Nonetheless, peace and cooperation were the norm between B'haufs and humans. About nine thousand of the large, sculpted muscled, long-haired, dark-blue alien castaways stayed on the Moon, building a community in the areas surrounding their crashed vessel, and their examples of social structure and technology immediately influenced the course of Earthly society. Crime was down, people were happier, the environment was healing again for the first time since coal and factory labor were discovered.
Still...
"Tell them I want the grid down." The gruff voice was speaking into a radio; Grace heard a muffled, undecipherable voice reply again. Her B'hauvian abductor gave a barking scoff. "I don't care how. The grid stays off the entire time I'm there. I don't trust your tactics, Daban, and I don't want to end up on the wrong side of one of your maneuvers and find myself locked up with no key somewhere in your compound."
Daban? A B'hauf name. What the...
"Just do it," the voice commanded. "Or it's off. Good luck finding yourself a clean, untraceable specimen like this one." Grace felt a hand clamp her bent knee. She yelped and pulled her leg back. Her captor chuckled.
"Ok, great," he said. "See you in two days." The clink of the radio being hung on its hook, a long sigh as her kidnapper settled into his seat, flipping a few switches and clacking something into place. Then he grabbed Grace by the shoulders.
She struggled but he was strong. What can I do? Her confidence knocked down again and again over the course of her luckless life, Grace surrendered, ceased her resistance. Whatever you're going to do, just get it over with. Her fears were quickly relieved when a big hand grasped the edge of her blindfold and pulled it up, a second hand yanking down the gag in her mouth.
"Might as well relax," the B'hauf male said, a twinkle in his hard yellow eyes. "It's going to be a long trip."
2
"So," Daban said, running his calloused hand down Grace's bare arm. "This is what you bring me?"
Grace was frightened, her gaze darting across the room, and from her kidnapper's eyes to Daban's, to the two security-type B'haufs standing off to the side, holding rifles and bearing stern expressions. Her captor stepped forward and ran his thick fingers through her long sandy-blonde hair.
"She is perfect, yes?" he said, not really a question. "And she works for McWeillian."
Daban gave Grace a curious look, then turned to the kidnapper. "McWeillian?" he asked slowly. "You're sure?"
Her kidnapper chuckled. He reached into his pants pocket and removed an ID badge, handing it to Daban.
Daban looked it over. It was Grace's work badge: Grace McGill, Assistant Secretary to Gregory McWeillian.
Daban smiled. "Fonna," he said to the kidnapper. "You are a clever, clever soldier." He handed the ID badge back to Fonna. "I might have just the right reward for a man of your..." his eyes scanned Grace, then back to her abductor, "...talents."
Fonna shrugged it off. "Doing my part for the cause," he said. "Revolutions don't make themselves."
Grace watched Daban laugh heartily. "That they don't," he said. "That they don't."
Daban turned to his two guards, "Bavo, Felsa," he said, waving them over. "Escort our esteemed guest to her chambers while we discuss business." Without another word, Daban walked off with Fanno, heading down a well-lit, narrow corridor that stretched off the dim landing bay where they had met.
The pair of guards came up behind Grace, one of them urged her forward with the butt of his rifle. Grace looked back at the other, the one who had placed a strong but gentle hand on her shoulder. "Where are you taking me?" she asked.
She could tell he wanted to say something, but felt he could not. Finally, he met her eyes. "To a holding cell," he told her. "Until the deal is worked out."
"What deal?" she asked, moving forward, walking where the other guard, the pock-faced, square-jawed one who had nudged her with his weapon, was leading them. "What do you want with me?" Grace asked, keeping her focus on the shorter guard, the one with uncertain but kind eyes.
The kind-eyed guard made the mistake of meeting his colleague's glare. Ignoring it, he said, "They plan on selling you to Grodoroian spies. They want to escalate the war, break the treaty." Though his fellow guard growled in protest, the kind-eyed guard completed his thought. "They want to bring the war to Earth and get ahold of some power in the aftermath."
