostilities were done.

Earthers committed suicide attacks against our soldiers. Against their own people who peacefully surrendered. It was an abattoir and no one ever knew where the next round of violence would come from.”

Lidon’s voice was a soothing counterpoint to Bevau’s obvious agitation. “I’ve heard many didn’t come back with their minds intact.”

Bevau walked around his desk to stand near them. “You heard correctly. Half the men who fought there and are still alive have spent time in psych wards since coming home. The other half are having problems as well.”

Bevau thought of the Matara on the beach. Of the one draped over the statue in the square.

Seeing them one at a time was horrific enough, but thinking of the many who’d died in the infamous slaughter … children too … made him stiffen. “Are you saying that excuses the massacre, my emperor?”

Bevau suddenly bared fangs at him. There was no hint of any Imdiko nature in his expression and Breft went very still. He’d gone too far with his rash statement. His emperor was a conscientious man, and no doubt the slaughter weighed heavily on him.

“My apologies, my emperor. I was completely out of line by saying that.” Breft lowered his head.

After a moment, Bevau sighed. “Few know what really happened. Few care. All that matters is innocent women and babes were killed. No one wants to hear the massacre was due to a mistake and malfunctioning equipment.”

Lidon inhaled sharply. Breft raised his gaze to look at the emperor in surprise.

Bevau nodded, his expression despondent. “That’s right. A company went in based on a reliable report of insurgent activity in the area. A report that had been fact checked and found feasible. We’re not sure if the insurgents discovered they’d been informed on, or just how it happened that so many civilians were in the building we attacked. The onsite commanding officer realized the error just before they set off explosives, but due to a com failure the attack went down anyway.”

Breft was thunderstruck. Beside him, Lidon groaned. “It sounds like Armageddon all over again.”

“Except we had no one to blame but ourselves for the deaths on New Bethlehem. It was an honest miscalculation that cost dozens of lives.”

Breft shook his head. “I can understand the secrecy then.”

Bevau sat heavily on the edge of his desk. “The deaths of those Mataras and children were terrible. I’ve lost a lot of sleep over it. They deserve some sort of justice, but it’s not mine to give.”

He glanced at a wall vid, and Breft followed his gaze. Empress Jessica, in a rare moment of lightheartedness, smiled brilliantly from the still photo. Framed by long chestnut hair, her elfin face shone with unrestrained happiness. She held her two children, who were laughing at whoever had taken the picture.

Other books

A Dangerous Game by Templeton, Julia
The Man Who Risked It All by Laurent Gounelle
The Search For WondLa by Tony DiTerlizzi
Taken by Her Mate by Sam Crescent, Jenika Snow
Call If You Need Me by Raymond Carver
November Hunt by Jess Lourey
Midnight Sons Volume 3 by Debbie Macomber