Текст книги "The Alien’s Bond"

Автор книги: Kira Quinn

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Текущая страница: 12 (всего у книги 17 страниц)

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Darla and Heydar were separated, the burly alien captive at the front of the group and closely watched, while the human was forced to bring up the rear, a lone Dohrag pushing her along in front of him.

Despite outnumbering him by a lot, the Dohrag were not taking any chances with Heydar. He was an imposing man, and his musculature made even the otherwise intimidating troopers seem somewhat small by comparison. It was something their captors appeared acutely aware of. And uneasy men with big guns and a modicum of power was a recipe for trouble.

But it seemed to be more than that. The way they stole glances at him showed something other than just concern in their eyes. It looked like spite. Maybe even hate. Darla realized that with these different alien races it was entirely possible some sort of conflict already existed between them. Aside from the most basic, superficial details, she really didn’t know anything about the Dohrag, or Heydar’s Nimenni people for that matter. For all she knew there could be a long-standing blood feud between them.

Or not.

The Dohrag could also just be a bunch of assholes. Whatever the case, they were not taking their male captive lightly.

Darla, on the other hand, was treated as almost an afterthought. They were unfamiliar with her species, but it was abundantly clear the menacing aliens saw her as no more than a small, weak female they could do with as they pleased.

“Keep up,” the trooper behind her said, prodding her with his weapon.

She had seen enough action movies in her time to know you should never get that close to a prisoner. If only she possessed the martial arts and military skills of those cinematic heroes, she would have been in the perfect position to disarm one and take out the others from behind before they knew what hit them.

But in her reality Darla was most definitely not some super soldier ready to take her revenge.

“I said keep up!” the man said, shoving her again.

“Sorry,” she replied quietly, quickening her pace.

Heydar was moving relatively fast, his stride long and confident even as he was led to the certainty of maltreatment if not outright torture. But he walked tall, without hesitation, his head held high and shoulders back. He may have been a captive, but he was not about to give the Dohrags the satisfaction of seeing him cower in any way.

The trek went on for only a short time, all things considered, especially after the prior day’s efforts. More importantly, it seemed the Dohrags were leading them in the general direction they had already been traveling. This was both good and bad. Good in that they were nearing their objective. Bad in that any survivors had very possibly already been captured.

Whoa, Darla gasped as the shape of an actual spaceship became visible through the trees. She had seen the interior of one recently, but that had all been something of a traumatic whirlwind. But this? It was her first real alien ship encounter. As she got closer, however, she found herself less impressed.

The craft wasn’t terribly large, for one. Big, no doubt, but not some massive space cruiser. Dirt and debris were piled up against its hull, and the entire thing was covered in a not so fine layer of dust and grime.

Clearly, it had been there for a while. What’s more, it seemed some sort of settlement had been built around it with the ship itself acting as a central building of sorts with semi-permanent structures as well as more basic tents set off away from the main cluster.

They marched straight ahead toward the encampment, veering off to one side, bypassing the main tent area and heading toward what seemed to be the entrance to the ship. Marshal Jinnix called for his men to gather close, bringing his prisoners into the center of their group, as they walked, corralling them between them, their weapons ready.

But there would be no need for that. Reinforcements aplenty were to be had if required. A small group of Dohrags were working nearby, overseeing what seemed to be a rather diverse mix of races, all of them working in a series of terraced, interconnected fields set a little bit from the living quarters. By the state of them and the work conditions, it was clear they were indentured labor of some sort.

A few other Dohrags were taking leisure time near their quarters, shirtless in the heat. It was a bit of a shock when she realized they possessed a second set of vestigial arms crossing their abdomens, typically hidden by their attire.

The lower limbs seemed smaller than the upper ones, but she wondered if they weren’t functional, nonetheless. Likely so as even the smaller arms were marked, as was the rest of their bodies.

Without their uniform tops Darla could now see their tattoos more clearly. The lines were similar to those Heydar had marked her with, and those he wore himself, but the Dohrags’ markings were different as well. More harsh and angular, lacking the subtle flow Heydar and Darla’s possessed.

The runes, however, were the same. That much appeared to be the same across races, though the Dohrags seemed to favor almost entirely black ink with no highlights or colors.

