The Face of Earth (23 page)

“Yes, I like you much better this way. Never could stand a weak or docile woman.” He went to the door and opened it, standing between her and freedom. “Be good, Karina. I’ll be back to check on you later.” With that he shut the door and was gone. Karina ran to the entry plate and palmed it to no avail. She felt like screaming. This long life of hers was off to a bad start.

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Rathor and his crew returned to the spaceport with good news. They had found a Yalsan soldier in a seedy bar, and like all his type, he had become quite garrulous after a few strong drinks. He told them about a crazy scientist who they were forcing to design a number of useful items for military applications. He laughed as he told them that they were holding the scientist’s friend hostage, and every time he wouldn’t cooperate, they tortured his friend. Despite having been a smuggler, Rathor found himself disgusted with the soldier, but he continued playing the role of the friendly drinking buddy until he had the location and the names of the people involved.

Once he had all the information he needed, he returned to the spaceport and looked around for Karina. She was nowhere to be seen. He had his men split up and search the place, but when they met back at the ship, no one had seen her. Rathor was somewhat irritated by her lack of discipline, and gave the order to board the ship and start the engines. If Karina couldn’t be responsible enough not to wander off, then he’d leave her here. She had enough money to survive a few days on her own, and Bellos was one of the safer planets in the galaxy. Besides, he had a mission to complete. With his rationale intact, Rathor didn’t hesitate to give the command to lift off. Soon they were on their way to the Yalsan Solar System and military planet Callos 4.

When they arrived at Callos 4 a day later, a group of fighters known for shooting first so they wouldn’t have to ask questions later greeted them with fire that rocked the ship. Rathor wasn’t worried, though. His Bitowan warship was plated with quarinium. If any fire could get past the shields, it wouldn’t penetrate that metal. Yalsan weapons just weren’t advanced enough.

“Captain, shall I return fire?” The Bitowan at the weapons console looked ready to obliterate the tiny ships.

“No.” Rathor watched as the Yalsan fighters ineffectively assaulted his ship. “We do not want to start a war. We are here only to negotiate a prisoner exchange.”

His crew looked confused at this, not knowing that they even had a prisoner. The fighters, unable to inflict any damage, finally gave up as Rathor’s ship inexorably drew closer to the planet. The fighters formed an escort around the Bitowan ship. The comm chirped, and Rathor gave a nod to his communications man, who brought up the connection through the viewscreen. An angry Yalsan officer appeared on the screen.

“You are entering a Yalsan restricted area without authorization. Proceed with our fighters to interplanetary space.”

Rathor remained calm and non-threatening. “Had this not been a Bitowan ship, I would not be alive right now for you to order me away.” He looked the Yalsan officer right in the eye. “I am here for a reason. I have General Halvorea with me.”

The officer looked shocked and there was some arguing off-screen. A higher-ranked officer appeared and pushed the previous officer out of the way. “General Halvorea is dead. He was killed in a battle in the war with Bitowa four years ago.”

Rathor smiled evilly and ordered two crewmen to bring the man in the brig to the bridge. They were puzzled, since they hadn’t realized any prisoners were on board, but left to carry out Rathor’s order. Rathor turned back to the viewscreen. “The general has been our guest on the off chance that we might have some future use for him.”

The officer sputtered, “But Bitowans don’t take prisoners!”

“That is true, but as I said, he was our guest.” Rathor emphasized the word guest. The officer looked sick as Rathor’s crew snickered. Then he paled as the prisoner was brought onto the bridge and into his view. The unrecognizable Yalsan man was thin and filthy, dressed in rags that were barely identifiable as a uniform and sporting a beard down to his waist. The officer glared at Rathor.

“Is this some sort of joke? That’s not the general.”

Rathor turned to the emaciated man. “General Halvorea, would you kindly tell this man the entry code to the top secret weapons armory of Callos 4?”

The dispirited man spoke in a quiet voice. “Alpha 236, zeta 401, omega 32.”

The officer said something aside to an aide, who then rushed off. He and Rathor stared at one another, waiting.

Within minutes a general showed up, looking pale. He peered at the dirty prisoner. “Cantor?”

The prisoner perked up at the sound of his birth name. He seemed more aware of what was going on around him. “Shardor? My brother?” A hopeful tone crept into his normally expressionless voice.

