by Marie Dry
“This frog might stick to her well,” he heard her mutter.
It worried him, this preoccupation she had with frogs. Maybe the punishments and being alone on the farm had harmed her mind. He concentrated not to let his claws emerge. He’d find the woumbers who put the sadness in her eyes and the strangeness in her head.
Her eyes flashing fire at him, she dumped the cloth into the water, causing it to spill over onto the floor. She slapped the sponge over his chest and rubbed, as if she was a second change warrior who had to wash the whole deck of a space ship as punishment.
She dipped the cloth again and returned to his chest, this time moving the cloth slowly, following the contours of his body.
It took him a long time to realize that her eyes were glued to his chest and that her fingers touched him every now and then. His heart sped up, in a way that did not do his warrior self, credit. He didn’t care. She admired him, was touching his flesh with her fingers when she thought he wouldn’t notice.
“Have you not seen a male naked before?”
She froze, and fear flashed over her features before she visibly relaxed her muscles and continued down his torso to wipe the cloth over his stomach. She ignored the area below his stomach and above his knees as if it was invisible, like her TC wires.
“No, it is not acceptable for an unwed woman to gaze upon a naked man.”
There was something so dead about her answer, it felt as if she scraped his skin with knives instead of a cloth. He knew she lied to him and he wanted to find the male she’d seen without his clothes and destroy him.
“Why is it unacceptable?”
She shrugged but didn’t answer, simply continued on to sponge his calves and feet, something so resigned and sad about her actions, he felt ashamed for forcing this on her.
“Women should never be forward,” she said.
She sponged his toes, and he was about to relent and cover himself and allow her to stop touching him when she asked, “Do your toe nails come out as well?”
“Keep your hands away from my toes, and I will show you.” Warriors were not supposed to extend claws in the presence of their breeders, but he was a modern warrior, and he wanted the dead look in her eyes to go away.
She moved back and gasped when vicious claws sprang from his toes. “Magic,” she whispered.
“Genetic engineering,” he corrected without thought.
She ignored his reference. “Doesn’t it cut up your shoes?”
“Our shoes are designed to accommodate the need for claws during battle.”
She sat back. “I’m done. If you want me to do your back, you should lie on your stomach.”
He turned over, lay down, and winced when more of the sticky secretion poured from his freshly washed skin. The wood rubbed against his erection, and he adjusted himself. She made a soft sound, as if she was shocked at what he did. The next time he saw Viglar, that surly warrior was going to get the beating he deserved. No warrior wanted to be sticky like a spider before they laid eggs when they were naked with their breeder.
She started at the back of his head and made her way down his back. He shivered when her fingers grazed over his skin. Accident or did she enjoy touching him? Several times she’d touch him with her fingers instead of the cloth.
“How come you don’t have hair on your body?”
“In our galaxy, most intelligent life forms do not have hair.”
“Humans are intelligent.”
“Some of them are,” he agreed to make sure she didn’t stop touching him.
“Where is this galaxy? Is it like another country?”
He shouldn’t be, but he was shocked that she had no knowledge of something that basic. Azagor tried to think of a way to explain the concept of galaxies to her, but it was hard to concentrate when she swirled the cloth over his buttocks and upper thighs.
“Your Earth forms part of a solar system. Planets that move around your sun. My planet is part of another solar system.”
“Do the people on your planet have farms where they work and live?”
Their planet did not have any farms. Zyrgins owned farms on the planets they conquered, and the conquered worked the farms. He wasn’t about to tell her that. Humans did not understand the concept of conquest. “We do have farms. Zyrgins are hard workers. We had to be to survive the harsh conditions on our planet. The result is that now we are used to hard work and cannot be idle. Warriors without breeders have to work when they are not sleeping.”
“Why? We worked hard on the farms, but even we were allowed rest time.”
“We were...bred to be warriors, to conquer worlds. Warriors with time to themselves will fight and kill.”
She moved the cloth over the sweep of his back. “That’s terrible. Can’t you learn to control yourselves?”
“No.” Certain instincts had been bred into them for centuries while other traits had been carefully engineered by scientists. They would live with the results for many centuries more.
“Your spine is different, wider and protruding more than a human spine.” Before he could comment she asked, “What is a breeder exactly?”
He’d been prepared for the question, knew how the other breeders had reacted to the word. “It is the same as what humans call a wife.”
“That’s not so bad, but it’s rude to call someone that. You should stop.”
Susannah moved down his legs and, when she reached his foot, made sure to stay away from his toes with their lethal claws.
She sat back on her haunches and laughed when Killer pranced up to her. He pressed his head against her, growling softly. Putting the cloth in the water, she picked him up and kissed his head before settling him in her lap.
Azagor rose up on one elbow, facing her. He looked like a beautiful god. Almost as handsome as the space ranger on the TC.
“Where did you get the rat?” he asked. “I have not seen any animals that look like him around.”
