Clan and Conviction (Clan Beginnings) Read online

  Clan Beginnings

  CLAN AND CONVICTION

  A Clans of Kalquor Story

  By

  Tracy St. John

  © copyright April 2013, Tracy St. John

  Cover art by Erin Dameron-Hill, © copyright March 2013

  This is a work of fiction. All characters, events, and places are of the author’s

  imagination and not to be confused with fact. Any resemblance to living persons or

  events is merely coincidence.

  Kindle Edition

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Amazon.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  To Kat. Many thanks for keeping me straight.

  TABLE OF CONTENTS:

  Prologue

  Betrayal

  BOOK ONE: GELAN AND WYNHOD

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  BOOK TWO: KRIJERO

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  This book is the prequel to Alien Slave, Clans of Kalquor Book 5. It takes place seventeen years before the events of that story.

  Prologue

  The Kalquorian Empire was and still is a civilization of great importance to the Galactic Council of Planets. The fierce but intelligent species has been at the forefront of technological, medical, and scientific breakthroughs for millennia. Their military might has never been in question; even their ancient enemy, the opportunistic race of Tragooms, hesitates to attack a Kalquorian force half its size.

  However, Kalquor’s survival is in jeopardy. The force that has threatened this mighty race is not one that wields weaponry. It cannot even be seen with the naked eye. It is a virus.

  Centuries ago, this virus struck the home world of Kalquor, wiping out a substantial number of its people, particularly the females. Symptoms included massive bleeding of the body’s major organs, along with those of the female reproductive tract. Damaging the x-chromosome of the Kalquorians, the virus’ effects went beyond death. The majority of women not killed outright were rendered infertile, and daughters born to those who could bear children were not guaranteed the ability to do the same. The virus altered the very DNA of the entire race.

  In an effort to keep their race from going extinct and prevent fighting amongst the men, family groups called clans were formed. Each clan was made up of one female known as the Matara (childbearer) and representatives of each of the three breeds of male: the Dramok (leader), Imdiko (caregiver), and Nobek (protector).

  A Matara may not join a clan until the three male members are in place. There is no guarantee a clan will attract a female, since the women are so rare. In their absence, the men forge close, often intimate, relationships with each other. As the Kalquorian Book of Life reminds us, Even the strongest warrior must find a fortress for his heart, the walls of which are built from the love of others.

  Betrayal

  Seven years prior:

  Twenty-five-year-old Imdiko Krijero burst into the small government-provided home he shared with his lover. He tripped over his own toes on the way in, jerking around and barking his shins on a small table just inside the door. In his excitement, he barely noticed the pain of yet more bruises added to his constant collection. He waved his handheld computer around in his excitement. The vid image issuing from it suspended just above his fingers. It consisted of only a few lines of written communication, but those few lines had just changed his life.

  He shouted to his Dramok-to-be. “Pertak! Pertak, I got it!”

  He got no answer.

  Krijero looked over their government-issued quarters. His enthusiasm dimmed in the disappointment that Pertak wasn’t right there, ready to celebrate. His gaze swept over the greeting room’s nondescript seating cushions and tables that had come with the place. The young Imdiko already mentally catalogued how nice the furniture would be in their new home, the apartment they would now be able to afford. The place he and Pertak would start their official clanship now that the last hurdle to their parents’ objections had been cleared. Krijero had a real job. Better yet, he had a career, one he’d been looking forward to for years.

  Sure, Pertak still had to get off his ass and do the same. At 27 years old, the laid-back Dramok continued to rely on the low pay of government-funded infrastructure repairs, work delegated to those who hadn’t yet settled on their life’s goals. His and Krijero’s parent clans would no doubt still kick and bitch that Krijero couldn’t take on all the responsibility. After all, Pertak was a Dramok and needed to assume leadership.

  Krijero had faith in his fun-loving, somewhat irresponsible childhood friend though. The Imdiko’s success would provide the spur to kick Pertak into gear.

  Maybe Pertak waited in their sleeping room, ready to celebrate in an appropriate lewd fashion. Krijero grinned and hurried into the small space where the sleeping mat nearly reached from wall to wall.

  “Pertak, are you here? Pertak?”

  His boyfriend was not in the sleeping room, and the wide-open restroom door showed he wasn’t in there either. Krijero found no sign of Pertak, though he had the day off and should be waiting to learn the news they’d been hoping for.

  Krijero’s arm holding the handheld and its reason to celebrate lowered. “Well, damn. Where the hell are you?” he asked the empty apartment.

  He tried not to let his lover’s absence dim the excitement. He had landed a criminal psychologist job at the local territorial police precinct. He’d coveted the position for months and had managed to beat out over twenty other applicants. Not too shabby for someone right out of training, perfect evaluation scores notwithstanding.

