by Liza Probz
Sylvie didn't like the sound of that. But what she heard next she liked even less.
"No time for experiments. You've been scheduled for dissection."
Chapter 9
When Sylvia left Earth to explore an unknown planet, she'd considered the possibility of a hundred things going wrong. A navigation problem that left her stranded in space. The inability to find any traces of life on the planet. Deadly storms. The endless oceans swallowing her up. Malfunctions. Natural disasters. Failure.
She'd never once thought she might end up strapped to a lab table, about to be dissected.
"I'll tell you anything you want to know," she promised for the thousandth time.
No response.
A light flashed on above her, blinding her. Sylvie struggled against the restraints, trying desperately to escape. The restraints held, and soon she exhausted herself.
She couldn't help comparing her current situation with that of all the life forms she'd poked, prodded, and dissected in her time as a biologist. Had they felt this way? Like they couldn't breathe? Like panic was pressing down on their chest like a boulder?
"I'll never harm another living being again, I swear it," she murmured to herself. "I'll do anything. Just get me out of here!"
Her pleas went ignored.
One of the aliens approached her left side and she stiffened, her heart working hard to push its way out of her chest. It was the lead scientist, the one who'd informed her that she was scheduled for dissection with the same nonchalant tone her mother had used each morning to tell her breakfast was ready.
The alien's skin flushed pink with little purple striations as accents. She hadn't seen one of them turn pink yet.
What the hell does that mean?
Yellow was anger. Maroon seemed to signal anxiety. Purple was...
The regent had turned purple when he'd kissed her. So maybe purple was stimulation of some sort. But pink?
She jumped at the alien's voice. "This is Jark'Khal of the Ministry of Science. It is the fourth turn of the eighteenth rotation in the thirty-third cycle of the new age. Today's subject is an Earthling female, unknown age."
"I'm twenty-seven," Sylvie said. "Graduate of UCLA's astrobiology doctorate program, and the youngest faculty member to ever achieve senior research professor status at MIT."
The alien frowned down at her. Apparently her assistance wasn't required.
"The Earthling female has been scheduled for dissection to determine if there are any technological implants inside her that might have caused the planetary defense shielding to fail. Barring that, we are to look for possible biological factors that may have caused the failure."
Sylvie tried to tell him that she had no implants, and there was nothing biological that she knew of which could have caused the shield to malfunction.
The alien ignored her, rummaging around in a drawer out of her line of sight.
"Laser activated," the alien scientist said, clicking on a machine that hung over her shoulder. "First stage will be to slice through the epidermis layer, systematically peeling back the skin. Then we'll move on to organ removal."
This was it. She was a captive on an alien world, and she was about to be dissected.
Sylvie closed her eyes and tried to focus on better things. The beauty of Earth seen from her spaceship. The first sight of Zanthar, all swirling clouds and deep oceans. The striking gaze of the regent when he stared at her with hunger in his dark, glowing eyes.
Tears squeezed their way out beneath her eyelids as Sylvie resigned herself to finality.
Chapter 10
Xivthar hoped his brother had a good reason for pulling him away from the human female.
"What bad news have you uncovered now?"
His brother Drake's color remained a deep maroon, indicating anxiety bordering on fear. Fear was never a good thing to put on display in front of their people, especially not for the Minister of Defense.
"I've received word from Major Ontarii. He has reason to believe a Hareema operative is already on Zanthar."
The regent exhaled heavily. Since the Hareema had the power to mimic any living organism, the operative could be anything around them. Or anyone.
"Could the Earthling be the operative?"
Xivthar shook his head. "She took a shock big enough to jolt a Hareema into gelatinous form. She's human."
Drake frowned. "It has to be impersonating someone in one of the Ministries. It only makes sense that they'd go after someone powerful, someone with access to our defense systems."
The regent eyed the two guards stationed at the door suspiciously. Protocol required that no Zantharian be alone when a Hareema infiltrator was suspected. Because the Hareema had to change back into their original form, seven-foot tall rectangles of jelly, every six to eight hours, a single operative would have to find somewhere to hide while in its gelatinous state. Working in pairs was hoped to prevent this.
If it didn't, at least the Hareema could be determined by process of elimination.
It was the member of the pair that was still alive.
"If it isn't someone in charge, it would be someone who works closely with someone in charge."
"Like a guard?" Drake approached the pair. "Initiate electrical exchange."
The guards clasped hands, waves of light appearing on their skin, building up the charge. A powerful burst of light flashed between their hands, but their shapes remained the same.
"Where do we go from here?" Drake asked. "Even hourly electrical exchanges and the pair protocol doesn't ensure our safety. There could be multiple Hareema agents, or they could take the shape of another life form, something no one would notice, a plant, or a pet."
His brother was not exaggerating the Hareema threat, but panicking wouldn't help keep his people safe.
"I want a planet-wide curfew established and increased patrols. Anything that appears at all suspicious is to be reported."
Drake nodded, rushing to pull up his display and start sending orders.
"And I want that defense shield back up." Without the shield, they were vulnerable to the Hareema armada.