Grace's eyes grew wide, horror struggling with disbelief for control of her emotions. "That's why they need me." It made sense to her now. "The zinc. For their weapons, the big ones need zinc to work."
The kind-eyed guard said nothing, even he knew not to push this conversation further. "Just walk, please," he commanded politely, turning his eyes forward again. "You'll be treated well in the meantime, you have my word."
The word of a traitorous alien soldier who plans on selling me? Grace wanted to smirk and say something condescending, but she thought better of it. Considering her circumstances lately, she couldn't be overly picky with any assurance of comfort and relative safety. I guess it could be worse, she surmised, letting them lead her farther into the massive ship.
Bavo hadn't felt right about the captain's plans since he was first told last week. He didn't argue, of course, and he didn't complain. It was never a good idea to question Captain Daban in front of the crew. So he followed orders, avoiding as much responsibility in the plan as possible without hindering or endangering the rest of the crew.
But now that he had seen her, the Earth woman's curves, the slope of her breasts, her long hair and round bottom... oh my gods, she's beautiful... Bavo knew he couldn't go through with the conspiracy. But what can I do?
He let Felsa lead the way, taking their captive down the stairs, towards the cargo bay where it was agreed that she would be held until the trade with the Grodoro envoy was complete. I can at least bring her extra blankets. Kind-eyed Bavo was always too sympathetic for this line of work. He believed in the rhetoric of the revolution, that all sentient beings are equal and that none should suffer for the advancement of another, but the actions that sometimes had to take place, the bloody hands and subversive tactics, never sat well with him.
Regardless of his feelings, he was in too deep to back out, the plan had moved too far forward to stop, so the best he could do was to provide comfort while he could. I'll sneak her some extra food and drink too.
At the door to her cell, Bavo gently untied her hands. "Thank you," Grace said, meeting his soft yellow eyes, noting the specks of emerald green shining in his irises.
Bavo said nothing, turning away as Felsa opened the door. "Get in," Felsa commanded, prodding her with the barrel of his rifle. "If you're quiet, we'll bring you something to eat." He poked her with his rifle again. "Don't worry about the smell, you won't be here long."
Grace stumbled into the cramped cell, her nose scrunching against the mildewed, rotten scent in the air. "You can't leave me in here," Grace said, whirling around. "It's too cold." She stepped forward, back to where Bavo and Felsa stood outside the door. She pointed to the corner. "There's rotten things in here, and it’s wet. I can't..."
Felsa cut her off, his face twisted with the joy of superiority. "You can and you will," he told her. "Might as well get used to it." Before Grace could protest again, Felsa slammed the door shut. He turned to Bavo, still smiling. "We're going to be rich," he said. "I'm going to retire to the coast when this is over." He scratched his rough blue chin. "Maybe Spain. Taiwan. Someplace warm."
Bavo didn't answer, not in any mood for small talk. He followed Felsa down the hall, his mind going over a scheme that could work. If only he could get her out in time.
3
"Come on, wake up."
Grace blinked her eyes. What? She sat up on the thin, lumpy mattress. It was the kind-eyed guard from earlier, standing there, his expression nervous, a rifle held in his muscular blue arms.
"Where are we going?" she asked, refusing to stand.
Bavo stepped across the threshold, glancing behind him nervously. "
I'm getting you out of here," he said. "But we need to go right now."
Grace was confused. "You're what?"
"We're escaping," he said. "But we're both dead unless we go now."
She saw it in his eyes. Trust. Grace leapt off the bed and fell in step behind the guard with no further question.
When they arrived at the small one-seat inner-squadron shuttle, a short-range solar powered one-person transport that moved quickly between ships in a large convoy, he popped the overhead hatch. "Get in..." he wanted to say her name but he did not know it. "You're..." he stared at her, soft green eyes, pale skin, soft face. He blushed, though it was impossible for Grace to see. "My name is Bavo," he said, straightening himself. "What's your name?"
