Ruler's Concubine Read online

  Nothing seemed untoward in the small clearing around their home, so she took the chance and hustled to the back door. A dog barked in warning and it made her start with surprise. She hadn’t visited here in a long time, but her neighbors didn’t have a dog back then and Lauren hadn’t mentioned one. How would they feed the animal? Johann’s unmistakable deep voice broke into the baying and then he called out with a challenge.

  “It’s Celeste.” Her teeth were chattering so loudly she could barely form the words, but he heard her. The door cracked open and his tall, skinny body was framed in the archway, a large silhouette of a dog blocking the area by his knee.

  “What are you doing here?” Suspicion laced every syllable.

  “S … searchers.”

  “Are they following?”

  She saw the unmistakable outline of a rifle and wondered if he still had ammunition for the ancient weapon. All the newer weapons, both phase, and lasers, had been rendered inoperable, like their means of communication. With the dog and the weapon, Johann clearly expected trouble. “No. They went away, and left one behind, probably awaiting my return.”

  “Let her in.” Laurel spoke behind Johann, and he stepped aside. Celeste didn’t wait for him to change his mind and edged past the dog, a collie mix that sniffed her pant leg before slinking out into the yard.

  As she entered the small house, the faint smell of their dinner nearly overwhelmed her, and Laurel guided her to a chair, urging her to sit. Her friend was wrapped in a thick robe, fashioned from scraps of material, her hair braided for sleep.

  “I’m sorry to disturb you so late.”

  “Celeste, you’re always welcome here, and I’m glad you came to us. I’ll fix a plate,” the older woman offered, and began to assemble some food from a cupboard near the table. “It won’t be hot but—”

  “I won’t refuse.”

  “You shared with us all these years, Celeste. Ignore Johann. He’s afraid they’ll come looking for you here.”

  “They might,” Celeste admitted.

  “Not tonight,” Laurel scoffed. “Those boys like their creature comforts.”

  Johann broke in. “They will look for you.”

  “Do you know why? Have they harassed you, Laurel?”

  “I think I’m too old, honey. We talked with some of the town folk last week, followed up on those rumors you and I discussed, and there’s evidence it’s only women between fifteen and forty they come for. But Johann is worried.” She cast the man a tender look.

  Celeste paused to fork in some cold potatoes and a piece of venison. She didn’t normally eat meat, partly because she had no means of obtaining it, but also because she thought animals far better creatures than humans. Yet she couldn’t deny how substantial it felt in her stomach. She took her time thinking about the implications of Laurel’s revelation.

  “Are they … attacking those women?” She couldn’t put a label on what she feared, hoping that particular insanity, and others, were long in the past. To her mind, there simply weren’t enough people to go around on the planet to visit atrocities on one another, though she’d seen a few mothers-to-be and no husbands in sight.

  “They don’t say. No one seems to know. Nothing different than what I told you before. They apparently come back from the government center, and it takes a long time for them to be themselves again, or close to it. Like their minds have been tampered with.”

  She’d seen the Brownlee girl, the one who shied away and rolled her eyes like a cornered animal, but still didn’t want to believe what Laurel was saying. “We don’t have that kind of technology anymore.”

  Johann lowered his brows and pursed his lips. He joined the conversation. “Brainwashing doesn’t take technology, Celeste. There are other means.”

  “I didn’t even realize there was an actual government center.”

  “Someone is taking charge.” Laurel shrugged. “There’s always somebody wanting to rule. It takes a long time for us to get information here with the dearth of transportation and no way to communicate, but little snippets have been shared in town.”

  Celeste rarely left her home, unless driven from it, and Laurel had been her main source of information when the woman had come to trade for vegetables. She kept well away from the town, having good reason to avoid its inhabitants. Roy Dupuis lived there, and she wasn’t giving him another opportunity to play games with her feelings.

  Swallowing the last of the meal, she thanked Laurel and realized her body had warmed up, being so near to the stove. Johann poured her a cup of some dark liquid from a pot simmering on the hot surface, and she sipped at it, indulging in a brief, but fond memory of actual cream in her coffee. Not that what she was drinking was coffee.

  “I’ll fix you a bed.” Laurel bustled toward the hall.

  Johann frowned at his wife. “You’ll bring trouble down on this house.”

  “If they didn’t know she escaped them, they’ll think she’ll be back. If they should find her here, they’ll believe she was visiting. And where would you have her go?” Laurel made it sound so reasonable, and Celeste wanted to hug her, although felt she should protest.

  “I shouldn’t.”

  But Laurel was already finding a quilt and pillow for the piece of furniture that served as their couch, and Celeste stumbled from the chair to the makeshift bed. She couldn’t suppress a groan as she sank onto it and Laurel draped the quilt over her.

  “We’ll see what we can figure out in the morning,” Laurel said quietly, and Celeste thought she’d be asleep in seconds, but her mind jittered and fretted.

  Johann didn’t seem to grasp how she’d survived. And she had, if that was what one could call it, first losing her sister, then her brother, followed by the deaths of her parents. Violence, lack of food, disease, and heartbreak had all taken their toll. And now she was alone, no family, no friends—except for Laurel—and a few folks she might cautiously call neighbors. There were times when survival was highly overrated.

