A hnna opened and closed her hand, impressed she couldn’t feel a hint of the deep gouges in her palm. “Not even a mark,” she conceded.
Crandal smiled from across the table, a dismal attempt at connection that failed before it had begun. “I’d say something to the effect that our tech is impressive,” he said, “but your Earth’s medical technology is well advanced.”
There he went again with the Earth references, as if Earth were a foreign thing, or place.
When his pause solicited no response, Crandal continued unfazed. “Your self-replicating nanos are ingenious—miniature AI units—but our wound gel does the trick.”
Ahnna tried her psycom one more time, gazing around the white cubicle room to cover her distraction. Can anyone hear me? HD-X? Xavier? Nothing. She touched her ear and explored the universal translator inserted there, feeling out its shape. “You’re not UR, are you?”
“UR? Ah, you refer to the United Regions government of Earth.”
“So, the Qui’s awake.”
Crandal pursed his lip, studied her. “The man you restrained, Tierc Marcel, is awake, yes, and demanding to know where you are.”
Okay, assume this wasn’t Earth… that they had been portaled to another planet. Then she probably wasn’t in the Qui Empire either, or Marcel would know exactly where she was. She displayed her healed palm. “Why didn’t your matter transporter fix any damage in transit? Should have been a simple construction of the missing data.”
Crandal’s eye twitched. “Your world hasn’t discovered portal technology yet. You’re still reliant on spaceships to traverse a wormhole.”
“The Qui tell you my name, too?”
“Ahnna Sokovik, Human Defense-X.”
Crandal bounced between the two of them, using intelligence they gave him to draw out more information from the other. Time to be more guarded.
She nodded. “Okay. You want gratitude for my hand, I thank you, but I don’t know who you are or why you brought me here. Now you said ‘all in good time’.” She gestured to the empty room. “So, where the hell am I? Who are you? And why am I here?”
Crandal leaned back in his chair. “Fair enough, I’ll give you answers, but I warn you, the situation’s complicated.” He flicked his hand and a small lens placed mid-center of the table lit up. Crandal pointed to a glowing planet in the 3D interstellar holo visual filling the space between them. “You are in an Octiron holding facility on Primaera, the capital planet of the Central Alliance Sector in the Paragon galaxy.”
Complicated? Ahnna shifted in her seat, massaged her temples, accumulated rage, frustration and repressed terror feeding a headache. “Paragon galaxy?”
“Although we use portal jumps to conduct transport in a matter of seconds, the wormhole connects two points across space-time—astronomical distances, and much quicker than interplanetary transport.” He laughed.
“Sounds like you’ve made this speech before.”
Surprise flashed in his rounded eyes.
“You’re telling me I’m in another galaxy, one that includes humans, which is strange given we haven’t traveled beyond the Milky Way. So who are you?” Ahnna pressed. “I don’t mean your name, I mean your purpose here.”
“Ah, but that question leads to why you are here. Octiron is a media corporation and entertainment is our business. Octiron employs me to prepare you for the greatest adventure of your life.”
Ahnna directed her nanos to calm her rising pulse. “Prepare me for what?”
“You, Ahnna Sokovik, are our newest contestant in our most exciting show.”
“What show?” she croaked out.
“The Great Space Race—and the most spectacular race in Paragon! Name’s a bit corny, I know, but it’s great branding!”
Sounded like a Saturday morning cartoon. A nasty feeling crept over her. “I’m not competing in any race.”
“Yes, you are. Normally I’d point out that if you refuse to participate, we won’t offer you a portal jump home, but in your case we actually can’t.”
Crandal looked so smug, foreboding chilled Ahnna’s spine.
“Why not?”
“Because our portal found you and Marcel by accident—a freak malfunction of search conditions we can’t replicate, but that’s good!” He puffed up with excitement. “Our viewers will sympathize with your plight and that always drives up ratings. I predict you will be our most popular contestant yet!”
Ahnna ground her teeth. “So let me go and I’ll find my own way home.”
“I’m saying, we can’t offer you a portal jump home, because your Earth doesn’t exist.” He raised his eyebrows. “Of course, I don’t expect you to take my word. Fortunately, I can provide you with an overwhelming body of evidence that will confirm I am telling you the truth. As for letting you go? Not possible, not in Paragon. Ahnna, Octiron’s your only friend here. You need us. Relax, this isn’t a bad deal, I promise you. The Great Space Race will be your salvation, trust me. We take very good care of our contestants. A once in a lifetime opportunity…”
* * *
Tierc picked at the wide metal bands encircling his wrists, testing for any give, finding none. Octiron’s medics had shown him scans, the detailed imaging showed an inherent bond of metal to cellular tissue that wrapped around bone. Human Defense-X had reverse-engineered Qui shift suppression technology and cuffs were an ancient mechanism for its application. The bio-integration took the tech to a new level. HD-X had to have a source inside the United Regions to access this level of sophistication, or the UR had vastly underestimated HD-X resources.
