Dragon's Capture Page 4

  The humans changed everything.

  I didn’t know how much until we met the City. When we rescued the humans, it was an act of kindness, nothing more. While some had an attraction, the pull to make a human their treasure, it wasn’t for breeding. The human females are attractive. Resigning yourself to the end of your race doesn’t override the biological drive to claim a treasure and hold it dear.

  I never would have considered a merging of our races.

  Rosalind sees a future as clearly or even more so then Kalessin does. It drives her, inspires her, and I feel it when I’m with her. Tickling along the edges of my mind, a rising feeling that swells in my chest and core. Hope. She brings hope. The babies…

  Three shapes approaching the gates jerk me from my thoughts. The hunters are returning, dragging a carcass along behind them on the travois designed for the purpose. Good. Our meat supplies are running low, but it means more work to be overseen. Work is good, good for morale, good for keeping people focused. The only question is who to pull away from the jobs they are doing to butcher the meat.

  “I’m going to need to go to an oasis,” Ormarr the Tribe Healer says as I pass him on my way to meet Ragnar.

  “How soon?” I ask, stopping to address his needs.

  “Ten suns, maybe twelve,” he says.

  “I’ll talk to Ragnar,” I say, gripping his arm before I continue to meet Ragnar.

  Olivia is at his side by the time I arrive. Bashir and Melchior pull the travois away, hauling the meat into the cavern.

  “Welcome home,” I say. “Good hunt?”

  “Yes,” he says, one arm around Olivia, holding her close to his side.

  Olivia eyes shine with joy. The swell of her belly pushing out into the world. The cradle of our future.

  “Go ahead,” she says, when I meet her eyes.

  She’s used to it. All of us have the same urge. Smiling, I step forward and place my hands on either side of her belly. The life growing inside of her is warm, shifting under my touch. It kicks my hand as if telling me to leave it alone. My laughter is joined by hers.

  “I think you’re annoying him,” she says through her giggles.

  “So it would seem,” I agree.

  “We need to talk,” Ragnar says, serious.

  When I meet his gaze, his eyes shift, taking a quick glance around. It’s clear he doesn’t want to talk where others can overhear our conversation. I motion with one hand leading the way to my home. Inside I offer seats to him and Olivia, but only she takes one. Ragnar goes back to the skins over the entrance, looking out, clearly making sure no one is close enough to eavesdrop.

  “What is it Ragnar?” I ask.

  “We found something,” he says. “The Zzlo have a station. We know where they took the rest of the humans.”

  “We have to save them!” Olivia cries out, jumping to her feet and knocking the stool over.

  “It is not so simple,” Ragnar says, cupping his wife’s face in his hand.

  He places a hand on her stomach, kisses her forehead.

  “Explain,” I say.

  Ragnar sets the stool back up and settles Olivia back on it before he continues.

  “It’s not just a base, it’s a lift station,” he says.

  My breath is taken away, knocked out by the news. Pains in my chest as my hearts pound harder. Gasping for air, I take a seat myself.

  “They can’t be,” I say, unable to say the rest of my thought.

  “They have,” he says.

  “What? What does that mean?” Olivia asks, hysteria in her voice.

  “They’re taking those they capture off-world,” I say.

  “Off-world? They… can’t… we’re stuck…”

  Emotions play across her face, and moisture drops from her eyes in that strange display the humans have. Wasteful yet strangely heart wrenching to see.

  “This is what the Zzlo do,” Ragnar says. “They’re slavers. There is no one here to sell to, so they will take those they capture and sell them.”

  “But what about your brother? What about Ryuth? They didn’t take him away,” she says.

  Rage rises in Ragnar’s eyes but he pushes it down fast. Ryuth was captured by the Zzlo and turned into a berserker. They used him to lead the charge on our home. Ragnar has been working to undo what they’ve done to him, but it’s a long, hard, and slow path.

  “A distraction,” I say, stepping in for Ragnar to give him time. “They used him for their own purposes.”

