Syn-En: Registration (12 page)

“The slave ships have started again?” A light flickered in the leader’s eyes. “More people will come.”

“People will come, but not as slaves. We’re going to register humanity.” Then the Syn-En would get a little payback. Most of his men, and probably the majority of civilians on Terra Dos would want their pound of flesh for Nell’s death.

The army of avengers would have to stand in line behind him.

“Register.” Job stood a little straighter. “They’ll have to release us. We could go home. Back to Earth.” A shadow crossed his features. “But you were captured. They wouldn’t let you register. Humanity powers the aliens’ worlds, they’ll never give us up. Never.” He stumbled back a step. “You should never have come. Never have told me.”

He recognized the second edge on the sword of hope—pain.

Bei now had to spin the truth. “I’m part of an advance scouting party. We knew registering wouldn’t be easy. The Skaperian files on the process were out of date.”

The words tasted bitter on his tongue. His trust subroutines still calculated the merits of trusting the feather-heads.

“The Skaperians!” Job’s shout drew the others closer. He waved them back, and they dutifully obeyed. “They claimed Earth as their territory and made fortunes trading us on the universal market.”

“The Skaperians have no choice but to sponsor our entry. The Amarooks will kill them if they don’t. They’re firmly on our side, and killed the Skaperian Empress to prove it.” At least, Bei hoped the wolf-like Amarooks would still stand next to humanity with Nell…gone.

Admiral, I’ve been reviewing the
Icarus’s
explosion and—

Later.
Bei never wanted to see the video clip again. Just thinking about it made his stomach feel like live wires sparking across his circuits.

“But the Skaperians and Amarooks are connected…” Job lowered his voice. “Why would they kill their leader?”

“The Skaperians betrayed the Amarooks. And the Amarooks have no intention of forgetting it or forgiving it.” Bei didn’t need to be telepathically linked to the animals to see the rage in their eyes.

“Why did you allow yourself to be taken?”

“What better way to assess the enemy’s strengths and weaknesses than from the inside?” Bei spun the lie wider. Thankfully his cerebral interface wouldn’t allow him to forget a word he said. “We knew the mining computers were the least guarded and could provide us with a back door to the tactical mainframe.”

He knew it
now
. And he definitely planned to use it to his advantage.

Job scratched his chin, making furrows in his beard. “So why are you with my clan, why not the scout party you came in with?”

Bei shrugged. That was the problem with lying, a smart man usually saw through it. “Splitting up allowed us to cover more ground. We joined different clans, so as not to draw attention to ourselves.”

“You brought ten tons of attention to yourself.”

“And I need eight more tomorrow to get upstairs and rendezvous with my men. Then I’ll reset your quotas and leave.”

“To register.” Job paced. Two steps right. Turn. Two left. Turn. Repeat. The air shimmered with his internal struggle—pragmatism versus hope.

Slavery versus liberty.

A fruitless struggle. Hope would never cease, never let go, and would pool into the smallest hole only to explode when given the slightest opportunity.

It explained why the clan still talked of Earth, even when they believed it had been destroyed.

It was why Bei would succeed.

Job stopped. For a moment, his shoulders slumped then he straightened, raised his chin, and smiled. “How can we help?”

Chapter 13

On the ambassador’s terrace, Nell wiggled on the cushion, pushing the hard knot of stuffing to the side. The cold marble cut off the circulation below her knees. She folded her legs Indian-style on the wide seat. Placing her elbows on the table, she propped her chin up with her hands. Excited chatter surrounded her.

The mantis-like Ck’son clumped together in groups of four and five, around the dozen tables. Tattered pennants cast streamers of blue and pink, down eight-foot tall windows. White, yellow, and green light shone from circular bulbs, strung from the three-story marble façade of the U-shaped building.

On the courtyard below, padgows spun like fluorescent mopheads over the marble stones surrounding the rectangular pool. They popped to the syncopated beat of the human band, playing in the pavilion at the end of the garden.

Off to the side, Two Ck’son turned the spit roasting a headless caprinae. Fat ran in rivulets along the side before falling with a crackle into the fire pit below. Smoke and the scent of roasting meat billowed through the air.

Human women chopped sloppy green lengths, culled by the aqua-aliens from the bottom of the pool, and shoved the goop into large bowls.

