by Delia Roan
Dannica waved beer can in the air. “I dunno, man. No GPS. My phone’s dead.”
“My phone too,” Ashley said.
“Like the radio.” Moaning was all Hannah ever seemed to do. “Like my chances of getting Michael.”
The other two girls howled with laughter. “Like you would ever stand a chance with a guy like Michael!” Ashley’s voice held malice. Mara knew she’d hooked up with Michael behind Hannah’s back, and Michael had ignored Ashley since.
That was a perk of being the designated driver: front row tickets to the drama. Mara kept her mouth shut about what she had seen that night. Ashley scared her a little, but Mara felt that way about most things outside her control.
Hannah burst into tears. “You guys are being mean!”
Dream-Mara knew Hannah would never see Michael again, but real-Mara had merely sighed. “Guys, be nice.”
Ashley kicked the back of her seat. “Oh, stop, Mama Mara! You’re such a bore. I wish we’d gotten a ride with anyone else but you.” The last word dripped with disdain.
Let it go, urged dream-Mara. Keep driving.
But real-Mara had slammed on the brakes. The vehicle had been crawling along, but Dannica tumbled off the seat. Beer fountained across the leather of Mara’s car seats. Foam splashed onto her shirt and her dark hair hanging over her shoulder.
“That is it!” Mara put the car in park and stepped outside. The silk of her white tunic clung to her shoulder. A stain spread down her sleeve, darkening the fabric where it stuck to her skin. She flicked her hair, trying to shake out the booze. After the warmth of the car’s interior, the cool mountain air raised goosebumps on her arms. She smelled pine trees, and the reek of something vile… Dead animal?
She didn’t pause to ponder it. She stomped her way to Ashley’s side of the car and flung open the door. “Get out! Everyone.”
“You’re such a bitch, Mara!” Ashley crawled out of the car and tugged down the hem of her shimmering gold party dress. Hannah followed meekly, her head bowed.
“You too, Dannica” Mara ordered.
Dannica rolled out of the car and collapsed onto the dirt. She lay there giggling, clutching her can.
“You spilled beer all over my car!”
“Not your car, Amarantha,” Ashley drawled. “Daddy’s car.”
Mara’s jaw tightened. “I’m done being your driver, Ash. You can walk. Danni, Hannah. Get in.”
The declaration was almost worth the stunned expression on Ashley’s face, but guilt gnawed at Mara. Knowing Mara’s luck, Ashley would get bitten by a snake or eaten by a bear, and her ghost would haunt Mara for the rest of her days. Before Mara could recant, Ashley’s sneer returned.
“Fine!” Ashley threw her hands in the air and began to mince down the dirt road. The headlights from the car cast her shadow ahead of her. “I’ll walk. Danni, Hannah? You coming?”
Hannah bit her lip, and shot an apologetic look in Mara’s direction. “Sorry,” she mumbled, heading down the road. “She’ll kill me if I don’t go with her.”
Mara bit back her irritation and turned to her friend. “Danni?”
Dannica bit her lip, clearly torn. “I’ll walk with Ash for a bit. See if she’ll calm down.”
A stream of Hindi curse words raced through Mara’s head, a remnant from her annual visits with her Indian cousins. She didn’t let them escape her lips. As much as it irked her, Mara couldn’t leave anyone out here alone.
I made a promise they would get home safely tonight.
“I’ll wait in the car,” Mara said, her shoulders slumping.
“Sorry, Mara.” With a shrug, Dannica hurried after her other friends.
No, shouted dream-Mara. Everyone, get back in the car! Drive!
It was too late. As Mara’s hand reached for the handle, bright light flooded the forest, blinding all four of them.
They never made it to the party.
***
Mara hit the floor. She scrambled, her feet slipping out from under her. She hauled herself to her hands and knees and retched. Fluid poured out of her mouth, and she sneezed, clearing her sinuses.
She could not see. The light was gone. No, there was no light. Never had been. That was from her dream. She was awake now. She raised her hand to cover her face and encountered thick slime coating her eyelids and mouth. Why am I so cold? She gagged before she spat again, then staggered to her feet, swaying. Why am I so sore?
