Taken (Warriors of Karal Book 3) (3 page)

“We do?” she asked, because she had no idea. She simply wanted to go home and have a shower and some simcoff.

“Yes. We need to get rid of this notion of you entering the lottery,” he said.

“It’s too late, I already entered. Anyway, the chances of me winning are so slim, they are next to impossible,” she said.

“Well, Chrissi. I have this contract here, all ready to sign. But I will not be signing it until I have your assurance you will never enter the lottery again. I do not intend to train you and then lose you to those aliens. Do you understand?” he asked, smoothing his hand over the piece of paper on his desk.

“That is my choice, no one else’s,” she said, feeling the heat rise in her cheeks.

“Chrissi, you see, that is not true.” He smiled warmly, and clasped his hands together, making her feel altogether unnerved. She had trained to go into space, to face whatever might be out there, but nothing could be more terrifying then the looking Mr. Murgrove in the face. “I hold your future in the balance. I could sign this contract, and you will have a job. Or … I could let you go, for some misdemeanour,
and make sure you never get a job again
.”

Chrissi had no doubt that he would do exactly what he threatened. This man was a bully, pure and simple. Her mind raced, and just as she had been taught to, she went through every possible scenario as to how this would play out. Most of them ended up with Mr. Murgrove with a broken nose, and her having no chance of ever working again. But that had to be better than going along with whatever else he had in mind.

“Chrissi, you are very quiet,” he said. “I hope that’s because you have come to your senses.”

“I have, thank you.” Chrissi said, finding her courage, and her pride. “The thought of not having a job scares me.”

He nodded, looking self-satisfied. “I’m sure it does.”

“But not as much as having to be at the mercy of a man like you,” Chrissi said, pushing her chair back and heading for the door.

“Chrissi, please,” he said, coming towards her. “I’m sorry. I haven’t behaved very well, have I?”

She stopped, thrown off guard by his words. Was he going to retract what he said, would he give her the work contract she needed?

“You can’t blame me for trying,” he said, holding the contract up in front of her. “Please, come and sit back down and I’ll sign it. It was stupid of me to think a woman like you would be so easily persuaded.”

“Easily persuaded? You tried to blackmail me,” she said, knowing she should keep her mouth shut and just wait for him to sign the contract.

“I am a weak man,” he said, smiling in a way that chilled her bones.

“I have to get going,” she said, indicating the contract.

“Yes, of course, you’ll want to watch the lottery results,” he said coolly.

“Yes, I will,” she said, although that was the furthest thing from her mind.

He went back to the desk, and placed the contract down on the smooth wooden surface, reaching for a pen. He signed his name and then said, “If you could just sign here.”

She went to the desk, taking the pen from him, and then leaned over to sign where he indicated. That was when Mr. Murgrove made his move. His right hand slammed her head down onto the desk; his left went to rip her clothes while her head was spinning from the force of the blow. She felt his hand on her skin, touching her back and then going lower.

“When I’ve finished with you, you won’t be eligible for the lottery,” he said, before her elbow went backwards and punched him in the solar plexus.

He stumbled back, gasping for air, and Chrissi stood up, allowing the room to stop spinning. Mr. Murgrove lunged at her, his face red with anger. She brought her knee up and he doubled up again, gasping and holding his genitals.

“You bitch,” he gasped. “You will regret this.”

“You know what, Mr. Murgrove? Even if I never work again, I will
never
regret teaching you a lesson.”

Gathering her clothes to her, she went down to her locker, took all her belongings out, and put her overalls on to cover the tear in her pants. Then she calmly walked out of the building, head high.

Only when she turned the corner and knew he couldn’t see her, did she double up and puke all over the ground.

“You want
me
to go on the deep space mission?” Malik asked, checking he had heard Okil correctly.

“Yes. I know it’s short notice; you will be leaving in two days. But we are out of options,” Okil said.