"We're working on it, but so far we've got nothing. Our scientists haven't figured out how to activate the damn computer, and all of the samples we've taken from the hull and essential systems haven't shown any incompatibility with our shields."
Drake stopped working the console to look at his brother. "We hope to uncover something during the dissection."
"Dissection?" The word made him shudder. He hoped it wasn't what he thought it might be.
"The Earthling. She's to be searched for technological implants or biological weapons."
Xivthar rounded on his brother. "On whose authority?"
"Mine. I am the Minister of Defense. And she is a threat."
Xivthar grabbed his brother by the neck. "She's not a threat. She's just a human female."
"You've lost perspective, brother. I was afraid this might happen."
The regent flashed yellow and slammed his brother into the wall. "I told you I'd take care of that threat. I don't appreciate your meddling."
"Is this what you call even-minded, Supreme One?" The words came out rough, as he was squeezing Drake's neck hard enough to impair his speech.
With a growl, Xivthar released his brother. "A dissection is ridiculous. None of the scans turned up anything on her, and it’s unlikely cutting her to pieces will either. But if we keep her alive, we can question her, or at the very least use her as bait to lure out the Hareema operative."
He gave his brother a withering stare. "I think the Minister of Defense has lost perspective if he thinks it wiser to dissect the only source of direct information we have rather than make use of it."
Drake stood, straightened his clothing, and returned to his console. "You're the regent. Do with her whatever you please."
Xivthar headed toward the door, hating the red stripes that appeared like deep grooves in the yellow of his skin.
"Re
member, brother," Drake said from behind him as he departed, "one way or another, that female is a threat. When it comes to pass, I hope she only takes you down, and not our entire planet."
Chapter 11
Sylvie's eyes fly open as the saw buzzed far too close to her. When the scientist had activated the laser, she'd assumed he'd use it to open her up. Not so. He stood above her holding a circular bone saw with a smile on his lavender face that didn’t quite look wholesome.
"Hold still," he muttered, his eyes dragging down the length of her body.
She shivered in terror and disgust as the saw inched closer. The room started to sway though she lay still on the cold metal, the air suddenly so damn hard to breathe.
The edge of the blade made contact with her flight suit, the saw cutting through the thick fabric with ease.
The scientist giggled. Sylvie stared up at him, wide-eyed. He was enjoying this.
The saw moved down her body, cutting a long slit in her flight suit. She held as still as possible until the horrible grinding of the saw cut off. Crying seemed appropriate, but some part of her was numb to what was happening.
The alien was breathing heavily and began to tug her flight suit off of her.
"You could have used the zipper," she snapped, gaining bravado at the dumbest of times.
His face tightened for a moment, then the smug smile returned. He walked down the length of her, dragging his fingers down her flesh, chuckling again.
Closing her eyes, she tried hard to not let herself fall apart. She should beg and plead, but something was quite off with this one. Dying with dignity wasn’t going to be part of the deal. That, nor clothes.
He lifted the saw once again and flipped it on.
The bravado that had led to the zipper comment deserted her as the saw moved closer, the sound of it promising horrific pain. It seemed hungry for a victim, for her.
"Please." Her voice sounded small to her own ears, the desperation stinging the staunch academic inside of her. "Please don't hurt me."
The alien licked his lips as the saw crept closer to her chest.
Sylvie closed her eyes, desperately seeking serenity but finding nothing but panic.
She could feel the wind of the blade against her skin as it cut through the center of her bra.
"Please!"
“Stop. Now.” The sound of a familiar voice yelling above the buzz of the saw caught her attention and dragged her from the depths of her terror.
Sylvie's eyes flashed open to see that a hand had grabbed the saw, a hand that was currently disabling the device and pulling it away. A hand that had gone bright yellow.
The saw discarded, the hand flew upward, becoming a fist that smashed into the scientist's nose.
"You sick bastard," a voice said, and Sylvie's heart thrilled in her chest. X.
"You were getting off on this." X reached down and grabbed the scientist by the neck, pulling him back to his feet. "Dissecting the helpless Earthling female. I'll have you bound to the Outer Reef and let the gnarsharks have their way with you."
"Wait! Supreme One! I can explain!" The scientist was blubbering, dark green blood leaking out of both nostrils. "The dissection was authorized. I was just doing my job!"
"So you usually become sexually aroused when performing your scientific duties?"
X was in a deep rage. His skin was so bright a yellow it was almost neon. And yet, within the yellow, she thought she saw faint hints of red, small traces scattered here and there. Odd.
"I'm... I'm not aroused!"
X laughed in the scientist's face, then threw him to the ground. "You lie to your Supreme Regent? I saw what color you were when I walked in the door. You disgust me."
So purple is arousal.
The alien scientist had been turned on, anticipating slicing her open. Her mouth filled with bile and she turned her head as far as she could, wanting to throw up but not choke on her own vomit.
Not far enough. Sylvie started to struggle, unable to swallow, unable to spit.
X came to her aid, ripping open the restraints and helping to tilt her away from the table.
Sylvie rolled over, hanging her head off the table and letting loose. She heaved and heaved, emptying her stomach of the earlier meal. Her muscles refusing to relax, her body convulsing hard again and again. She'd been through too much, was too exhausted, too emotionally drained.
