by Aline Ash
The wall before me suddenly dims, then goes dark, keeping anybody from seeing in. Behind me, I hear the electronic hissing of the sonic shielding being lowered, and I turn to see a tall, thin Gargolian woman wearing black leather breeches, high boots, and a black leather vest over a white tunic step into my cage. This woman too, in all her lizard-person glory, still somehow seems… elegant. Refined. It’s in the way she carries herself, and I can’t deny it.
A pair of large, burly Gargolian males stand on either side of the opening in the shield they’d passed through, glaring at me. The woman, though, stands before me in silence, looking down at me with those cold, reptilian eyes that send a chill sweeping through me. Not wanting to show weakness, I have to physically suppress my shudder.
“I am Omna,” she announces. “And you murdered my husband.”
Chapter Three
Eva
The chill coursing through my body is quickly turning into frostbite as I watch the Gargolian woman pacing languidly around my eight-by-eight enclosure. She seems to glide as she walks, smoothly and silently, as if her feet aren’t even touching the ground. All the while, those cold, reptilian eyes never leave me. She’s sizing me up, taking my measure. And I can tell she’s not impressed with what she sees. Not that I care.
“Bruc was not a good husband,” Omna hisses. “But he was my husband.”
I stand firm and glare at the Gargolian woman who continues to circle me like a shark who’s looking for an opening to strike.
“Yeah, well, your husband kept me prisoner on his fucking ship,” I spit back. “He raped me every single day. He did things to me… so I handled it.”
My voice trails off and I fall silent, not wanting to detail the laundry list of perversions he made me perform. There’s no use telling Omna these things because she’s either not going to believe me or isn’t going to care. The fact that she’s so upset about me killing her husband even though she admits he wasn’t good to her tells me that she’s not exactly rational. She will not be somebody I can bargain with.
“Oh, so you admit to killing him?” she growls.
“I admit nothing,” I snap. “He took me against my will. Forced himself on me. I did what I had to do.”
As if it appeared out of thin air, Omna is holding a long, thin metal rod in her hand I recognize as something Bruc introduced me to. A shock-stick. He used one on me more than a few times, the bastard, and called it an Obedience-stick.
I had just registered what she’s holding, and Omna’s already in motion before I even realize she’s moving. She spins, and in one fast, fluid movement, slams the shock-stick into my midsection. For a brief moment, I feel nothing, but then the explosion of pain in my belly is so intense that tears immediately spring from my eyes. The breath is driven from my lungs in one loud burst. My legs buckle and I fall to my hands and knees, retching and gasping for air at the same time.
“My husband was many things. Did many things. He lay with many women. As I said, he was not a good husband,” she says, her voice ice cold. “But he was not what you are accusing him of. No, it is more likely that you forced yourself upon him. And then, when you could not conceive and he was going to set you aside in favor of another, you murdered him. You killed my husband when it was not your place to do so.”
“Yeah, that sounds right,” I croak. “Tell me, do you actually believe the bullshit you spew, or are you just here to put on a show?”
My comment is rewarded with a powerful kick to my stomach that sends me sliding across the smooth stone floor, and drives out what precious little breath I had managed to take in. I curl into a ball, tears rolling down my face. I hate myself for crying in front of Omna. I want to beat myself for showing weakness and giving her the satisfaction of seeing it.
“Get her up,” Omna says.
The next thing I know, the two burly Gargolians are lifting me off the ground and holding me up. Each of them has one of my arms and I dangle between them, exposed and completely vulnerable. Omna paces back and forth in front of me, a light of excitement in her eyes as she watches me fighting for breath. She plays with the shock-stick in her hand, a cruel smile on her face.
“You humans are so delicate,” she says. “So fragile. So very easy to…break.”
Her words are accompanied by a low, throaty growl that sends goosebumps marching across my skin. My stomach churns and my heart thunders in my chest as I find myself caught in the icy grip of terror. Gripping the handle, Omna holds the shock-stick up, making sure I can see it clearly. She waves it menacingly and I can’t take my eyes from it, knowing what it can do. What she is going to do.
Omna presses the button I know is in the handle and the tip of the stick glows a neon blue. My stomach lurches. My mouth is dry, and I can’t stop trembling, knowing what’s coming next. Omna’s eyes narrow and her smile is cruel as she steps forward.
“No. Don’t,” I gasp.
What sounds like a laugh, harsh and grating, passes her lips as she presses the tip of the stick to my belly. The flash of pain is instant and blinding, making my entire torso twist and convulse as the electricity courses through every cell in my body. I can’t stop the scream that bursts from my mouth as Omna holds the tip against me for what feels like an eternity.
Finally, she turns off the power and lowers the stick. I feel completely wrung out and I can’t catch my breath. Omna steps forward so that the blunt tip of her muzzle is scant inches from my nose, and her eyes bore into mine. Her breath is warm and putrid, carrying the stench of rotting meat, as it washes over me.
“How did that feel?” she hisses.
“Amazing,” I croak.
Omna drives her fist into my belly and I’m left limply hanging between the two guards, feeling like I’m going to die.