“She’ll live.” The words weren’t in English, but she heard the meaning in her ear. “Now can we go?”
Mara blinked, trying to move the gunk from her eyes. Her lungs burned and her muscles spasmed. She staggered to the side and bumped her hip against a cold metal surface.
“Here,” said a voice. “For your face.” A cloth brushed against her fingers and she took it gratefully. She croaked, then coughed. Razor blades coated the inside of her throat. Using the corner of the cloth, she wiped her face clean.
When she looked up, she froze.
Right. The aliens.
Except the five staring at her were not the same species that had kidnapped Mara and her friends. Even under the identical suits they wore, she could tell they were a different species. These were not squat and broad like the Sykorians. They studied her for a moment, and then as one, four of the aliens turned to face the tallest one.
Yet his gaze never left her.
He was huge. He filled the space and dominated her vision. Even with his hands loosely by his sides, he radiated power and authority. His hand curled into a fist. Mara suddenly became aware of her nudity. She pulled the scrap of cloth in front of her chest and turned her hips away. Her braid flopped over her shoulder, covering her breast.
Why is he staring at me?
Even through the heavy helmet, she knew he watched. She felt it, just as she felt the very maleness of him.
Then, as if guided by an unseen voice, all four aliens turned and filed out of the room. Mara blinked. The giant, the leader, merely studied her for a moment longer, then he too disappeared out the door without a word.
Mara was alone.
She blinked.
Instead of relief, she felt panic. The last thing she remembered was being hauled out of a cage, along with Dannica, Ashley and Hannah. The Sykorians had injected a translator into her neck, and their reptilian hisses had formed into words she could understand. Oh, how she wished she could have gone back to being ignorant of their intentions.
Then they had filed the women into this room. On this ship. They’d forced them into the sleep chambers…
Mara glanced around the room. These very beds.
Dannica had been next to her. She scurried to the nearest cylinder and peered in to spy Dannica’s face, relaxed in sleep. Mascara still streaked down her cheeks, but the scrape on her chin was almost healed. Dannica had slammed her face into the gravel during their abduction.
How long has it been? Mara trembled. The thought was immediately followed by a second one. How can I get her out?
Before Mara could examine the clasp on the cryo-bed, she heard a clang from the next room.
Inching her way to the door, she peeked out. Were the strange aliens gone? No, they huddled around the big one. The leader. He seemed to be talking to them, even though she heard nothing. She blinked, watching as they thumped their chests — some kind of salute? — and raced away.
The leader remained. As if he heard her breathing, he turned to face her. In a few short strides, he was by her side, grabbing her wrist in his hand.
“We leave now, understand?”
She did, thanks to the device behind her ear, but she was too stunned to reply as he dragged her along. What?! Mara opened her mouth to protest, but only a croak emerged. She coughed again. What about Danni? I can’t leave her!
The blare of sirens assaulted her ears when they entered the corridor. She clapped her free hand over her ear. The bright lights made her head spin. The floor lurc
hed under her feet, and she staggered against the wall.
Her captor yanked her upright and marched her onward. Mara tried to brace herself against the floor, but her bare feet slid on the smooth metal. The pod door closed behind them with a clang, and the leader dragged her through the corridor. He turned and said something to her, but the words were lost in the cacophony.
Mara struggled, clawing the fingers of her free hand into his wrist, trying to break his hold, but she might as well have tried to fight stone. The leader shook her. She got the sense he was speaking again, but the words didn’t matter. His intent came through clearly: Stop, or I’ll hurt you.
With a sob, she went limp and dropped to the floor. Her weight didn’t even break his stride and he kept going, towing her by the arm. Her shoulder hurt from the pressure, but she was out of reserves. Her terror overwhelmed her, until bands of steel clamped around her chest, making breathing difficult. She closed her eyes, ignoring the burning in her body.
What’s the point?
As stench filled her nose. The alien stopped and hooked his free hand under her armpit. He hauled her to her feet, until they were face to face. Over the curve of his arm, she saw the carnage in the corridor. Her eyes widened at the Sykorian bodies splayed across the floor.
