D'zia's Dilemma Read online

  Resisting the urge to roll his eyes in impatience like a human, D’zia tried humor instead. “I know…I know, breaking up is hard to do. I love you enough to want something better for you than what I can give. You’re perfect in every way, just not for me. I need to find myself, and I can’t do it with you. I promise you’ll find someone out there who will be the perfect cousin.” He batted his eyelashes to complete the joke.

  Qay crossed his arms, furrowed his eyebrows, and grunted in response.

  “No? Nothing?” D’zia gave a wry smile. “Well, can’t blame a guy for trying to lighten up the situation.” He became serious. “Qay, it’s imperative we find out what’s going on with Chancellor U’unk and how deep it goes. Is he involved with the Warriors of Light? Not to mention how angry he was after Aja lost that shipment of human slaves. He must be getting desperate to replace those funds. We’ve got to intercede before he has a chance to recoup his losses by stealing more humans.”

  His cousin narrowed his eyes. “Even though you don’t trust the Imperial Forces, we’ve already alerted them to the potential threat. Let them handle it.”

  Now it was D’zia’s turn to reach over and give his cousin’s shoulder a gentle squeeze of reassurance. “We both know it’s not enough. There are some good, honest folks working there, but the chance of corruption within the ranks is high.” He clasped his hands behind him as he paced in the small nook they were standing in. “How about I give you a detailed outline of my plans in the morning and we can discuss the best way for me to get in.” He stopped to fixate on the cousin he was desperate to protect. “Will that work for you?”

  Qay lowered his head and rubbed his chin. “Yes, I’d like to see what you have in mind.” The stern glare was back. “You’ll be on your own with no backup. Ki is unavailable. He’s gone, making good on his promise to Maynwaring. It would be next to impossible to get hold of him to help if this goes bad. Not to mention you’ll be leaving your family again. Are you prepared to handle that?”

  D’zia’s neck heated as his annoyance escalated. He wasn’t a child his older cousin had to chastise. Qay meant well, but it took two deep breaths to refrain from snapping back at him. “I appreciate your concern, but I’ve already gone over all this with my father and sister, and they have given me their full support.”

  The small smile was a warning prelude to Qay’s next statement. “Yeah, but what about your mother? You run this by her too?”

  Rat-bastard. His cousin damn well knew D’zia dreaded talking with his mother about leaving. She’d skin him alive for even suggesting it. “Asshole. No, I did not run this by my mother. You know as well as I do she’s in the Western Province with her ailing mother.”

  D’zia expected Qay’s bark of laughter, but it still annoyed him. “Coward. You’re running away before Mommy comes home.” It was a taunting snicker straight out of childhood. “She’s going to kill you.”

  “My mother loves me.” D’zia countered with complete conviction. No way was he going to tell his mother to her face he had to leave for an unknown length of time. Or worse, not be there when she returned home. He cringed, thinking about his mother’s anger when she caught up with him. His quiver of dread was unavoidable. “Besides, you can always cover for me and tell her you needed me to do this. For the good of the Zerin people, of course.”

  Yeah, he was a coward. So what? Self-preservation was the Goddess-given right of any sentient being. He loved his mother but sometimes she was…intense. He was a good son; he’d talked to her often since he’d been back. In fact, he’d given her a virtual call that morning. But if he had to endure one more lecture on how he needed to settle down and start a family before she died, he’d scream. For Goddess’ sake, he was only sixty-five, and she had grandchildren from his sister, Yesult. Twin daughters, no less. Not for the first time, D’zia wished his mother would quit nagging him about finding a TrueBond and producing children.

  “Oh sure, make me the bad guy.” Qay rubbed his nape and gave D’zia a reassuring smile. “Okay, I’ll cover your ass with Auntie Ah’Mira for you.” He narrowed his eyes. “But you’ll owe me. Big time.”

  “Heh, what’s new?” D’zia relaxed at Qay’s agreement. Thank the Goddess.

  “Okay, then,” Qay put his arm around D’zia’s shoulders and led him to the hallway where the offices were. “We’ll talk to your father and complete the arrangements. Then I’ll talk to Aimee about getting you into the Chancellor’s guards.”