“A...friend gave him to me.” Susannah cradled Killer against her and wondered if a heart could physically break. What if the resistance didn’t come? What if they did come and were mad at her because Azagor got out of the trap. How was she going to get Noah back now that Azagor was free?
“Tell me why you are sad.”
“I need the resistance to give me money for you, but my TC isn’t working.” She bit her lip the moment the words emerged without her permission. He already thought her ignorant, now she sounded like a whiny woman.
He stared at her for the longest time. “I will fix your TC. I am a superior Zyrgin and can fix anything.”
“Aren’t you afraid I will call the resistance?”
“You know their call address?”
“What’s a call address?”
He muttered something in his guttural language. “Bring me your TC, I will fix it,” he said in English.
Susannah stared at him and didn’t know what to do. What if he used the TC to call more of his kind to come here? Or maybe he only wanted to make sure her TC couldn’t work. She wanted to cry, didn’t know what to do. She pressed her lips together to hide their trembling. Squaring her shoulders, she took Killer into her arms and sat down cross legged on the floor. “Can you really fix my TC?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t have tools.” She couldn’t imagine what kind of tools you used to fix a box.
“I do not need your tools. I have what I need in my uniform.”
She didn’t see how he could have any tools in his uniform, but she wasn’t about to argue over something like that.
While he worked on her TC, she’d think some more on the daring plan that kept popping into her head. She had nothing left to lose. Maybe it was time for desperate measures.
He reached out and touched her silky braid. “I am your warrior, Susannah, you can tell me your problems, and I will solve them for you.”
“I’ll go and get the TC.” She’d trusted people before, and it had never worked out well for her.
She couldn’t stomach the thought of giving Azagor to the resistance, but she couldn’t come up with any other plans to get Noah back. She didn’t have the alien trapped anymore, but if the resistance came, they could catch him. She rubbed her arms. They’d hurt him, and it would be her fault. Sometimes he was oddly endearing, like when he pointed out to her all the unfortunate characteristics Killer had and then told her about his prowess as a warrior in contrast so that she should give him all her attention. For some reason she couldn’t fathom, Killer preferred his company. He would bark and bump him with his head until Azagor held the dog in his hand. Killer had even tried to use a certain bark to make Azagor take him to the window. She knew Azagor didn’t appreciate her dog trying to train him. Everything the alien did seemed to point toward him wanting her. Maybe this idea she had wasn’t that crazy.
Putting the TC in the pocket of her dress, she went back to the farmhouse. Azagor knew she wouldn’t try to escape without Killer, but she was sure he’d come looking for her if she took too long.
Walking back, she desperately tried to convince herself that her idea would work. But the voice inside her, that had made her defy Joseph, told her that she was doing something bad, and that bad things would come of it.
When she entered the bedroom, Azagor had Killer in his hand. He’d taken off his shirt again, and she had the strong impression that he knew she found his body fascinating and was trying to tempt her. But that would work well with her plan.
Susannah handed him the TC. “It just went dead one day. I pressed the button and shook it, but nothing happened. I don’t think it can be fixed.”
“It cannot be fixed by a human, but I am a superior Zyrgin.”
She stared down at him, expecting to see a teasing grin, but he was dead serious. She picked up Killer and sat down next to him. “Are you going to open it up?” She’d always wondered what it looked like inside. If maybe tiny people lived in there.
“Yes, I have to see if it’s a hardware problem.”
He pulled the bottom of the TC until it came off, and she and Killer leaned over to peer down into the TC. Little wires and small beads crawled inside the box. “Where’s the tiny people?” she asked before she could help herself.
She jumped up, and, grabbing Killer who protested with a soft yip, she went to the kitchen. “I’ll make us some lunch. You can eat it at the table.”
Azagor stared after her. She was embarrassed over her question, but she shouldn’t be. She hadn’t seen anything outside this farm. Her acceptance of the TC was a credit to her brave spirit, her willingness to learn. He would have to replace most of the components inside the TC. He’d ask Larz to bring it to him. He stood. First, he would go and eat whatever she prepared. He tracked her footsteps, but she didn’t try to run.
Azagor stopped in the kitchen doorway and stared at the rat in the cup. It couldn’t be what he thought. But the table was set with the rat in the cup on one side of the table and green leaves and berries on the other side. He didn’t like her rat, but he didn’t want to eat it either. There must be another reason why she put the rat in the cup.
Sitting down, he pulled the large cup closer and stared down at the rat. One bite and he wouldn’t have any rat problems in his life. He lengthened his incisors. Beady black eyes stared up at him. Its mouth was open, and it looked as if it smiled at him. He hesitated. “You are too disgusting to eat, rat,” he said in English.
Nothing would get him to admit that sometimes he thought it was a superior type of rat.
Its tail wagged over the rim of the cup. Azagor was about to retract his incisors when a shrill scream behind him nearly deafened him.
