Page 23 of Trak
“Yes, sir,” said Niir.
“Are we done with this meeting?” asked Yanc. “Some of my engineer crew is arriving at the hangar for training. They’re going to learn how to charge a plasma nebulizer.”
Trak waved him off and Yanc left. Niir, Pizol and Trak rose from their seats. As they started to leave, five large Belka-Tu warriors stood in their path.
“What do you know?” Pizol crossed his arms. “We were just talking about your lot.”
“The Virilian who owes us credits has refused to pay.” Giru Limpa jutted his sizable jaw. “He claims he sent the funds and they were received.”
“Then hire an arbiter,” Trak said with a lazy swing of his hand. “This truly isn’t my problem.”
The massive Belka-Tu alien stepped up close and gazed down at Trak with hostility shining in his small black eyes. “Itisyour problem.” Then he swung a fist and clipped Trak in the gut. Air whooshed from him as he doubled over. A meaty fist grabbed him by the straps and dragged him back up. “Not laughing now, are you?” snarled Giru Limpa.
Trak couldn’t pull in a breath, let alone laugh. Niir and Pizol had drawn weapons and had them aimed squarely at the heads of two Belka-Tus. Meanwhile, the patrons, bartenders and dancers had all turned to watch the show, which was infinitely more interesting than whatever they’d been doing.
Giru Limpa released Trak and took a step back. “I know you can pay me, Virilian prince.”
“I can pay you many times over,” Trak wheezed, slowly standing upright again. “But I don’t pay debts I don’t make.”
A sly, dark smile crossed Giru’s face. “You will this time.” He jerked his head toward the exit and he and his guards strutted from the Miti Luti.
Niir and Pizol put their weapons away and everyone turned back to their business. The scene was already forgotten. Niir gave the two males an “I told you so” look.
Pizol shrugged. “Niir could hire someone to kill them.”
“We cannot kill them without strong provocation.” Niir ground his teeth. “It is not in our best interest to invite conflict with an ambassador, no matter how tempted we are to kill them.”
Trak shook his head and rubbed his sore belly. “Stick to the plan. And let’s prepareto get off this station if things get too hot. I’ll send out an ‘on call’ message to the rest of the crew while Yanc trains his people.” He made a fist. “Niir, convince that spineless, worthless Virilian who owes them money to pay up. This is ridiculous.”
Niir nodded and the three of them split up. Trak went to the ship to run a diagnostic and alert the rest of the crew of a potential departure. He worried about Anna’s reaction to being bustled on board a cranky battleship that was in a constant state of repair. The space station had been a safe choice because of the privacy and relative stability, but he hadn’t liked the look in Giru Limpa’s eyes one bit. That alien was up to something and he hoped for everyone’s sake it didn’t have anything to do with Anna.
Thirteen
It should have come by now. Anna bit her lip and frowned into the toilet.
Her period was two days late.
That wasn’t much, but for someone whose cycle usually ran like clockwork, it wassomething. Then there were the weird feelings low in her belly. It was as if something was moving in there, and it didnotfeel like gas. Trak had said she would know it if she were pregnant. She certainly didn’t feel normal.
After a short debate, she took a test, which worked basically the same as the ones on Earth. They had been stocked in the bath chamber, likely by Nandi. The result appeared swiftly and with surprising fanfare. Instead of a plus or minus sign in the little window on the test, a hologram beamed out, depicting an animated image of a baby with a tail—trying to make it look Virilian, she supposed, but it looked weird and cartoonish—a colorful message in a language she couldn’t read, and a puff of scent that reminded her of vanilla. She didn’t need to read the words to get the message. It was a little too festive, especially if one didn’twantto be pregnant. Luckily, she did. Sort of.
Anna sat down on the edge of the bed and held a hand over her belly. It had happened. She had conceived an alien’s baby. In less than six months she’d be birthing it and then she could leave…if she wanted to. She thought to a clause in the contract that stated the mother could stay and help raise the child if she wanted to. Anna hadn’t thought she’d want to, but now she wasn’t as firm on that. She could still have the money sent back to Jimmy for his treatments.
Maybe Trak wouldn’t be eager to see her gone, either. Her stomach fluttered at the thought of him. He would be ecstatic to hear she’d conceived. She couldn’t wait to tell him.
Pulling on a snug white jumpsuit—everything was either snug or ridiculously sheer—she went to the door and opened it. The guard who had been posted there for the past few cycles was missing. On the floor sat a square box made of red metal. A digitallabel on the top spelled out her name. One of the n’s was backwards, which was weird, but it had to be from Trak. She picked it up and brought it in the room. The seal opened with a hissing sound. A gossamer fabric was folded over something inside.
Anna pulled it off and took out a clear plastic slip, glowing with blue digital words. It lay over a metal ring about the size of her neck. The thing looked like a collar and was ornately carved. At first glance, it was beautiful. It had a latch on one side and a hinge on the other, but to her horror, theinsideof it was covered in sharp spikes. This was no piece of lovely jewelry. It was a collar designed for restraint and torture.
Was this a joke? She picked up the digital note. The English was broken and filled with misspellings—her first indication that this wasnotsent from Trak. She didn’t know whether to be relieved or worried by that. Piecing through the grammar problems, she parsed the message: the collar was a declaration of transfer of ownership to an alien named Giru Limpa.
Anna hurled the collar across the room, where it slammed against the door. Thishadto be a joke. If Trak thought this was funny, he was dead wrong. If it came from that green Hulk himself, then he was a greater moron than she’d originally assumed.
She went back to the door and whipped it open. Wherewasthat guard? She needed to get a message to Trak immediately—for two reasons now. A tall thin male walked hastily up the hall. He wore a helmet and the uniform of a guard and that’s what Anna figured he was.
“I need to speak with Prince Trak,” she said. “Immediately. Where is he?”
The guard nodded respectfully. “I take you him,” he responded in halting English. “Come.”