  It wasn’t just the challenge of the work or the thrill of being a part in keeping the Southwest Mountain Territory a safe place to live. As the third-most populated area on the planet Kalquor, it was a big job. Krijero wanted to make a difference in his community. Working with law enforcement as support staff would be a fulfilling task as well. But knowing he and Pertak could finally afford a home beyond what the government provided was exciting. They wouldn’t be able to buy into anything big of course, but they could get something more than two rooms and a bath. Who knew? Maybe their parents would even give their blessings to the match now. Krijero and Pertak were old enough to clan without permission, but getting their parents on board was important to them both. Krijero’s new job represented the last hurdle their elders had placed on gaining their approval.

  This was the day Krijero had been waiting for. All that was missing was his Dramok-to-be. Bursting with the good news, he decided to com Pertak and find out where his lover had gone and when he would be home.

  The Imdiko went back into the main room to use the hou
se com. He finally saw the message notification blinking over and over. A voice-only recording waited to be played.

  Impatiently, he said, “Play message.”

  Pertak’s thick, uncertain voice filled the room. “Hi, Krijero. Look, I’m sorry to do this to you over the com. I mean you deserve to get this news face to face, but I … I just couldn’t do it.”

  Krijero frowned. Damn it, he’d be pissed off if Pertak had showed up late for work again, scoring yet another forced leave without pay. Such screw-ups were the very thing both their sets of parents kept scolding the Dramok for; a lack of initiative and responsibility. Krijero knew his boyfriend would do well in life if he would just try for once.

  But no … Pertak had had the day off. It couldn’t be that.

  After a lengthy pause, Pertak began speaking again. His voice came out choked, like it always did when he’d royally fucked up and felt terrible about it. Like the time he’d wrecked the used shuttle Krijero had saved two whole years for.

  Whatever Pertak had to say, it wouldn’t be good. Krijero tried to steel himself for what was coming.

  “Damn, this is hard. But what’s done is done. I can’t take it back, and I wouldn’t if I could. Krijero, I’ve moved out. I took just my clothes; you keep all the rest of the stuff.”

  Moved out? Moved out? Krijero stared at the com. It had to be a joke.

  “I’ve … I’ve been seeing someone else for some time. Another Imdiko.”

  His heart stuttered. A joke. A really bad joke, and when Pertak showed up, Krijero would find something big and heavy and beat him with it.

  “I’m so sorry, Krijero. I asked him to clan this morning, and he accepted.”

  Krijero’s handheld slid out of his nerveless hand. It hit the floor and pieces broke off. The vid of the job offer, the job they’d waited for, the job that was going to officially start their lives together, blinked off. Krijero didn’t notice.

  “I know you’re pissed off, and you have every right to be. My parents are going to hit the roof. You know how they wanted me to establish a career first – well, I guess you don’t care about that, do you? I am so sorry. You’re a good guy, more than what I deserve, and I know you’ll find someone who will make you a decent Dramok.”

  It’s got to be a joke. But Krijero had known Pertak since they were children. They had grown up together. He knew every nuance of the other man’s voice, knew when the Dramok was pulling his leg and knew when he was lying. The regret in Pertak’s heavy, thick tone betrayed neither a joke nor a falsehood.

  The nightmare spun on, delivered in a recording that said nothing of over twenty years of first friendship and then love. “I – I don’t know what else to say. I just – I’m sorry. We aren’t right for each other. I’ll always care about you, but – I just can’t be the Dramok you need me to be. Goodbye, Krijero.”

  The com clicked off. The message ended, along with Krijero’s life and dreams.

  He thought for a moment about checking the closet, to make sure Pertak really had packed his clothes and left. However, his legs wouldn’t move for several seconds. When Krijero did manage to finally shift, it was to drop onto the seating cushion he thought lay behind him.

  He landed half off the pillowy surface, falling over onto the floor. The thick fur rug Pertak’s mother had given them broke his fall when he collapsed onto his side.

  I took just my clothes; you keep all the rest.

  Krijero laid there with his chest and stomach hurting. He laid there as the afternoon crept into evening and evening into night. He laid there until sleep finally claimed him and halted the silent tears that had come and gone through the hours.

  When he woke the next morning still curled into himself on the floor, no Pertak there to tell him it had all been a terrible nightmare, Krijero screamed. He screamed his hurt until his throat went raw. And yet the horrible aloneness, the gaping hole left in his gut, couldn’t be shrieked or sobbed away no matter how he tried to make it happen.

  Krijero had yet to learn the chasm Pertak’s abandonment had left inside him would stretch empty for years to come. He had no idea that the raw ache of being tossed aside and deserted had just begun. This lack of awareness of the long, isolated years ahead was the only kindness of the abrupt betrayal.