Susannah grabbed the rat away from him and cradled it against her chest. Then she turned on Azagor. Her left fist flying, she hit him everywhere she could reach. “How could you, you cannibal? Ouch.” She shook her hand and then came at him again. “I can’t believe you’d try to eat my dog. Ouch, dammit, what are you made of?”
Azagor grabbed her hands before she could hurt herself and held her still. “I do not want to eat your rat--pet. I assumed you left him for me as an offering. As a way to show me that you want to be my breeder.” Zacar was right, it was good to tease your breeder.
She tried to jerk loose and kicked his shins. “He’s a teacup yorkie, you moron. He got into the cup one day, and now he likes sitting in it. It doesn’t mean some disgusting alien should come and eat him.”
He pulled her onto his lap, but she kept trying to squirm away from him.
“I am relieved that I did not have to eat your rat. To be honest, he would not have been to my taste. His hair would get stuck in my teeth.”
She seemed beyond listening to him. “Cannibal,” she screamed at him.
“To be accurate, I would not be a cannibal if I had eaten him. I can only be a cannibal if I eat another Zyrgin. Which we don’t do,” he hastened to add, just in case she had the wrong idea about them.
“I don’t care what a cannibal is and isn’t. Don’t ever try to eat or harm my dog.”
Azagor suppressed a sigh. The others had told him that there were times a warrior couldn’t make his breeder act rationally. “I promise I will never eat your pet.”
She stilled in his lap, stared up at him, and then nodded. She got up from his lap and smoothed down her dress. “I have some canned meat for you. Someone brought it to the farm some time ago.” Again she looked sad. As if the memory of that time was difficult.
Knowing how dire her situation was, he was touched. He’d eaten worse during campaigns--though not much worse than the canned meat humans ate.
“Thank you, my breeder.”
She placed a chipped plate in front of him. Both plates were chipped and cracked, but she’d given him the better one.
She sat down, and they ate in silence for a while. Killer got up and came to sniff at Azagor’s food. Seeing an opportunity to get rid of some of the foul food on his plate, he fed Killer bits of his food. She watched closely but didn’t seem impressed with his generosity.
He took three food tablets from his pocket, placed two in front of Susannah, and broke a small piece off the third.
“What is that?” she asked and looked as if she’d make a run for it.
“My people make these for when we are at battle and cannot eat our normal meals. Our doctor made this to help humans who do not get enough nourishment through their food.”
She crossed her arms over her chest, and he had to work hard to concentrate on the conversation and not stare at how her breasts plumped up above her arms. “I’m not eating outsider food.”
He’d expected her to say that. He showed her the tiny piece he’d broken off. “This will keep your rat strong and healthy.”
He’d barely finished speaking before she grabbed the tablets and, putting them into her mouth, chewed them, rolling her eyes and making faces. When he was sure she’d swallowed the tablets, he gave the small piece to Killer.
They ate in silence until she said, “Do you think you can fix the TC?”
At last, he had an opportunity to show his breeder that her warrior would be good to have around. Pretending to be captured was not his best idea. Nothing had worked out the way he planned.
“It will take time, but I can fix it.” Larz could only bring the components he needed the next day. “How did you get the TC?”
“A--a friend gave me this one, and I hid it from the others.”
“The same friend who gave you Killer, gave you the T
C?” Caine, he knew she was talking about Caine.
“Yes.”
“What would they do if they caught you with the TC?” He’d spent too long on the space project. He should’ve been here, looking after his breeder. The marks on her back were evidence that he failed her. He’d never fail her again.
She looked down at her hands, a strange look crossing her face. “They’d punish me for having such an evil device.”
He couldn’t stop the growls in his throat. No one punished his breeder without dying. “No mere human is allowed to punish you.”
She laughed, a harsh bitter sound. “That’s rich, coming from you.”
“Why coming from me? I assure you that anyone who has dared to lift a hand to you will die.”
Her lips curled downward. “Years ago, when I said I saw a demon appear before me, they said I was making up stories or consorting with the devil. They couldn’t make up their minds what exactly my sin was. But they knew how they wanted to punish me.”
It took all his self-control not to get up and search out the people who used to live here with her. There was time for that. “How exactly did they punish you?” He’d find each and every one of them. He’d had no choice about working on the project in space, but he should’ve monitored the farm.
She stared down at her hands, her shoulders hunched. “They believed that evil should be burned out of a person.” She touched her shoulder where he’d seen the scar bisecting he shoulder blade.
Azagor jumped up and overturned the table. Only his reflexes saved her pet from crashing to the floor in the teacup. Never before did he want to kill so badly.
She screamed when the teacup flew through the air. He caught the cup with the yipping dog in it and, with his other hand, steadied Susannah and held her against him.
“You will tell me the location of every human who burned you. I will do the same to them until they scream for mercy. I will have none. Their deaths will be slow and painful.”
She stared up at him with a strange fixated look. “You’d do that for me? Even though I--” She bit her lip and her glance flicked to his shoulder.
“You captured me with honor. I am now your warrior, and I will hunt and destroy your enemies. Tell me where they are.”