Shardor spoke to Rathor, not taking his eyes off his brother. “What do you want?”

Rathor came straight to the point. “A prisoner exchange. Tresar Convy and Flavoi Fierra for your brother, General Halvorea.”

Shardor didn’t even hesitate. “Done.” The officer standing at his elbow began to protest, but Shardor cut him off. “I said done! Make the arrangements.” He turned back to Rathor. “Follow the fighters in. I’ll be waiting at the spaceport.” Then the connection was terminated.

Rathor nodded to his pilot to follow, and then told two crewmen to get the general cleaned up and into presentable clothing. By the time they landed, he had been washed and shaved. Although he was quite weak, he walked without help down the boarding plank, anxious to be free. Rathor and his crew surrounded the prisoner, bristling with weapons. They watched as a delegation of Yalsan soldiers made their way across the field toward them. Tresar and Flavoi walked in the soldiers’ midst. Tresar seemed none the worse for wear, but Flavoi was covered in dark bruises and leaned gingerly on Tresar for support. The soldiers stopped several meters from Rathor’s crew. The two groups contemplated each other warily.

“Send the general over,” one of the soldiers demanded.

At Rathor’s command, his crew parted and allowed General Halvorea to walk to the waiting Yalsans. The soldiers gave Tresar and Flavoi a push toward the Bitowans. Tresar was surprised to see that his rescuer was Rathor, but was too eager to leave his countrymen behind to question it. Once the general made it to the Yalsans, the soldiers quickly backtracked to the spaceport. Tresar and Flavoi were rushed aboard the ship and the Bitowans hurriedly left the planet.

Once they were in space, Rathor made his way to the med bay to check on Flavoi. Tresar was there, watching as the medic checked his friend’s injuries. The medic reported to Rathor in Yalsan in deference to their visitors. “It looks as though they were not trying to cause permanent damage. Just pain.” Flavoi snorted and then winced as the medic poked a particularly tender bruise. The medic ignored his reaction, continuing his report to Rathor. “The flesh is bruised through the muscle all the way to the bone.” He pointed to one indented bruise with numerous dark blue spots. “Here you can see where the pressure inflicted was so great that the flesh was compressed and his blood came out through his pores.”

Rathor made a concerned noise. Tresar looked worried, but Flavoi just grinned. “No permanent damage, no worries.” He slid off the table and addressed Rathor. “Do you have a hot bath on this crate? I’d like to soak my sore muscles.”

It was the medic who answered Flavoi. “We have a tub for medical purposes. Heat will help your injuries. Follow me.”

Flavoi clapped a glum Tresar on the back and smiled. “Don’t worry about me, friend. I’m going to relax my bones for awhile.” He followed the medic farther into the med bay, to an inner room and a hot bath.

Tresar watched him go, and then looked askance at Rathor. Rathor smiled to put him at ease. “I know you have questions. We can discuss them over food, as I missed dinner.”

Rathor led Tresar to the refectory, where he caught him up on all that had happened since Agnar had turned them over to the Yalsan military. He left out the part where he had abandoned Karina on Bellos, though. He simply said that she was there waiting for them, and at their present course and speed they would arrive within a day.

Tresar was relieved that Karina had escaped from Agnar, but disappointed that Rathor had no idea where he might be. He owed Agnar some misery, and he intended to pay.

They arrived at Bellos on time and set down. Rathor checked with the hotels to see where Karina was staying. After finding that no one had a record of her, Rathor had to admit to a worried Tresar that he had left Karina on Bellos without her prior knowledge or consent. Tresar became somewhat angry and had Rathor recount exactly what took place and where he was the last time he had seen Karina. He and Rathor went to spaceport security and reported her as a missing person. They pulled up the security files for that time frame and ran a search. They watched as Rathor and his crew left her in the spaceport and the few minutes she sat and sulked. Then they changed files as she walked out of the range of one camera and into the range of the next. She walked out a revolving door to the beach and disappeared. They sped up the file to the point where she reentered the spaceport. Tresar gasped and Rathor groaned when they saw the man holding her hand.

“Agnar! Damn it, Rathor, why did you leave her alone? You know what she is.”