  “Aimee? Why would you ask her?”

  “Since Ki is unavailable, we’ll use her deep wellspring of unsavory friends.” He chuckled. “Come on, let’s go find her. I’m sure she’s somewhere she shouldn’t be.”

  * * *

  LORA

  At least the new jail cell was comfortable. Not that Lora had any previous experience in what to expect while in prison. Jeez, she’d never so much had a speeding ticket in her life. She’d been a stay-at-home rich wife, anticipating when she’d become pregnant. That was something she’d dreamed of her whole life. When years rolled by and it didn’t happen, she still considered her marriage solid. Well, until the day she’d walked in on her asshole of a husband having pounding sex with her best friend. What was even worse, was the bitch’s porn-worthy screams of, “harder, do me harder…yeah, give me that big dick, Neil…!” at the top of her lungs…in Lora’s bed.

  Whenever that image popped into her head, what happened next was the best part and made Lora smile. Instead of rushing out and crying like a wronged Victorian maiden, Lora pulled out her phone and taped the whole humiliating scene. The video was perfect, filled with dialogue nuggets Cassie the skankzoid yelled, “That’s it! Give it to me!” or, “Yes, ride me like a carnival pony!” or her favorite nugget, “uh…uh…oh!” Her fake groans were worse than a bad porn movie with the soundtrack off-kilter.

  As for her ex, he grunted like the Neanderthal he was. The “climax” of their little love play was Neil finishing too soon. He left his slutty companion panting with a face twisted in irritation and hands clenched. The close-up of Cassie’s frustrated expression was the perfect ending for the video Lora put on social media. She got over half a million hits on YouTube alone.

  Stupid Neil never knew what hit him until he came home the next night and the video was playing on an endless loop on his laptop.

  Feeling smug at sticking it to him, Lora had left with a small suitcase and plans to come back later to get the rest of her stuff.

  Unfortunately, her diabolical plan for revenge backfired. Neil was a wealthy US Senator and got the last laugh. He locked her out of the house, hired an expensive lawyer, and threatened to sue her for defamation. Lora ended up not only destitute but friendless. All her rich friends dumped and mocked her in public, with her ex-best friend Cassie leading the way.

  Then came the divorce trial and the tabloid/internet sensation that took on a life of its own. Her life was a constant fodder on cable TV, with Neil’s well-paid lawyer and several of his stooges touting her every flaw, real or imagined. Truth, it seemed, didn’t matter if the story was good and brought in ratings. Within one week, Lora went from a well-respected member of society to something lower than a terrorist setting off a bomb in a crowded playground.

  The only reason she’d gotten a job at a big box store was that the manager who hired her was the brother of one of her childhood friends. Whether she had the job for long was tenuous at best. He made it quite clear if her notoriety interfered with the business of the store, she’d be gone.

  It wasn’t hard to figure out why she’d jumped at the chance to leave Earth and start over. How could she regret leaving when the highlight of her day was having the paparazzi and bloggers hound her every time she went out in public? Freedom in the name of the Exchange called and she was smart enough to grab a good thing. It never occurred to her the faceless voice in the white room represented anything other than the aliens they professed to be.

  But trust her to have left a bad situation only to jump i
nto a worse one…a captive of some emperor wannabe. “Help take over the galaxy”? What kind of bullshit was that? Now she was in a different kind of prison with all her dreams of finding an alien “happy ever after” long gone.

  She eyed her surroundings for the umpteenth time in as many days. She had been moved to a different room after her little “chat” with the alien the others called Chancellor U’unk. This room boasted a single cot, with a wavering force field acting as a wall between the foot of her bed and the outside corridor. A tiny toilet, shower, and sink to her right completed her sterile living quarters. The room had a barren feel to it, bland white walls, and a metal floor devoid of color. The only break in the monotony was when her meals came twice a day, delivered by metal-clad guards who never spoke or interacted with her. She had no idea if they were organic beings or something else…robots?