At this closeness, her implant picked up his command. “Walk. Or I’ll drag you through that mess.”
Her rubbery knees wouldn’t support her. With a grunt, the alien scooped her up and slung her over his shoulder like she weighed nothing. Blood rushed to her head, and she watched in horror as the floor beneath changed from clean metal to smeared entrails. Even with her eyes shut, the world spun and the reek made her stomach protest.
At least Dannica is sleeping through this.
She opened her eyes in a hurry when the alien dumped her onto a bench. She was in a smaller vessel now. The walls were a dark plastic which muffled the alien’s heavy footsteps. Mara wrapped her arms around herself and shivered. The alien strode to a cabinet, and pulled out a heavy blanket, which he tossed at her.
“Thank you,” she whispered. To her surprise, her words were raspy but audible.
He pulled off his helmet, and Mara shrank back into the seat behind her. His face was similar to her own: two eyes, and a wide, generous mouth turned downward in a scowl. His gray skin was mottled, with ashy swirls of darker blues and lighter shades of coral. His scalp was shaved down, but she could see the stubble of charcoal hair growing along the two ridges lining his temples.
But it was his gaze that trapped her.
His eyes… They burned with an inner light, pale like moonstones gleaming blue and turquoise. Despite the thundering of her heart, and how she shook with fear, she could not look away.
Out of one cage and into another.
CHAPTER THREE
SYREK
Haven awaited.
As the mighty warship appeared on screen, Syrek crossed his arms over his chest and savored the sight. The size of a city, the ship was of Hautk design, one of the last remnants of a vast alien civilization, now gone. The Hautk had used it as a flagship while they strove for their goal of conquering the universe. They had eventually fallen, beaten back by the Ennoi, victors in their own quest for expansion.
The ship had passed from Ennoi ancestor to ancestor, all the way down to Syrek’s father, Zathlassan Ar’Zathris. Now it was his. He studied the mighty ship and while pride sang in his chest, he couldn’t push back a tinge of sadness. Haven should not be drifting alone in the blackness of space. It should be blazing down upon an enemy.
Decades ago, it had. Under the command of his grandfather and, later his own father, Haven had decimated worlds. The Hautk weapons were planet destroyers. When a flagship appeared in a solar system, it meant death and destruction.
Until one day, the Ennoi had decided his father no longer deserved to control such a weapon. After Zathlassan had ruined the planet Diwen with Haven, the Ar’Zathris clan had faced censure from the Ennoi Council. Zathlassan had been framed, forced to take the fall instead of the powerful clans who had hired him.
Rather than surrender and face a trial, Zathlassan had fled into exile, taking with him his pregnant wife and young daughter, as well as Haven. No Ennoi warriors would dare pursue Haven. If Zathlassan’s ire had shifted toward Cadam and the Ennoi Council, they would be helpless to stop Haven’s assault.
Maybe then, Syrek’s mind whispered, but not now.
As if reading his thoughts, his personal comm began to beep a cheery melody played on a troeben. He had picked the instrumental tune because it reminded him of the caller. Cyndrae. His sister was the last person to whom he wished to speak. He kept his gaze fixed on Haven.
Beside him, Ancain cleared his throat. “Are you going to answer that?”
“No.”
“She will keep calling, you know. She is your sister, after all.”
Syrek sucked his teeth. “Let her.”
They stood in silence, watching the Haven grow larger as they drew closer, until the music faded out. Then Ancain sighed. “You don’t even know why she’s calling, Syrek. Talk to her.”
“With every call, she has the same request,” Syrek responded. “She asks for too much.”
“You are being thick-headed.”
“You know I only have time for one thing. Eyes on the prize.”
“At least answer. She is your sister.”
Syrek tightened his jaw. He didn’t owe anyone an explanation.
Now that they were closer to the ship, Syrek could see the pitted surface of the hull. Half the ship, if not more, sat unlit. While dorsal weapons caught the light, Syrek knew not all of them functioned.
