by Ashe Barker
Now he was less sure of the wisdom of his decision. The wench now crumpled at his feet was scrawny, near enough emaciated. That could be put right, he supposed, with some decent nutrition suitable to her species. But her belligerent, awkward attitude down on the planetoid dismayed him. It was not that he was averse to providing the stern discipline required to ensure her compliance, but he feared the little human would not survive it. Would not survive him.
“Sir, look.” His musings were interrupted by the terse tone of his lieutenant. The man’s gaze was fixed on the large viewing window that afforded them a perfect vision of the planet they now orbited. The glow surrounding the doomed world had darkened to a deep, angry crimson and bursts of flame now erupted to send tendrils of scorching heat out into the atmosphere and beyond. “Any moment now, Commander.”
Phahlen removed his helmet and the cloak. He handed those to a crewman who had approached him, then he moved to stand beside his deputy. “Is the thermal mesh in place?”
“Affirmative, sir. I set it all up while you were on the surface.”
Phahlen nodded, and they watched in silence as the glowing shell deepened and expanded. There was a low, rumbling roar as though the planet even now refused to surrender, but the end was inevitable. The small world crumpled in on itself as the pressure became too much, disappearing before their eyes.
The Galeians chattered and fussed, clamouring indignantly around their leader, their strident twittering an assault on Phahlen’s ears. He couldn’t understand their babbling without his communication device, but got the distinct impression these unreasonable little fools held him responsible for the loss of their illegal mining enterprise. He shook his head and turned away.
“I need a communicator,” he announced. A guard scurried off to deal with his request as Phahlen strode back to where the human female still huddled on the floor. He leaned down to offer her his hand. “Get up,” he instructed her.
She stared at his outstretched hand but did not move.
“I said, get up.”
The girl started to shift, seemed to tentatively lift her hand to take his, but was suddenly sent sprawling by a kick to her ribs. Feelan had darted around Phahlen and now stood over the girl as she curled into a ball to avoid the further blows her attacker seemed intent upon delivering.
“Evil little bitch! Murdering, thieving whore! What did you do? How did you succeed in betraying us? You shall pay dearly for the wanton destruction of our property…” The Galeian danced about the prone figure, then drew back his scaly foot to deliver another blow.
He never got the opportunity. Phahlen seized him by the collar of his tunic and lifted him from his feet. The reptilian leader dangled from one of Phahlen’s hands, twisting and squealing in irate, impotent fury.
“Try that again and I’ll eject you through one of our escape portals, and I have no intention of wasting a life support pod on you. Do I make myself clear?”
There was more malevolent screeching from the diminutive bully. Phahlen put a stop to that by simply tightening his hold and cutting off his adversary’s air supply. At last good sense prevailed and the Galeian hung silent from the commander’s fist, though his venomous gaze never left the human on the floor.
The guard returned with a spare communicator and Phahlen held out his free hand for the man to strap it to his wrist. He thanked the crew member, then turned his attention back to the matter in hand. Phahlen lowered Feelan back to his feet and gestured with his thumb that the chancellor was to re-join the other Galeians. Feelan shuffled away, but halted after a few paces. He turned to face Phahlen again, his expression brightening.
“My apologies for the trouble our prisoner has put you to, Commander, and I thank you for salvaging our property. If you would be so kind as to convey this creature to your brig for the duration of our onward journey…?”
The Galeian race was renowned for their tendency to twist facts and disregard anything that failed to support their view of a situation. Even so, Feelan’s ability to ignore the tension crackling in the room and behave as though nothing was amiss astonished even the seasoned Vahlean commander. Phahlen narrowed his eyes at the small being who now strutted before him. “What?”
“Or if it’s more convenient we can take custody of her again.” Feelan beckoned to some of his crew to come forward. “Take the prisoner, secure her well, and—”
“Keep your hands off her,” growled Phahlen.
The Galeians paused, looking from him to their own leader and back.