A strong hand brushed back her hair, before rubbing her gently on the neck.
"Dr. Cohen, are you all right?" His voice was soft, warm.
The muscles of her abdomen relaxed as her heart contracted painfully in her chest. How close had she come to dying? She needed to get the hell out of there.
"No," she said when she was able to speak again. "I'm definitely not all right."
More footsteps. More people to take in her nudity and the remains of her lunch.
"Put him in a cell, under guard’s watch," X ordered, his voice commanding.
The sick bastard of a scientist, whose skin had now flushed crimson, was taken away by the guards. She wiped at her mouth with a shaking hand, her body still in fight or flight mode, adrenalin riding her hard.
A blanket was thrown over her shoulders, and then she was in X's arms, being carried out of the examination room. She glanced toward the three aliens who'd been stationed outside of the room, working on consoles when she'd entered, confused looks on their faces.
One stepped forward, his skin flushing maroon. "Supreme One, I'm unsure why you stopped the dissection. It was sanctioned by the Minister of Defense."
X stopped and turned slowly on his heel. "And what did you think to find that wouldn't have been revealed on our scans?"
"We had to be sure," the maroon one, probably the senior scientist, said.
"I agree. And we will be. But not like this." With those words, X carried her out of the laboratory.
Sylvie watched the hallway slide by until they came to a stop under a cream and boysenberry-swirled ceiling. A familiar ceiling.
X set her down gently on the same piece of furniture as before. A waterbed of sorts. Soft padding that gently waved beneath her, soothing her.
She closed her eyes and let out a long, shaky breath. Strong fingers grazed her chin and she reached out, wrapping her hand around his wrist, holding him in place. She couldn’t help but open her eyes, wanting to feel nearness to someone who was able and willing to protect her.
His dark eyes bore into her, the glowing ring that surrounded the black pupils seemingly expanded. "Are you hurt?"
"Yes," she said after a moment.
He scowled, his skin shifting from yellow to blue and back again. The quickness of the change made her lightheaded.
"Not physically," she said, releasing him and clasping her fingers over her stomach. "He didn't harm my body. But emotionally... I'm not sure I'll ever be the same after that."
X opened his mouth to speak, then closed it without a word. He stroked her hair back and took hold of her hand.
"You're still shaking." He moved away from the bed, returning with a small vial in his hand, kindness on his handsome face. "Open your mouth."
Sylvie was too weak to argue, so she simply beckoned to his request.
"This will help calm you down." A couple of drops hit her tongue, and he pushed gently on her chin to close her mouth. "You should rest now."
Sylvie let the heaviness overtake her as the trembling began to lessen. The darkness beckoned her come and she obeyed.
Chapter 12
Xivthar watched as the Earthling female slipped into sleep, her pretty face relaxing from its earlier grimace. Her shaking had ceased and she seemed to sense the truth – she was safe in his bed.
For now.
When he'd learned of the dissection from his brother, he'd hurried to the lab, unsure what he would find. If he'd been too late...
Finding Jark'Khal purple and menacing, and he'd lost his calm. Killing the fucker had seemed the better option, but he had to remain in contro
l of himself lest Drake call him out again. He had been physically violent with an underling, which wasn’t at all the way a Supreme Regent was meant to behave. His subjects would soon take notice, no doubt.
Still, how could he control himself when he'd seen how excited the little shit had become? Cutting off her clothes, teasing her with the saw. The son of a shark had deserved that punch. Like he deserved several more.
And the scientists who had sat calmly observing, they should be punished too. Asking him why he'd stopped the dissection. He was the lone sane man in a world full of crazies.
Unless he was the crazy one.
The female moaned in her sleep, and the regent stroked a finger across her cheek, unconsciously soothing her. The lead scientist had been anxious about confronting him but had nonetheless spoken up. He'd always seemed a reasonable man before, and he'd clearly thought the dissection was the right course of action.
But it couldn't be. Even if the rest of the planet thought it was.
Xivthar ran a hand through his tendrils, closing his eyes and trying to get a handle on his wayward thoughts. He couldn't be worried about what everyone thought or he'd second-guess his every move and there wasn't time for that. The threat from the Hareema was too serious.
He had to trust his instincts.
But was it instinct, or merely his desire for the Earthling, that was driving his actions? Ever since he'd seen his first image of a human female, he'd been fascinated by them. Their even skin, their soft hair, their sensual twists and turns.
Zantharian women did not have well-developed breasts or hips. They stored their embryos outside of their bodies for most of their pregnancies, and once the eggs hatched, their young were raised in special seawater ponds, feeding off the nutrients in the pools. Therefore female Zantharians had bodies similar to their males.
But human females, they were delightfully different. Smaller. More delicate. Curvier. Something about their shapes turned him purple quicker than any Zantharian female ever had.
And this female, her creamy skin and golden hair excited him like nothing else. The curve of her hip and the roundness of her bottom had his heart beating against his ribcage with the force of a fist. And the exquisite swell of her breasts made him hard, painfully so.
