Terran (Breeder)

by Cara Bristol

  “I was thinking about what you said.”

  “What was that?”

  “That you did not wish to breed. That you could not produce offspring.”

  She knew he had intended no malice, but his comment hit her like a sucker punch. She pressed her palm to her abdomen as tears sprang to her eyes. Blinking, she rolled away. She had packed her possessions and her anguish and fled Terra, convinced a new life, a grand adventure, would dull the pain. Until now, it had seemed to be working.

  Picture-sharp memories flooded on a wave of emotion so strong, the incident could have occurred yesterday. Striding through a dark shuttle garage from her personal vehicle to her flat, her arms laden with packages. Did she have enough food in her apartment to fix dinner, or should she have picked something up? Then footsteps. Bobby. Her neighbor. The loner. Since she’d moved in, he’d asked her out many times. She had let him down easy at first, but as his overtures grew more frequent, brasher, and more suggestive, she’d rebuffed him far less politely. The glint of a knife. Packages hitting the ground. She’d focused on saving her face but had lost something far more precious.

  Pressure built behind her eyes, her cheeks. Suck it up. Suck it up.

  Marlix seized her arm, his touch firm but gentle. “What is wrong?”

  “Nothing.” She averted her gaze. “I cannot bear children.”

  “Why not?”

  Was he devoid of all manners? All social graces? They may have done the horizontal tango, but that did not entitle him to ask probing, personal questions. She stiffened and lifted her gaze to glare at him. Good God, was that sympathy on his face? She did not need an alien’s pity.

  “Because of this!” She raked a hand across her fading abdominal scar and burst into tears. Mortified, she buried her face in her hands.

  She had not cried when Bobby left her bleeding out on the shuttle garage floor.

  She had not cried when doctors managed to save her life but had informed her the damage had weakened her uterus to the extent she would be unable to carry a child to term.

  She did not cry when Mother Nature mocked her with a visit each month.

  Yet here, in front of an alien who could not understand her despair, she wept and wailed. With his palm, Marlix petted her head, two light taps. Repeated the action on her shoulder. Once on her thigh. He patted as if he were trying to find the right button to push to switch off her tears. “Tara…” Her name rumbled, the first time she’d ever heard him use it. “Do not—do not…”

  The bed moved when he sat up. He settled an arm around her shoulder, his embrace tentative, awkward, as if he’d never hugged anyone. She cried harder.

  He pulled her against his chest, and she found herself clinging to him, sobbing against his neck. He tightened his arms, enveloping her in a cocoon of his warmth and strength.

  Marlix, the big baboon, the Neanderthal, her abductor, said nothing but rested his cheek against her head and rocked her.

  * * * *

  “Monto!”

  A shout awakened Tara out of a dead sleep. She jackknifed to a sitting position. Masculine features had twisted into an expression of horror.

  “What is it? What’s wrong?” She followed Marlix’s horrified gaze to the red stain beneath her, all over her.

  Oh great. Just what I need. She did a quick mental calculation. Yep. It was that time.

  “I must summon the physician.” He raked a hand through his hair and leaped out of bed.

  “Urazi!” he shouted.

  “No! Stop!” Tara lunged for his arm. “It’s okay,” she said in a soothing voice. “I’m all right.” She knelt on the bed and hung on to his wrist, aware of the stickiness between her thighs. She avoided looking at the embarrassing mess.

  “I have injured you. I never should have used you. I knew you were too small.” With his free hand, he thumped his chest hard. He appeared stricken. She glanced at herself and winced. Blood smeared her hips and thighs and spread across the bedding as if she’d bled pints instead of a fraction.

  “I am not hurt,” she reassured him. “This happens every month.”

  “You bleed like this every month? How do you survive?” Though still wide-eyed, he appeared a little calmer.

  She released his arm and yanked at the bed covering, then wrapped it around her waist. Sheesh! She even had reddish-brown smudges on her chest and abdomen from having touched herself without knowing it. She looked like she had after Bobby— “Parseon females don’t menstruate?” she asked.

