When She Belongs: A SciFi Alien Romance (A Risdaverse Tale Book 4)

by Ruby Dixon

  The alien gives me a look of disgust. That's fine. Let him think I'm pathetic. That's how I've survived for so long. I cringe in front of him, and all the while, my mind is racing. What do I have in here? What can I use? My tunic is in the corner, along with my belt, but it's a decorative one. My boots? They're soft except for the flexible soles. Shit. I've got nothing, and I want to scream with frustration. Where's Sleipnir? Desperately, I think of my carinoux, but he's no doubt happily chewing on his new metal stick, oblivious to the danger I'm in.

  "If you don't know, you're no good to me," the alien says, waving the blaster in my face.

  I whimper in terror, flinching when he pokes me in the face with the butt of it. "Please…" I'm good at simpering. I managed to do it for nine years, all the while nursing hatred in my heart. "I'll do anything you ask, just don't kill me."

  It's the right thing to say. Demon Big Bird gets a pensive look on his face, and he lowers the gun, just a little. "I've never seen a human before. Stand up so I can get a good look at you."

  I pretend to be meek as I get to my feet, all the while thinking seething, angry thoughts. I just need him to lower the gun a bit more so I can take it from him, and then I'm going to fill his birdbrain full of holes for threatening me and my Jerrok. I slowly stand, and when he makes a gesture with the gun, I turn, presenting him with my backside before slowly turning to face him again.

  "Interesting creature," he murmurs, and then gestures at his crotch. "Well? You said anything."

  Fuck you, I think silently even as I drop to my knees in front of him. Fuck you, fuck you. I'm not even scared anymore, I'm just angry. I notice his hand close to his waist, and his grip is looser on the blaster all the time as he grows more and more distracted. I pretend to be an idiot, fumbling with his belt as if I don't know how an auto-fastener works. "Please," I whine in my best sorry voice. "Help me with this?"

  He puts his hand on my face instead of on his belt.

  Close enough. I turn and sink my teeth into his skin.

  The bird-alien screeches in pain, and the blaster goes clattering to the slick tile floors. I spit out a mouthful of feathers as I release him, scrambling after the gun. Before I can reach it, one clawed hand grabs my leg, and faster than I can move, the alien crawls over my body and slams my head into the floor.

  I see stars. A bright wash of red, and stars. Pain blasts through my skull and all I can do is lie on the floor, utterly dazed, waiting for my brain to right itself again.

  "Keffing beast," the bird squawks, as if I'm the problem. I spit out another feather, a silent fuck-you to him. At least when I die, they won't say I went down without a fight. "The human bit me," the bird-alien snarls at his friends. He pauses. "No, not yet. Let me just kill it." Another pause, and a sigh. "Fine."

  I know without even hearing the other side of the conversation what's happening. He wants to kill me, but I'm too valuable alive. He's just going to have to suck it up and deal with me.

  "Get up," the alien tells me.

  "Go fuck yourself," I say, closing my eyes. Captivity. Again. I'm going to be sold. I'm going to lose Jerrok and Sleipnir…if they're even still alive.

  As if my wonderful, handsome Jerrok knows I'm thinking about him, the comm in the lavatory buzzes. "Sophie? You taking a shower?"

  78

  JERROK

  Something's not right.

  The feeling niggles at me as I run yet another diagnostic in the engine room, watching the numbers scroll across the screen. They look fine. Everything's reading as it should. There's no unusual fluctuations, no hints that something isn't running optimally. And yet…I can't shake the feeling that there's something off about the situation.

  It's been lurking in my head, this general feeling of wrongness, ever since we left V'tarr. It might be the cynic in me who finds it was just too easy for us to leave the spaceport. That it should have been more difficult to extract the Little Sister from the grips of an alien race in a forbidden system. It feels as if we're missing some sort of obvious answer…or we're walking into a trap. But maybe I'm just too used to things being hard for me. Frustrated, I watch as the diagnostic pings with an all-clear response and I put my data pad aside. Maybe spending some time with Sophie will help me work through my thoughts. I've been so focused on checking and re-checking the Sister in the hopes for clues of some kind that I've neglected my poor mate.

  I tap the screen, flicking through the readings. Sophie's vitals show she's in the lavatory. She does love cleanliness, my mate. I buzz her through the comm, unable to stop the smile on my face. "Sophie? You taking a shower?"

  It takes her a moment to respond, and I imagine her soaking, reaching for the comm with a wet hand. Those glorious breasts of hers are probably all soapy, and the visual distracts me. Sophie finally responds. "Yes. I'm here."

  "Can I join you?" I ask, letting a hint of promise slide into my voice.

  Her answer takes a moment again. "No. I'm good. Thanks."

  She closes the comm, and I'm stung at her crisp answer. Sophie loves to be held, and we've taken showers together several times before. She loves her hair washed or for me to scrub her back, and she's never refused me before. Is something bothering her? Did I do something wrong? Fighting my wounded feelings, I head toward the kitchen. Maybe some food will soothe my sour mood. Sophie probably just needs time to process how she feels about the Little Sister and the missing va Sithai brothers and doesn't need me groping her.