Nell shouldn’t be here, celebrating. Bad aliens hunted the Syn-En Fleet. They’d kidnapped her husband. God only knew what they could be doing to him.

Elvis stretched out on the divan next to her. After slurping an eyeball from the severed caprinae head, he crunched on one curled horn. “You should relax and enjoy yourself.”

“I should be doing something.” Nell shuddered despite the joy roiling through her. She really wished the Amarook would break their telepathic connection when he ate. She didn’t consider raw meat, wet brains and squishy eyeballs a delicacy.

“You are. You’re giving all these fine species hope for a better tomorrow.” Balancing the head, he gestured to the groups below.

The Shish bubbled up from the depths of the pond in the center of the courtyard, black heads in a froth of white. Straps of green waggled from their arms when they raised their tentacles and dropped their harvested sea grass onto the stone deck. Large gray eyes blinked from the knobby heads as the aqua-aliens turned to her. Each raised two empty tentacles in greeting before sinking back to the bottom.

Forcing a smile, Nell waved back. “There won’t be any registration if we don’t warn the fleet.”

And Bei would remain a prisoner.

“And we will. After the party.” Elvis bit into the caprinae skull. Blood oozed down his muzzle and bone chips littered the cushion under him. “No point in letting anyone think humanity doesn’t know what it’s doing.”

“Humanity doesn’t know what it’s doing.”
She
didn’t know what she was doing. “According to the Skaperians, we just show up and register. Wham, bam, thank you, ma’am, we’re one of the intelligent people in the universe, and nobody can use us as lab rats again.”

At least, that’s how this little trip went down inside her head.

Elvis swept his long pink tongue over his muzzle and scooped up flecks of brain. “You shouldn’t have trusted the Skaperians.”

“Yeah, yeah. Hindsight is always twenty-twenty.”

“My vision is superior to yours.” Holding the partially eaten caprinae skull like a cup, he sipped the blood.

Drumming her fingers on the table, she rolled her eyes. Sarcasm was lost on aliens. “We didn’t trust everything the Skaperians said. That’s why Bei, Rome and Keyes decided to do a little advance scouting.”

And were captured in the process.

Sighing, she slouched on the ambassador’s throne in the center of the arranged tables. She had to do something, anything, to help. “Didn’t one of the mantis guys say he knew about the registration process?”

Eyes closed, the Amarook purred as he chewed. Blood sloshed in the empty skull cup.

Zombie nirvana. Bile rose in her throat despite the surge of pleasure in the veins. “Elvis?”

“Hmmm.” He sucked bits of masticated meat from his fangs.

“Didn’t one of the Fu-Manchu Ck’son say he knew about the registration process?”

“Yes, but Fu-Manchu isn’t a he, but a she.” Rising a little off the divan, he sniffed the air. “That one.” He pointed to Nell’s left.

Next to the open French doors, a handful of the mantises uttered a series of clicks, whirls, and ticks. Their sword-like arms slashed and stabbed the air as they gestured. On their backs, iridescent wings fluttered and caught the light, casting rainbows over their green scales. 

Nell blinked. “There’s five of them. How am I supposed to tell them apart?”

They all looked alike. Six-foot tall, giant praying mantises with mustaches similar to the ones worn by vintage Hollywood detectives.

Elvis popped the last bit of bone into his mouth. “She’s the one that smells like you, after you eat stewed okra.”

Her mouth opened and closed. How was she supposed to take that? Never mind. She’d better not ask. “Do we know her real name?”

No way would she call the alien Fu-Manchu to her face. Nell had some tact.

Elvis licked his fingers. “Can’t pronounce it. And I think there are some sounds they make that my ears cannot detect, as there are pauses in odd spots. Humans call her Ck’dow.”

“Thanks.” Pushing to the edge of the throne, Nell rose. Pins and needles pricked her legs as feeling rushed back. She’d been sitting for too long. Breathing through the pain, she took one step then another. Gradually, her circulation returned.

Elvis snuffled the divan’s cushion and lapped up the bits of bone.

Of course, the feather-face would desert her in her hour of need. Nell dried her palms on her uniform pants and squared her shoulders. She could do this. She had to do this.

A Ck’son let out a shrill whistle while slashing with his upper right arm, shaving off one side of a spiral topiary. Leaves fluttered to the balcony.