Their companions out in the fields wore their full armor as they directed the workers, though Darla thought it was a bit of overkill in full sunlight, carrying massive weapons to watch a group of mostly females, all unarmed, working the land. They were growing crops of some sort, it seemed.

Farming? But aren’t these supposed to be a big, bad bunch of ass-kickers? Guess they’ve still got to eat.

The idea that a war machine could be hobbled by their food supply chain would have been amusing if not for the situation. It seemed a fighting force still marched on a full stomach, and despite their technological advances, the Dohrags needed to do it in a conventional manner. Namely, farming.

Darla squinted to get a better look at the crops and people working them. Orange furry aliens, blue-skinned quadrupedal aliens, there were all sorts there, but one caught her eye. She thought she saw a human complexion among the group and was hoping to get a better look at them, but her view was blocked by a trooper as she and Heydar were directed right into the ship’s entry hatch.

The change in air quality hit her immediately. Where it was fresh and clear outside, the interior of the craft smelled of oil, sweat, and technology. None of the natural aromas softened the environment like outside. It was harsh, and as they were marched in front of a dour-looking man with far more decorations marking his uniform than the others, she thought it fitting.

“You are back several days early, Jinnix,” the man growled.

Marshal Jinnix stepped forward and bowed his head. “General Barzin, we have captured these two interlopers sniffing around our perimeter.”

The general was a large man, much more muscular in stature than his marshal, and when he rose from his seat he loomed over him, standing nearly as tall as Heydar. He gave them a quick over with a haughty gaze, as if even looking at them was beneath him.

“Show me,” he said with a bored wave toward the captives.

The troopers clearly knew what he meant and set to work immediately, stripping Heydar and Darla in a flash, tossing their clothes in a pile at their feet. After all they’d been through, Darla was almost numb to the act. Heydar, however, bristled when they removed her clothing. Protective. Possessive. But he forced himself to remain calm, only the twitching muscle in his jaw and the vein on his neck betraying his anger.

The general sat down as Marshal Jinnix pushed the two closer to him, forcing them to spin around for him to see.

“The Nimenni’s markings, General,” Jinnix said, pointing to a few unusual ones on his upper shoulders that Darla was pretty sure no one else she had seen possessed.

The general nodded, bored. His men grabbed Heydar’s arms and pulled him around to face the general front-on. He didn’t fight, standing tall, his enormous cock dangling confidently between his legs, almost taunting their captors.

But Heydar’s face was not one of calm amusement. He was affected for some reason, and Darla was about to find out why.

“His Infala,” Jinnix said with a laugh, pointing to the dark rune on his chest. The one Darla had run her hands across along with the others as she explored his body. But Jinnix was not a lover. Not by a long shot.

“Look! The pigment has gone still!” Jinnix said with a cruel laugh. His men tittered, and even the general seemed to have his interest piqued and amusement aroused. “This one lost his mate. No wonder he is so broken and weak. He is bonded no more!”

The Dohrags laughed, teasing the pained man. He glanced at Darla, the first time she’d seen anything but confidence in his eyes. Heydar quickly averted his gaze, a dark shadow of gloom almost visible over his head.

Oh my God. I’m such an asshole, she thought. I teased him about not having anyone. And all this time, he’d had one, but his bonded mate was dead.

Her stomach lurched, wincing in sympathy for him, realizing just how much she must have hurt him with her offhand jokes.

Her attention was abruptly shifted to more pressing matters when rough hands yanked her closer to the general, poking and prodding her flesh.

“Look at her pigment,” Jinnix said, genuine curiosity in his voice. “It is fresh.”

“At this age?” the general mused. “How odd.”

“It is, indeed,” Jinnix replied, manhandling her nude body to present his commander a better look. “She is a tiny thing. A race I have never seen before. Not very hardy.”

“I have seen one of this sort. You are not the only scouts bringing back laborers. She is unimpressive but will be good enough for our needs,” the general said with a dirty chuckle. “Put her with the other females. We will get to know her better soon enough.”

Darla locked eyes with Heydar as they grabbed her by each arm and dragged her away, wondering what would become of her. What might become of him.

She didn’t get much of a look around at her surroundings as they bundled her across the compound with no regard for her scrambling feet trying to keep up. In no time they arrived at their destination.