  The hardest part was sitting around with nothing to do. She sure would love to have virtual reality glasses or even a tablet to read. She’d even take a stab at drawing or writing if they’d only give her pen and paper. Bemoaning her inactivity, she jumped when the low hum of the force field stopped and a metal-clad guard stepped in.

  Wow, dinnertime already? Yep, time was flying by ‘cause she was havin’ so much fun.

  The guard stopped in the doorway, swiveled his triangular helmeted head toward her and did a weird thing. He stood still and held the food tray. He didn’t move and moments ticked by.

  “Hello?” Okay, this was creepy. None of the other guards did anything but plop the tray down on the bed before they left. This one just stood there.

  “Um, hello…you okay?” Not that she really cared, but maybe his internal communication was on the fritz. Hey, now would be a good time to run out the door…and do what, she had no idea.

  Lora got up from the cot and approached him. She waved her hand in front of his face shield, seeing her distorted image trying to get his attention. “Someone in there?”

  As if a light switch went on, the guard jerked. His hands trembled as he lowered the tray to the bed. He stood straight and spun to leave. The force field went up after he cleared the doorway.

  What in the hell was that all about? She followed him to the doorway as he activated the wavering force field behind him with a whoosh of a glove-covered hand. Fisting her hands on her hips, she watched his metallic-clad figure hurry down the narrow hallway before veering right through another open door.

  Jeez, what did it say about her sad life? That was the most excitement she’d had in days.

  Pathetic…but at least the food was decent enough.

  Chapter Two

  D’ZIA

  Holy maggoty hell! D’zia couldn’t believe the female in the brig was his human obsession from the StarChance. When he’d walked in and realized who sat on the thin cot, a huge jolt of panic tightened his throat. He’d assumed the female was safe with some male from the Exchange. He never imagined her or any other human female would be there in the Chancellor’s prison. But, there she was, rotting away in one of the cells. Who was she? More important, why was she there? What did Chancellor U’unk hope to gain by keeping a human female locked in maximum security? Was she somehow the key to figuring out what was going on? The whole thing made little sense.

  He headed for his assigned post outside the brig. Once in place, D’zia took a quick check at the reports blazing in his helmet to verify no one had noticed the extra time spent in her cell. Good, the internal computer inside his helmet displayed the normal commands and directions for his squad of nine. He activated the prison information file to see who else the Chancellor kept there. Hmm, the only being kept in this section was her and no one else.

  D’zia turned off the dialogue capabilities inside his helmet while he communicated with his Spybot, JR10. JR10 had infiltrated the ship’s computers and scurried around in the mainframe. The Spybot was an artificial intelligence cyborg no bigger than a norakthed hatchling. It boasted twelve legs with multifaceted, bulbous eyes and was as small as his thumbnail. Good thing it moved quickly or D’zia might be tempted to squish it out of sheer frustration at dealing with him.

  “JR10, please respond.” He braced for the snarky response he knew was coming.

  “Yo, dude! How’s it hanging?”

  When Aimee’s Merkaba female friend, Hayami, had given JR10 to him as an undercover tool, he had no idea Qay asked her to reprogram the spybot’s personality. The little bot was Qay’s way of dishing out payback for all those times D’zia had annoyed him on purpose. So now D’zia had to endure extra doses of Earth slang and colloquial expressions. Well, kudos to his cousin for making sure Hayami had given him the most annoying thing in the galaxy to contend with. Payback was coming and Qay had better watch his ass when this assignment was over.

  Ignoring the bot’s opening line, he dove right in. “JR10, there is a human female held in confinement. I need to know everything about her…especially what the Chancellor plans for her. Access the palace computer and report back to me as soon as possible.”

  “Is she a bad kitty?” The tiny creature’s deep baritone surprised him every time he heard it. “’Cause, I just love bad kitties.”

  D’zia’s temper struggled with his sense of humor. “What kind of question is that? That’s not important, just access any intel available and get back to me.”

  “Of course it’s important, you ignorant nob,” JR10 trilled back. “At least tell me if she’s a honey or not.”