Nell paused. She could do this from a safe distance.

A man ran across the balcony. Wavy, black hair danced over the broad shoulders. Muscles rippled under his green tunic. His bare feet slapped the marble as he dropped to the ground in front of her. “Mistress Nell.”

Uh-oh. She’d seen this act before. Different actor; same part. Her stomach cramped. “Please. Don’t.”

He glanced up at her. When he shook his head, his black locks parted, revealing tan eyes, smooth skin and an aquiline nose above full lips. “I offer myself as sire for your child.”

Nell’s shoulders drooped. And he’d done it anyway.

Elvis threw back his head and howled. “Beijing had better not take you for granted, Nell Stafford. That’s the twentieth offer you’ve received tonight.”

“Oh, go suck the eyeballs out of something.” The nerve of the feather-face. This was not a laughing matter. These poor people were serious. Nell held out her hand to the man. “Please, get up.”

He stared at her hand for a minute. Instead of taking it, he pointed to the woman standing at his side. “If you do not wish to accept me, perhaps you will take my sister instead.”

A curtain of black curls hid the girl’s face. She held her thin arms stiffly at her side. Her left toes rested lightly over her right ones. “It would be my honor to serve you, Mistress.”

“Oh for pity’s sake.” Nell had already been offered the services of all the men; she didn’t want to spend the rest of the night dodging the women’s amorous overtures, too. Nell had work to do. “Look—”

“Pet will be most jealous, Zahar.” A Ck’son clacked across the balcony to stand next to Nell. “He has been waiting an age for you to come to him.”

Nell blinked. Surely that didn’t mean what she thought it meant. Surely, the man Pet didn’t demand sexual favors in exchange for food, clothing and shelter. But others had. Tyrants, despots and assholes riddled history. Without some form of currency, why wouldn’t Pet demand the oldest form of payment?

The jerkface had ordered her killed.

“What do you mean, Pet’s waiting for her to come to him?”

“Pet has had his eye on Zahar since she became a woman.” The mantis brushed the girl’s hair back and caressed her rounded cheek. “I know that he has made many reckless forays into the other embassies to tempt you into his bed.”

Nell stiffened. She knew it. Pet was a complete and utter asshole. As soon as she registered Humanity, she’d thump the little twerp right out of power. Then she recognized that sandpaper voice. Ck’dow. Just the alien she wanted to see.

Zahar opened her eyes. The brilliant emerald color crackled with anger. “Pet presumes too much.” She spat on the balcony near Ck’dow’s four feet.

Elvis leapt to Nell’s side. Ears folded back, he growled low.

The man on the ground raised his arms and fell back. “We meant no offense.”

“None taken.” Nell dipped her fingers into the Amarook’s fur and scratched him behind his ear. “Thank you, Elvis, but I was not the target.”

Muscles quivering, he sat next to her. “Spitting is an insult on my world.”

“On mine, too.” She moved to his other ear when he tilted his head and addressed the siblings. “Now, let me see if I understand this. The men have been offering their…um, services in exchange for what exactly?”

Heat flamed in her cheeks. Good Lord, this was embarrassing. Sex wasn’t supposed to be a commodity.

Elvis sniggered and his furry tail thumped.

Nell stopped petting him.

The Amarook scratched his nose, while trying to duck under her hand again. “I was going to sneeze.”

Like she believed that one. She crossed her arms and glared at the couple in front of her. “I would like some answers please.”

The man flashed his palms at her. “I have a younger brother at home who is sickly. If I pleasured you, perhaps you would give him special consideration. Rumor says you have many wonders in your belongings.”

Zahar fell on her knees next to her brother. She clasped his hands between hers. “We meant no offense, but we have only ourselves to offer. We will do anything to help our brother.”

“I’m sure.” The bargain was both noble and icky. Not that they were to blame. Nell searched for Pet. He should not have reduced them to this. He should pay for what he’d done to them. “I cannot accept your offer. I already have a mate, whose child I wish to carry.”

The siblings collapsed upon each other. Zahar rubbed her eyes, smeared moisture down her cheek. “I understand. We do not please you.”

Nell’s fingernails dug into her palms. That bastard Pet had a lot of explaining to do. “I don’t think you do. Any help I can offer will be free, no strings attached. Or anything else for that matter.”