“Hey, watch it!” she blurted as they roughly shoved her into a spartan metal bunkhouse of sorts.

The guards threw her clothing in after her and stepped back to close the door behind themselves as they left.

“Wait! What am I supposed to do here? Where are you going?” She rushed the door, but the guard shoved her back, sending her hard onto her ass.

He gazed down on her, sizing her up with an amused grin. “You will begin work tomorrow. That is what you are supposed to do. This is your one chance to gather your strength. I suggest you utilize this time to yourself. You’ll need it.”

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CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Darla had spent the entire afternoon alone in the locked bunkhouse. It was unsettling, but at least it had afforded her time to rest, as the guard had suggested, as well as affording her an opportunity to look around and plot and plan. If she could find a weak point, maybe she could escape.

There would be no such luck.

The metal walls were battered and bent, but they were still sound. Whatever scrap they had fashioned this prisoner housing out of, it was more than strong enough to hold her. Even Heydar would be hard pressed to find a weak spot to exploit.

There were a few portal windows allowing natural light in as well as cross ventilation, but they were small enough that a person couldn’t possibly fit through them, so that option was nixed straightaway.

She was stuck there.

Exploring the building, she saw that a series of simple bunk beds had been erected, thin cushions the only thing between their occupants and the hard surface beneath. There was also what was apparently a toilet.

Raised metal foot pads were clear enough on either side of a moveable metal disc. Darla lifted it and discovered it was a lid mounted to an inset rim that went about a foot underground. Beneath that was a pit that was deeper than she could see, but one whiff told her all she needed to know about it.

She quickly sealed it up, grateful for the breeze passing through the small windows airing out the chamber.

A further search revealed a grating on the ground, and above it a water spigot flush mounted to the wall about waist high. It took a few tries to figure out the alien operating mechanism, but she got it soon enough. Darla stuck her face under the stream and drank deep, savoring every drop. She didn’t know if it was fresh, but she was so parched she didn’t care, and if the new runes were doing their job, she should be able to drink slightly stagnant water with no ill effects.

Sated, she shut off the water flow. For all she knew it could be a limited supply and there would be no sense in letting it run, though she could use the several buckets lining the wall to catch it. The containers were rather grimy though, and even with the runes protecting her digestive tract, the thought of drinking out of them was anything but appealing.

With a resigned sigh she flopped down on the nearest bunk and pondered this new twist of fate.

“What the hell am I supposed to do now?” she wondered.

It wasn’t until sunset that she would get anything resembling an answer.

The door to the structure clanged as it was unfastened from the outside and a dirty gaggle of females representing a wide variety of alien species shuffled in. Once inside, the door closed and locked behind them.

Without hesitation they all began shedding their clothes with the exhausted movements of those who had just spent a day hard at labor. Darla marveled at the collection of tattoos and runes adorning their diverse bodies. So many different races, all different builds, colors, and morphologies, but Heydar had been right, everyone in this galaxy bore the runes in one way or another.

A few of them collected the buckets and filled them up while the others gathered around. Small towels appeared from somewhere and were dipped in the water, the women washing the day’s grime from their skin as best they could.

They were all so caught up in their relief that no one noticed Darla sitting quietly. But Darla noticed them, and in particular one woman. A woman she recognized. A woman from the Raxxian ship. A human.

She was a little bit shorter than Darla, with smooth caramel skin and shoulder-length curly hair. She had been a bit heavier when they’d met, but she had become leaner during her brief stay with their captors. Hard labor had clearly taken its toll.

“Hey!” she called out. “You were on the ship. Shalia, right? I’m Darla.”

The woman looked up at her, only mildly surprised to hear another human speaking in the room. In all likelihood she was just too tired to react.

“Oh, it’s you,” she said, then turned her attention back to scrubbing the dirt from her aching limbs.

“What do you mean?”

“The new one. Yeah, I remember you.”

Darla rose to her feet and crossed the room. “How did you get here? What happened?”

“What do you mean, what happened? We fucking crashed on this God forsaken planet. That’s what happened.”

“You made it down in one piece, obviously.”

“Obviously. We hit hard, though. The ship busted open and there was a small fire, but the important thing was we were free. At least, we were for about three hours before these assholes came and grabbed us.”

“Were there others?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“Do you know where they are? We’ve been trying to find other survivors.”