  Book One: Gelan and Wynhod

  Chapter 1

  Investigator Dramok Gelan stood in his superior’s office, a sense of disquiet filling him. Head Investigator Utta’s office hadn’t changed during Gelan’s week-long leave. His home planet Kalquor had not either, nor had the Southwest Mountain Territory Police Headquarters altered the least bit. Yet everything was different.

  I’m different. That’s what’s changed. I suppose you don’t watch your partner die a violent death without undergoing some kind of radical transformation.

  The department psychologist had said Gelan’s anger and second-guessing was normal and that the young Dramok would gradually get past the acute phase of the trauma. Gelan didn’t care much for shrinks and their ‘acute phases’. What he cared about was finding the people who had ambushed him and Enforcer Nobek Amik, forcing them into the deadly shootout. He wanted to catch those responsible for his partner dying under a hail of percussion blaster fire. Someone had to pay for that.

  Head Investigator Utta was Gelan’s last obstacle to going after the gang that destroyed lives left and right in the territory. His supervisor studied the vid report from the psychologist in charge of Gelan’s treatment.

  Utta turned it off after a quick perusal. “You’ve been cleared for return to work.”

  “Good. The leave was driving me insane. Tell me I’m still on the case.”

  Utta raised a bushy eyebrow. The Dramok supervisor had been on the force longer than Gelan had been alive. He had a face craggy enough to look at least thirty years older, yet he was still in his prime. Getting on his bad side would be a huge mistake.

  Gelan took a deep breath, let it out, and tried again. “Please, sir. I’m eager to find the men behind Amik’s death. The ones he and I didn’t kill.”

  “The Delir gang.” Utta grimaced. “You need to be partnered with another enforcer. No investigator works without one. Plus there’s that matter of you being too close to one of the victims.”

  Gelan’s temper flared. “You can say his name. It was Nobek Amik.”

  Utta fixed him with a stern glare. “I’m well aware of your deceased partner’s name, Gelan.”

  The younger man drew another breath. Damn it, if Utta took him off the case, Gelan thought he would probably tear his supervisor’s office apart. He could see all too well destroying the room with its many vid commendations on the wall, the still shots of Utta accepting awards from important people, the floating desk surface on which his computer and office come were the only objects. He was big enough to bring about such carnage too. Although average height, he had a well-muscled build that intimidated suspects. Dramok Gelan had done a lot of damage in his time for far less reason than he had now. Some said he was as brutal as a Nobek, a comment he took as a compliment.

  Right now, he felt like dealing out some carnage. Gelan hadn’t been this angry since he was a teenager. Back then it had only been a matter of dealing with hormones and elders who put what felt like too many restrictions on him. This Delir shit had gotten personal, and he wanted someone to pay.

  Gelan kept his voice controlled and steady with herculean effort. “You need me on this.”

  Utta raised the other eyebrow.

  Gelan threw his hands up in the air. The violent action swept his long, cornrow-braided hair behind his beefy shoulders. “Fine, sir. I need to be on this. Too many people are dying, and when they start taking out our people, you can’t spare anyone. It doesn’t matter how personal it may be to me. I’m needed on Delir.”

  Utta finally allowed a hint of a smile to warm his rough features. “I know. That’s why I got you a new enforcer to partner with.”

  Gelan blinked, shocked. “After only a week?”
/>   “He applied to come here and we had the opening. He comes highly recommended and has been awarded several commendations. His record is exemplary, and he’s certified ready to move from the regular enforcement team to partner an investigator.”

  “That’s good.”

  Gelan was still stunned to already have another partner in place, one from outside the precinct. He felt a bit of a relief, however. Going from a team situation to a partnership involved a long certification process. He’d already checked on the men available here. No one from the precinct had gotten any closer than halfway through the process. It had worried Gelan as to his chances to continue the Delir case as its lead investigator.

  Utta switched on his desk com and spoke. “You can come in now, Enforcer.”

  Gelan recovered from his surprise and asked, “Where’s he in from?”

  “Northwest Mountain Territory.”

  Gelan was newly startled. “That’s where I got my start in law enforcement.”

  Before he could pursue that thought, Utta’s door opened and Gelan’s new partner walked in. Gelan’s shock tripled.

  Half a dozen years had not changed the Nobek that Gelan stood up to face. His eyes were still sharp, the jaw still strong, the face still somehow both wild and stern. His handsome features were broader and less refined than Gelan’s aristocratic, almost haughty good looks. The other man’s sudden smile was as predatory as ever, making something slam hard in Gelan’s gut. Only the hair had changed, the sides shaved away to leave a long mohawk strip that trailed down his new partner’s back.

  Gelan could feel his own delighted grin stretching across his face. “Nobek Wynhod.”

  Wynhod looked him up and down, his hunter’s smile growing. “Dramok Gelan. It is good to see you again.”

  Utta looked from one to the other, his expression turning suspicious. Gelan thought his supervisor had to detect the almost intimate familiarity the two looked at each other with.