He clenched his fists.
Ahnna Sokovik should thank her lucky stars Octiron kept them separated.
He eyed his reflection in the glassed cubicle where he waited in the medical center. At least he wore clothing. His cheeks heated at the thought of how he’d come through the portal, buck-naked and handcuffed.
Doctor Xya walked in, an albino humanoid with slanted pink eyes, and a surgeon on Octiron’s medical staff. She had fitted the translator device in his ear and ordered his cuffs separated. A security guard filled the open doorframe behind her, but didn’t enter, the space crowded enough, plus Tierc had already sampled Octiron Security’s ability to subdue rebellion.
More productive to watch, listen and learn.
“You have decided?” Xya asked, indicating his cuffs. Her lips didn’t sync with her words; the universal translator reconfigured the sound-waves to a common language in microseconds.
Tierc nodded. “I don’t want amputation.”
Xya didn’t hide her disappointment, or her surprise.
“Amputation seems extreme,” he explained. “I’m sure your molecular reconstruction is excellent…” But he’d no idea how Paragon medical technology would compromise a shift—far better to retain all his original limbs until he could figure out how to force Ahnna to remove the cuffs. Bitch had to have a lock code or a key, something.
The surgeon sighed. “I admit your genetic structure is complex, attempting replication carries significant risk, or I would have removed the cuffs on your arrival. I have reached out to my colleagues. No one has seen DNA like yours before.”
“Different universe,” Tierc reminded her, refusing to get drawn into a discussion of the unique properties of his DNA. They already knew he was ‘Qui’, just not what that meant, although Sokovik may have said plenty. He wouldn’t put it past her to explain in great detail about the monstrous shapeshifting Qui lizards, a vile HD-X slur. Qui resembled Earthly lizards about as much as Ahnna resembled a chimpanzee.
He clamped his mouth shut on his feelings about HD-X xenophobia and rhetoric. Octiron could be testing him, trying to draw him into the argument and unveil his secrets.
“Ahnna informed us of your unique heritage, this Qui…” Xya began.
Tierc’s jaw tightened and alarm rounded Xya’s pink eyes. She looked to his guard, a pointed reminder Octiron held him prisoner, an unwilling participant in their obnoxious scheme. Octiron Entertainment had stoked a cauldron of simmering rage inside Tierc and he labored to stay calm. Anger provoked the need to shift Qui and then Ahnna’s fucking shift suppression unleashed the fires of hell on him.
Better to stay calm, especially around Xya. Her ethics at least stretched to consulting him before subjecting him to experimental amputation surgery.
“I’m sure she has.” He managed a reasonable tone and Xya waved off the guard, relaxing her stance.
“I see.” Xya paused. “Ahnna’s nanos demonstrate a high level of AI capability. Tests show your nanos to be less efficient. I wondered why.”
The change of subject suggested Xya knew less than she suggested. Tierc shrugged. “Like everything, the best comes with a price tag, one I couldn’t afford.”
He possessed United Region’s nano-biotes for optimum physical performance—standard issue—but Tierc tended to rely on his Qui for healing. He fingered his temple where Sokovik had kicked him. His nanos worked more slowly here, taking two days to repair the damage Octiron had left untouched so Xya could monitor his nano’s progress. His Qui healing would have repaired the damage in minutes.
“I understand.” Xya’s smile looked forced, she wanted more from him.
Everyone at Octiron probed, scrabbled for nuggets of information that might entertain their audience.
Tierc refused to feed them anymore. Xya acted nice, but deep down she was no better. Her interest in him wasn’t intellectual. Octiron wanted to know contestants’ limits. Already they knew too much, but no one expressed any real knowledge of his Qui heritage. They knew his DNA was distinctive, but not the full result of the difference, and thanks to his suppression cuffs, his human chromosomes dominated, confusing the issue.
Better to keep it that way.
He’d extensively used Octiron’s data library—courtesy of Crandal—and his research suggested Qui no longer existed in this universe. Presumably his race had gone extinct before the Industrial Revolution on Earth. Earth’s history matched the Earth in his universe up to the moment of the K’lahn Invasion mid-21st century. With no K’lahn, no Qui Empire, and no Surashan war, human history deviated dramatically. Tierc was truly unique, a person of interest in a galaxy that could quickly turn against him.
The more normal and boring he appeared the better.
So why hadn’t Ahnna exposed him?