  “We have to save them!” she says, her voice cracking.

  A void opens beneath me, threatening to swallow me whole. Could we?

  “It’s not possible,” Ragnar says, a slashing motion of his hand cutting through the air. He looks at me for confirmation, but I shake my head. “You can’t be…”

  He doesn’t finish the sentence.

  I am. It won’t be easy, but with help, maybe we can.

  5

  Rosalind

  The dome sparkles, calling us home.

  “They’ve done amazing,” Calista says to Jolie. “I can’t believe they were able to transplant so easily. I never would have thought it would take that well.”

  “I know, right?” Jolie agrees. “We should have thought of that instead of trying to adjust our own seeds to this environment.”

  The two of them haven’t stopped talking about the Tribe’s garden since we left. Ladon and Sverre are out to either side, ostensibly scouting. I can’t help but wonder if they aren’t escaping their wives’ incessant chatter about plants. A smile forms on my face. Different species, millions of miles from Earth, but the problems of couples remain the same. Even with the Zmaj’s primal claiming of their mates, males still go out hunting to escape from their wives.

  It’s been a good trip. We’re closer to actual trade than we were, but more important, I know I have an ally in Visidion. My core tightens thinking of him. The rippling of his abs when he stands or sits, attractive, sure, but what holds my attention is his eyes. So deep green, but more—so piercing with a sharp intellect behind them. Visidion, I believe, could share in my vision of the future. Certainty fills me that together we could forge that future.

  It’s only a matter of walking the steps to get us to that point. Along with keeping Gershom at bay long enough. My stomach sinks thinking of him. He’s moving faster than I expected, and that’s a problem. I need a little longer. Long enough for the seeds I’ve planted to come to fruition. Then it will be past the point he can change the overall outcome. I will have won in spite of his self-centered efforts of personal aggrandizement.

  A little longer. It’s all I ask.

  Reaching the dome, I punch in the code, letting the others go through the airlock first. Sverre and I are the last, waiting to enter.

  “They’re not wrong,” Sverre says, while we wait.

  “What do you mean?” I ask.

  “We should deal with Gershom. He’s growing bolder. We may not have time.”

  Sighing, I nod.

  “I know,” I say.

  “Then why do you withhold us from acting? Please Rosalind, lift the restraints. Let us deal with him.”

  “And then what?” I ask.

  “What do you mean? He’ll be dealt with, it will be over.”

  “Would it?”

  “Of course it would, how could it not?”

  “Because he has followers. Those who really believe the crap he pays lip service to. Gershom uses the rhetoric but he doesn’t believe it. What if the leader of the Humans First was a true believer? What then?”

  “We deal with the new leader the same,” he says.

  “Sure, let’s do that. While we’re at it how about we deal with about sixty percent of the surviving human race in the same way.”

  “It wouldn’t be-”

  “Yes it would!” I exclaim, cutting him off. “Sverre, you’re smart, but you have to think this through. If we were to cull Gershom, in any manner, then he becomes a martyr. They’ll rally around
him. We’d lose control.”

  “We’re already losing control!” he says, voice rising, hands balling into fists as his wings rustle.

  “No, we’re not. Barely, but we’re not.”

  “How do you think that?”

  “Because, Sverre, I have to. I’m looking at the future of both our races. We have to let this play out. We can’t afford to lose that many people out of the pool of survivors. It reduces our odds of long-term survival by too much.”

  Sverre hisses and turns, staring out over the empty desert we just crossed. He turns his head and spits before turning back to me.

  “Fine,” he concedes. “But I don’t like it. We both will regret this before it’s over.”

  “Let’s hope not,” I say, entering the airlock with him.

  The moment we enter I’m ready to eat my words.

  “Rosalind!” Gershom says, his voice booming and full of himself.

  “Gershom,” I greet him, looking at the men with him.