“Pleasant, yes?” Omna says with a smirk.
I open my mouth to reply but find that I just don’t have the steam right now. Plus, I kind of want this to be over. I just let myself hang there, head down, hair covering my face, probably drooling, as I struggle to find my breath again. Omna makes some sort of gesture I can’t fully see, but the next thing I know, the two guards let go of me. I hit the ground with a meaty thud and lay there, my face pressed to the cool stone.
Omna stands over me, and after laying there for a few minutes, I get the idea she’s not going anywhere. Not until she has her say. I’m able to at least get my breath back eventually, but my body shrieks in pain. I manage to roll over and look up at her.
“Why are you doing this?”
“Were you not listening?”
“Sort of hard to listen when you have somebody beating on you.”
She smirks. “I have not yet begun to beat on you, child.”
“Why don’t you just kill me?”
“If I wanted you dead, I would have had my hunters kill you out in the jungle,” she sneers. “No, I went to some trouble to bring you here.”
“Why?”
“I have plans for you,” she replies. “Big plans. You are going to be one of the main attractions for our most elite clientele. People from your planet are not something common on Gargole, or here on Tabia. They will pay handsomely to see a specimen as rare and unusual as you. Eventually I am going to kill you as recompense for you murdering my husband, of course. But until I decide to end your wretched existence, you will be an earner for me first.”
She nods at the two guards, who resume their positions beside the door as Omna begins to pace in front of me again, crossing her long, shapely arms over her chest. She stops and turns to me, and if looks could kill, I’d be dead ten times over already.
“Like I told you before, Bruc was not a good husband, but he was mine,” she said. “It was not for you to take his life. And now you must pay the price.”
She turns and walks away from me, heading for the door in the shield. She gives a casual wave of her hand.
“Take her to the med-bay. Have her healed.”
Chapter Four
Eva
&n
bsp; The two finely-dressed Gargolians stand on the outside of my cube, looking in at me. A smaller, younger, but no less creepy looking lizard boy - their offspring I assume - stands in front of them. He’s looking at me with fear in his wide eyes. His parents though, hurl insults, throw rocks at my cube, and laugh at me.
In a sudden flurry of motion, I jump toward the sonic wall, waving my arms wildly, and scream like a banshee. The kid lets out a scream and ducks behind the flowing dress of his mother, a strange choked, guttural sound issuing from him. It takes me a minute to realize he’s crying. The parents scowl at me and I laugh like it’s the funniest thing I’ve ever seen, doubling over and clapping my hands, my sides hurting.
They glare at me for another moment before ushering the kid off protectively, casting dark looks back at me as they go. I keep laughing.
Hey, you have to take the entertainment where you can find it in this place.
As I stand there, waving at the retreating forms of the little lizard family, the walls of my cube grow dim and then become opaque. Again.
“Is it that time already?” I ask with a sigh as I get to my feet.
“It certainly is.”
Omna steps inside, the shock-stick already in hand, and her guards take their usual spots beside the door. The last few days have been the same as the first. And unless I can get out of here, I have a feeling the rest of my days will be like this.
I sit in the cube all day being gawked at by the Gargolians strolling by like I’m some goddamn circus sideshow freak. Then, as the second sun starts its descent, my cube is dimmed, and Omna makes an appearance. She beats me with exceptional vigor and an obvious joy in her heart, and then I spend the night in the medical facility having my wounds tended to. And in the morning, I’m stuck back in the cube to do it all over again.
Lather, rinse, repeat.
Omna stops in front of me, glaring down at me with what I can only describe as an expression of smug self-satisfaction. I feel tired. Stiff. Sore. And entirely pissed off. That she is keeping me here, treating me like her own personal punching bag has gotten real old, real fast. And for the first time since they caught me in the jungle, I feel strong. Maybe it’s my rage that’s fueling me, but I want to slap that smug smile off her scaly lips. And for the first time in days, I feel like I can.
Maybe sensing the defiance in me, Omna’s eyes shine with a gleeful, maniacal light. She raises her arm, getting ready to deliver a blow with her shock-stick, when something inside of me snaps. Before she can bring the stick down, I move and deliver a pair of hard blows to her face. Taken off guard by my outburst, Omna staggers back a couple of steps. A thick green, viscous fluid spills from her nose holes and she touches her fingers to it.
The guards start to move, but Omna holds up her hand, stopping them. She stares down at the blood on her fingertips, then looks up at me for a moment, shock registering on her face. That’s quickly replaced by an expression of rage, and with a low growl, she charges me.
I hold my ground and at the last second, spin to the right, throwing my leg out as I go. I catch her across the knee with my foot, sending her pitching forward. Her momentum is too great, and she can’t stop, slamming into the side of my cube. The sound of crackling, pulsing energy combines with her screams of pain and outrage, filling the cube with perhaps the sweetest music I’ve ever heard.
Omna manages a step back from the energy field and collapses to the ground. She lays there, her entire body twitching and pulsing, as she continues to moan. I’m so busy soaking it in and enjoying the sight I don’t even know the blow is coming. It catches me across the back of my shoulders and drives me to my knees. Pain lights up my entire body and the breath is driven from my lungs.
