Alien Caged (2 page)

Elisa looked to the door at the other side of the room.  Only three men occupied maximum security, all crowded in a single cell at the opposite end of the block.  Despite the knowledge that Kalquorians were usually bisexual, an abhorrence to Earth’s former government and state religion, a clan had been placed in containment together.  The senior tactical officer, Alec Robards, was a brutal pig of a man in Elisa’s estimation.  It had certainly not been kindness he had in mind when he’d dictated the Kalquorian captain and his clanmates be sequestered in a single cell.  He’d done it to make their lives as uncomfortable as possible.  Robards might have thought it would also turn them against one another in claustrophobic fury.  So far, he’d been disappointed.

Elisa knew she couldn’t see the Kalquorians from her spot standing behind Coombs.  That didn’t stop her gaze from going to the door anyway, eager for that first glimpse.  As always, she was impatient to get in the cell block and enjoy the too-few minutes she would have in the prisoners’ company.

Remington’s voice, pitched slightly higher than most men’s, interrupted her nervous thinking.  “Time to feed the animals, huh?  Go on in.  I’ll be in there in a second.”

Elisa schooled her expression to not reveal her delight.  She would get a few precious seconds alone with Clan Zemos.  It took all she had to not dash with her cart towards the door.

Remington gave her a grin that set her teeth on edge.  “You could wait for me to finish this hand, if you’ll miss having me next to you, darlin’.”

Elisa stiffened but she walked steadily through the office without a word.  She never encouraged the men she worked with, especially not Remington.  In the nearly four years since Armageddon, it amazed her she hadn’t been raped yet.  She thought only the kind protection of the captain and the constant threat of execution from the first officer and the ship’s head of security had kept her safe so far.  Much like the brute Robards, First Officer Chase was still a devout follower of Earth’s one true religion.  Lewd behavior was grounds for immediate execution as far as those two men were concerned.

Still, Elisa had no illusions that if she didn’t leave the ship at some near point in the future, she would find herself in trouble.  Sooner or later, her luck would run out.

Yet, where could she go?  She had no funds to start a new life anywhere.  Worse still, she was part of a renegade crew that had committed crimes against the Kalquorian Empire.  If caught, she could find herself on trial and sent to a Kalquorian prison.  No matter what Dramok Zemos and the other two said, Elisa feared what would happen if she left the battlecruiser. 

However much Clan Zemos might be lying to her, her heart lifted at the prospect of seeing them alone.  She filled with warmth and joy, as she did every day, twice a day.  Elisa didn’t pretend that her life revolving around those few moments wasn’t pathetic.  It was, but she had come to terms with that.  The coming seconds were her reason for rising in the morning and going through the motions of living.  When her time with the Kalquorians was over, she would exist on the anticipation of tomorrow.

She entered maximum security and trundled her cart towards the far cell.

The three alien men made Elisa nervous in more than one way.  They were dangerous men to be sure, though they’d never threatened her.  Quite the opposite, in fact.  The Kalquorians, including the walking menace that was Nobek Oret, had been unfailingly kind towards her.  They acted as if they liked her.  Sometimes Elisa entertained the notion that they even flirted.  It was fun to think she could evoke such a response from them, though she knew she was nothing special. 

Of course the prisoners had to be nice.  They were stuck in a cell with armed guards only steps away.  Elisa knew she was in no danger from the three in maximum security, nor the rest of the captured Kalquorian destroyer crew being held in the general population brig.  There hadn’t been one single instance of any of the prisoners breaking through the containment fields in the three months they’d been held.  They were secure and she was safe, at least from them.

Most of her nervousness had nothing to do with the non-existent threat the aliens posed to her physically.  Elisa knew the basis of this other menace, the issue that put her in real peril.  It was the one thing that made her life bearable even though she would be executed if anyone knew.

She’d fallen in love with the clan of Captain Zemos. 

If anyone of the crew discovered Elisa’s secret, her life wouldn’t be worth spit.  Even Joseph Walker, the compassionate captain of the battlecruiser, wouldn’t be able to find mercy for a woman who’d fallen for not just one, but three Kalquorian men.  She’d be seen as a godless slut and traitor by the majority of the crew, especially Chase and Robards.