“No idea. People took off running when we hit the ground. The ones who were able to, anyway. Amazing what motivation can do to numb pain.”

“They ran but were hurt?”

“Listen, the Raxxians who were in our section of the ship when it crashed were dazed, but that wouldn’t last for long. So a bunch just ran. The guards came to quick enough and chased after them. They left one behind to watch over us, but then we jumped out of the frying pan and into the fire when this whole new set of asshole aliens came along.”

“What did the Raxxians do?”

“The one guarding us died almost immediately. We heard shots in the distance so there must have been a fight. So far as I can tell, the Raxxians were outnumbered and outgunned so they retreated. The rest of us were taken prisoner and marched here.”

“Where are the others now?”

“A couple of men were killed when they tried to overpower one of the guards. Idiots. The rest of us wound up here. They stripped us and separated us. I was put here, along with Garalla, Fetza, and Nivonk,” she said, gesturing to three of the alien women. “They were on the ship with us too.”

The three looked up from their bathing and nodded an exhausted greeting, then continued their bath.

“They wound up in the same compartment as me during the chaos right before we crashed. What happened to the others, I don’t know.” Shalia sized up Darla with a curious look. “You’re clean.”

“Relatively speaking.”

“What happened to you?”

“A native tribe took me in. They’re good people. They provided shelter and food without hesitation. They live a pretty off-grid life, though. No tech to speak of.”

Shalia nodded, sizing up their group’s newest member for a second time since her abduction by the Raxxians.

“You have ink now,” she noted. “Doesn’t even look like it’s peeling.”

“Oh, yeah. That. The pigments they use here are from some kind of special plants that are connected to the power from the sun. It’s like what the Raxxians put behind all of our ears on the ship, but much stronger.”

“Seems you have a lot of them now.”

“Pretty much, yeah.”

“And these natives did this to you?”

“Actually, you remember the guy in our cell? The alien?”

“You mean the big one who didn’t talk much?”

“Yeah, he’s the one who applied the pigment. Apparently, his skills are far more than just inking translation runes for the Raxxians. I’ve got runes all over now. It’s really kind of amazing how this all works.”

“How so?”

“Well, for starters, I’m stronger now. Don’t get tired as easily. My sense of sight has actually gotten better. Who knows what else it’s enhancing?”

“Obviously not your hearing or you wouldn’t have been captured.”

“Touché. That bit sucks, for sure. And these Dohrags are serious assholes. But you’ve been with them a while, right? What’ve you learned about them? It looks like they’ve got you farming.”

Shalia and the other women nodded, commiserating over their labors. “They have us working fields for them. It’s not a big operation, but they have several groups of captives separated into different work details. We never interact with the others, especially not the males.”

“They don’t want intermingling?”

“No. They want us to themselves,” Shalia replied quietly.

A sour tone fell over the group and a woman with deep green hair and velvety brown skin sobbed quietly. Shalia didn’t need to say more. It was as bad as Darla had feared, and mad as she already was, she felt a new anger building inside her even brighter.

“How many of them are there?” she finally asked as the bellyful of rage settled into a low blaze.

“Can’t say for sure, but maybe twenty or thirty on the ground at any given time.”

“What do you mean?”

“They have a small shuttle that flies down to swap out crew, drop off gear, and pick up what we’ve harvested. It comes every day. Sometimes there’s not much of a transfer going on but they do it anyway.”

“Keeping to a set schedule regardless, most likely.”

“That’s what it seems. Some of the others who have been here a while think it must be linked with an orbiting ship up above, or maybe some sort of space station, but no one knows for sure.”

“And the Dohrags certainly aren’t going to be forthcoming with that information,” Darla grumbled. “So we’re pretty much stuck here without a real clue what’s going on.”

Shalia managed a tiny grin. “Unfortunately, that more or less sums it up.”

“Ugh,” Darla sighed. “Then now what?”

“Now? Now we wait for them to slide our dinner in under that slot over there. Eat as much as you can, because you’ll need all the energy you can muster, believe me.”

“I’ve heard.”

“And then we try to get a good night’s sleep and hope all they want of us tomorrow is to work in the fields.” She glanced at the green-haired girl with a pitying look. “Not all of us are so lucky.”

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