“I want to speak with Ahnna.” Wrap his fingers around her neck and squeeze. His cock hardened, a reflex memory of her fingers wrapped around his balls and her lithe body covered in black leather, squirming beneath him…
Xya’s expression closed. “That won’t be possible. GSR contestants don’t meet before the pairing ceremony. You will meet all the contestants there.”
He scowled, frustrated. He got the same stock response from everyone—the guards, the medics, and Crandal who’d interrogated him for hours—a pervasive conviction that his participation in their Great Space Race was a foregone conclusion.
Escorted back to his quarters, Tierc picked up the unsigned contract on the desk and slung the tablet across the room. Then he kicked his chair at the door. How many others had Octiron coerced into their corrupt scheme over the years? Unsuspecting men and women, plucked from their lives for the viewing pleasure of the masses by sanctimonious asses playing God in their galactic playground. Octiron made it sound so simple. Complete the race and we’ll give you money and a ship, free to live as you please.
If he didn’t attract too much interest along the way.
If he didn’t fucking die in this ridiculous race full of unknown perils and traps!
Veins popping, muscles bulging, Tierc gripped the side of his bed and tore it out. Rivets popped out the floor. Burning pain slashed his arms and he throttled down the urge to shift. Skal and goddamn them to hell! Felt like a serrated knife grating through muscle.
A high frequency sonic pulse irritated his eardrums and Tierc raised his hands in surrender. He rested on his knees by the time Octiron’s goons burst through the door.
“Okay,” Tierc said, “I’m good.” A blatant lie they wouldn’t buy. He shook with suppressed fury and took a calming breath, released endorphins into his system to dampen his simmering rage. “No need to shoot.”
A bald-headed man appeared, obsequious smile accentuating his squashed up nose—the designated handler, like Tierc was a service dog in training. Crandal held out a tablet with The Great Space Race Contract emblazoned across the top. “Please note the clause regarding fiscal responsibilities for any damages to Octiron employees or property.”
* * *
“No! This shit can’t be legal. There have got to be a dozen intergalactic laws you’re violating!” Ahnna raged at Crandal. “This is abduction! Coercion! Slavery! I can’t believe you can force me to do this!”
“Don’t be so dramatic. And only citizens of Paragon are subject to full legal jurisdiction,” he shrugged, “which you’re not.”
“Shit.”
She’d read that proviso again and again, convinced herself it couldn’t apply to basic human rights. Ahnna slumped, too exhausted to challenge Crandal’s assertion for, in her heart, she believed he spoke true, on this point if little else.
“Ahnna, listen. If Octiron signs you as a contestant, the contract classifies you as a citizen under commercial law and we’ll be obliged to honor the terms!”
“If Octiron signs me? My God! Your company is obscene!”
She felt suffocated, wrapped in bands of helpless rage, and the public arena that hosted Octiron’s obnoxious scam only increased her sense of humiliation. Nothing in twenty years of training had prepared her for this indignation. “This contract states I am voluntarily entering the race!”
“That is correct. We cannot force you. That would be illegal.”
“But if I don’t sign, my only option is to remain here. A prisoner! For how long?”
“A lifetime, but at Octiron’s expense. We consider it our duty to care for you. Undocumented aliens without a commercial visa are at risk of detention or worse in Paragon. Meridian Corp slavers are without principle. This contract is your best protection.”
“I’ll take my chances.”
“Out of the question. Octiron has a reputation to protect.”
Ahnna’s mouth parted. “Unbelievable.”
“Tierc Marcel feels the same way.”
“And he hasn’t killed anyone yet?”
“Well, he is unusually strong and quick to violence, but he has researched our galaxy, our laws. Tierc understands joining the race is in his best interest. Interestingly, he decided against medical intervention to remove the unusual restraints you placed on his wrists.”
Ahnna sensed a Crandal fishing expedition and shrugged. “I can’t help, wouldn’t if I could.”
The best lies came wrapped in truth. It was a question of self-preservation.
Ahnna had no death wish and she stood no chance against a full-blown Qui. When Tierc Marcel tagged her as HD-X in that New Vegas hotel room, Ahnna entered a fight for her life. Tierc had done well keeping up the submissive act until his demeanor switched into combat mode. The subtle flex of his shoulders and the way he redirected his bodyweight gave him away. If he’d discovered Ahnna’s mission, he’d have shifted to Qui and shred her to pieces.
The Q-Narc had proven slower acting than predicted. Her fake surrender to his pheromone seduction had thrown him off-guard. She’d survived the encounter on pure sex appeal. The idea of spreading her legs for a brutal Qui mating sickened her, but the cheap move had kept her alive. No way in hell was she unlocking those suppression cuffs.
Not in this lifetime or any universe.
Crandal sighed. “To be clear, Tierc Marcel has signed up for the race.”
