Alien Captain's Prisoner

by Corin Cain

  “Don’t you have anyone you’d got to prison for? That you’d die for?”

  Aelon pauses, looking at me with those slate-grey eyes like he’s in possession of some delicious secret. After what seems like an eternity, he eventually smiles.

  “I have two such people, actually.” Then the Captain gestures towards the doorway behind us. “Tasha? Meet my triad.”

  The door hisses open and two Aurelians enter wordlessly.

  I gasp – which is the only reaction when confronted with two more towering, seven-feet-tall alien warriors.

  And these two… Gods!

  While Aelon is cocky, polished and arrogant – ever ounce the degenerate sophisticate – his two battle-brothers are anything but. They both resemble beasts.

  The two warriors who enter are nearly identical – even by the standards of Aurelians, who all share that marble complexion, massive build and slate-grey eyes. If I didn’t know it was impossible for Aurelians to have siblings, I’d think they were brothers, or twins.

  Both warriors have broad, strong faces and short, buzzed hair. Their ivory skin is covered in sweat and dirt, as if they’ve just returned from battle, or hard labor.

  One of the new arrivals is bleeding from an open cut on his huge, left bicep. He’s got a crisscross pattern of scars on other parts of his exposed flesh.

  The second warrior is adorned with a full sleeve of tattoos – tribal scorpions inked in night-black darkness. Together, the three of them look so disparate – and yet so right together…

  Yet they also look like something else – the opposite of the prim, uniformed soldiers of the Aurelian Empire.

  Their appearance confirms that Captain Aelon and his triad are not soldiers of the Aurelian Empire, and this warship is not part of the Imperial Fleet.

  I’m not sure whether these Aurelians are Rogue, or merely independent – but Aelon has made it very clear that they’re not bound by the strict code of honor and rules that the Aurelian Empire is famous for. These are clearly men who make their own destiny…

  …and now I’m left wondering where I’ll fit into it.

  “Aelon!” The scarred and injured Aurelian gives the Captain a mock salute – respectful, but also casual and lighthearted. “While you’ve been entertaining, we just cleared the first Scorp nest.” The warrior grunts arrogantly, proud. “I ripped the head off the Scorp Queen myself. It’s sitting in the loading bay, just waiting to be stuffed and put on the wall.”

  Captain Aelon lounges back, listening to this report. The warrior continues:

  “There’s two more nests of the fuckers to clear out tomorrow.” He grins wickedly. “Should be fun.” Then, finally, the towering warrior’s eyes turn towards me. “Now, tell me – is this the little minx you wanted us to see?”

  I shiver as the cold heat of the warrior’s gaze falls across me.

  He said Aelon wanted them to see me? You mean this wasn’t a chance encounter? Aelon certainly brought the Wayward Scythe on board because of the cargo we’d stolen – but he hadn’t come looking for us. This immense warship, and all those Reavers and soldiers on the moon below – this is obviously an operation that’s been going for some time. We just stumbled into it.

  As my mind races, the second warrior – that tattooed Aurelian - steps forward to study me. I look up at him, daunted – and the other warrior’s words keep replaying in my head.

  …is this the little minx you wanted us to meet?

  How did these two know I was even here? I’ve had eyes on Captain Aelon since the moment we landed – since before he even met me – and in all the time since, Aelon hasn’t messaged anyone, from what I saw. Somehow, it’s as if his two battle-brothers just knew.

  The other warrior approaches, and I can smell the sweat from him as he approaches. It’s not unpleasant – but it’s a deep, heady musk; one that makes me shiver, even as the scent somehow doesn’t offend my nose.

  I’m used to the stink of men, but it’s rarely like this. During long trips in dead space – because there isn’t exactly a shower on board my little vessel – we all have to make do with what they call a ‘whore’s bath’ at the tiny sink in the ‘heads’ of the Wayward Scythe – washing our armpits and crotch with a wet cloth. As a result, the five men of my crew get ripe...

  But this isn’t the scent of old, unwashed man. This alien smells… right.

  “Vinicus,” Captain Aelon drawls. “Meet Tasha.”

