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“You can’t take Valentina then. She is also married.” Fausto’s terror vanished, and he stood straight in front of Nil as fury reddened his face again.
“There is no such record. I checked very carefully,” Amig snarled.
“It is hidden. The Church agreed to it for the good of my career and popularity. We have the documentation. I assure you, Valentina is my wife.” Fausto’s voice grew in volume, his chest puffing in righteous rage. “You have your handheld, my love? Show the certificate to thesebastardi disumani.”
“I won’t be distracted by this nonsense,” Nil told him, still pointing his blaster, but he didn’t stop the sobbing Valentina from extracting her handheld from a pocket and tapping its surface. In a matter of seconds, she held its readout to Nil in a trembling hand.
“Amig.”
Shooting Irene a warning look, the Nobek glanced at the small computer’s monitor. He whipped out his own handheld, pointed it at Valentina’s, and barked Kalquorian. Seconds ticked by.
Irene glanced about for help. Rusp…where was he?
No, he isn’t armed. He has to stay hidden.She prayed he’d returned to the ship once she’d reached the theater, supposedly safe.
Amig’s angry disbelief turned to startled realization when his handheld’s display changed. “There is a declaration of confidential marriage filing for Fausto Casella and Valentina De León.”
“How did you not know?” Nil was loud, almost yelling.
“The system of such classified records hasn’t been discovered by our infiltration programs until this moment. If the embedded coding wasn’t on the electronic documentation she has, we might never have discovered such files.”
“You’re married?” Irene wasn’t sure why that revelation rose above the current events for her to comment on, but it burst from her as she glanced from Valentina to Fausto.
“For fifteen years. I’ve been in love with my leading lady for longer.” Fausto blinked against the brightness of tears as he gazed at Valentina. “My flirtations and pretended bachelorhood make me more desirable to my fans, so we have kept it quiet, thanks to the bishop of New York’s permission.”
Nil noticeably deflated. His blaster lowered, and he released Valentina, who nearly knocked Fausto off his feet when she rushed at him. “Fausto. My darling, my very breath.”
“You and Rosalie go,” he whispered. “I must convince them to leave us Irene.”
Tossing a terrified glance at Irene, Valentina raced down the corridor, Rosalie following on her heels.
“You may as well save yourself the trouble, unless you can prove Matara Irene is also your wife.” Nil had started to holster his blaster, but stopped in the act, watching Fausto grimly.
“Earthers don’t have multiple wives, except their Holy Leader.” Amig slid a glance at Irene from the corner of his eye. “Though, unless my sense of smell deceives me, your women aren’t so rigid about such matters.”
Irene froze. He could tell she’d been with Clan Sherv?
Fausto appeared not to hear him. His attention was on Nil, and he pleaded, “She has her whole life, her whole career before her. She will be prima donna, the greatest soprano alive, perhaps the greatest of all time, given a year or two. You can’t tear her from the promise of her future, just to satisfy your base desires!”
Nil scowled. “We are saving those we can from your planet’s warped ideas of sin and punishment. No doubt the clan chosen for Matara Irene will offer her the opportunity to sing. We Kalquorians revere our lifebringers. Their happiness is all we desire.”
“Then let her go! Does she look happy to you now?”
“I am not.” Irene pulled against the iron grip holding her, the wordsclan chosen for Matara Ireneringing in her ears. “I don’t want to go with you and be given to men I don’t know. It’s no better than what Earth does!”
“You’ll change your mind when you are in a home where nothing matters more than you in an empire where justice is real,” Nils said. “Let’s go, Weapons Commander.”
Irene planted her feet as Amig began to drag her from the desperately pleading Fausto. She punched the Nobek’s arm, bared by his sleeveless formsuit. Fausto, perhaps thinking they could both take him, launched himself at Amig’s back.
Grimacing from displeasure rather than pain, the Nobek grabbed Fausto’s fleshy arm and whipped him away. The singer crashed against the wall and fell to the floor. Irene screamed and pounded harder than before, shrieking her friend’s name as Fausto blinked, stunned.
“Tell Fleet Command making women cry and tossing around old men isn’t what I signed on for,” Amig muttered. He winced when Irene landed a blow to his chin, then abruptly dropped down. He lifted her on his shoulder, holding her like a sack of potatoes as he stood up straight again.
“Orders are orders, and these apparently came from powers above Fleet Command. Let’s get out of here.”
Irene, struggling to yank free of her captor, gasped as her surroundings blurred. It took a couple of seconds to realize Amig was running. He was so fast, she couldn’t make sense of the route they took.
Her senses reeled. Her stomach cramped for an instant, then she vomited.