The problem with powerful and ancient technology was the upkeep. Without the monetary support of the Ennoi, Haven had fallen into disrepair. Like his father before, Syrek’s sole motivation in life remained keeping Haven functioning.
‘Bout the only thing we agreed on.
The payload from the Sykorian mission would do the trick. A handful of PETL Cells would have paid for repairs and upgrades. A whole shipload? Syrek couldn’t suppress the grin on his face.
Ancain misunderstood. “It’s good to be home, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” Syrek replied. “I suppose it is.”
They had to wait to dock, as the doors jammed. Once the delay was dealt with, the caravel landed in the bay, beside the other vessels used on missions. The ground crew unhitched the trailer and whistled when they saw the PETL Cells inside.
“Nice work, boss!” yelled a worker.
Clez, exiting the ship, spat in his direction. “The rest of us helped, too.”
The worker turned back to his task without a word.
Clez cursed at him, until Syrek’s expression stopped her. With a sneer at the worker, she loped off, but she put a little extra swing into her tail and shot a lingering glance in Syrek’s direction.
Ancain stepped up beside Syrek. “Have you considered what we will do?”
“About Clez? Her ego is getting too large for her helmet.”
“Clez is a brute and you should tighten the leash while you can,” said Ancain, “but I’m referring to the humans.”
“Humans?”
“The sleepers.”
“What about them?”
Ancain pursed his lips. “You are smarter than this, Syrek.” He extended a long finger. “Firstly, slave trade is illegal. From what Mara told me, they are definitely slaves.”
“Mara?”
“The human.”
“Ah, forgot about her.”
Except he hadn’t. He had tried, but her wide brown eyes crept into his thoughts at the most inopportune times. Like when he was trying to sleep. Or shower. Or when he was trying not to recall how soft she had felt pressed over his shoulder. Of the roundness of her behind. Of the fight in her.
“Pay attention, Syrek.” Ancain snorted in frustration.
But Syrek’s mind still wandere
d over the human’s curves. “Hmm?”
“Slaves!” Ancain bellowed, loud enough to make the ground crew take noticed. When he spoke again, his voice was lower. “Slaves are illegal. If we wake them, Syrek…”
Syrek shrugged. “If we want the cells, we have to wake them, Ancain. Unless you’re implying we let them die?”
“No,” hissed Ancain, aware of the attentive ears surrounding them. “Haven is running at capacity. We can barely support our own people. There are a hundred sleepers. When they are awake, they will require air, food, water, living space. We simply cannot afford to have them.”
A prickle of anger danced across Syrek’s skin. “We cannot afford to leave them sleeping, Ancain. We have a ship to run here. We need those cells. The Ykine wait.”
Ancain ran a hand over his lumpy head. “The Ykine will not look favorably upon us delivering their PETL Cells hooked up to cryo-sleepers.”
Syrek stared at his friend for a moment, then turned the air blue with curses. “You’re telling me we are sitting on a gold mine, and we cannot access it, because of what? Ethics?”
“Do you want to let them die, Syrek?”
“They serve no purpose!” The look of disappointment on Ancain’s face stopped Syrek short. He huffed out his breath. “They are a burden right now. We could flush their bodies into space. They wouldn’t know. They’re asleep.”
“They are sentient creatures, Syrek,” Ancain said. He blinked all three pairs in quick succession, a sign of his agitation. “Which you would know if you had spent even a moment talking with Mara.”
“Talking doesn’t fill the coffers.”
“Mara says she was with her friends when she was taken. Her friends are still asleep in there. Mara says-”
“Mara! Mara! Enough about Mara!” Syrek roared. “We don’t take orders from cargo!”
Ancain stiffened. His eyes flicked to a sight over Syrek’s shoulder. With a straight back, Syrek turned.
The human — Mara — stood at the open hatch of the caravel.
How much had she heard?
She tugged at the closure of the oversized overalls she wore. She bit her lip and lowered her eyes. The intense expression he had seen while she slept was gone, replaced by discomfort and an edge of panic. She refused to meet his gaze, choosing instead to press herself to the wall. This pathetic creature was nothing like the fierce firebrand of his daydreams.