Grace managed a sad smile. "I'm Grace," she said, measuring the strong contours of his jaw and brow, the plumpness of his lips, the rich navy blue of the flesh covering his large body. "Thank you for this."
Bavo waved off her appreciation. "Thank me later," he said, grabbing two helmets off of the table beside the ship. "For now we need to go. You get in first, get your helmet on. Once you're secured, I'll hop in." He handed her a helmet. "We're executing an emergency takeoff," he said, helping her slide into the low cockpit. "So whatever you do, don't throw up."
She had no idea what an emergency takeoff was, but she had no interest in finding out now. She found out moments later when Bavo yanked out the homing beacon, loose wires dangled from its housing on the dashboard. "Three, two..." he counted down fast, hitting "... one," before Grace could ask what she should hold on to. She was shoved forward by a spinning force, nailed against the top of her seat. Her stomach lurched in her gut, and spun sideways as the ship jerked downward, a sharp dip from the instant upwards thrust of the takeoff. Before she could recover her equilibrium, the ship ripped forwards, slamming her back again. Her arm flew up with the force, banging hard on the overhead cockpit. "Shit!" she said, having a hard time lowering her appendage.
Later, Bavo would tell her that the relative g-force of their emergency maneuver was near three-g's. Grace had no clue what that meant but she could tell him how it felt. Sickening, terrifying. Out of control, everything spun, she couldn't breathe, her lungs and heart slammed against the back of her ribs, everything inside of her threatening to come up and out.
She smiled as they docked at the relay station twenty minutes later. "I really thought I was going to break my promise," she said, her body relaxed, thighs wrapped snuggly around his hips as he piloted the ship sitting between her legs on the bucket seat. "It took everything I had to not puke all over."
"I'm glad you didn't," Bavo said, not taking his eyes off of the landing platform as he set the ship down. "I have a sensitive stomach. I probably would have vomited as well."
Grace laughed. "You have a sensitive stomach?" She playfully nudged his shoulder. "A big warrior like you?"
Bavo waited for the safety light to turn green: successful docking complete. He flipped a few switches and killed the engine. "It is a fault I've had to compensate for over my various services." He was too distracted to notice her teasing tone; to tease was not a common activity on B'hauf and the nuances of the game were still foreign to Bavo.
"Okay," he said, keeping his focus on the business at hand. "There's a long range Searcher on the far side of this landing strip." He pointed down the strip to a telling grey silhouette about five hundred yards away. "The ship is unlocked, so run there and get inside. I can't power up the atmospheric stabilizer. If I do, everyone will know where we're at. So it's basically deep space out there, just enough atmosphere to maybe keep you protected for a few seconds."
Grace's mood dropped. From playful to apprehensive in a fraction of a second. She touched her helmet. "This'll help, won't it?" she asked.
"Certainly," Bavo nodded. "But our suits are not made for open space. They'll protect us, but not completely, and not for long. So run." Bavo gazed into her eyes. "Run as fast as you can, get in the ship, and push the atmospheric pressure control button. It's a big orange button on the wall outside of the cockpit. Hit the button and wait, I'll be there a few seconds after you."
"Okay," said Grace, feeling in over her head.
"Go," said Bavo, scooting forward to give her room. "You need to do it now." He pulled a lever and the hatch opened. Grace felt her ears pop with the sudden pressure change. She was scared, feeling the chill penetrate her suit immediately. Bavo leapt from his seat and turned to offer her his arm. She looked at him, a hint of panic hitting her. From inside his helmet, he mouthed the word: Run!
She took his hand and he hoisted her out. The gravity only loosely held her to the steel platform. Not looking back, Grace ran. She ran as fast as she could, her sights focused on the large ship in front of her, only the sound of her heart, of her breath in her helmet, the void around her nulling the sounds of her feet stamping on the metal, of the breezes testing her balance.
Behind her, Bavo turned on his explosive, set the motion detector towards the glass cockpit hatch, and set the timer for ten seconds. He double-checked it and released the button. 10, 9, 8, 7...