“And the Hier Council have approved this. They have agreed for me to go?” he asked. He had heard rumours about Okil, about how he sometimes didn’t comply with the Council. He had even brought a human child to Karal, a boy, which was expressly against the law. So if he was going to go along with this, Malik wanted to make absolutely sure he wasn’t going to get dragged in front of the Council on a charge of treason.

“Yes, of course. Malik, I promise you there is nothing underhand in this. We are desperate, that’s all,” Okil said.

“Why? Why the urgency?” Malik asked, his suspicions raised by Okil’s level of stress. Karalians were usually calm, or maybe it was because Malik was not used to dealing with anyone other than warriors, who were always in control of their emotions. As if to reinforce his agitation, Okil’s skin started to flame, reds and golds flickering across his face.

Quickly he smoothed his complexion, but when he looked at Malik, Okil must have known he would have to give the warrior something more. “You have a high level of clearance.”

“All warriors do,” Malik said.

“Then I will give you some more information, but what I tell you does not leave this room. Do you understand?” Okil asked.

“Yes. You do not need to ask. I have been debriefed in this room enough times to know the consequences of a loose tongue,” Malik said.

“Of course. Yes, I am sure you have a few stories to tell that the rest of us are not aware of,” Okil said, and then took a deep breath. “It concerns the first human to come here. Elissa Sergeant.”

“I am aware of the human, but not her name,” Malik said. The human females bored him, they were nothing but breeding vessels to the Karal. They would be used to breed the next generation of Karalians, merely because his species only ever produced males. The females had died out long ago.

“Well, when Elissa came to us, she had badly burnt hands. Marin, her mate, used the decon’ to mend the skin.”

“A noble thing to do,” Malik said, wondering if Okil was ever going to get to the point. “But I hardly find this to be of a confidential nature.”

“There is more,” Okil said, and Malik half expected him to get up and pace the small room once more, but he didn’t.

“Are you going to tell me?” Malik asked, knowing the daylight would be fading and his downtime would be over before he left this room. He felt slightly irritated by the whole thing. Although he wanted the mission, and would hear Okil out.

“Yes. The skin that replaced the damaged tissue on Elissa’s hands had some of the Karal’s DNA in it.”

Now, this made Malik listen: they had transferred their DNA into the body of a human. “What happened?”

“Nothing. At first. Her hands have the same properties as our skin, the colours, they are present,” Okil said, looking at his own hands, which glowed orange like the setting suns.

“Really,” Malik said. “Is she well? Did it affect her in any other way?”

“Yes, it did … the child she carries is a girl.”

“A girl!” Malik said, his voice louder than he intended.

“Yes, she will be born any day now. Or so we think. The due date is in three weeks’ time, but Darl is convinced it will come early.”

“Wait. She is going to give birth to the first female Karalian in centuries?” Malik hadn’t heard much of what Okil had said past the word
girl
.

“Yes, and with the birth will come calls to end these missions to find a new planet for the humans,” Okil said.

“I can see why. And I’m not sure that I disagree. We will no longer have to find females; we will be whole again,” Malik said, deciding that the mission into deep space was not his problem. He would happily take the mate they wanted to give him, but why risk his life for another species? It wasn’t the Karalian way.

“You don’t think that we owe the humans a chance of survival? They, or at least their females, will be asked to help us, to undergo a procedure, so that they can give birth to daughters as well as sons. Don’t you think we should honour our side of this bargain?” Okil asked and his concern showed.

“I’m not sure I do. Our fathers went out and took what they wanted, took the females they needed. Why do we have to be different?” Malik said.

“Because it wasn’t right. Our grandchildren will grow up with both mothers and fathers, but what legacy do we hand them if they are born of cruelty and slavery?” Okil asked.

Malik thought back to his own upbringing, of the mountains he climbed with his father, the sunsets he watched with him. And of the times when he was alone while his father was away on a mission.

“Maybe you should ask one of the others,” Malik said, rising from his seat.

“Malik, the woman who is your perfect match has only entered the lottery once. If you walk away now, you may wait a long time for a female.”

“I have patience,” Malik said, reaching for the door handle.

