Scarred

by Tana Stone

  He was more seasoned than his crew. Although he loved nothing more than battle, he knew he could temper himself to save the prisoners. If calm was required to save Madeleine and Serge, then he would force himself to be patient and steady. He was not sure all his Inferno Force warriors could say the same. At least with the cloaking device, he had the chance to avoid contact for as long as possible.

  Brok sank into the pilot’s chair and tapped his fingers across the console, closing the ramp, engaging the engines, and feeling the rumble beneath his feet. He enjoyed flying and, as captain, he didn’t often get the pleasure anymore. Another few touches to the smooth console, and the vessel lifted off the hangar bay floor.

  He took a deep breath before taking the ship out, not bothering to look to where he knew Kalex and Vekron stood watching. Bursting out of the open mouth of the hangar bay, he immediately engaged the stealth shielding and set a course for the planet’s surface.

  What little reconnaissance they’d been able to scrounge up had revealed a planet that was mostly water with land poking through the oceans in high peaks of rock. Although he’d never been—or even seen it—he knew that Earth was also mostly water, but that it also had large areas of flat land. Spartos, it seemed, was different.

  Brok assessed the ships patrolling the airspace around the planet. There were a decent number, but their patterns were predictable, and after watching for a few moments, he was able to slip through a gap. Dipping below the cloud cover, he emerged to see a spectacular, blue-green sea sparkling as if the small waves were tipped with jewels. A city he assumed was Spartos City rose up from the water in sharp, white points.

  It appeared that the city was carved into the alabaster rock with paths snaking around the sides and windows peeking out onto the water. Stone turrets soared into the sky, while lower buildings huddled at the water’s edge below. Long, narrow vessels zipped through the waterways between the jutting rocks, people standing at the back of the open boats to steer them as they skimmed above the surface, sending the occasional spray of water behind them.

  His ship’s sensors pinged to tell him that both the female and Gatazoid were there—at least, their trackers were. He was once again glad that the Ganthar pirates didn’t care enough to remove the trackers, and the Spartosians clearly were not aware of their existence. Not surprising, since they’d been redesigned so that only Drexian technology could detect them—apparently an innovation from a clever AI on the Boat.

  Brok scoured the environment for a decent place to land. Even though his shuttle was compact, the city seemed to have no open spaces. Stealth shielding would not prevent someone from walking into the vessel if it was not hidden away.

  “Grek,” he muttered to himself, eyeing the water. He wasn’t a great swimmer, but there was not really another option.

  Choosing a spot where the water seemed calmer, he lowered the shuttle slowly. Waves rippled out in all directions, but he hoped no one had their eyes on the water to detect the strange water pattern his ship was creating. The bottom of the ship touched down on the water and began to sway back and forth. He put a hand to his gut. He much preferred the shaking of a ship due to battle than the rhythmic rocking of the sea. With another tap on the console, he anchored the ship to the bottom of the ocean—luckily not very deep—and then hooked it to the nearest rock face. He made sure the shielding was set to hold, as he touched the small, universal device on his belt that would allow him to locate the cloaked ship and control it remotely.

  With a final glance back at the dark surfaces of the cockpit, he reached up and opened the hatch, hoisting himself through to the next level and closing the hatch below him. He knew the air on the planet was breathable for him, if a little more humid than he was used to, but Brok still took a final gulp of cool air before pushing open the final hatch and poking his head outside.

  He glanced around cautiously, grateful he could see no one. He’d chosen a spot at the far end of the city, where the population and development had seemed thinner. Luckily, he’d been right. The rock he’d landed beside was battered and dingy, with no dwelling carved within. Only a worn path curved down to the water, but no boats were anchored nearby.

  With a sigh of relief, he climbed out of the ship and secured it. He breathed in, the air warm and steamy in his lungs, and he was glad he wore only a dark T-shirt and pants. Already, the fabric was sticky against his skin.

  All he needed to do was slide off the roof and make it to the path. He sized up the jump as easily managed and poised to leap, when a wave made the shuttle lurch to one side, sending him flying backward. He splashed into the water, surprised by how warm it was, and also startled by how it seemed to churn around him. It might be beautiful, but it was not as placid as it appeared.

  He started to paddle awkwardly toward the rock—glad he only needed to make it a couple of metrons, since he couldn’t swim well—when he felt something large bump up against his leg. Looking down into the crystal-clear water, his heart stopped at the sight of the enormous silver creature, sharp teeth flashing as its wide mouth opened under him.

  Chapter Four

  “What I wouldn’t give for an inclinator right about now,” Serge mumbled, as he and Madeleine wound their way down the twisting stairs from their tower rooms.

  “For a species that has obviously mastered space travel, they do seem to go in for a vintage look with their buildings.” Madeleine held handfuls of her gossamer skirt to keep from tripping.

  “Vintage? You’re too kind, sweetie.”

  “Well, I could say it feels like we’re trapped in a bizarre combination of Medieval Nights and a strip club.” She tried to keep her eyes on her feet and not on the attendant in front of them, whose pants were so tight Serge had nearly fainted when he’d entered the room.