He slammed the hatch down and began running after Grace. 3, 2, 1... the motion detector is armed. Anyone trying to land on this relay station will get an ass full of shrapnel.
When he reached the ramp leading into the small transport ship, he pressed the release lever on the side, dashing up the ramp as it slowly closed. Through the small hull, he burst into the cockpit, pleased that Grace was already in her seat, helmet off, breathing in the clean air with obvious relish.
He sat down beside her. "You ready for this?" he asked, a smile actually coming to his face.
It's a nice smile. Grace smiled back. "It's a little late for that, isn't it? You should have asked me that when you came to my cell."
He grunted an acknowledgement as he strapped his seat harness around him and pressed the power button. The Searcher roared to life, its ionized thrusters firing up, and an array of lights blinked on the dashboard. "Sorry about that. This is my first breakout and escape." He gestured for her to put on her seat harness. "Next time I'll be sure to ask sooner."
She slid her harness on, tightening the straps. "Be sure to do that," she teased, "A girl likes to know what's coming."
"I'll be sure," he told her, a slight grin touching the corners of his lips. "Next time I'm coming."
Grace looked at him, then looked away, unsure. Was that a flirt? Did he just flirt with me? She looked back to him but he wouldn't look at her. He grabbed the steering sticks and checked his navigation screen. "Let's get out of here first," is all he said. “Plenty of time for other things later."
The ship lifted off the ground and slowly began moving forward into the darkness. Grace, for all the fear and disarray in her mind, could not manage to wipe the grin off her face. He was flirting. She knew the timing was inappropriate, but she looked anyway. His strong body was barely concealed by the tight flight suit he wore. His hands were big and thick, his face handsome as his shoulder-length black hair hung down around it. She realized her eyes had wandered to his crotch, wondering what lurked beneath the fabric of his pants. She had never seen a B'hauf male naked before, but she had heard rumors, stories from girlfriends who had hooked up with one or used to date one.
Feeling strange that her thoughts would wander there in such a tense moment, Grace turned away, looking back out the window. "Where are we heading?" she asked.
"The Harbinger Array."
"You can't be serious?" she said. “There's no way. We'll be killed."
"Only probably killed," Bavo assured her, setting course on the nav-screen. "If we don't go there we'll most likely be definitely killed." He looked at her. "Daban doesn't take treason lightly."
She could tell he was serious. "Okay," she agreed. "Let's go visit the unstable asteroid field with the alien traitor." Meeting his eyes, she somehow found herself smiling again, as much from nerves as from other more personal things. "What could go wrong?"
&nbs
p; 4
The Harbinger Array was an asteroid belt that had formed between Mars and Jupiter, the remnants of an Australia-sized asteroid that threatened Earth back at the end of the Twenty-First century. The unified governments of the world managed to put aside their differences long enough to pool resources into a series of defensive strikes against the massive boulder. The final assault succeeded in destroying the asteroid, nicknamed Harbinger for the doom that it brought with it, but in the process, it created a deadly belt of asteroids moving in an erratic, unstable orbit. Some rocks were the size of trucks, some were hummingbird-sized, but all were moving fast enough to pierce a ships hull or a person's skull.
As they approached the Array, Grace felt her nerves giving out. "Tell me again why this is a good idea?"
"Because no one with half a brain would ever go in there looking for us."
Grace was not comforted by Bavo's explanation. "What does that say about us then?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. She knew they were going in no matter what, and she had a feeling that his reasoning was sound. Still, she didn't have to like it. "Does that mean we have more or less than half a brain for going there in the first place?"
Bavo smiled. "I'm not sure yet," he said, flipping a few switches, placing the ship into approach mode. "Ask me when this is all ov..."
A loud clank resounded on the ship’s hull. It was a force hard enough to cause the entire vessel to shudder, cutting Bavo off. The two fugitives looked at each other.
Taken by the Alien Warrior: Scifi Romance Page 4