“Please, Malik. I am asking you to do this.”

“Why, Okil? Why does it mean so much to you?” he asked.

“Because we can’t say for sure that the Karalian girls will be fertile. We don’t know if we may let the human species slip away, and leave our sons with no choice but to roam the universe looking for mothers for their children. There is too much unknown. I cannot just let us take a chance on this working.”

“Is that the only reason?” Malik asked. “Tell me truthfully, Okil, why else do you want to save the human race?”

“Because the more you know them … humans, the less you understand. They are complex, more complex than us, and every day I feel privileged to have Tikki as my woman, and am proud she will be the mother of my children.”

Malik stood, his hand on the door, wanting to walk away. Yet there was something in Okil’s voice that made him stay. “Is there no one else, no other warrior to be matched?”

“No,” Okil said. “And Malik, you will be pleased with your mate, she is intelligent, and will give you a good son.”

“
And daughter
,” Malik said quietly.

“Yes.”

“I should say no,” Malik said.

“There are many things we should do,” Okil said. “But we don’t always do them.”

“I think you were born to corrupt our species, Okil,” Malik said.

Okil smiled. “I hope so.”

“When do I leave?” Malik asked.

“Now. The lottery is about to start. If you leave immediately, you can pick your female up in a few hours and begin to get to know her before you depart.”

“I will go to my room and prepare,” Malik said, still unsure why he had allowed himself to be talked into the deep space mission.

Chrissi wiped her mouth and stood leaning against a low wall, trying to figure out exactly where her life went from here. Her job was gone: there was no way she could ever set foot in that place again, and if she reported the attack to the authorities, it would be her word against Mr Murgrove’s, and they would believe him.

Taking a deep gulp of the thick air, she set off for her apartment. She had enough coins saved up to live for a month or two with no work, if she left her apartment immediately. The idea of living rough didn’t appeal to her, but neither did starving to death. Anyway, she would have to leave the city, maybe try to get a job in one of the small towns that were cut off from the Hub. Because no doubt, right at this moment, Mr. Murgrove was updating her file and it would tell the world she was an unreliable employee.

Damn it! Her head wanted to explode with rage. Why was it all so unfair, her whole life seemed so wasted: past, present, and future a mess of what should have been and what might have been. After losing her dream of space, was it really too much to ask for a job?
Just one, dead end job
,

Chrissi mentally berated herself. She was losing a grip on herself. Hadn’t all her training with Operation Saviour made it clear that no matter what happened, you had to keep a positive mental attitude?

“And that is so easy,” she said as she walked down the dirty streets, the smell of pollution on the air, and the sound of the market traders calling out to anyone with coin to buy their goods. Well, she would have to find a way. She refused to let a man like Mr. Murgrove win, and that was what he would do if she gave up.

Above her head, the big StreamScreens flashed the gaudy colours out to the world. It reminded her of all the giant gas clouds she had hoped to see in space. Nostalgia pierced her heart, all those long nights as a girl, sitting up with her dad, watching the stars, reading books about the universe, dreaming of escaping this world, if only for a few days, or months. Of expanding her horizons, of knowing there was so much more out there.

“Welcome to the lottery,” the announcer could be heard above the noise of the market.

She walked on, the taste of bile burning her throat. The next stall she walked past had a display of dried-up oranges. They were probably the waste from one of the malls in the oxydomes, but she knew it was just what she needed to get rid of the taste, and give her a bit of a boost. A treat, to make up for the crap she had been through today.

“How much?” she asked, pointing at the shrivelled fruit.

“Two coins,” the stallholder said.

“Too much,” she said, about to walk away.

“Wait, wait, a pretty lady like you, I could maybe do a deal.” The stallholder grinned. “You know I have to try to earn a living.”

“Don’t we all,” Chrissi said, rummaging through the fruit to find one that might at least have some juice in it while, above her head, the lottery draw began.

“I bet those aliens have all the fruit they can eat,” the stallholder said, looking up at the Screen.