Rathor had the audacity to look irritated. “She is a grown woman. I thought she could take care of herself. I thought she would be safer on Bellos than with us.”

They headed back to the ship, Tresar trying to think of where Agnar might have gone. “He won’t go back to Yalsa. Or Bitowa. Rathor, can you scan for his ship? It is Bitowan, after all.”

Rathor shook his head. “It will have the masking device engaged. Agnar is no fool.”

“Then what do we do?”

Rathor sighed. “Go back to Bitowa and see what strings Sharra can pull. As Empress of Bitowa, all spies report to her.”

Tresar looked incredulous. “Bitowan spies? How in the universe do you blend in?”

Rathor laughed. “We do not need to blend in. We use mercenaries. There are people in every population that would sell out their species for a little quarinium.”

Tresar was disgusted, but he really couldn’t fault the mercenaries, as he wasn’t on particularly good terms himself with his own species.

Once aboard the Bitowan cruiser, Tresar told Flavoi what Rathor had told him. Flavoi found Sharra’s ascension to the throne interesting. “Empress of Bitowa, eh?” He grinned and elbowed Tresar. “Now there’s a woman I could settle down with.”

Tresar chuckled. “Obviously you know nothing about the mating habits of Bitowan empresses. You would be part of her harem, and when she was in the mood, she would choose a man for the evening. If you were lucky, it might be you. But because you aren’t Bitowan, you wouldn’t be allowed to produce any offspring with her. And while the empress could take her pleasure of any man she wanted, you would have to be faithful to only her. Are you still interested in settling down with her?”

“Ah, maybe not. Maybe I’ll end up with Karina.” Flavoi looked slyly at Tresar to gauge his reaction to that comment.

Tresar didn’t miss a beat. “And maybe you won’t.”

They soon arrived on Bitowa and Sharra greeted them warmly. They thanked her profusely for expediting their release, and informed her of Karina’s situation. She was concerned, and immediately sent word along her network of spies. She reassured Tresar and Flavoi that her network was extensive and they would hear news soon. She sent them to wait in sumptuous rooms where they could recover from their ordeal with the Yalsan military.

CHAPTER 17

Agnar sat on the bridge and watched the viewscreens as the stars streamed past. The Vontyr Galaxy possessed fewer stars than most other galaxies, but it boasted one of the brightest centers in the universe. Most of its stars orbited in globular clusters around the galactic core, and their combined light traveled through the galaxy to its edge, chasing away the darkness. This diffuse light filled the spaces between the stars of the galaxy, causing space to appear gray rather than black.

“Pilot?” Agnar addressed the man at the helm.

He snapped to attention. “Yes, sir?”

Agnar noticed a faint purplish tinge to the man’s skin, but other than that he appeared to be Yalsan. Agnar was brief. “Name?”

“Parron, sir.”

“Parron, set course for Raffort Prime.”

Parron input the course change into the helm as he replied, “Yes, sir.”

“Why are we going to Raffort Prime?” Equaria inquired. “Are we going to sell the Earthling?” she asked excitedly. Agnar looked surprised by the question, and that bothered Equaria.

“No!” he replied emphatically.

“Why not?” she countered. “The premier would pay handsomely for her.”

Agnar couldn’t let Equaria see his weakness for Karina. He tried to use logic to convince Equaria that he only wished to get the best deal for the Earthling. “I know the premier personally, and he doesn’t take good care of his possessions. Karina is too great a commodity to sell to someone who wouldn’t care for her properly. Because of the premier’s fickleness with women, he won’t pay what she’s worth, knowing that eventually he’ll lose interest in her.” He paused, choosing his words carefully. “No,” he continued, “I have a buyer in mind who will not only appreciate her value, but give all his wealth for her. We’re only going to Raffort Prime to deliver a standing order from Bellos to the premier.” Agnar returned his attention to the viewscreen, indicating an end to the conversation.

Agnar’s dissembling didn’t fool Equaria. She turned back to her console, frowning with irritation. Agnar may not have noticed that he called the Earthling by name, but Equaria did. He had become too close to the prisoner, close enough to see the Earthling as a person and not as merchandise. And that was bad for business. Her mind raced, trying to determine the best way to make the most of this situation.