  The recent appearance of those small groups of men seemingly tasked with kidnapping women for no apparent explanation had added exponentially to her burden. In truth, Celeste expected the women were taken as sexual fodder, something she was going to avoid if she had to take her own life. Which brought her back to getting out of her current situation, and surviving another day. She gave her head a tiny shake, the fleeting memory of all the ancient vids she’d watched as a child with Maury and Alice, huddled in their family home, before the loss of technology … those reminiscences could gut a person. There were no more cowboys to ride to anyone’s rescue, no heroes to save the maiden.

  She lay there, the lumpy couch a welcome substitute to the littered soil beneath her window, and reflected on the events of the past several years since the invasion. The aliens had arrived when she was young, and it was hard to think about all the intervening years, full of such terrible losses and huge life changes. Now, at the ripe old age of twenty-three, she was alone in this world.

  It wasn’t anything like the old movies depicted, not the War of the Galaxy or even the comedic Uranus Attack! There were no giant spaceships as shown in Earth Decimated or any other science fiction show. Earth had already been decimated by the Great Plague of 2084 and the terrible nuclear accident in Asia, and hardly worth the time of such a powerful race of aliens. Celeste thought, if it had been up to her, she would have simply passed on by the sad remains of her planet, but perhaps the Meridians had seen something worth salvaging.

  The invasion had been quite hands-off, and eerie. First off, all communication had been disabled in some mysterious manner. No computers or cell phones worked, nor landlines, not that there were such a great number of those, there was no radio or television—all technology simply failed.

  Shaky interim governments were brought to their knees, and predictably, if one knew humans, and perhaps the Meridians did, everyone turned on one another. And then, if word of mouth was true, the aliens simply went away.

  Perhaps it was
like playing God, she mused. Survival of the fittest. Subdue a planet and its inhabitants by robbing them of anything but the bare basics, come back in, say, a thousand years, and see what was what. As sleep crept up on her, she wondered what those aliens were up to now.

  ****

  “Master, we have searched most thoroughly, and there is only one species that is truly compatible with our kind. Even if mere coupling with many of the others we’ve sampled would not be an issue, should one be inclined and willing to overlook some anatomical differences—or celebrate them—none of them are capable of becoming pregnant with Meridian offspring. At least not without considerable gene splicing and certainly not within the time we have left. There is only the one species that suits, and there appears to be a complication. Resistance and outright interference from the inhabitants of the planet have been reported, and considering its nature, it can only be the result of someone from Meridia sharing our intention.” Bast shook his head, his lips set in a tight line.

  Lysett shoved his hand through his hair and released a weary sigh. Well over a year had passed since Trosan’s death, and what he’d hoped to be an uncomplicated task had proven onerous and frustrating. He had given the mission of finding envoys to General Ashtun, following that meeting after his concubine’s demise. That male found trustworthy individuals to travel to the planets Bast had located, starting with the closest planets after Bra’oor. DNA and other samples were taken from females. Lysett had no doubt much of the sampling was covert and done without even the females’ awareness. He chose not to concern himself with the minutiae or the subterfuge. Desperate times meant desperate measures.

  He had been determined to keep Bast’s search private and expended considerable effort to keep the matter confidential. Those opposing him, however few, would use failure against him. And even if he succeeded… Well, they’d still take up the cudgels, citing racial purity or some such. But despite the attempt to keep the missions classified, there were still a fair number of individuals aware of parts of the bigger plan, and quite able to draw the inference. Those special envoys and the scientists tasked to examine the evidence were pledged to secrecy, but Lysett knew a secret remained a secret only until told to a second person.

  “I had faith in Ashtun’s ability to command obedience, but considerable time has passed.”

  Bast shrugged. “Indeed, enough for some to process our intent and decide if this is something to challenge your politics with, Master. Stirring unrest on primitive planets is an easy thing to undertake.”

  “It might not be only about politics.” He paced the room, recalling his visit with the General—Liasion Ashtun.

  The flight to Bra’oor had been uneventful, and he’d wished for some sort of diversion, an issue with the instruments, a surprise meteor shower, even a space pirate attack to deal with. Instead, he was left to his own devices and worse, his own thoughts, and he tortured himself with additional memories about his childhood and growing up with Trosan.

  He eschewed the honor guard upon landing and was quickly escorted to meet with General Ashtun. The highly decorated officer was in place as more of a formality, considering the actual passivity of the population, and Lysett nearly regretted coming to Bra’oor. It spoke of a lack of confidence in the General’s abilities and he hoped the man had understood the need to cloak his real intent. He’d endured a long, tedious lecture by the General’s aide before he could sit down with Ashtun.

  “I thank the Ruler for taking the time to honor us with his presence,” the General’s aide had kept repeating, and Lysett knew it was grating on Ashtun’s last nerve as well. The aide was a political appointee, from a smaller but powerful House, and it wouldn’t have done to alienate the man.