  “Monto! Of course not.”

  “How do their bodies prepare to carry a baby, to give birth?”

  “Not this way!” He swept a hand in an arc. “This is normal?”

  “Yes, but it doesn’t happen like this. Usually I can predict when the bleeding will occur, and I can prepare so it doesn’t create a mess. I don’t have the stuff with me.”

  “What do you need?”

  “It’s called a menstru-cup.” She had to use the Terran word due to a lack of a Parseon equivalent. “I insert it, and it captures the—” She broke off. Marlix had paled. Sweat glistened on his forehead. He had whitened like he might pass out. “Okay, too much information.” Tara suppressed an amused smile. Men were such babies.

  “I doubt such a device exists on Parseon,” he said.

  It didn’t. She’d been briefed she would need to stock up on supplies. “I have what I need at my housing unit and at my shop at the Bazaar.”

  “At the Bazaar? I can retrieve it for you,” he said.

  Tara could have kicked herself. Idiot. Idiot. Idiot. How stupid could she be? She’d blown her best chance for escape. If she had let Marlix believe he’d injured her, he would have called the physician, probably a Parseon one, and given their unfamiliarity with her physiology, she might have been able to convince them to rush her to the Terran infirmary. Marlix had concern for her welfare, and she should have played on his sympathies.

  She assembled a quick plan. “I can write down what I need.”

  The memory of his tenderness as he held her while she cried, his accommodating sexual behavior, and his horror when he thought he’d injured her triggered a frisson of guilt she was betraying him in some way. He kidnapped you! Tara hardened her resolve. “You can take the note to Ramon. He can retrieve what I need.”

  Marlix’s face tightened. “Ramon.” His name sounded like a curse.

  Tara gaped. Good grief, he’s jealous! She suppressed an amused snort. She had a hunch a possessive Alpha was a dangerous Alpha, and she had no wish to jeopardize Ramon’s life. She no longer worried about her safety; Marlix wouldn’t hurt her. That she believed.

  The inappropriate sense of guilt returned, but she ignored it, chalking it up to the beginnings of Stockholm syndrome in which hostages developed sympathy for their captors. You must be stronger, she chided herself.

  Muscles bulging, Marlix still glowered, ready to do battle.

  “You don’t need to worry about Ramon,” she said. “He likes men, not women.” Her employee friend had been having a great time on androcentric, androsocial Parseon, where homosexual couplings were the norm. He’d hooked up with a number of betas, even an alpha or two. “Like shooting fish in a barrel,” he’d boasted.

  Tara pasted her most beguiling expression on her face. “Trust me,” she said. You’re doing the right thing.

  Marlix grabbed his PCD from a bedside table, tapped into it, and handed her the communication device.

  He’d called up a Terran keyboard. Tara’s hand trembled as she wrote. I am OK, but I’m being held captive by Alpha Commander MARLIX at his domicile. Please give him my blue bag from the stockroom. After he leaves, contact the Terran Embassy and report what has happened.

  She handed the PCD back to him.

  “I shall return. Is there anything I can do for you in the meantime?” He peered at her, his tone still uncertain.

  A lump formed in her throat. “I need to bathe. And…and if you have some rags…”

  Before sh
e could blink, he’d flung open the door. “Urazi! Come quick!”

  Tara covered her chest with the bloody sheet as the beta dashed into the room. “What is it— Monto! What did you do to her?” Urazi burst out, his shocked utterance revealing not only concern for her but also the familiarity between him and Marlix.

  “He didn’t do anything. I’m okay. This is normal,” she said.

  “She says it is a Terran female thing,” Marlix explained, looking unconvinced. “I must go to the Bazaar to retrieve supplies she needs. Please bring her some rags.”

  Urazi left and returned to dump an armload of cloth onto the bed. “Is that enough?” he asked.

  Tara didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “That will be fine.”