  This warrior, Vinicus, raises his eyebrows.

  “Nothing like returning to a woman after you’ve got your blood up in battle.”

  The huge, warrior-beast’s voice is a growl. I shrink back in my chair as he gets closer, looming over me even more intimidatingly than Captain Aelon did.

  The other Aurelian just stands back at the doorway, still dripping blood onto the deck as if he doesn’t even realize he’s bleeding.

  Aelon raises a hand, stopping his battle-brother in his tracks.

  “Not quite, Vinicus. She’s not here to, ahem, satisfy you. This is the thief we heard about – the one who just pulled off the biggest theft of Orbs in the history of the Empire.”

  Vinicus’s eyebrows raise, and his smile turns from wolfish to something I’d dare imagine was impressed.

  I shiver in the heat of this warrior’s gaze. All three of the huge, looming aliens have the same piercing, slate-grey eyes – but while they’re colorless, they’re full of life.

  “Gods!” Vinicus eventually breathes. “The thief? He turns to his other battle-brother – the huge figure bleeding in the doorway. “What do you think of that, Iunia? We’ve got a master thief here!”

  There’s the steady plunking sound of blood dripping to the desk as the third, bloody Aurelian stares at me. He sizes me up, eyes flashing.

  “She’s smaller than I expected.”

  Vinicus reaches forward – his huge hand dirty, with old blood caked across it. He’s come straight from the battlefield without even washing.

  I force myself not to flinch as his hand reaches towards me. I harden my nerves, looking up to meet his eyes – despite the fierceness of his gaze. Vinicus places that filthy, blood-encrusted hand beneath my chin, lifting my face up towards him. His touch is so much more gentle than I’d expected, and it sends a delicious tingle down my spine.

  Those slate-grey eyes flash.

  “You’re a bad girl, aren’t you?’

  A surge of anger fills me. I slap his hand away – although it’s like slapping a concrete wall.

  Vinicus laughs, pulling his hand away from me.

  Aelon grins at the display. “Vinicus! Stop tormenting my prisoner and get cleaned up.” He then turns to his injured battle-brother. “You too, Iunia. You’re bleeding all over the fucking place.”

  The two hulking men leave, a trail of blood and dirt in their wake. I thought Aelon was bad enough, but apparently I didn’t know the half of it.

  The moment the door closes, Aelon turns to me with a wry smile.

  “You’ll have to forgive Vinicus. He just cleared a Scorp nest – and he never learned manners.”

  Scorp? There are Scorp here?

  I remember the holographic projection of that moon. That explains what all those Reavers and Aurelian soldiers are doing down there on the surface.

  I can’t even imagine the horror. There must be Scorp on the moon, and the infestation is spreading down to the planet below. Aelon must have been hired to provide security and clear out the nests.

  That’s one hell of a task. Scorp are no joke.

  The fourth and most fearsome of the dominant species in the universe, Scorp are disgusting creatures that can grow ten-feet-tall, and every inch of them is sculpted to be a vision of pure death.

  They’re violence incarnated – a half-mammal, half-reptilian beast with the snapping claws and stinging tail of an Old-Earth scorpion. If there are Gods somewhere, looking down on us, Scorp serve as proof that they’ve got a sick, twisted sense of humor.

  Aurelians are the on
ly species that can combat the Scorp on anything vaguely close to equal terms. For humans like me? Your best hope if you face a Scorp is that they kill you quickly and cleanly – perhaps slicing off your head with one deadly snip of their massive claws.

  The second-best option? It’s not pretty, but it’s better than the alternative. If the Scorp don’t get you with their deadly claws, you can expect the kiss of their dripping, glowing stinger. If you feel that stab into you, like a barbed dagger, you’re screwed. One drop of the glowing green venom and you’ll die in screaming agony over the course of hours as your blood boils and congeals in your veins; bursting through your blood vessels like putrid pink puss.

  As I said, it isn’t pretty – but it’s better than the worst fate that can await you.