The thought of what would happen if her feelings for the Kalquorians became known made Elisa’s stomach tight.  As she usually did when she became nervous, she hummed a tune.  She calmed as the first notes flowed from her throat.

She approached the far cell and the three Kalquorians came into view.  Already knowing she neared, they stayed well back from the field that kept them imprisoned in their small, two-bunk cell.  The quarters would have been tight for two Earther men, the prisoners it was meant for.  For three big Kalquorians, the shortest of whom stood about six-and-a-half-feet tall, it was miniscule. 

Contact with the containment didn’t harm prisoners; it simply allowed no escape.  The Kalquorians never approached too closely until they were sure Elisa was comfortable in their presence.  They seemed determined to show her they offered no threat.  She thought that only underscored how dangerous they truly were, but she couldn’t help but feel pleased they treated her with such compassion.

The three large men bowed to her as she neared, as they always did.  Ever respectful, their faces lit with smiles when they saw she came alone.  Elisa returned the smiles.

Captain Zemos, who stood in the middle of his clan, said in a warm voice, “What a lovely voice you have, Matara Elisa.  Someday I hope to hear you sing.”

Elisa couldn’t help but take in the sight of the handsome Zemos.  Over middle age of the Kalquorian lifespan of 250 years, his long black hair had the slightest dusting of gray.  His years showed not so much in the few lines of his face, but in the experience that shone in his purple cat-pupil eyes.  Maturity lay in Zemos’ attitude more than in his appearance.  That aura, combining with a strong jaw and an underlying ferocity, made his face unabashedly masculine.  Yet the rest of his features were soft enough that his appearance tried to enter the realm of endearing.  Zemos couldn’t be called cute, but Elisa had come close to that description more than once in her head. 

His well-muscled body, behemoth at what Elisa guessed to be around six-feet-eight, showed no hint of debilitation.  The uniform suit he wore, what the aliens called a formsuit, was black and clung to every curve of his carved body.  Elisa suspected he and his clanmates washed their clothing in the cell’s small basin, because they always managed to look clean.  Even their boots stayed shined.

Elisa stole a quick glance at the doorway of the guard’s station to make sure Remington hadn’t entered the block yet.  Rattling the cart to cover that she spoke, she told Zemos, “I can’t imagine the comments the guards would make if I was to serenade your meal.”

He rewarded her joke with a grin.  The sight stabbed into her heart, and Elisa looked away.  She fussed with her limited field disruptor, as if she couldn’t operate the small device’s controls in the dark.  It was hardwired with one setting and an ON/OFF button.

Elisa activated it.  A window in the containment field opened just enough for her to slide the covered plates of food into the cell, one at a time.  She clipped the disruptor onto her belt and pushed the first tray through the opening.

As always, Nobek Oret stepped forward to take the food from her.  “Good evening, Matara Elisa,” he said.  His low, growly voice might have come from the mouth of a wolf rendered capable of speech.

He must have known how intimidating he looked.  As he always did, the Nobek came just close enough to the containment barrier to stretch one long arm out and accept the plate she offered.  Oret was younger than Zemos by one year, and his long curly hair retained all of its blue-black color without the first sign of gray.  Yet he looked harder and more careworn than his Dramok.  Elisa could never call such a feral creature ‘cute’; indeed she did not think him precisely handsome either.  However, Oret’s face, with its stark features and intense demeanor, was riveting.  To one who appreciated the perfection of creatures such as sharks or hunting tigers, Oret might be deemed a beautiful predator.

If Zemos’ body was chiseled, then Oret’s had been carved, sculpted, and polished within an inch of its life.  Veins stood out on his arms, exposed by the sleeveless formsuit he wore.  He looked capable of breaking steel beams in half with nothing but brute force.  His skintight uniform left nothing unimagined.

Oret was fearsomeness personified.  Yet, like a mouse hypnotized by the stare of a deadly cobra, Elisa found him entrancing as well.  She was drawn to this walking, talking icon of destruction.

