A white-gowned girl ran down the corridor behind the Kalquorian, screaming for help. Tina’s paralysis broke.
“Door, close and—”
The monster moved at the same instant, grabbing her arm and pulling her close. Tina’s slight frame was abruptly against a hard, unyielding body, held in place by his arm curling around her, holding her still as he pressed something against her neck.
He was warm, his gaze holding hers, his expression momentarily contrite. For a bizarre instant, Tina thought he intended to comfort her with a hug. Then his face smoothed into detachment, an unfeeling mask.
She screamed, a long and trailing cry.
“I’m sorry, Matara.” His voice rumbled through her bones.
The pressure against her neck increased. Tina managed one more shriek before darkness closed in.
The beautiful alien lapsed into unconsciousness, her terror quieted. Nobek Osopa’s shoulders sagged in relief.
Yet guilt, a long-accustomed sensation, nibbled at his guts. Along with shame. In the aftermath of the invasion, there was a lot of both. The sweet taste of victory, the warrior’s greatest delight, was nowhere to be found.
Only bitterness.
As he stared at the young Earther female he held, her alabaster face rendered paler in contrast to the copper waves framing it, he couldn’t count the attack on Europa as a victory. Hardened warriors overcoming a couple hundred women and girls was no triumph, no matter how much the Kalquorian Empire needed them.
He carried her out of her small room and glanced up and down the stark corridor. The females were all sedated now, thank the ancestors. Lying in rows along the walls, they’d have an hour or two of serenity. How terrible it must have been to be wakened in the deepest hours of night by those their world had declared war on. He couldn’t imagine the horror.
He set the young woman down so she lay next to the wall, his arms feeling strangely empty without her slight weight. Osopa peered toward the end of the narrow, featureless corridor of what had evidently served as a barracks for the colony of females. His superiors stood there, conversing amongst themselves. Captain Tranis and Weapons Commander Lidon, along with their clanmate Dr. Degorsk, were flushed with triumph. He wondered if they’d be so pleased if they’d had to subdue crying girls pleading for mercy.
It’s my fault for hurrying over as soon as we’d caught General Hamilton. When Commander Lidon said to check on how the second attack group was faring, I didn’t think twice. I was in such a rush to look at the females. So many…
“Subcommander, I have counts for you from the other wing.” Nobek Wadas interrupted his thoughts.
Osopa blinked, realizing he’d somehow moved his gaze from the captain and weapons commander to the woman with the copper hair. How long had he been looking at her, musing over the fascinating dots of darker color that scattered across her nose and cheeks? He directed his attention to the security officers gathering around him with their reports.
He noted everything down. One hundred seventy-seven females. Several in the other wing were elderly, beyond childbearing age. Quite a few were underage in the hallway in which he stood. There were still a sizable number in their prime, however. Lifebringers. Real lifebringers, unlike the females of his own kind. Earthers weren’t victims of the rampant infertility destroying Kalquor.
His gaze had drifted to the redhead again. He impatiently focused on his work, assigning the security team to take the prisoners to areas where they could be safely held: rooms identified as the chapel, the infirmary, and the dining hall. He also assigned guard duty, giving himself a shift in the dining room.
It would be bedlam when the captives awoke and found themselves prisoners of war. On the moon of Europa, near Earth, they must have thought themselves safe from Kalquor.
I didn’t sign up for terrorizing women and children. He’d take guard duty anyway and face their fear and hatred. Weapons Subcommander Osopa, second in charge of security on board the spyship captained by Dramok Tranis, was a stalwart fighter. He wouldn’t slink to the ship and hide from the shame of taking females prisoner. After a stellar career that had seen him rise in the ranks earlier than most, he refused to take the easy path.
Nor was he the kind of man to act like a lovelorn fool. Why was he staring at that woman again? He was mesmerized by the fiery hair, the milky skin with its scattering of dots, the well-shaped lips that pouted outward, as if she