  Your worst-case scenario – if the Scorp don’t kill you right away – is that they’ll cripple and break you instead. One snip of those claws could send your legs tumbling from your body, or leave you clutching a spurting stump where your arm used to be. The flat side of those powerful claws hits like a sledgehammer, crushing your bones and splintering your spine. As you lie helpless on the floor of their nest, the Scorp will drag you back into the darkness – through pitch-black, claustrophobic spaces where no one can hear you scream.

  That’s what Scorp do – their primary purpose. They attack, they cripple, and they abduct – taking the broken, bleeding survivors back to their Scorp Queen.

  The Queen of a Scorp nest is the stuff of nightmares – like a regular Scorp just kept on growing. Rearing twenty, or even thirty feet tall, they’ll accept the broken, screaming offerings that her Scorp warriors bring her, and then plunge her barbed ovipositor deep into their belly or chest; filling them with her pulsating, wriggling eggs.

  As you lie dying, those hundreds of eggs will hatch deep inside of you. Sharp, ravenous beaks will start to devour your flesh, blood, and organs from within. Eventually, the writhing Scorp larvae will burst from your ravished, hollowed-out body as you die in despair and agony, far from the light of day.

  “You look ill.”

  I blink, snapped out of my nightmarish thoughts. I imagine I’m looking as green and sickly as I suddenly feel.

  “I’m okay,” I gulp.

  Just thinking about the Scorp made me nauseous. I can’t imagine the bravery it took for Vinicus and Iunia to voyage deep into the dark caverns of that moon – into the nest of those vile, loathsome creatures. What’s more, they did it voluntarily – and faced and killed the Queen!

  For the first time, I understand one of the inarguable benefits of the Aurelian Empire protecting my home planet. We might have been impoverished by their heavy taxation; but in return, we’ve never had to face Scorp attacks.

  I’ve heard all the stories of worlds that were less fortunate or had foolishly spurned Aurelian protection. Scorp send organic egg-sac ships hurtling into space, crashing onto such worlds and spilling those vile creatures out to ravish cities and communities. Without the Aurelians to protect them, there’s little the human population can do to protect themselves. Planets of millions have been lost – and similarly, I’d lost a lot of sleep as a child, thinking about such nightmarish scenarios.

  As I breathe deeply, trying to overcome my nausea, Aelon sits in his chair, completely comfortable.

  He’s playing games with me, I realize – keeping me constantly guessing as to his intentions and desires.

  His eyes narrow – and suddenly, he looks at me anew. “I know you, Tasha.”

  “You’ve never seen me before in your life!”

  “Aye – but I don’t need to have seen you before to know you, Tasha – better than you know yourself.”

  I bristle as his words, but he continues without pause.

  “You’re young – mid-twenties – and you’re the captain of your own vessel; one that probably undertakes more illegal jobs than legal ones, despite the mining beams and the crew of workers you have.” His lips curl. “It’s not so easy to deceive me. You’re full of pride, Tasha.”

  Me? Full of pride? That’s rich – coming from him.

  The sheer arrogance of this Aurelian infuriates me, but I hold back the tirade of insults I want to throw at him. That becomes more difficult as he continues with his monologue:

  “Oh, yes – I know you, Tasha. The thing you fear most is that hesitation – the moment between you giving an order and it being carried out. You fear the hesitation of your crew.”

  Dammit, it’s like he’s inside my head.

  “You worry that one day, your crew will stop listening to you – so you put on a big, tough front, don’t you, Tasha?” His eyes flash. “You’d never let your crew see you weak.”

  “No Captain should let their crew see them weak,” I snap back, jutting my chin up. My voice is defiant – but it’s hard to be taken seriously when my feet can’t even touch the ground.

  Aelon chuckles.

  “Aye – but I still see right through you. You’re a skilled pilot, Tasha – you’d have to be, to get away from those Toads. You’re clearly a skilled captain, too – to keep your crew following orders against all odds.”

  The towering Aurelian leans forward.

  “Inside though? You’re soft and delicate, Tasha. That’s why I won’t be keeping you in the brig. You’ll have your own room, and a nice plush bed.”

  Heat rises to my cheeks. “No fucking way! I demand to be treated the same as my crew!”

  Big mistake.