His deep gaze never wavering from her face, he smelled the food before handing it to the third man of their clan.  A slight smile curling his lips, Oret said, “Perhaps hearing you sing would sweeten the guards’ tempers just a bit.”

Imdiko Miragin snorted as he sat with his tray on the lower bunk.  “Tossing a handful of sugar at such men would only result in the sugar falling to the ground.  For some, offering sweetness is a waste.”

Elisa sighed and nodded her agreement.  Miragin was forever saying something of note.  He was a writer of much renown in the Empire, so much so that he was referred to as the Conscience of Kalquor.  The time Zemos had mentioned this bit of the Imdiko’s biography, Miragin’s handsome face had taken on an uncharacteristic scowl.   The Imdiko did not seem to be in love with the nickname.

Threads of gray wove themselves in Miragin’s messy curls.  Wide, intelligent eyes often sparkled with humor and mischief.  The Imdiko’s good nature couldn’t be eclipsed by even his imprisonment.  Elisa’s favorite feature on Miragin was his plump lips, sumptuous to the point of decadence.  She often wondered what it would be like to kiss that delicious-looking mouth.  He was also the least intimidating of the three men, several inches shorter than the other two and built more like a long-time runner than a muscled powerhouse.  The youngest of the three at a century and a quarter, Miragin had a dreamier aspect.  Elisa imagined him taking long walks as he contemplated the concerns of his world.  Any time the Earther guards were present, Zemos and Oret stood between them and Miragin, determined to shield the Imdiko from all harm.

Oret came forward again to accept another dish from Elisa, passing this one to Zemos.  “You prepared these meals yourself?” he asked in his wolf-growl voice.

She nodded.  “Yes, Nobek Oret.  I have taken on the responsibility of cooking all your meals.  I have already made the breakfast Mr. Thomas will deliver to you in the morning.”

He nodded and took the final tray from her.  Oret’s demeanor was often one of suspicion, and Elisa knew he didn’t trust anyone else to cook his clan’s food.  In those cases, he ate first and insisted Zemos and Miragin not touch their meals until an hour after he’d finished his.  His distrust of their captors hadn’t been shaken in three months, though no one had attempted to poison the trio.

Even at the beginning of their imprisonment, Oret had been more relaxed with Elisa than any other Earther.  After the first two days of her bringing their meals, he’d eased his dictates to the other two that they wait to eat until he felt confident of the food’s safety.  Elisa thought it was because she was a woman that Oret trusted her to the extent he did.  She’d often thought about telling him he really should know better.  Women were imminently capable of evil acts, as the Church had so often pointed out.  She’d held her tongue because she liked that the fierce Nobek felt confident of her motives.

Miragin had already started eating the chicken stir-fry she’d made, practically inhaling the pile of food she’d made for him.  Between mouthfuls he said, “Delicious as always, Matara Elisa.  Thank you so much for preparing our food.”

Elisa closed the window in the containment field, smiling at his praise and obvious enjoyment of his dinner.  She glanced down the corridor towards the guard’s room.  There was still no sign of anyone coming to join her, and she knew she should get going.  Yet her whole day revolved around stolen moments such as these.

Zemos was smiling at her as she returned her attention to the clan.  “You are without a guard tonight.  I do like it when we get a moment to talk.”

Elisa told him, “They’re busy playing poker.  Remington said he’d follow in a moment.”

“Remington.”  Miragin made an ugly sound. 

Oret said, “A fool with ambitions can be dangerous, but in the end he’s still a fool.”  The Nobek considered Elisa, and she barely controlled a shiver that wanted to go through her at that appraising stare.

He told her in a gentle voice, “Never underestimate an enemy, Matara.  Not even with a seemingly impenetrable containment field.”

“Do you plan to attack me?” Elisa asked, fighting to keep her tone light.  At Oret’s gaze turned calculating, she wished she hadn’t said anything.

However, she had nothing to worry about.  The containment field was fully powered.  Not even a Kalquorian of Oret’s obvious threat level could hope to break through it.