“We’ve reached the Kytor System,” Parron announced. He slowed the ship and they entered the system, passing close by an uninhabited outer planet. Parron executed a rapid calculation before turning to Agnar. “Five hours to Raffort Prime, sir.”

“Thank you, Parron,” Agnar answered. “Mask the ship and scan for any other ships in the vicinity. Avoid contact with all of them. The Kytor System is not a place to let your guard down.”

“Yes, sir,” Parron replied.

Agnar watched the viewscreen intently, slightly on edge. The Kytor System was renowned for its bad element. The Kytors chose to remain in their own system, and only occasionally went beyond their borders. All species avoided the area, as the Kytors were quite backward in their views and visitors frequently found themselves caught up in situations they would have preferred to avoid. Agnar had stumbled into a bit of a mess on his first visit, and only through the intervention of the ruler of Raffort Prime had he escaped unscathed.

The premier saw the value of hiring a pirate to smuggle goods into the system, and struck a deal with Agnar for regular shipments. Agnar brought in products that the Kytors wanted but couldn’t make on their own, lacking the raw materials or technology to produce them. This gave him some immunity to the violence of the general population, since the premier’s power had an extensive reach.

Equaria’s voice broke through his reflections of the past, bringing him suddenly back to the present. “Should I feed the prisoner, Captain?”

“Hmmm? Ah, no, I was just about to go feed myself, so I’ll take her something.” Agnar was lying, he hadn’t been thinking of food, but he didn’t want those two alone in the same room together. They had taken an intense dislike to each other from the first moment they met.

Equaria turned back to her screen as Agnar left. She watched him surreptitiously until the door closed behind him, then glanced around at her crew. They each gave her a silent nod. She looked back at the screen and made a call to the Premier of Raffort Prime. She had a treasure for sale that he as a collector would appreciate, and she knew he would be willing and able to pay her asking price. The man who answered the call blanched when he saw the Kahrazoid’s face, but recovered from his revulsion to her appearance within moments.

“What do you want?” he demanded rudely.

Equaria smiled politely. “I would like to speak to the premier.”

“The premier is busy.”

Equaria came straight to the point. “I have a female of a species that he has never seen before.”

The man paused for a moment, considering her. “I’ll put you right through,” he decided, and the screen went blank.

Equaria waited as the man informed the premier. The screen lit up again, revealing an attractive man. He exuded wealth and power, which Equaria found more intoxicating than his appearance.

“Hello, Premier,” she purred. “My name is Equaria.”

“Madam,” he answered, tilting his head slightly. His lackey had told him of the woman’s hideousness, so when her face appeared on his screen he didn’t flinch. “You have something for me?” he inquired.

“An Earthling.”

“A what?” the premier asked, furrowing his brow in confusion at the alien word.

“A woman from the Fourth Quadrant,” Equaria explained, looking over her shoulder to ensure that Agnar wouldn’t walk in unexpectedly.

“Really.” The premier rubbed his hands together greedily. “The Fourth Quadrant, you say? I thought that it was as yet unexplored.”

Equaria nodded. “The Earthling has been brought back from the first expedition into that territory. She is the only Fourth Quadrant specimen available in this quadrant.”

The premier’s eyes narrowed at the implication of the Earthling’s great worth. “How much do you want for her?” he asked. He didn’t want to pay too much for her, but he wanted her badly.

“Her weight in quarinium.” Equaria glanced toward the bridge doors, watching for Agnar.

“And that is . . . ?”

“Fifty-eight kilos.”

The premier eyed Equaria contemplatively. Something wasn’t right about this deal. Equaria kept looking behind her, as if she were afraid she would be caught. “You own this Earthling, then? You have the right to sell her, and you can deliver her?”

Equaria looked guilty, but tried to brazen it out. “Of course,” she replied.

“Really.” The premier didn’t appear to be convinced. He stared at her until she crumbled, realizing that she couldn’t deliver the Earthling if she couldn’t get her out of the quarters where Agnar had stowed her.

Equaria sighed. “Alright,” she admitted. “I don’t own her, and she’s locked in some quarters that only our captain can access.”

“I will deal with him on her price, then.”

“Agnar won’t sell her. You’ll have to deal with me if you want her,” Equaria insisted.