  At the end of the presentation, he accepted an invitation to a very decent meal, tastes, and textures of Bra’oor he likely never would have enjoyed if it hadn’t been for this impromptu trip. It served to remind him of Bast’s announcement about other species possibly being compatible with their kind and encouraged him further. This led to an in-depth conversation with the General and some of his officers about other species and even touched on future assimilation.

  “For the most part, our settled planets are stable and without any signs of discontent, Ruler. Bra’oor is a good example of our more recent excursions,” the General concluded. “Expanding our territory will expose us to other species, and we can afford the manpower given the stability. I salute your rule, Sir.”

  Lysett had welcomed the broader point of view, albeit from the perspective of the fighting man. It had been years since Lysett had been on the battlefield, although he continued to train and keep himself in shape. Ruling didn’t mean losing touch with those who put themselves at risk in both the defense of Meridia and the necessary off-world campaigns. Lysett, at heart, was a warrior, but he needed to consider the future, and one without violence was the better concept.

  “I would hope to hammer out trade contracts and build alliances as well as invite travel and commerce between worlds, rather than add to our conquests. Perhaps encourage interplanetary liaisons and consider interspecies … connections.”

  The ensuing silence was smothering, and he wondered if he’d misinterpreted the mood of these men who surrounded him.

  The General finally spoke, after quickly scanning the room and then clearly choosing his words carefully. “A future concerned with rebuilding the population of Meridia, saving our species, would be an accomplishment of the highest order, Ruler.”

  The murmurs and chatter that followed had reassured him, once they’d processed such a foreign concept. It had been a test, and one he was glad he’d carried out. Those were the men who would bring about his will and reassure the populace, and Ashtun had found his envoys among them. Several raised their cups in his direction and he found himself lifting his own in return.

  The General had pressed his hand in the traditional way for a significantly longer period of time than usual, and Lysett recalled the other man’s widowed status. Warriors didn’t necessarily show softer emotions, but he sensed the commiseration. It had made him all the more determined to find a solution—find compatible females.

  “There will be those who will oppose you, Sir,” the General said quietly. “But you may count on me.”

  “I leave Bra’oor in your capable hands, General, until the final treaties are filed,” he had said formally. “I will have need of you in the coming months if we are to implement changes.”

  His last sight as he boarded his transport was that of Ashtun’s calm features, laced with anticipation and perhaps hope. To some extent, it soothed Lysett’s beleaguered heart and aided him during the ceremony to celebrate Trosan’s life.

  He’d told Bast to promote General Ashtun, and put him in charge of recruiting those sent to procure future concubines. To title him Liaison.

  His servant had made a note, and there was no further talk about Lysett’s impromptu trip, nor about the far more pressing issue of finding a compatible female to serve as his personal royal concubine. His first servant had known not to waste his time until there was something to present, and was well aware of the distinctive interest his Master had taken in the process. The discussion had then turned to politics, Lysett’s focused mind having considered certain alliances between minor Houses, and also on future events requiring his attention, and he’d began to rebuild his life.

  He yanked his thoughts from the past and gave all his attention to Bast, who again watched and waited patiently, aware of his Master’s way of processing especially momentous decisions.

  “Tell me,” he ordered his first servant.

  “Do you recall the planet named Earth?”

  Sifting through his mental files, Lysett nodded. “We conquered it over a decade ago, if one could call it conquering. The populace was already decimated and nearly doomed, so the decision was made to thwart their remaining technology and leave them to rebuild slowly. Give the planet a chance to heal, as it were, and consider it an o
utpost in the event we required a planet to stop by and resupply. Are you saying…?”

  Bast stood and stretched, then pressed his screen, projecting an image onto the far wall. “Indeed. That most primitive place and one at the far reaches of our System has compatible females. It was by accident that an envoy took specimens there when he did, because Earth was near last on our list, and likely another ten months or more before any sampling would take place. His ship was thrown light years off course after an encounter with a rogue asteroid and forced to land for repairs. I understand he disembarked to walk about and happened upon a young female.”

  Lysett studied the primarily blue planet for an instant before turning his attention to the outline of a female figure juxtaposed in the image. He reflected that while somewhat smaller, it appeared to mimic the shape of Meridian females.

  “Continue.”

  “I don’t know all the circumstances because I haven’t yet spoken to him. Sardan is his name. Of one of the smaller Houses, but holds a solid reputation both as a warrior and now as an envoy. He is a widower as well, and I suspect had puzzled out the true reasons behind the sampling. It seems he took the initiative and possessed the DNA as well as the ovum.”

  Lysett held his breath. Both procedures sounded intrusive. They were intrusive, ethically, although with their medical technology it was doubtful the young female had even known what had taken place. He arched a brow at Bast, willing him to continue.

  “The DNA is startlingly close to matching, so close our scientists suspect that whatever seeded Meridia, seeded Earth as well. Both of our species adapted to the differences in the environment, and advanced at different rates, obviously.”

  “And the ovum?” Meridian ovum was not viable in the laboratory, despite all their vaunted technology, hence the inability to grow test tube babies. That might have been their answer instead of asking female Meridians to accept a veritable death sentence. Or to advance on this quest.