  All of them are armed with guns we confiscated from the pirates. Apparently he’s no longer hiding where they had disappeared to. Bold, too bold. The others who traveled with me, including all the Zmaj stand in a tight group. Ladon stands at the front, his hands balled into tight fists, his tail up straight.

  “I’m so glad you’re back. How was your trip?”

  “Fruitful,” I say. “I’ll make a full report to the Council.”

  “Oh, that, yes,” he says, shaking his head and smiling from ear to ear, sunlight glinting off his greased-back hair. “Well, you see, there’s been a decision made while you were away.”

  “Oh?” I ask, arching an eyebrow.

  “Yes,” he grins. “There’s to be an election. Something I’m sure you will agree is long overdue. We are, after all, a democracy.”

  “Gershom, this has been discussed already. It was agreed we would hold elections once we stabilized our position here on Tajss. Survival is more important than elections right now.”

  “We thought you might say that,” Gershom says, shaking his head, shoulders slumping as if sad. “Didn’t we discuss that?”

  “Yes we did,” several of the men with him respond, bringing their weapons up to mid-chest.

  “Rosalind, that’s a tired excuse. We’re surviving just fine, here. In fact, the only threat we see is the one the Zmaj represent. So many people have come to me and expressed their concerns, their fears, that I can no longer ignore them. I, after all, have a duty as a member of the Council to listen to our people.”

  “You don’t listen, you manipulate,” I say through gritted teeth.

  “Rosalind!” he exclaims, a hand flying to his chest as if wounded. “I can’t believe you’d accuse me of that. I’m only looking out for our people.”

  “Raarrr!” Ladon roars, grabbing the man nearest to him and lifting him bodily into the air.

  Guns rattle as the men wielding them bring them to their shoulders, all of them aiming at Ladon.

  “Ladon!” I yell.

  Calista jumps to his side, a hand on his face. He turns to look at her, the man still over his head, but I see the rage flowing out of him at her touch.

  “Ladon, please,” Calista says.

  Illadon on her hip gurgles at his father. Ladon sets the man roughly down on the ground and steps back.

  “That’s better,” Gershom says. “No one wants anything untoward. It’s an election, a democracy. All we’re saying is let the people have a say in the direction of their future.”

  Possibilities whirl through my thoughts, none of them ending well. The only option that has any viability is to play along. Gershom’s supporters openly sporting arms from the pirates tilts the odds in their favor. The strength of the Zmaj had always weighed in my favor since his supporters outnumber my own. That advantage is gone and he knows it.

  “When is the election?” I ask, conceding to him.

  “Oh, did I forget to mention that? It’s tomorrow,” he grins, then turns and walks away, his men falling in behind him in a sloppy formation.

  Bile rises in my throat.

  Staring at myself in the mirror, I resign myself to the day. Gershom has planned it perfectly. I should have seen it coming, but hindsight is for the weak.

  My hand trembles so I cover it with my other hand to stop it. Staring at my two hands, one covering the other, memories come unbidden. The first time my hand trembled I had dismissed it. Only when it happened so many times more that I could no longer dismiss it did I go to a doctor. I think even then I didn’t want to know what they would say.

  After they told me, I threw myself into work even more than before. That was on the ship, before the crash and all of this.

  Someone knocks on my door and I jerk around knocking one of my only small glasses off the counter to shatter on the floor.

  “Damn it,” I curse, bending to pick up the broken shards.

  “Rosalind?” Sarah asks, entering at the sound of the breaking glass.

  “It’s fine,” I say, not looking up.

  She kneels down without a word and helps with the cleanup. One of the things I appreciate most about Sarah is that she knows when to keep her mouth shut. Sometimes silence is truly golden.

  Picking up the last shard and adding it to the small pile in my other hand, I rise, then go to the small basket I use for waste. The shards catch sunlight and sparkle as they fall. Beautiful, tinkling shards dropping into oblivion. Suppressing a snort at the allegory of it, I face Sarah.

  “Good morning,” I say, straightening and squaring my shoulders.

  “Morning, you okay?” she asks.