“If you wish to purchase her from us, the price will be ten thousand trimets.” Feelan beamed up at him, avarice gleaming in his beady eyes. “A fair price, I think. Given your… predicament.”
“Our situation has no bearing on this matter, and is none of your business,” Phahlen ground out. His lips thinned as he regarded the greedy little alien. “How did this human come to be in your clutches anyway?”
“I explained that. She is a thief and a spy. She and her comrades intended to rob us, so we shot down their invading craft before they could unleash their evil on our people. We are a peaceful race, as I am sure you are aware, and—”
“Am I to understand that you not only illegally occupied Vahlean territory, but you also fired on an unidentified spacecraft and took the survivors prisoner?” Phahlen’s tone lowered, his eyes hardening.
“Not unidentified. Spies, as I said.”
“From what planet? Under what treaty or declaration did you use lethal force against them?”
“We knew—”
“How? How did you know? Did the vessel fire on you?”
“They would have, but we succeeded in neutralising them before they could inflict harm upon our civilians.”
“Were there other survivors?”
“Three, including that one. The other two died soon after the crash.”
“How long has she been in your… care?”
The Galeian shrugged, a peculiarly awkward motion. “Three lunar cycles, maybe four…”
“And what did you intend to do with her?”
“She will stand trial on Galeia for her crimes.”
“I doubt she would have survived to do so, even without the thermal implosion. And in any case you left her on the planet to perish.”
“We had little choice, Commander. You abducted us without warning, we had no opportunity to—”
“You would not have alerted us to her presence on the planet. Would you? We had to discover that for ourselves. If my lieutenant had not made a final check, she would have died.”
Again the Galeian hunched his shoulders in a dismissive shrug. “She is a criminal, of no importance.”
Phahlen’s smile was cold, calculating. “And yet, you see fit to attempt to sell her to me for an exorbitant sum.”
“Ah, well, such are market forces, Commander. I could accept seven thousand, at a pinch.” He smirked at the Vahlean. Feelan’s features still bore that inane, avaricious smile as he was again lifted from his feet and sent hurtling back to where his comrades clustered. The other Galeians had listened to the exchange with interest, clearly sharing their chancellor’s view that there could be a profit to be made here. That belief appeared to dissipate as Phahlen strode in their direction. The ophidian group fell back, wisely putting some distance between themselves and the Vahlean captain.
He crossed his arms over his chest and raked the group with a blistering gaze. “The girl is mine. She is in Vahlean custody now. I intend to investigate the circumstances which led to her presence on a craft orbiting three seven nine. If I learn that you shot down a peaceful, authorised scientific or civilian mission, you will regret that action. You will regret it most bitterly.”
“And if she was a spy? Then you shall return her to us?”
Phahlen glared at the chancellor and arrived at the conclusion that the man never knew when to quit. He turned to Baren, who had watched the exchange in silence. “Please ensure none of our ‘guests’ leaves this room, then set a course for Galeian F
ederation space. The sooner these… individuals… are off my ship, the better I’ll like it.”
“Aye, sir.” The lieutenant consulted his hand-held monitor. “We’re three days from Galeia, Commander, give or take.”
Phahlen offered him a curt nod. “See to it I don’t hear a peep from this lot until we arrive there.”
He strode back to where the human still crouched, her wide-eyed stare riveted on his features as he bent over her.
“You need to come with me, little human. Yes?” He offered his hand again. This time she took it and clambered to her feet. “Follow me,” Phahlen instructed, and marched in the direction of the door. He never looked back to make sure she was behind him. He had no need to.
Chapter Two
Caria hurried to keep up with the tall alien as he strode along the wide corridor outside the lounge. Her ribs throbbed where the odious little Galeian had attacked her and she probed her bruises gingerly. Her head ached from the trauma of the transport to this ship. She hated molecular transport systems; they made her nauseous and her stomach roiled from the experience. She might have thrown up were it not for the fact she’d eaten almost nothing for weeks. The journey had been mercifully short, no more than a few par-beats, but the heat so intense she had been sure her hair had caught fire. She had remembered the alien’s terse instructions to her though, and had clung to the solid form of his muscled body.