  “That’s more like it. Wait, what’s Medieval Nights?”

  “A theme restaurant on Earth, where actors pretend to be knights from the Middle Ages, and you eat your food with your hands while cheering them on.”

  Serge sucked in a breath. “Sounds barbaric.”

  Madeleine stifled a laugh as Tight Pants turned to look at her. His golden hair was curly, making him look slightly angelic—until your eyes moved south to the pants, which left zero to the imagination.

  When they reached the bottom of the long, spiral stairs, he waved them forward. “This way.”

  Serge ran to keep up. “How does he walk so fast in pants so small?”

  Maddie shrugged, more interested in the walkway they were crossing that overlooked a canal and the fast hoverboats zipping by. She was impressed by the males who stood at the backs of the long, pointy boats. They reminded her of gondoliers, except that they had no poles to keep them from pitching into the water and, of course, they had no shirts to top their snug, black shorts.

  “Why are we walking, when everyone else seems to be jetting around on hoverboats?” Serge asked, shooting a dark look at the naked back of their attendant.

  “This is the most direct route to the palace,” Tight Pants said, without turning around.

  Serge’s large eyes grew even wider. “Palace? Well, at least we’re finally being shown the attention we deserve.”

  Maddie wasn’t sure if Serge was right about that. She hadn’t gotten the idea that they were considered honored guests, although their tower rooms sure beat the cells on the pirate vessel. She would take a narrow bed over a hard bench any day.

  She hadn’t been privy to the exchange between these aliens and the ones who’d procured them from the Ganthar pirates, but she was pretty positive that she and Serge were sold, not rescued. They hadn’t been mistreated, and the cuffs had come off as soon as they were onboard the procurers’ ship, but they had also not been returned to the Drexians, despite Serge’s many attempts to inform them that they were under Drexian protection.

  The walkway overlooking the canal led to another building, more stairs—these going up—another walkway over another canal, and finally, tall doors guarded by a pa
ir of platinum-haired gods who—Maddie was almost 100-percent sure—oiled their chests.

  “The new ones,” their attendant murmured.

  The doors were opened for them, and they were escorted into a hall with a massive, vaulted ceiling and high windows on both sides that let light stream in and illuminate the marble floors. The center of the long hall was empty, but the sides behind the central columns contained low settees and large ottomans where people lounged.

  When she and Serge began to walk down the middle of the hall behind Tight Pants, the loungers perked up, straightening and staring at them. Maddie desperately wanted to stare back, but she didn’t know who these people were, and Serge was probably right. The fewer people she pissed off, the better.

  As they got closer to the front of the hall, she saw that there were several large, gilded chairs arranged on a raised area—thrones on a dais, she supposed. The individuals in the thrones looked similar to the other aliens she’d seen, but the bare chest of the male in the center was covered with gold swirls tattooed across his iridescent skin. The female beside him wore a flowing skirt similar to the one Maddie had on, but with her legs crossed, the many high slits in the fabric meant that her legs—also tattooed in gold—were exposed to her upper thigh. Gold bands of color also wrapped around her bare arms, and her white-blonde hair was long and straight. Two younger males flanked the center thrones, but these had fewer tattoos, although their naked chests and arms did flash some gold patterns.

  The male in the largest chair—Maddie assumed he must be the head honcho or king—waved them forward with a single, sharp motion of his hand. “Bring them closer.”

  Tight Pants escorted them up the stairs, then backed away.

  Madeleine shifted from one foot to the other, not sure whether to curtsy or bow, smile or make eye contact. She also didn’t know what to do with her hands. She was aware of the eyes scanning her body—especially those of the younger males—and felt very undressed in the halter top that barely covered her breasts and left her back exposed. At least the skirt covered her legs, although it had about a hundred high slits, so the slightest breeze would have her flashing the entire room. Finally, she clasped her hands behind her back and squared her shoulders.

  It was the female who first spoke, her voice seductive. “I hear you were taken by Ganthar pirates.” She shivered, running her hands over her arms like a caress. “How perfectly awful.”

  “It was.” Serge bobbed his head up and down, his voice higher pitched than usual.

  Maddie looked at him and saw that the wedding planner was smiling wider than she’d ever seen him smile before, and his enormous pupils made his round eyes appear almost black.

  The woman’s sultry smile shifted to him. “And what are you again?”

  Serge’s hair flushed pink at the roots, and he giggled. “Gatazoid.”

  When had Serge ever giggled? She’d heard him bitch plenty, as well as sigh and roll his eyes, but giggle like a girl?

  “Fascinating.” The steely blonde leaned forward and bit her bottom lip as she gazed at him.

  One of the younger males laughed. “You’ll have to forgive my mother, the Queen. We don’t have many aliens visit our planet.”

  Maddie turned her attention to him. He was broad-shouldered and handsome, with honey-colored hair that fell long around his shoulders. He smiled at her, his gaze traveling down her body without hesitation and his pupils flaring. She assumed he was a prince of some kind. He was confident enough for it.

  “We have never had one like you before,” he said, his voice smooth and deep.

  Madeleine fought back to urge to remind him where her eyes were. “Apparently not.”