  The image of the female’s perfect features flashed in his mind. Her straight multicolored blonde hair was smooth as silk, cascading to the middle of her shoulders. Her exotic eyes had an unusual coloring of slate gray framed by dark-blonde lashes and eyebrows. Deep dimples framed her full lips when she smiled at his dumbfounded expression. D’zia cursed his own dimples, but when she aimed those delectable depressions his way, he froze like a shocked preteen seeing a beautiful female for the first time.

  Not that he’d admit any such thing to the annoying AI.

  “Again, not relevant.” Look at him…his responsible side had shown up. D’zia shook his head. How the mighty have fallen. “Will you please see what you can find out about her?” When he got no response, he barked, “NOW, JR10.”

  “Ok! Damn, bro, no need to get your panties in a twist. I’m on it!” A raspberry sound. “Later.”

  A soft click in his helmet signaled he was back online with the other guards. A quick review…yeah, nothing important happened while he was offline for those few clicks. Tense muscles between his neck and shoulders eased.

  D’zia resumed his own attempts at hacking into the palace computers. He didn’t have to get her empty tray for a couple of macroclicks, so he had plenty of time to see what he could find on his own. Using JR10 as a backup was fine, but he still liked to rely on his own skills.

  He snorted. He wasn’t naïve enough to think the spybot didn’t share everything he learned with the Merkaba female who created him. D’zia had no problem with that, but he hoped JR10 filled him in first.

  * * *

  CHANCELLOR U’UNK

  “Your Eminence.” Fritjof was an expert groveler who somehow found the nerve to invade Chancellor Shon T’terlok U’unk’s inner sanctum uninvited at the day’s end.

  U’unk’s was in his sacred place and no one should even think of approaching him without permission, not even his equerry.

  “I beg a minuscule amount of your time, Sire.”

  It was unfortunate he had to rely on Fritjof and his services. Chancellor U’unk allowed the feeling of self-assurance; things would change soon. He schooled his features into an impassive mask and regarded his equerry with thin disgust.

  The fawning male Erkek bowed and scraped, his double-elbowed arms spasming over his pale khaki chest. His body was bare of hair or male nipples under the sheer fabric of his light-yellow vest-shirt that matched his flowing pantaloons. His pincer-like fingers were kept closed in respect as his black eyes with their orange diamond-shaped pupils widened. H
e was small for his species, just under six feet. Fritjof was a perfect servant, smart enough to follow directions and dumb enough not to think for himself.

  On the surface, Fritjof’s job at the Chancellor’s Palace was as U’unk’s personal assistant. His unofficial position was to act as a liaison between U’unk and the planet Volvode, home to the Erkek people. That part of his job had to remain unofficial since the planet Volvode was no longer a member of the Federation Consortium. All diplomatic relations ceased because the Erkeks refused to stop their business dealings with the Friebbigh and other criminal systems. King Abzu of Zerin had led an investigation of the genocidal activities both species practiced. Once their illegal activities were proven, the Zerins finalized the campaign to have the Erkek race expelled from the Federation Consortium.

  With the Erkek society in chaos, a perfect opportunity presented itself to U’unk. He utilized them as a covert ally in his quest to change the current galactic government into the autocratic society he envisioned. He needed the financial support of the Volvode system, and in return, he had an agreement with the ruling Potentate to keep Fritjof as his equerry.

  After extensive bribes and threats, he had Fritjof officially recognized by the Federation Consortium as his personal assistant titled “equerry.” While U’unk didn’t usually question his own decisions, the wasted time and political capital he expended to keep an eye on Fritjof still annoyed him. Maybe it was past time to limit the equerry’s access to his private domains. “Yes, Fritjof.” He sat back in the immense chair made for his large dimensions.

  “Master, with respect, Potentate Václav is requesting an audience with you immediately.”

  If U’unk were a lesser male, the Erkek’s continued simpering would frustrate him. He was, of course, above such petty emotions. “Oh?” He raised his left eyebrow. “And what does the ruler of Volvode wish to discuss with me?” He blinked to close the Ocular Video Display Unit he’d been working on and adjusted the open gap at the waist of the robe he wore. The deep eggplant of the fabric matched the leather stitching of his massive chair.