Chapter 8: Kidnapped!

They moved to a new place within a week after that encounter. The new place was a nice little house just on the edge of Dearics city line and Trazu ensured the rent was within Tzosha's paycheck: while he did provide the down payment out of his own funds he didn't have a steady income like she did. The location enabled Trazu to come and go as he pleased more easily and soon found himself staying at her place for longer periods.

Like at the old place, they spent most of their time sitting outside, talking. He wasn't consciously aware of it, but was sitting closer and closer to her during these sessions. Trazu was even starting to allow her to gently caress him in shows of affection, finding such sensations to be rather pleasant and appealing. He started to wonder what life would be like if he didn't have Tzosha, but found he couldn't imagine it. One day, three months later, he remembered Rane's final lesson: becoming too dependant on someone or something can be a hindrance in ones development.

Was he getting too dependant on Tzosha? Too clingy? On the surface the answer seemed to be yes, but deeper down this situation seemed different then what Rane was pertaining to. It dawned on him what exactly he had been doing the past few months and it both frightened and confused him. He had seen humans and other species do things similar to what he and knew it signs of an emotion called 'love' with them. But were his people even capable of that emotion in that context? Forming a bond of friendship was rare but not unheard of, however an actual relationship he now felt was starting to develop he had never heard of before with his people. A part of him wanted to ask Tzosha, but he remembered last time he questioned what he perceived to be an 'odd' behavior and didn't want to end up in another fight with her. Plus he felt a bit embarrassed by the prospect of asking her. So instead he pulled away from her.

"What's wrong? He heard her ask.

For a moment Trazu remained quiet, conflicting thoughts and feelings in his head. "I don't know." He replied finally, honestly. "I…need time to think…I think…on my own."

"Think about what?"

"I'd…rather not say. Not until I am sure." He looked over at her. "But I don't know how long it will take."

Tzosha smiled, then to his shock leaned over and nuzzled him tenderly on the cheek, a soft 'merr' emitting from her throat. It was clear what her position was. "Take what time you need." She said softly. "I'll wait."

"I…I…" Trazu stammered, fully aware of the heat of the blush in his cheeks. "I'll be back in two days…I promise."

"As long as you come back in one piece."

"Of course."

Trazu was laying on his back, staring at the stars above, a small campfire crackling close by. He was letting his mind simply wander and found himself thinking about Tzosha most of the time, along with the stereotypes he was led to believe about his own people, which is what he came out here to think about in the first place. Not doubting how he felt, he just wanted to figure out if it was 'odd' or 'wrong' for him to feel this way about someone. All the stereotypes said his people were rather cold emotion wise and violent. Well he did fit the violent stereotype in many situations, though he didn't go out of his way to look for things to kill save for when he was hungry.

" The brutal hunter and warrior you came to know out here is most other species know because that's all we want them to know." He remembered Tzosha say doing there little spat a few months ago. Was it really true that those stereotypes were purposely reinforced and serve as a mask? Were his people more friendly at some point in time only to be forced to put up a mask when threatened so their 'weakness' couldn't be exploited? If so, have they worn that mask for so long that they now actually believe in it?

As he pondered, he recalled a memory from his early years, before he fled the homeword...

He remembered it like it was yesterday, he was sitting in a classroom with about two dozen other Trandoshan's his age, all male. They didn't have chairs or desks to sit at like you would see with other races, no they either stood or sat on the cold concrete floor, which was stained with the blood of who knows how many animals the instructors would use as 'practice targets' for both killing and skinning techniques. As a result the room always smelled like rotting flesh and blood.

This day they were just being taught history and like many other students Trazu was fighting to stay awake: did history have to be so boring? At least until the subject of Wookiees came up, then everyone was sitting forward, Trazu included for he was curious about the races that lived beyond his homeworld. But as he listened, instead of feeling outraged or overjoyed like the other students, he felt sympathetic and disgusted.

"Why?" He finally asked.

"Why what?" The instructor said, slightly annoyed at being interrupted.

"Why must we hurt them." Trazu said.

"I just explained why." The instructor growled.

Trazu shook his head. "They had every right to defend their homeland. If we were in their place we would have reacted the same way would we not?"

"They are animals: they have no rights." The instructor said bluntly.

Trazu frowned and shook his head. "The fact that they were able to replicate our technology and use it for themselves suggests otherwise don't you think? Besides…you said yourself that they had a position on the Galactic Senate, which means other races seem them as more then just 'animals'." He knew he was angering the instructor, but the words would not stop coming. His biggest mistake was what he said next. "Considering the fact that we didn't have a spot in the Galactic Senate, perhaps we are the ones that are considered animals by them?"

The silence was so complete that Trazu could only hear his own breathing and the low threatening growl coming from the instructor. He should have taken that and the fact he was now alone: the other students had quickly moved away from him, as a hint that he was out of line and should be running. But the pride his people are so known for had him standing proud, tall, and unafraid as the instructor stormed up to him.

For a moment he just stared at him, then suddenly and without warning the instructor struck him. The blow was hard enough to send him flying a short distance across the floor.

"Do not question our methods runt." He heard the instructor say.

"We…we should have negotiated with them." Trazu said stubbornly as he struggled to his feet.

The next thing he knew he was being lifted off the floor as the instructor grabbed him by the shirt. "We do not negotiate with anyone." He heard before he was sent flying again, and blackness claimed him.

Trazu subconsciously rubbed the back of his head. He remembered waking up alone and cold in that room some unknown time later and from that point on his standing in class was barely above the dirt under ones feet. It was curious why they didn't just kill him: others he had heard were culled for less 'blasphemous' reasons. But none the less, the memory told him that either Tzosha didn't know what she was talking about, or his people really have been living under a mask for so long they started to believe it. Either way, it didn't help his current dilemma.

Why should it matter if it's 'normal' for us or not? He thought. It's not like I have any intention of going back to Dosha anyway. He also figured that since he was born in Hsskhor, the Capital of Trandosha, it would be more 'strict' there and Tzosha was likely from another city where things weren't so cut and dry. But that left him needing to ask her, which he came out here to avoid in the first place. With a sigh, thinking 'why not', he got up and started packing.

He was about half way home when he felt an urge to get home in a hurry. This left him puzzled: yes he was eager to see her again, but this seemed different. Without realizing it he found himself quickening his pace, the nagging sensation in the back of his mind getting stronger. He started running at full tilt when it dawned on him something was very wrong, his sixth sense going off like crazy.

Ignoring the burning sensation in his lungs and legs, he kept running until he burst through into the clearing that was just before their house. At first everything seemed fine, but that nagging feeling was still there, keeping him on his guard and making him jog to the front door. He reached to punch in the access code, only to find the controls had been sliced, the panel covering hanging off. A sickening feeling setting in his stomach he pushed the panel back into place and punched in the code: thankfully the door still responded and opened without a problem.

Inside were obvious signs of a struggle: furniture knocked out of place, clumps of someone's hair here and there, as well as a few blood spots. Drawing his sword, Trazu searched the house, calling for Tzosha and praying she was alive and unhurt. He found no bodies, no ransom notes, nothing. Trazu felt despair grip his heart: she was gone, her fate unknown and he never got a chance to truly tell her how he felt.

He cut loose a howl of grief and despair, feeling lost, alone, and grief stricken. It only lasted a moment though, for a boiling rage soon took over. He will have his revenge, oh yes. They made a big mistake: not only did they piss of a Trandoshan, but they pissed off a Trandoshan Ranger.

You can run…but you can't hide….