by Rena Marks
Finally, the auction was over and her cage was loaded onto a transport vehicle. She clutched at the bars, watching as the rolling hills went by. She was being taken further and further from the heart of the city. The glorious green hue of the sun was fading into the skyline, but it wouldn’t be dark for a while yet. How could such a beautiful place be so evil?
Eventually the vehicle slowed as it turned down a winding road, then parked at their destination. The house they brought her to was hugely magnificent, but they stopped in the yard out front, a distance from the perfectly manicured purple lawns. A sense of dread filled her. Wealth was apparent, which meant the higher in ranks, the more cruel he was bound to be. Probably one of the first batches of mixed breeds—spoiled on top of having a sullen attitude. That meant he wouldn’t think of her worth or value, he’d simply consider her a possession to be used or broken.
Death would be merciful. If she was assigned to kitchen duties, the first thing she’d do was slit her wrists and hide in a cabinet until she bled out.
The cage was unlatched with a hook and the guards stood back, as if afraid to touch her. As if her filth may contaminate. One poked a metal rod through the bars of the cage, forcing her out. She hissed at the pain the rod caused, a burning sensation bubbling on her skin, joining the rest of the marks already on her back. As soon as she cleared the cage, a blast of icy cold water hosed her down. She sank to the ground, trying to gulp air instead of the rush of water. Finally it turned off and she continued to choke and sputter. Someone stepped forward with a scrub brush, and began to scrub her like a diseased animal.
Gods, she’d forgotten what this treatment was like. What it meant to be owned. She’d been pampered on Apleadian, spoiled even. When the AI joined them, it had become even worse. Now, she’d feel the pain tenfold, because she knew the other end of the spectrum.
Her skin burned where the scrub brush was tearing her raw in tender spots, but it was going to get much worse. Knowing what was coming made involuntary whimpers escape.
As soon as the scrubbing stopped, a bucket of chemicals dumped onto her. The Zetans in charge jumped away from the splash back. She barely had time to squeeze her eyes closed. It felt cold at first and then instantly burned, seeping into the raw wounds they’d just created. She shrieked, unable to hold back. Her pain was so great, she was barely aware of her surroundings as the hose was picked up again for another dousing. Just when she though she couldn’t get another breath into her lungs and would surely drown, it was switched off and she was left alone, wheezing on the ground.
Only then, did the Zetans touch her. Ignoring her sputtering coughs, they grabbed her ankles and arms, hauling her up to carry toward the house. Once inside, they dumped her on a bed of old blankets on the marble floor to dry, as she awaited her fate. She curled into a ball and rocked herself methodically.
They knew she was one of the escapees. She’d be made an example, her punishment harsh. It wasn’t enough that they’d beat her into submission on the ship before landing. She’d tried to run, and one had grabbed her ankle and twisted until it swelled like balloon just to immobilize her. She could no longer run, could barely limp. Yet they continually shocked her with the electrical sticks to force her to walk. The same one wanted to cut her hair, but the others wouldn’t let him. Not that they were being nice. She didn’t know it at the time, but she knew there was something else up. The others were wary of the repercussions from lessening her value once they reached the sale docks.
She really was back in hell.
* * * * *
Orion knew his planet. He’d described things perfectly. Once the pods landed on the planet, the six men broke free, collecting the magnetized straps from the pods. They hurried across the deserted valley. Once free, they saw crowds of people standing near what must have been the stage.
Serepto felt a sigh of relief. It would be much easier to get to Shala now.
They remained hidden throughout the sale transactions. Then the atmosphere had changed.
Shala’s up. It’s a big deal, since she’s an escaped slave. This is a good time to sneak under the transports, since everyone is distracted. Rune communicated with all of them, since they couldn’t risk voices being heard.
As much as Serepto wanted to catch a glimpse of her, to assure himself she was all right, he fought his instincts, knowing it was the perfect opportunity now to stow away. Silently, he squirmed underneath one of the three vehicles. He found a small ledge to strap himself to, then heard slight rustling as Vann crawled underneath and did the same.
