by Amanda Milo
The smell of burnt flesh was strong as we moved through. Starting at the bedroom cabin, and all the way to the cargo bay was a wreck. Metal tiling peeled up in places, wiring hung out from ripped up panels. There were black charred, still-smoking holes and acid pools here and there. Shiny black flakes were scattered around. I swallowed. Burnt scales? Clearly, this was one hell of a fight.
I had wondered if they’d rendered him unconscious since I hadn’t heard him in awhile. But when the cargo door lifted, I saw that not only was he chained in place, locked behind a set of bars, and bolted to the wall from a cable that extended from a collar – he was also fitted with a Hannibal Lector mask. But now that we were this close, I could hear him fine.
“Angie!” he bellowed. A few beeps and the bars opened. I shimmied. Crispin was so startled by my body writhing against his that he’d have dropped me - if I hadn’t been ready to hit the ground running.
“Princess, no!”
But I was already in Arokh’s arms.
His Lector muzzle-mask dug into the top of my head as he squeezed me to his chest.
An outraged noise escaped me when I cataloged the blaster burns. He was covered in them. I heard clicks as the guys disengaged the locks on the various attachments. It only took a moment, and I bit my lip ruefully, betting that they were internally stewing over the damage they’d taken to wrangle him here - all of it pointless now that they had to release him.
“Angie?”
“Yeah, handsome?”
The endearment didn’t even get me a smile. And his eyes weren’t right either; the pupils flicked from blown to slitted and back, rapid fire.
“Arokh?” I heard the worry in my voice.
“Sweethearts,” he gasped. His eyes were still a little unfocused. “Go stand by the door.”
“What?”
“Now,” he ordered. His voice was steadier with every word. “Door. Stay back.”
As soon as I got there and turned back to look at him in exasperation, Arokh grabbed a resigned Dohrein in a chokehold and proceeded to beat the piss out of him. Dohrein let him get one really, really good hit in – and then he apparently had some angst and frustration to vent right back. I wondered if Arokh missed the mask. The wire basket might have helped bounce some knuckle.
When Arokh landed a punch that left Dohrein reeling, he then turned on Crispin. During all this, I shouted things like; “Arokh, stop! You have to stop - the ship is being attacked!” When that didn’t seem to register with him at all, I finally tried, “I’m in danger!”
Now that got his attention.
His body froze, and his gaze moved to me. And then Crispin’s fist planted into Arokh’s eye socket.
Slowly, almost robotically, Arokh’s head moved to look down on the unfortunate male - who had realized a second too late that the fight was over. He gave Arokh a weak smile.
Fuck, he was going to kill that kid.
“Pirates,” Dohrein panted. And with that word, Arokh dropped Crispin without any permanent damage rendered. Probably.
A soft electronic voice came over the speaker. “Computer Override.”
“That doesn’t sound good,” I muttered faintly. I tried not to panic. Three males reached out to comfort me, which would have been nice if there wasn’t the promise of painful death being ocularly exchanged over my head. Arokh won, and I was scooped into his embrace. The guys talked strategy and prepared with the weapons they had available (not enough to do any helpful amount of damage) in the time we had available (the clock was ticking down fast, we could hear them assembling just outside the airlock). Apparently, a ship this size didn’t come equipped with the firepower necessary to injure the pirate’s vessel, and they’d used an illegal device to lock the outer defenses when they’d reeled our ship to theirs. Or so I gathered as the guys talked rapidly to fill Arokh in.
If we had a crazy good hacker in our group that could rival whatever black hat the pirates employed, then we’d stand a chance at getting our ship back under our command in time, but… none of the guys knew enough to get us out of this. They did have enough training to take the weapons we did have and go full throttle at the oncomers with lasers blazing but that was guaranteed kamikaze mission and left me vulnerable, which was a scenario none were willing to play. Morbidly, Dohrein discussed what sounded like the space form of the cyanide capsule for me but before the other two’s vehement protests were fully out of their mouths, he shook his head – even he couldn’t stomach putting me down, even if it was for my own… safety.
Basically? We were screwed.
As soon as I had that thought, I shuddered. I did not want that to be literal, I did not want that to be literal…
Arokh grazed my cheek with the back of a claw tip. I gave him a wan smile.
Before the doors were forced open, he allowed Crispin to pat my knee. Dohrein placed his wing talon in my palm, which would have been strange, but with everything in my life the way it had been, this was so mild it rated virtually no bizarre-points. So, I squeezed onto his talon and actually got a smile. The saddest, most worried smile I’d ever seen, but I was counting it.
And then we were surrounded by pirates.
◆◆◆
They marched us onto their ship. Their jeers and hoots were reminiscent of rowdy chimpanzees as we were herded into a large, oblong space, where the aliens were working to roughly shove crates towards the wall to clear the floor. That done, they turned. And all eyes were on us. Lots, and lots, and lots of eyes. Like, literally, some of them had upwards of eight pairs of eyes on their… heads?
I flinched. Gross.
I could sense Arokh’s indecision as his arms wavered. He was thinking he should put me down, but he was afraid to let me go. I would have told him to set me on the floor, but oh no – I did not want to let go of the biggest, baddest guy on the good side. I gripped onto him harder.