I manage to crane my neck enough that I can see one of the guards looming over me, his shock-stick already raised and coming down again. I roll, trying to get out of the way, but it catches me in the hip. My body explodes with pain and I cry out. His massive foot connects with my midsection and my voice is immediately reduced to incoherent burbles and gasps.
I watch as Omna gets to her feet, her legs still a bit shaky. She waves off the hands of the guard who tries to steady her and glares at me imperiously, her face etched with the rawest hatred I’ve ever seen. Personally, I can’t believe she’s on her feet again. Going straight on into a sonic shield like that is enough to kill. It probably would kill me. But covered in the thick scales of the Gargolian people, it seems to have only caused her pain—and pissed her off.
She looms over me, hatred in her eyes. The guard hands her the shock-stick she dropped, and with a savage cry, she starts raining blows down on me. My body is aflame with pain as each blow lands in a different spot, the solid metal of the rod sending shockwaves of agony washing through me. I don’t know how long it goes on or how many blows she’s landed, all I’m aware of is the sound of her ragged breathing and the exquisite pain that runs from the crown of my head to the tip of my toes.
“Enough!” a man’s voice roars.
My body still one throbbing ball of pain, I crack open my eyes to see a heavyset Gargolian man enter. He’s an inch or two shorter than Omna, and the guards beside the door tower over the newcomer, but he has an air about him that’s intimidating. There’s something about the man that sets my teeth on edge, and without him saying or doing anything, makes me understand that he is capable of terrible things.
The guards beside the door seem to stiffen even more and it’s obvious they are deferring to him. But Omna stands defiantly, glaring hard at the newcomer. He casts an icy glance at me, then turns his eyes back to her.
“I was told you were doing this,” he hisses.
“And?”
“I told you the human female was not to be harmed.”
Omna waves her hand. “She is not harmed,” she says, her voice tight. “And I have her healed in the med-bay every night. Look at her. She’s the picture of health, Father.”
“You were told to stay away from her.”
Omna stiffens and her face grows even angrier looking, something I did not think possible. She glares at me, then back at her father. There are a few tense moments of silence and it seems like some communication is passing between them. The tension in the air around me is building and I suddenly fear I’m going to be laying here, witnessing a father murder his child. Even though I wouldn’t shed a tear for her, I don’t really want to see it.
Gritting my teeth against the pain, I scoot as far away from the pair as discreetly and unobtrusively as I can.
“She killed my husband,” Omna seethes, her voice filled with barely controlled rage.
“Your husband was a pile of roknor dung. He was weak. Conniving,” the man shoots back. “She did you a favor by killing him.”
“Perhaps that is true, but it was not for her to take his life,” Omna presses. “If Bruc’s life was to be taken, it was for me to take.”
The man glares at her, menace radiating from his every pore. “It is done. Bruc is dead. And you are to stay away from this one. I need her.”
“You would deny that which is owed to me?” Omna spits. “It is my right as Bruc’s widow to kill this creature.”
“And it is my right as your father and the head of our clan to tell you to be silent and do as I command. Now leave this cage or I will have you beaten. And if you lay another hand on this specimen, I will have you beaten worse. Am I understood?”
Omna steps closer to him, her eyes narrowed, rage flowing through her features. Her father stands before her, unmoved by her display of anger. He simply stands there looking at her the way any parent would look at an unruly child.
“There will come a day when you are no longer the head of our clan—”
Omna’s words are cut off by a vicious backhand from her father. Her head rocks to the side and she staggers a couple of steps. She quickly rights herself though and looks like she wants to murder her father right then and there. But then I see the realization cross her face that she knows she is not st
rong enough to do it and she storms out of the cell, her guards falling into step behind her.
A new pair of guards, these I assume to be her father’s, step in and take up their positions. The man looks at me with neither warmth nor hostility. He simply looks at me as if I am a piece of furniture he bought and is checking for nicks and dings.
“Th-thank you,” I say. “For stopping—”
“I did not do it for you,” he waves me off. “I did it because you potentially have tremendous value to me. I am merely protecting my investment.”
It doesn’t give me the warm fuzzies, but at least the daily ass-kickings are going to stop. I hope.
“Take her below,” the Gargolian orders his guards, then turns and walks out of my cell.
The two guards pick me up and set me down on my feet. My legs still feel a little watery and weak, but I manage to walk. They press close behind me and nudge me forward. I walk through the door in the shield and they lead me down a path that runs behind my cube and to a small outbuilding. I look around and see there are half a dozen other paths, all coming from different directions that lead to the same building. Dozens and dozens of cubes like mine fill the grounds out there. Way more than I saw from my cell.
“Move,” one of the Gargolians behind me grunts when I slow my pace to look around.
Inside the building is a grav-lift, and when they press the button, the door slides open with a pneumatic hiss. They push me forward and into the car. A moment later, the doors slide closed and the car quickly descends. It’s only a matter of seconds before it settles down and the doors slide open again, and they’re pushing me out into the massive room beyond.