Echo is signaling to the Cyborgs to pack together so they can distribute their weight more evenly. We don’t want one truck pulling to the side and having the guards stop to inspect.
Good thinking. I’m heading to the second vehicle. I’ll sweep the tracks behind Vann and Serepto. Dieroc said.
Has anyone seen her? Serepto said.
She is too far away for our visual. But the Cyborgs are able to view a greater distance through their mechanical eye. Blade says she looks as well as can be expected. Terrified, but her vitals seem good.
It was ghastly hot under the transports, and took a while before they were loaded up. At last, blessed cool air wafted up as the vehicles rose to hover over the road. They travelled all day, stopping at each destination for the release of slaves. When they heard the all the doors open and close, they’d listen carefully to see which slave it was being released. None were Shala.
Does anyone know how many are left? Serepto’s nerves were shot.
There were nine cages. I assume three to a transport. We’re on the seventh stop so she has to be the next or the last ride.
She was the last stop. The sun was setting, so they released their attachments.
Serepto, make your way inside the house while they’re distracted with Shala. It stands to reason they’ll take her indoors when done, and we need you in there to grab onto her when the time is right.
He was torn. Part of him wanted to stay near her. Part of him wanted to rip apart the Zetans who dared to touch her. And yet the logical choice was to get inside—away from her and the others—to wait.
Go.
Without allowing himself to think more, he slipped out from underneath the truck. A dozen guards stood around in a circle, focused on Shala. Serepto refused to look, knowing he wouldn’t be able to tear himself away if he did. Instead he slipped between landmarks to get near the house, rounding it. There were voices coming from the back, a delivery truck that was leaving. It pulled away, and Serepto slid up near the porch. He crawled underneath a patio table, as the motion sensor light was still shining. The owner of the home went inside, and Serepto watched as he vacated the kitchen. Then, silently sliding from his hiding spot, he pushed open the back door and slipped inside. He peeked out the opposite kitchen door to see the Zetan heading upstairs. The front door, where they should be bringing Shala, was just ahead. But even if they brought her through the kitchen, there was a perfect spot behind an oversized, stuffed chair where he could hide. It was also near a window. Hopefully sound would transmit from the pane and he’d be able to hear her voice. Anything. He slid into place and waited. His role as stealth warrior took over and he calmly studied his surroundings. Alarm panel on the wall near the entryway, between the front door and kitchen. Gun locked in a compartment near the door.
And then she was brought in.
From behind the chair, Serepto fought with himself not to look at her. He knew there was nothing he could do to ease her suffering right now. Not yet.
Hold still, my brother. Do not expose yourself. Wait until Blade and Rush take care of the Zetan guards, then you can grab Shala. As soon as the shields lift, they will beam you both aboard. Dieroc’s thoughts cut across Serepto’s consciousness. He obviously watched from the window, knowing Serepto hid behind the sofa and twitched to move to her.
I remember. But he clenched his hands to hold them still, fighting the urge to move to her. He couldn’t stand seeing her so
broken, so abused. In so much pain. Her body was covered in red spots, some areas were raw as if she’d been flayed alive.
It is important. If we are exposed, alarms will be raised and none of us will get out of here alive. She is safe for this moment.
I will stay here.
It was torture to watch, not even allowing Shala to know he was so near. What he wouldn’t give to ease her mind, but no. She was too innocent and couldn’t shield the range of emotions that would cross her face. It would signify their presence to the enemy if she knew he hid.
The slave-owner entered his home. He was tall, over six feet, and dressed in all black, from his shiny black shoes to the high-buttoned uniform he wore. The soles of his shoes tapped across the marble floor, where he paused before squatting near Shala. Unlike Orion and Tian, this mixed breed looked more Zetan than Terran.
“Shala,” the Zetan murmured, lifting her wet hair from her face. “Still such a beauty. You are the highest of prizes, and finally mine. Do you know what I will do to Arian when she is found? And believe me, one day she will be. I’ve had my sights set on you since before I matured, waiting for the day when I could purchase you. Then that bitch stole you.”