A being stepped out onto the floor as if this were an arena and his voice was loud enough to be heard just fine when he said, “What a pretty toy!”
And with that, I wanted to be behind the biggest, baddest guy on the good side. I wondered if I could just crawl over his shoulder and hang off of his back--
24
AROKH
Angie’s little nails were leaving crescent impressions in my scales. They’d never pierce through. They were too blunt. She didn’t have a mouth full of sharp teeth for biting, or fangs to envenomate an enemy, or wings to fly her away from harm. She was completely, utterly helpless.
And so were we. Woefully outnumbered did not begin to describe the direness of our situation.
Her body tensed and I felt her knees squeeze my hips as her body surged upward in her attempt to clamber higher up my torso. I moved a hand to the back of her neck and scruffed her there to still her. It calmed some wild animals when they were panicked and fruitlessly climbing a being to gain higher ground away from a predator.
This worked exactly the same on my terrified little human.
My hearts squeezed.
A wing suddenly shot in front of us like a protective curtain. It was Crispin, his face set in hard lines as he glared at the Frutag that seemed to be the leader of these mercenary bandits.
The leader spoke again. “Some of us have never seen a Rakhii fight. But if I’m not mistaken, you’re a Prime class fighter, aren’t you? You are! Look at those scored horns!”
He looked at me over the top of Crispin’s wing with a curiosity that would have seemed benign until you considered that we were being held hostage in a pirate ship and the scent of lust was horrifically strong – and growing stronger the longer we stood here.
I said nothing.
He smiled, showing that he did have a mouth full of sharp teeth for biting. And I knew for a fact that Frutags may not have fangs for envenomation, but they did have a stinger on their tail.
Angie. Had. Nothing.
Nothing save for the three of us.
Now I was glad that I hadn’t taken off with her by myself.
I was glad these two hobs had forced me to capitulate and let them join her.
I just wished the three of us were enough to save her.
“How do we make him fight?” someone hollered.
The Frutag was still smiling when he relaxed his weight to his furthermost hind feet and considered us. “Easy. Take his Gryfala.”
Crispin snarled.
And they descend like takkals; small, fast, mean. My pulse rocketed when Crispin was yanked right into the crowd. Others leaped on Dohrein and rode him down to the floor.
Without the other two acting as a barrier, shining eyes trained fully on us - on me holding Angie like a target.
I needed my hands free and her instinct had merit. I peeled Angie from where she clung to my suit and shoved her to hang off my back. Come just a click closer you little bastards, I mentally coaxed to the aliens before us. I snaked a hand out and snatched the closest one to me.
There was a satisfying gurgle before I felt the bones of spine and skull separate. I flung its body away. I wished I could brawl in. I could make a difference.
On a normal day.
If my ribs weren’t protesting and half my scales weren’t still regenerating.
But I had Angie now and even if I was physically able to fight, I would never be able to leave her vulnerable while I did it. If we – when we – made it out of this alive, I would end my campaign as a gladiator. I would serve Angie for the rest of our lives. I just needed us to survive. We had to get out of here. That’s what I tried to tell myself.
Of course, there was no way the council was going to let me live. I didn’t look forward to what I’d face there, but even the worst that would be done to punish me would be preferable to having my Angie harmed here.
Angie’s hold tightened on my spines. I always wondered how Gryfala’s avoided getting stabbed with them, but my body instinctively protected her; the spines she held remained pliable - and those at her level were also not leaking. When we made it out of this, I imagined myself spending the time running the necessary tests to determine if my human would be adversely affected by my venom.
And the thought of her reaction if I told her that I’d need to draw her blood again?
That almost made me smile.
A hand darted for her.
I broke the wrist; then bent the arm back to snap it at the elbow.
Two came at me from my other side, and Angie screamed as they grabbed ahold of her. I whipped around, placed a palm against her face to protect her, and felt my throat heat as I aimed flames, burning their skin from their bones.
Dohrein appeared - one wing streaming blood, his face a bruised mess - but he wordlessly closed in at my side. That meant Angie was cornered between us, her back pressed right to the wall. As safe as we could make her.
“How are you holding up?” His voice was oddly muffled, so I could assume his nose was broken.
“Oh, I’m glad you asked. I’m at a bit of a disadvantage due to the beating I’ve already taken this rotation.”
“Yeah.” He gripped his ribs, the ones I’d bruised if not broken. “Bad timing on that one.”
I gritted my mouthful of sharp, sharp teeth. “You think?”
We were extremely limited in defensive maneuvers, since we couldn’t so much as step forward to engage the pirates. Whenever Crispin wasn’t being dragged past us, I blew fire – but the members of the mob that weren’t close enough to be affected simply moved out of my range entirely. Crispin was gamely pounding more piss out of them than I’d have expected, but he’d make his way back to us only to get hauled in again. We tried to grab for him, but could never quite reach in time. We would have taken even more damage, if the Frutag hadn’t shouted, “Save the best for last! Save the best for last!” He gestured in our direction, gaining an enthusiastic response from the crowd. “This Gryfala won’t be getting away so how about we start with a little teaser instead?"