  Chapter Eight

  Tara perched on the stool in the kitchen and watched Urazi prepare lunch. He worked with an efficient economy of motion, his movements sure and masculine as he grated, diced, and mixed using crude hand tools. She half expected him to grab the dagger off his belt to dice the root vegetables. She frowned as she considered the technology she had encountered among the Parseons: the personal communication devices, the lasered weapons, the fusion-propelled tram, the space shuttles, and the advanced medical treatments. The bioscanner had healed her faster and better than anything Terra had. If such equipment had been available on Earth, perhaps her situation might have been different.

  She realized now that just as her body had needed to heal, so had her emotions. By running away, she’d slapped a bandage over her pain, but underneath the wound had festered, until she’d snapped under Marlix’s questioning and all the bad stuff had gushed out. Her inability to bear children still hurt, but she could tolerate her loss, think about it without screaming.

  Marlix had held her as she’d cried. Who would have expected an Alpha to do such a thing? Nor was it Protocol for a beta like Urazi to prepare the midday meal while she sat on her rear and watched. Men did not serve women in any capacity on Parseon.

  Tara widened her eyes as Urazi opened the door under the stove, poked at the fire, and added another log. They cooked on wood fires?

  “Uh…we’re underground,” she said. “Is building a fire wise? Where will the smoke go?”

  “The air ventilation system draws it outside.”

  The technologies contrasted starkly with the anachronisms. She thought of the wagons drawn by sulfur-snorting beasts that appeared to be part horse, part moose and something scarily alien, and the open-air Market, where fowl squawked, bells clanged, and males sold metal tools, foodstuffs, and the use of their females out of the same booths. Every male Parseon carried PCD devices, yet when Commander Tarbek had died, each hamlet had rung its bells to transmit the news from one village to the next.

  “Why do your people perform so many functions manually?” she asked. The hard way.

  “Advancements bring ease and comfort. Too much comfort breeds complacency and softness. We are warriors and must retain our hard edge.”

  Tara pondered how to pose her next question. She did not wish to insult him. He’d been kind, had been concerned when he thought Marlix had injured her. He’d brought her the rags, which she’d used to fashion into a pad and a pair of underwear, and he had cleaned up the bedding. Now he prepared lunch for them both.

  “But you are beta,” she said.

  “No, I am not a warrior, but there is honor in supporting those who are.”

  “But don’t you want to claim the glory for yourself?”

  “Perhaps I dream,” he said, “but my role has been predetermined. Protocol is nature’s way. It changes with its own time. One cannot force the tide, so it is pointless to wish for what is impossible.” He paused. “Besides, I am fortunate to serve an Alpha as worthy as Marlix. His life is not an easy one. With power comes greater responsibility, even grave danger. He must maintain his vigilance to ward off threats to his life and command.”

  “If he is so powerful, who would dare to challenge him?” Tara asked. She’d seen the effect he had on people. They respected him but feared him too.

  Urazi slammed the knife against the cutting board. “Other Alphas.”

  Tara widened her eyes. “Why? But I thought each Commander ruled his territory autonomously, and they voted on matters of universal concern.” She knew from her studies that Parseon consisted of one large landmass surrounded by an ocean. The land had been politically divided into provinces. The sky tram allowed citizens to travel quickly between provinces if they wished, but they owed allegiance to the province of their birth.

  “Not all provinces are rich in the same natural resources. Some on the High Council would seek to rule all of Parseon as Alpha Dak’s brother attempted to do by assassinating him.” He looked up from his chopping. “Your special cloth saved the Commander’s life.”

  So that was how Marlix had known about the fabric. “Ah! I understand now,” Tara said. “What happened to Dak’s brother?”

  “Dak killed him.”

  Tara shivered. “So you live underground to defend against threats?” she asked.

  “Yes. Other Alphas and subcommanders build out of stone and marble, but Marlix has chosen the natural defense of a subterranean abode.” Urazi set the knife aside, scooped the ingredients into a bowl, stirred with a large wooden spoon, added a creamy liquid, then transferred the mixture to a metal baking pan and popped it in the oven.

  “You’re making a casserole,” she exclaimed.

  “What’s that?”