Shala whimpered, and rage filled Serepto. He was frightening her.
Her whimper changed to a small shriek instead. The bastard pinched her nipple, an evil glee morphing across his unexpressive face. Serepto’s fists clenched.
Stay down! Dieroc commanded harshly, shouting in his head. I can see you from the window. Orion says the entryway is nearly complete, and then you can have at him. We will give you thirty seconds to snap his neck before we beam you back.
The bastard is hurting her.
Not much longer. Stick to the plan.
“We are going to create offspring the old-fashioned way,” the Zetan said. “But selling your ovarian seed will earn me back the funds I paid for you and in the meantime, you’re mine for the fucking.”
His fury ratcheted at hearing the Zetan vocalize his plan, but Shala stopped whimpering, as if she suddenly accepted her fate. If he had longer than thirty seconds, Serepto would feed the bastard his own cock.
“Do you know why I wanted you since before I matured?” the Zetan asked. “Your DNA is going to provide me with my own offspring, of course. But it will be the best offspring ever. Your beauty, combined with mine…will strengthen my children so much more. Mother.”
Horror dawned on Shala’s face as she realized this mixed breed filth was one of hers. Serepto couldn’t even spare her that revulsion.
Doorway for beaming is open. Go!
With a roar, Serepto tossed the enormous, overstuffed chair he was hiding behind. It crashed into a wall, tearing chunks of plaster out. The Zetan whirled, diving for the alarm switchboard on the wall.
He was met with a massive fist.
The Zetan species was stronger than they looked. He sprang up, hissing. His face changed, fangs sprouting as his gray skin darkened. His eyes grew large in his face, surrounded by black. Black, swollen veins protruded, as if poisoned blood ran through them.
He swept out with a roundhouse kick that didn’t budge Serepto, thanks to the strength in the new Cyborg legs. Serepto reached down, grabbed one of the Zetan’s legs and twisted, popping it from the hip socket. When the man opened his mouth to shriek, Serepto kicked, crushing his lower jaw instantly. The Zetan looked at him with horror in his glassy eyes, realizing he was slowly dying, his airway impeded with a piece of bone.
What a fitting fate, to die so slowly. But Serepto couldn’t risk not watching his death. Not if he had mere seconds. So with one last kick, he crushed his windpipe to make sure, listening for the satisfaction of gurgling breath dying out. Only then did he turn.
“Shala,” he whispered, picking up her chilled, nearly-naked form and holding her to him. “Shala, my love. You’re safe,” he crooned, rocking her, barely aware her glassy eyes stayed unresponsive.
The air thinned, changing to a reddish glow. A slightly sick feeling hit the pit of his stomach as they moved…without moving. The beam had activated, had disassembled their molecules and reassembled them in the sick bay of the ship. His stomach lurched with the unfamiliar jump, and watched as the changing scene solidified into the confines of the ship.
Still, she hadn’t moved. “Shala!” he said, a panicked hit of desperation in his voice.
Suddenly Arian was there, hovering over his shoulder. “Get her up onto a bed,” Arian said, moving quickly out of the way. “We need to scan her injuries.”
He was barely aware of what he growled, but then Jax was there, protecting his mate. “Serepto, think! We need to get Shala checked. Hurry. Get her onto the table.”
* * * * *
Shala had no idea where her mind retreated, but none of this could be real. Serepto was dead. She watched his body crush to protect the shuttle she was trapped in. Watched his blood splatter, the shock on his face, the life fade from his eyes.
Yet somehow she conjured a rescue mission in which he killed the Zetan slave-owner who was probably raping her unconscious body right now. But this…this illusion was a much better place to be. No, she would stay here, in her mind—where the fantasy of Serepto still lived. She would never leave the magical place. The mind was a good thing.
“Baby, look at me, please,” Serepto begged.