“Then why are you here?”
“He knows he can’t harm you.”
Ahnna laughed. “You think a contract will stop him? You know nothing of the Qui. He’ll cut me down without hesitation and claim self-defense.”
Crandal pulled a tablet from a case and placed it on the table between them. “Check your new contract. While you are both contestants in the race, neither of you can kill each other in Paragon without immediate termination of your own life. I’m calling it a mutually assured destruction clause. In fact, the best protection you have from Tierc is this contract!”
She shook her head. “You don’t understand. Not only will he cut through me, he’ll take out a dozen Octiron employees to make his escape. The only reason he’s civil at the moment is to study his enemies and environment. You’re dealing with an extremely dangerous creature, and none of your rules or preconceived notions of human limitations apply. You are lucky Qui don’t exist in your universe. It is a blessing.”
“You believe that? Would Tierc risk certain death, trapped in an unknown universe? Would you die for your cause? When Human Defense-X doesn’t exist to carry forward your mission? Come now, Ahnna. Don’t let your fears override good sense. You would be victims of a non-existent war. The best course for you both is to cooperate. Play the game. Complete the race. Then you can wreak vengeance on one another to your heart’s content. Tierc isn’t stupid, and neither are you. You need this contract!”
Crandal spread his hands wide in support of his argument and Ahnna grated her teeth. The bastard played to her fears, rehearsed the arguments in her own mind, like he knew her inside out.
A gleam of victory in his eyes, he leaned forward. “You are strangers in a strange land. This opportunity is truly in your best interests.”
“An opportunity you created for your benefit.”
“The portal to your universe was an accident. A billion to one chance we wouldn’t dare to repeat. We’ve never connected to a parallel universe before. We didn’t know it was even possible, alternate universes are an unproven theory. Octiron can’t return you home, but compete and we can give you a life here in Paragon. Octiron will sponsor your citizenship. You can return to your own galaxy if you want. Your dispute with Tierc holds no merit here.”
Ahnna winced.
This is what Crandal didn’t understand. Coming to Paragon revealed a future the Qui had denied humanity. In her universe, the Qui had stunted humanity’s development—the K’lahn invasion setting back human space exploration by centuries. Here, where the Qui didn’t exist, humans flourished.
Ethics and decency not so much.
At first she’d been exulted. Without the Qui behind them, the K’lahn had developed slowly, never enlisted as a warrior race to support their masters’ imperial ambitions. The cold-blooded K’lahn lizard men who had devastated Earth and the human race were nothing more than a footnote in Paragon galactic history.
But for the Qui, Paragon could have been her life.
In this universe, Tierc was a freak of nature; an impossible conundrum all Octiron’s genetic testing could not explain; an anomaly that had no place existing.
She took the contract and tapped the highlighted sections.
The revised terms guaranteed her instant termination if she deliberately harmed or killed Tierc Marcel, and Octiron guaranteed a reciprocal response if Tierc attempted to harm her. Another new term prevented her alleging any misconduct by Octiron, ever—a lifetime gag order.
No passage home, but she and her teammate got the ship and any credits earned during the race. In addition, Ahnna received a one hundred thousand bonus to invest in a business of her choosing. A lifetime tie to Octiron guaranteed her right to conduct business in Paragon.
No Qui. No HD-X. No war for human rights. Just a normal, peaceful life…
Her heart ached for the child she left behind.
She had no way home. Crandal offered her only alternative to incarceration. Her brow creased, unable to hide her distress any longer.
She waved a hand. “Show me this ship.”
Crandal raised an eyebrow. “Display the T-47 yacht.”
Ahnna couldn’t help a small thrill at the sight of the sleek white yacht rotating before her. She’d only flown transport ships on Earth. She altered the angle of the holographic space ship with a wave of her fingers.
Crandal bared his teeth, his attempt at a smile. “The T-47’s our latest design. We’re very pleased with her. Every contestant has the same ship. Alien tech tends not to work in Paragon, although your nano tech appears functional.”
And the ShiftLok cuffs it would seem. She’d take whatever the galactic gods offered.
What choice did she have?
She rotated the ship, imagining the possibilities, aching loss closing her throat. Her voice emerged a growl. “After the race, I want a new identity. And Octiron buys back my half of the ship, a price that allows me to disappear so Tierc Marcel can never find me.”
Crandal’s eyes gleamed. “Then you’ll sign?”
Even if she ended up with Marcel, he couldn’t touch her, not while they competed in the race, and the chances of being paired together were one in forty, a worst case scenario.
“You don’t give me much choice.”
“You won’t regret your decision.” Crandal’s finger dipped into the holographic image and stirred the T-47 into a slow spin. “I think we’ll name her the Orion Nebula.”