Now, from what she had managed to make out from the furious row between her previous captors and the current one, she was headed for another cell. The brig on this ship would no doubt offer better accommodations than those provided for her on the planet, but a prison was still a prison.
He took a sharp left and she scurried along in his wake. The alien, clearly the commander of this vessel, paused to check something on one of the small screens set into the corridors at regular intervals. He spared her a glance, then continued on his way. He turned to his right, then halted before a sealed door. He hit some keys on a wall-mounted pad and it slid open.
“Inside,” he instructed, gesturing for her to pass him.
Caria obeyed. There was no other choice. She stepped forward into her new jail.
She paused, her jaw dropping as she gaped about her and took in the functional yet spacious room, not luxurious but without doubt comfortable. And most decidedly not a prison.
Caria turned to regard her new captor, her bafflement surely writ large across her features. “But, this is not your brig, surely?”
He frowned at her. “Of course it is not. Why would I wish to install you in our brig? These are my quarters. You shall share them.”
“Your… quarters? This is where you live?”
He offered her a short nod. “As will you, from now on.”
“With you? I am to live with you?” Caria repeated the words, knowing she sounded stupid and slow, but this was just too much, too bizarre.
“With me, yes. I have a use for you.”
She stared at him, trying to make sense of this turn of events. Perhaps the Vahlean commander intended her to perform some task for him, domestic labour, most likely. Caria swallowed hard. This was not what her training had prepared her for but perhaps she could manage that. Anything was better than being locked up and starved again, and though this man was the most intimidating individual she had ever met, he had not, so far, shown her any deliberate cruelty.
“I… I am to work for you, sir?” she enquired cautiously.
“There will be no requirement for you to undertake any specific labour on board the Empyrean, unless you choose to do so.”
“Oh, I see. Then…?” Caria was at a loss.
“You are here because I intend to fuck you. At will. It is my intention that you shall bear offspring for me, who will be reared to become part of the Vahlean race.” He paused, seemed to take in her dazed, incredulous expression, then continued in a less harsh tone. “Please be assured that you, and any children you may produce, will be well treated. I shall require obedience and respect from you, and failure to satisfy me in those regards will attract punishment, but otherwise you have nothing to fear.”
Nothing to fear? Terror bubbled in Caria’s throat. He would hold her as some sort of sex slave. This powerful alien commander intended to breed with her, whether she cared for the notion or not. Or so he thought. He had a rude awakening coming his way if he hoped for that particular outcome. She staggered forward as her knees started to buckle.
The captain was quick. He stepped forward and caught her, then lifted her in his arms and carried her to a low seating arrangement along one wall. Caria briefly considered struggling but thought better of it. The man was three times her size and would not be defeated by any physical efforts of hers.
Once he had settled her upon the seat that hovered, suspended in the air at about the level of his knees, he straightened and regarded her from his somewhat lofty height.
“You should eat. I will explain your situation more fully after you have done so.” His tone was gentler now and he seemed to intend her no immediate harm. Even so, Caria watched fearfully as he left her where she was and strode back across the room to the outer door. Beside it was a small grill with a keypad alongside. He pressed a button then spoke into the grill.
“I require sustenance suitable to the nutritional needs of a human female adult.” He hesitated and glanced back at her. “Increase portion size by thirty percent.”
He leaned against the far wall, his arms folded across his wide chest. He regarded her under lowered brows, his expression thoughtful. Several seconds passed, then a small light flashed beside the keypad. The Vahlean opened a small door set into the wall at shoulder height and extracted a tray. On it Caria could see a bowl of something that emitted both steam and a tantalising aroma. He returned to where she sat, kicking a low table into place before her, and set down the bowl.