My muscles tensed even harder, but the crowd didn’t move toward Angie.
No. The entire mob fell on Crispin.
Dohrein tried, I'd give him that. He waded in, pulling beings off, stabbing with his wing talons to gouge out eyes, spitting venom; but it quickly became clear that he could either go down with his brother-hob, or he could let Crispin be sacrificed in order to stand guard for Angie a little longer.
And the struggle he felt over these hopeless options even had me feeling sorry for him.
"’Rein," Crispin shouted.
Dohrein looked stricken. He knew what his friend was going to say.
"Keep her safe!"
Without the anchor of the other hob, Crispin was ripped completely away and Dohrein pounded skulls into the hull wall as he climbed over others to reach Angie’s side once more.
They do terrible things to Crispin.
I have seen much in the arenas I have battled in. But here, there is no honor. No mercy. And the things they did to the young, cheerful hob turned my stomach.
I never expected his fortitude either. He fought until he couldn't. It wasn't until they peeled the first wing off that he finally began to scream. And the unlucky bastard was still conscious when the popped his other wing from the socket and twisted and twisted it until the skin and tendons and muscles shredded loose and they wrenched that one off too.
The smell of chemicals eating away flesh as they poured cauterizing agent on the gaping wing holes reached us even at this distance. They didn’t perform this as some kindness to prevent infection; no, they applied the agent to ensure that the hob’s wings wouldn't grow back.
A hob without wings was emasculated. Unable to court or love properly. Which was just another unnecessary cruelty because it wasn’t likely that he’d get the chance to do either in the future; we needed a miracle in order to leave this ship alive and I was beginning to wish I had the fortitude and resolution to snap Angie’s neck. It would be a kindness. I had a preview of what would happen to her if the pirates managed to snag her.
So did she.
But I couldn’t do it. I literally was unable to perform the action. I knew the hobs wouldn’t be able to either. It was biological impossibility for them to cause intentional harm to their females.
One of the hoard held up a severed wing and flexed the bones so that the wing flared open and closed, open and closed. Like a macabre toy for the insane, little sparkles lighting up the air as the colorful dust was knocked loose. They laughed uproariously as they made plans to cook and consume the wings, jesting about them being an aphrodisiac delicacy. Crispin hung his head.
Angie was going to sob herself into dehydration and I wanted to comfort her but there was no time. The distraction Crispin was providing was such that the barrier of bodies initially keeping us stuck in this part of the ship was dwindling.
The first teveking opportunity we’d had open to us since this started.
Although I could see it was destroying Dohrein to even think of abandoning the other hob, I’d seen his head angle in the direction of what was likely the connector to the bridge. If we could make it to the captain’s chair…
I let out another burst of flames to clear a swath in the right direction, and grabbed Dohrein’s arm. His expression was haunted, but resigned.
Just then, Crispin surged up with extreme effort and headbutted one of the aliens holding him, spitting in the eyes of one, then another, and another, providing quite a show. Then he let loose a howl that had all the attention of the room focusing on him.
All the attention.
We didn't let his attempt at diversion wither. We ran with the chance he gave us. Dragging Angie out from behind me, I swing her into my arms and we move. Crispin’s defiant curses begin to devolve into tortured screams again.
And then silence.
We hear the Frutag say, “Passed out? Dump that one in cargo then. If he lives, maybe we can ransom him.”
They don't care about their toy now that they've broken him. Not while they have three left. We run faster.
“Find t
hat other Gryfala bitch. And if these two survive being passed around, we’ll make a teveking fortune ransoming them!”
Dohrein almost stumbles. I catch a fistfull of his wing until he regains his feet. We don’t waste a glance at the other as we run full out. But we’re both thinking the same thing. There is another female on this ship?
We manage to round the corner before we hear the shouts of alarm and the thunder of many feet and hooves.
And that’s when all infernofire breaks loose.
25
ANGIE
I bit my tongue when the lights went out.
And that hurts.
You often hear the expression “bit my tongue so hard it bled” - supposedly to stifle a noise, right? But let me tell you; I’d be squealing from biting my tongue as much as whatever was going on around me.
And right now, crazy shit is going on around me.
Blasts illuminate the inky dark from behind, with laser beams streaking in streams, making colorful bursts behind my eyelids every time I blink. I’m not sure how the guys are avoiding them – and, as the smell of charred flesh becomes stronger, I wonder if they aren’t able to avoid them at all.
I worry just how much damage they’ve taken.
And then from in front of us, a deep voice commands, “Honored hob, stop!”
Dohrein’s back is suddenly smooshed into my face, which means he stopped running before Arokh did which means I just got sandwiched. In the face. Fucking ouch!
And the aliens chasing us are getting closer to our heels. Now we’ve got these assholes blocking us. Motherfucker.
Arokh turns his head to breathe fire behind us, making our pursuers fall back a bit as the flames lick the air of the corridor.
For that brief moment, I can see who we are standing in front of, and it looks like a …swat team?
From the dark I hear, “Human: are these males harming you?”
Human? Human! They know what I am! “N-no! They are rescuing me. They’re with me. How do you know…Are you… here to help?”