“Agnar?” the premier asked in surprise. “If it’s Agnar that owns the Earthling, then he’ll sell her to me.”

Equaria shook her head. “He won’t. He’s in love with her.”

“What!” The premier laughed, shocked. “Agnar in love? Well, that’s different, then.” The premier slyly observed Equaria. He could see the jealousy in the woman’s eyes. Agnar wasn’t the only one in love. He cleared his throat, knowing he could use this to his advantage. “Thirty kilos of quarinium, and not a kilo more.”

Equaria was flabbergasted. “Thirty!” she sputtered, “that’s robbery! Fifty!” she countered.

The premier shook his head. “The price isn’t up for debate. If you don’t sell the Earthling for thirty, then you don’t sell her to me.”

Equaria knew she had been beaten. She disliked the Earthling, and she hated that Agnar gave Karina all of his attention. Equaria wanted to take Karina from him, and if she made a profit off her in the meantime, so much the better. “Fine,” she agreed sullenly, “but I still need to find a way to get her out of the room where Agnar keeps her. His handprint is the only one keyed to the lock on the door.”

“Leave that to me,” the premier replied. “I’ll send someone who can take care of it.”

“Very well. We’ll arrive at your planet in just under five hours.”

The premier nodded in reply and broke the connection. Equaria stared at the blank screen. She didn’t get what she had hoped for the Earthling, but it was still enough to buy a new ship. She turned to her crew.

“We part ways with Agnar on Raffort Prime,” she announced. They nodded silently in agreement and returned their attention to their duties.

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Agnar left the bridge and went to the refectory where he gathered a tray of food. When he entered Karina’s room, he found her asleep on the bed. He set the food down on the table and went over to the chair. She had tossed the bed cover on it before lying down fully clothed. He scrunched it down and sat on it. Karina’s face was very peaceful and he could see her eyes moving under her eyelids as she dreamed. She had wrapped herself around one of the long pillows, and despite her rumpled clothing, looked quite comfortable. Agnar felt himself growing sleepy just watching her. He decided it wouldn’t hurt to take a short nap. He gently removed the pillow from Karina’s sleeping grasp and lay down next to her. In the absence of the pillow, she threw an arm and a leg over him and snuggled close with her nose under his chin. Agnar felt a strangeness in his chest, something he’d never felt before. He smiled as he fell asleep with one of his arms wrapped around her.

Agnar was awakened abruptly as Karina gave him a considerable shove away from her. He fell off the bed and onto the floor. He sat up to find an angry woman with mussed hair glaring at him. He casually picked himself up off the floor and went to the table where he had left the food. He helped himself to a plate and began to eat before asking, “Did you have a nice nap, Karina?” She grunted noncommittally and continued glowering at him. He gestured to the tray of food. “I brought you dinner.” As Karina turned her attention to the food, her stomach growled loudly. Agnar pretended not to notice. “You wouldn’t happen to be hungry, would you?”

Karina snorted at this obviously sarcastic remark and went over to help herself to the cold food. They ate in silence for awhile, as Karina seemed disinclined to speak to him. He tried asking her questions, but she just ignored him and continued eating. Agnar gave up and finished his meal in silence, then left the room.

After he left, Karina stopped eating. What was the matter with her? When she woke up, before she opened her eyes, she felt a warmth and security she had never felt before. Upon opening her eyes and seeing Agnar, she hadn’t moved. She had watched him sleep as she embraced him, wondering why he trusted her enough to sleep in her presence. She could have very easily killed him. After a few minutes she had become angry with herself and pushed him onto the floor. She couldn’t speak to him; he would have heard the uncertainty in her voice.

She paced the room, muttering to herself, reprimanding herself for her weakness for strong-spirited men. He was a pirate! He was a thief! He was a scoundrel! He was awfully cute when he slept. Karina smacked herself in the head, trying to stop her traitorous thoughts. She was his prisoner, worth her weight in quarinium. But he hadn’t sold her, he hadn’t hurt her, he hadn’t even tried to rape her despite his obvious lust for her. Could it be that he was a decent man even though he was a pirate? Karina’s thoughts whirled, and she tried to pace them away.

Agnar entered the bridge and saw Raffort Prime on the viewscreen. He turned to Parron, surprised. “We’re here already? I thought you said it would take five hours.”