Caria leaned forward and sniffed. It was some sort of hotpot. She could see large, solid chunks of meat and the strong colours of fresh vegetables. The smell was amazing, mouth-watering after the frugal fare she had existed on for the last few months. A spoon lay beside the bowl.
“For me?” She hardly dared believe it.
“Yes. Other nutritional options are available, naturally, if you prefer a different meal.”
“No! No, definitely not. This is perfect. Thank you.” Caria was ravenous. She set aside her fears and grabbed the spoon, then dipped it in the stew. She lifted it to her mouth and savoured the explosion of familiar flavours. Despite everything she couldn’t restrain her smile as she looked up at her companion. “This is wonderful. The best thing I’ve tasted in ages. Is there any bread?”
He offered her a sardonic bow and returned to the keypad.
“Bread, please. Same nutritional parameters as my previous order.” Seconds later the light flickered and this time he produced a plate bearing three crusty bread rolls and a tub of butter. He carried this over to the sofa and set them beside the bowl. “I can see that you need some time to adjust to your new situation. Also, there are matters requiring my attention on the bridge, following the implosion on three seven nine. I shall leave you to enjoy your meal in peace, and then you may feel free to explore these accommodations. There is a shower, offering both aqueous and atomic cleansing functions and you may request clothing of your choosing from the ship’s bursar.” His gaze raked her scanty attire with obvious interest, and a sufficient hint of disapproval to cause Caria to squirm in her seat. “You saw how I contacted housekeeping?”
“I… yes. The speaker thing.”
He nodded. “The beta key will connect you to our core processing unit, and you may make any verbal requests you like. Our translation software will ensure that you are understood. I wish you to be comfortable whilst you are here.” He strode in the direction of the door, then paused and turned to look at her again. “Your name, please, human?”
“Caria, sir,” she replied.
“Is that it? All of it?”
“My pa
rents were called Montgomery. Are called Montgomery.”
He nodded and turned to continue on his way.
“Wait!” Caria called after him, setting the bowl aside.
He stopped and turned his head to regard her over his left shoulder. “Yes?”
“May I know your name, sir?”
A few par-beats passed, then he inclined his head to her in a gesture she could only describe as both formal and incongruously polite given his clearly stated intentions for her. “You may. I am Phahlen Verdar, commander of the Empyrean and a member of the Vahlean High Congress.” He completed the remaining paces to the door. “I will return as soon as I am able. Please, make yourself at home.”
* * *
The door had barely closed on the commander before she was pounding on the outer portal, seeking a way out. She established fairly quickly that nothing she did would cause the outer door to open again so she was unable to escape the confines of this apartment to seek freedom elsewhere on the ship. Even if she did manage to get out of Phahlen’s quarters, she reflected gloomily, there was nowhere to go. She abandoned her efforts with reluctance and instead decided to make good use of this time alone. Her first priority would be to finish her stew. She had been on starvation rations for weeks and her growling stomach would not wait. Then, she would wash the filth of her subterranean prison from her body.
Caria emerged from the shower feeling refreshed and clean, the first time she had enjoyed such a sensation since her ship was shot out of the skies by the Galeians. She had selected the aqueous option since she’d never really warmed to the atomic style of personal cleansing—too dry and functional for her taste. Caria loved the sensation of warm water peppering her skin, reminding her that after all, despite all the odds, she was actually still alive.
Pleasantly well-fed, and now clean, she wrapped herself in a huge bath sheet and strolled around the spacious quarters. She knew of the Vahlean civilisation. They were allies of Earth and made regular visits to her home planet though this was her first direct encounter with them. It was clear the Vahleans did not lack for technology, and nor did they live simply. She wasn’t able to fathom the operation of everything she discovered, but soon realised she would not lack for entertainment whilst here, nor for educational opportunity. The holo-station she found in the main living space could fabricate pretty much any object she might desire, though she learned quickly that some items required special clearance. Her attempt to acquire a laser pistol failed for that reason, as did her request for an intergalactic communication device. The Vahlean commander appeared generous, but cautious too.