  I spoke in anger, unable to hold back the biting words. In response, Aelon pushes his chair out slowly, standing slowly until he looms over me like a mountain.

  I gulp – suddenly reminded of just how massive and intimidating the Aurelian Captain is compared to me.

  “Tasha,” he warns, “you are in no position to make demands – and if you use that tone with me again, I’ll turn your bottom red.”

  My jaw drops.

  How dare he!

  I already felt small and helpless, sitting in this chair with my feet dangling off the floor. Now, being threatened with a spanked bottom, I feel even more in his control.

  I also feel something I’m ashamed to admit to – curious.

  Tingly.

  Dammit!

  I know Aurelians have a reputation for being passionate, frenzied lovers – but I hadn’t thought that the other rumor I’d heard about them was true – that their species loves nothing more than to punish human women for perceived wrongdoings, making them whimper and writhe under their hard, spanking hands.

  I shouldn’t feel surprised – it makes sense. The power gets them off – I should have known.

  Back on my home planet, women were always flocking to join Aurelian harems – becoming one of the countless human women dedicated to serving a triad of the perpetually amorous warriors.

  It’s an understandable choice – especially for a world wracked by poverty, like mine. The women turn their backs on the hardscrabble life in exchange for the promise of safety and luxury – and all they have to provide in return is their everything...

  …including their dignity, because now I realize that ‘everything’ also includes harsh, strict punishment.

  Some women might like the sound of that – I mean, I’m ashamed to admit that I feel butterflies in my stomach at the mere thought of it – but I’m not here to play the rebellious concubine. I might be a prisoner, but I’m still a captain; and I still have a crew relying on me.

  I decide diplomacy is the best strategy, and murmur: “I… I apologize.”

  I hate that my voice is sounding weaker than I want it to – but I know that insulting Captain Aelon, or showing him any disrespect or defiance – is a game I’ll ultimately lose.

  Just look at him! He could bend me over that table without breaking a sweat, and tear the overalls off me like they were made from tissue paper. I’d be powerless to stop him using those huge hands to spank my ass over and over, again and again – until I beg him for mercy and mean it.

  And that’s not
even the most dangerous part. If Aelon made good on his threat and he did punish me, there’s no telling how into it he’d get. I have to remember that Captain Aelon isn’t aligned strictly to the Empire, and he’s probably never been denied by a woman in his life.

  If Captain Aelon tore my clothes off and spanked me until I was begging and squirming, who’s to say the fabled Aurelian mating frenzy wouldn’t overwhelm him? What’s to stop Aelon from turning into a rutting beast – one who can’t resist doing more to my helpless, naked ass than just spanking it.

  I shudder at the thought – both terrifying, and compelling

  Gods, what would it be like?

  I shake my head, trying to rid myself of the image.

  Oblivious to my racing mind, Aelon nods at my apology.

  “Good girl,” he says, and the cocky grin returns to his face.

  I wish I could wipe it off with a slap – but I know he’d catch my wrist before I could land the blow, and even if I did – it would be like slapping concrete.

  Besides, if a disrespectful tone of voice can earn a prisoner a spanking, I don’t even want to know what trying to slap Aelon would result in. Gods. I can’t imagine how it would feel to be spanked by this huge, hulking warrior.

  It’s bad enough just sitting in front of his cocky, too handsome face. The shame of being over his lap would be overwhelming. Any attempt to struggle against his effortless strength and masculinity would surely only earn a harsher punishment – and who knows what form that might take.

  I shift in my seat, suddenly feeling strangely uncomfortable and anxious in the presence of this Aurelian commander. The tension in the room is growing and growing – and I shudder as Aeon continues to look down at me, completely at ease, while I try to shrink away from his sheer, overwhelming presence.

  Suddenly, his watch beeps red.

  Aelon breaks eye-contact with me and slaps his watch. A tiny hologram appears, projected from the watch face. It’s an Aurelian, dressed in battered battle armor next to another warrior with a ragged gash across his chest. The wounded Aurelian is wearing only the lightest combat clothes – which suggests that whatever caused that injury wasn’t encountered in battle against the Scorp.