  “Fine, yes,” I say. “Anything new to report?”

  She grimaces. “The voting is underway.”

  “Good,” I say and give her a reassuring smile.

  “You know… it’s not looking good, right?”

  “It’s often darkest before the dawn Sarah,” I say.

  “And before a storm, a really big shit storm,” she says, despondently.

  “Sarah, no matter what happens, it will work out,” I say, gripping both her shoulders.

  “You’re going to lose, Rosalind,” she says, a tear making its way down her cheek.

  I wipe the tear away then pull her into an embrace. She stiffens at my unusual display of affection then relaxes into my embrace.

  “I know,” I say.

  “Then how can you let this go through?” she asks, pulling back.

  “Because it is what they need,” I say. “He’s right. We are a democracy. Let them see for themselves what will be. They will choose and I will follow their wishes. My part in this play is easy. Yours will be the hardest.”

  “Mine?” she asks, eyes widening.

  “Yes,” I say. “He’ll have to get rid of me if he wins.”

  “When,” she inserts but I ignore her.

  “Gershom is a snake, and he won’t be able to stand the threat of my presence. Also, for him to appease his followers he will have to get rid of the Zmaj. He won’t be bold enough for violence; his grip on the city isn’t strong enough for that. This means he’ll exile all of us.”

  “Oh Rosalind, he can’t! I’ll go with you,” she says, tears flowing faster.

  “No, you won’t,” I say, my voice firm.

  “But—”

  “No. No buts. You will stay here, in the City.”

  She shakes her head, tears streaming, swallowing hard then she pulls herself together. I see it in her eyes as she calls on the inner reserve of strength she has. She wipes her tears, shudders, then meets my eyes and nods.

  “Of course,” she says. “You’ll need me.”

  “They will need you,” I say. “But yes, I will too.”

  Squaring her shoulders, she accepts her role in what is to come.

  “Now we have work to do. Go to Calista, Jolie, and Amara. Tell them I want them to pack for a journey. Have them get Shidan to take supplies outside the City. We might not have much time when things happen. We need to be pre
pared.”

  Sarah takes mental notes of all my orders, then rushes out of my apartment to set my plans in motion. I walk over to the windows and stare out across the city. I didn’t have the time I wanted, but maybe I can make things work out anyway. I hope. It has to. If this doesn’t work then the future of two races is over.

  “The votes have been counted,” Bill says, standing on the edge of the central fountain.

  Bill is an honest, good man. I trust him to count the votes correctly. Election fraud of that nature isn’t going to be the problem. The problem is not nearly as clear-cut as that.

  Bill doesn’t have to announce the results. The crowd around the fountain includes every citizen of the City. The divide among us is clear in where they stand. On one side is Gershom, his supporters and those who just want things to change. Gershom has enticed them to his team by buying them. He controls the water, has stolen supplies, anything he can do to make sure they think he’s the man with a plan. Then there are those who support me. The numbers are not in my favor.

  “Gershom wins by a landslide,” Bill says, the crowd exploding into cheers and catcalls.

  Gershom steps out of his supporters, armed men coming along behind him. The armed men line up, facing my group. Gershom makes his way to the fountain and I follow behind him. He climbs up next to Bill on the edge of the fountain, looking out at the crowds with his shit-eating grin.

  “Thank you, citizens,” he says. “I am honored and humbled by the trust you place in me.”

  Cheers and chants of his name. He basks in it, drinking in his moment. I stand watching, keeping my shoulders square, and my eyes locked on him.

  “Congratulations, Gershom,” I say, holding my hand out to him.

  “Thank you, Lady General Rosalind,” he says. Taking my hand, he shakes then lets go. “Now, for my first order of business I want to make good on my campaign promise!”

  The crowd cheers even louder. My shoulders knot tight and my stomach clenches. This is it.

  “This city belongs to Humans. We have to put our survival and the survival of our race first. So, all Zmaj are hereby banished. You have an hour to clear out of our city.”