  Tara shook her head. “Not important.” She swung her leg and wondered if Marlix had arrived at the Bazaar yet, if he’d given Ramon the note. She hoped her friend would keep his cool and act like nothing was amiss. Guilt knotted her stomach. Foolish. She was the innocent party! Remember that. Whatever happens, remember that.

  But relationships in the domicile had altered. Since last night, she felt less like a captive and more like a member of the household. If only Marlix hadn’t kidnapped her, if only they’d gotten to know each the usual way, if only—nothing. The odds of a Terran woman and a Parseon Alpha having a normal relationship by earth standards equaled Urazi’s chances for glory. Zip.

  Heaviness woven from ambivalence settled over her. Tara sighed. “Why did the Commander take me?”

  Urazi scraped peels and scraps into a trash receptacle. “I think because”—he furrowed his brow in search of the right word—“because he has a peculiar, uh, regard for you.”

  “Are you saying he likes me?”

  “That’s how you say it. He likes you.”

  He liked her, and she had betrayed him. Except he didn’t know it yet. Now she felt like crap. “You can’t take somebody because you like them! Where I come from, we call that kidnapping,” she argued with herself and him. “His feelings for me don’t bother you? You’re not jealous?”

  He blinked as if she’d uttered something ridiculous. “No one would be jealous of a female.” He shrugged. “But from what I know of your culture, I understand why you might think that. However, Marlix and I do not have the usual alpha-beta relationship.”

  “You’re not partners?” She raised her eyebrows.

  “We are. But we are more akin to brothers. It is a good arrangement, since neither of us have siblings.”

  “You both are only children?”

  He nodded. “Except for the females, of course.”

  She blinked. “The females?”

  “Our sires’ breeders each produced a single son, but some females too. Two from my sire’s breeder and one from Marlix’s.”

  Tara’s jaw dropped. She didn’t know what stunned her more—the detached way Urazi referred to his mother or to his sister. Good grief! They didn’t even consider sisters siblings. “Do you see them?”

  “I see my sire’s breeder when I go home. I have not seen the two female offspring since they entered the Breeder Containment Facility. I believe the Commander used to visit the female offspring of his sire at the BCF, but she was purchased, and after Commander Dak elimina
ted the BCFs in his province, Marlix lost track of her.”

  How archaic. Barbaric. Kidnapping paled in comparison to the way women were bought and used. No wonder Marlix hadn’t hesitated to take her. Why would he? She twisted her mouth in wry remembrance of the briefings she’d relied on in making her decision to come to Parseon. They had glossed over so much. Did the Terrans even know how different the Parseon people were? She shuddered now at how many chances she’d taken by exploring alone without an escort. Any male at any time could have abducted her like Marlix had—or attacked her like the betas had done. A paper-thin Treaty offered little protection against Protocol-sanctioned entitlement.

  Tara combed a hand through her curls and sucked in a long breath of air. She remembered the cries she’d heard and the manner in which Marlix had attempted to have sex with her.

  “I heard a female’s voice here last night.”

  Urazi busied himself with peeling a vegetable. For the longest time, he did not answer. “Yes,” he said.

  “Did Marlix, uh, abduct her the way he did me?”

  He shook his head. “No. She was procured. Purchased for the evening.”

  “You hired a prostitute?”

  “What is that?”

  “It is a person who is paid to have sex.”

  “She wasn’t paid. Her alpha was.”

  “That makes it worse, not better,” Tara said. A discomfort that felt a little like jealousy lodged in her stomach. “What about Marlix?” She had no business asking the question. “Did he use her services too?” He’d been with her all night, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t been with the other woman earlier.

  Urazi shook his head. “He didn’t want to.”

  Tara knew she was being far too nosy, but what the fuck. Marlix had kidnapped her. She might be rude, but he was a criminal. At least on Terra, he would have been considered one.

  “So let me get this straight—excuse my pun. You and Marlix are supposed to be anointed partners, but you have sex with females?”

  Urazi blushed. “I wish you would not speak of it so boldly. It is not something we are proud of.”