Hell, no. She knew that trick. If she diverted her attention to him, his face would change, becoming one with the Zetan. No, she would stay here, the gray area. The safe place.
“Her skin has a chemical peel in process, done to extract germs and microbes from the outer layer of skin. It should take about two weeks to heal. She has been beaten, spraining her ankle. But no bones have been broken.”
Chemical peel? So that’s how her mind conjured the theory of the acid dumped on her? Perhaps so she wouldn’t think of herself as being a scarred cripple.
“Her…back,” Serepto said.
“They look like electrical burns. Some are second degree, most are third. She’ll probably scar. Probably a prodding stick turned to high. Revenge for having escaped Zeta,” Arian said.
Then, with the sounds of Serepto sobbing over her still body, she allowed herself to drift away, because she couldn’t take the thought of this strong, amazing man crying.
It was a different time frame when she returned, because Serepto’s voice aimed higher, as if he stood now. “Why does she look worse?” he snarled, the dreaded sobbing done and over with and the anger back.
Arian’s voice was calm. “Her skin is healing from the burns. It reddens, then dries and peels away, revealing newer skin underneath. It looks worse to get better.”
Shala drifted again, waking later.
Now Jax spoke. “Even today, not much is known about the mind. We treat the body, replace the limbs. In the AI’s case, re-grow bodies. But the mind is still a mystery. In the meantime, it is important to make Shala feel that this is a more realistic reality than the one she lives in. So any meetings we conduct, any meals we eat, we should have her included.”
“I will wheel her bed back and forth.” Serepto’s voice.
“Human contact is important,” Arian said softly. “My idea is to hold her. Carry her. She’s healed, she won’t break.”
“She’s fragile,” Serepto protested.
“Brother, that did not stop you from carting her around on Apleadian,” Jax said. There was a murmur of voices in agreement. It must have been the rest of the council.
“It’s different now,” Serepto argued. Always so stubborn. Just like she remembered. Her precious love.
“No. The goal is to return things to as normal as they were. Not to go back to treating her with kid gloves.”
“She loves it,” Echo said. “She was messed up even then.”
Serepto growled.
“He’s right,” Jax said. “If she could talk, she’d tell you she much prefers you hauling her around like a caveman than to wheeling her around as if she’s in a casket.”
A different voice woke her.
“When will you return home?” Tian said.
“Not for a few weeks. We are cutting through worm holes, and drifting through various galaxies. There is no way any Zetans will ever trace our route,” Arian said.
“How’s Shala?” Tian asked.
“Her body is healed. We have begun to place her on the electrical impulser Orion designed, stimulating her muscles to keep them active.”
“How long is she on for?”
“A half an hour each day.”
“Let’s increase it to two half hour increments. One in the morning, one in the evening.”
“Pfft. It’s difficult enough to pry her from Serepto for that one session. He’s positive it’s painful and she simply can’t cry out.”
“The electrical charges have the protons removed. There is no pain, especially as deeply inserted into her muscles. It simply triggers muscle memory so that she won’t weaken by remaining inert. Though, keeping her muscles active would be much easier if she would just wake.”
“I’ve tried that,” Serepto growled. “I speak to her constantly. I touch her, assuring her this is real.”
There was a pause. “We can try an electrical pulse directly into the hypothalamus.”
“We’re not touching her goddamn brain,” Serepto snarled.
Oh, no. Were the Zetans going to play with her brain? Was that the reason for this new fantasy? There were horror stories when she was a child of early experiments on Terrans. The lobotomies performed when some minds snapped from the cruelty during slavery. But try as she might, she couldn’t move. Then she relaxed her muscles. It didn’t matter. No matter what they did to her brain, to her body, she had this. The fantasy where she was safe in Serepto’s arms.
The fantasy where Serepto was alive and well.
She drifted.
“Just a little longer. Come on, Shala. This may be our only shot. You can do it. Wake up!” It was Arian’s voice, and she sounded frantic. Pounding and shouting thumped in the background, echoing off the insides of her skull. Growing louder as she pulled from her unconsciousness.