  “She’s quite enchanting.” The queen laid a hand on her husband’s arm and rubbed it.

  He nodded, clearing his throat. “I trust you have been made comfortable.”

  “Very,” Serge said with another giggle. “Thank you for your kind—“

  The king cut him off. “Spartos does not often interact with other species, but we are finding that our long-standing policy may require adjusting.” He leaned forward and studied them both. “You are part of our test program, as it were.”

  Serge glanced over at her. This clearly wasn’t what he had expected, either. From her experience, test programs were usually shit. Every time they’d rolled something out as a test program with her paramedic team, it had always taken a long time to work out the kinks. She’d learned that being first wasn’t always a good thing.

  “As honored as we are,” Serge said, his voice caught somewhere between giddy and preening. “I should inform you that we are both members of the Drexian empire, and thus we are—“

  He was cut off again, this time by the queen. “You are Drexians? I thought you were a Gataboib.” She turned to her husband. “And I thought Drexians were much larger.”

  “Gatazoid,” Serge corrected, although he fluttered a hand in the air as if waving away the error. “We are not Drexians ourselves, but we are part of their empire. We work for them. Well, I work for them on the Boat, and she is a tribute bride.”

  All four sat forward.

  “A tribute bride?” One of the princes repeated, his eyes locked on her. “I’ve heard about them.”

  Maddie didn’t think now was the time to explain that she wasn’t technically anyone’s bride yet, and that she wasn’t sure if she was down with the concept at all.

  “So, you are one of the females taken by the brutes to be their mates?” The queen licked her lower lip as she shook her head—a strange combination of sympathy and obvious arousal.

  “I’m human,” Maddie said, not a direct answer to the question but as close as she was willing to do.

  “Of course, we have no intention of keeping you against your will.” The king’s voice boomed across the cavernous hall. “We will send a message to these Drexians, and if they wish you to return, I’m sure they will come for you.”

  All three of the others on the thrones swung their heads sharply to look at him, but he continued. “Until then, we welcome you to Spartos.”

  Serge visibly relaxed next to her. “We’re grateful for your—“

  “The female will join my queen as one of her ladies-in-waiting, which is a high honor among our people. That way, she will get the opportunity to learn about our kind before you leave.”

  The queen smiled widely. “Yes, what a wonderful idea.”

  Maddie forced herself to return the smile. “Sounds great.”

  The king flicked his wrist at one of his sons. “Find an appropriate posting for the little one.”

  Serge drew himself up to his full height, swaying slightly on the spot. “I assure you I have many talents I’d be happy to share with your people. On the Boat, I am the top wedding planner.”

  One of the princes stood with a sigh and waved for Serge to follow him. “Weddings?”

  Maddie heard Serge chattering to the young prince about his job on the Drexian space station as they walked away and out of the hall. She knew it was silly, but she felt a moment of panic as she was left alone in the palace hall. Serge may have driven her crazy with his non-stop conversation, but at least they’d been in it together. Now, she felt strangely alone, despite being in a huge room filled with people.

  The queen stood and glided forward, her skirts swishing around her legs. She was taller than Madeleine, and reminded her of a Norse goddess with her ice-blue eyes and almost-white-blonde hair. She moved past without stopping, then paused and tilted her head.

  “Aren’t you coming?”

  Madeleine snapped out of her trance and hurried forward. “Sorry.”

  The queen smiled down at her, as she linked arms with her and pulled her flush to her body. “I’d hate to have to punish you on your first day.”

  Chapter Five

  “Grek!” Brok saw the spiky teeth rushing toward him and kicked wildly, pulling himself through the water with his arms. He’d never done more than keep himself afloat by paddling, bu
t desperation made his movements powerful, if not graceful.

  There was a snap behind him as the creature rose out of the water, its jaws clamping down on nothing but air and then splashing back into the sea. Brok didn’t wait to see if the animal would return for another try. In another two hard strokes, he was pulling himself onto the rock ledge and rolling away from the water, panting for breath.

  What in the grekking hell had that been? He looked wildly over his shoulder as he crawled farther away from the edge, but the hypnotic, blue-green water looked peaceful and tempting. There was no sign that something deadly lurked beneath the surface. He squinted hard. The water was so clear he felt like he could see all the way to the bottom, yet he saw no flash of silver, or tell-tale fin.

  Standing, he let the water stream off him, puddling around his feet. At least it was warm, and the air was steamy, so he wouldn’t get chilled walking around in soaking-wet clothes, although that was also probably not the best way to be incognito. He put a hand to the two devices clipped on his waistband, relieved both were still there and even more relieved when he tapped them and one blinked green and the other blue. At least he hadn’t lost the device that could lead him to Madeleine and Serge and get him back to his cloaked ship, or the one that could ensure he did all that without being seen.

  The captain peered around cautiously. He’d been right about one thing, even if he’d seriously misjudged the ocean. There were few inhabitants on the side of the city he’d chosen. He suspected it might be the section that housed the working class since the nearest stone buildings did not gleam as brightly as the ones farther away, and he picked up a faint odor that told him there were perhaps too many residents living in too few dwellings.