  I head into the kitchen, and it's obvious Sophie's been in here. Everything sparkles with cleanliness, the floors shining, and there's a faint smell of cleanser in the air. I grin to myself at the sight and head for one of the food dispensers and nearly trip over the damned carinoux as I do. He's sprawled in the floor, sleeping in that stretched out way that he does.

  "Come on, buddy," I say, tapping him lightly with the tip of my boot. "Move it or lose it."

  The carinoux doesn't budge. In fact, he doesn't move at all.

  A cold feeling sweeps over me as I stare down at the creature. I look for a breath, knowing Sophie will be utterly devastated if he's died, and I'm relieved to see Sleipnir's ribs are moving up and down. He's breathing. As I watch, though, it's like he's breathing TOO slow, and I put a hand on him, trying to wake him up. Still no response. I give him a little shake, and as I do, I see a discoloration on his neck, like a bruise. As I turn his large, triangular head, trying to see, a syringe rolls out from under the carinoux's paws.

  Kef me.

  Kef. Kef. Kef.

  I'm instantly on alert.

  We're not alone on this ship. Immediately, I know what's been bothering me. All the pieces slide into place. The logs, the diagnostics, everything seems so normal. TOO normal. There's no fluctuations that an older ship like the Little Sister would have. They've been tampered with to ensure that my guard is down, and I can bet that's not the only thing that's been tampered with. I go to the wall panel and log in to the Sister's controls, searching for life forms. Only Sophie, myself, and Sleipnir come back, but that's easy enough to override, as well. With the right coding, the Sister will ignore everything it's told to ignore and I'd be none the wiser.

  Sophie.

  I freeze in horror as I realize what this means. Her strange response while she was in the lavatory. Her refusal. I didn't think it was like her…because it's not. Terrified, I turn on the intercom in the lavatory, listening in. Sophie's weeping can be heard over the patter of the shower, and my chest tightens. Her crying always tears at me, because I want to fix it for her.

  Then I hear another voice. A male, speaking to her. Asking her where the credits are hidden.

  My sadness is replaced with cold, hard fury. So that's it, then. It's a robbery. We were allowed to leave with the Sister because they knew she wouldn't be going anywhere. They plan on robbing us, most likely killing us, and then taking both ships back to port. I listen to the man harassing Sophie. There's only one voice in there with her, and judging by their conversation—Sophie's answ
ers panicked and afraid—the V'tarr male is speaking with another V'tarrian. I turn on the overhead cameras and see only the one male in the lavatory with her. Sophie is on her knees, naked, crying but otherwise unharmed.

  He won't harm her, just like they didn't kill Sleipnir. Both Sophie and the carinoux are valuables. That part makes me feel better, at least, as I storm out of the kitchen and head for the engine room, where the secret compartment full of guns is located. And…then I stop. They don't know where the guns are hidden, but that could change if I open the stash. If I'm being watched, I'll lose all leverage and they'll kill me, or space me, and then I won't be able to help Sophie.

  All right. I'll have to do this with only the weapons I can make for myself. I turn—

  —and stare right into the barrel of a blaster. Another V'tarrian has come out of hiding, and he studies me with that avian way of his, head cocked slightly.

  I put my hands up. I don't like the idea of surrendering, but this way they'll take me to Sophie. When I'm with her, I can comfort her and come up with a plan. This isn't over. Not by a long shot. So I do my best to look worried instead of furious as I raise my hands higher in the air. "Don't shoot. I'll do whatever you want."

  79

  JERROK

  I haven't survived on my own this long on the edge of the universe out of sheer luck. I know how to swim with the pirates and murderers that inhabit these waters. It doesn't matter that I don't have a weapon. By the time my captors lead me into the rec room with a dripping-wet Sophie, I'm already setting the stage for my plan.

  I limp heavily as I walk, deliberately placing my feet in a way that adds pressure onto my prosthetics and makes my circuits jump. I act as if they're worse than they actually are, as if all my limbs are weighing me down and it's effort just to move. Let them think I'm slow and broken. It'll give me an edge when I strike.

  Sophie jumps to her feet as I shamble into the rec room, a choked sob in her throat. One of the V'tarrians immediately grabs her by the shoulder and slams her back down onto her knees, and she weeps even louder, her gaze on me. I fight back the surge of anger I feel at the sight of her. They didn't even give her a towel. She's dripping water and shivering with cold.

  The aliens nudge me in the back with a blaster, pushing me forward, and I mock-collapse at Sophie's side.

  Her crying becomes louder, her hands moving all over me. "Jerrok!"

  I pretend to struggle to sit upright. I hate that she's so worried, but her tears are just helping sell this moment. As I sit up, I mentally assess the room. There's a crystalline vase with a plant growing in it at the far side of the room. There's a large curved vid screen mounted to the wall. There's a comfortable couch with pillows, and other seating, but I don't see a lot that can be used as a weapon. If our captors leave us alone in this room, I can take apart the electronics and use the pieces to craft some sort of weapon. I can take the long sleeves of my uniform and rip them off, fill one end with bolts and gears and use it as a bludgeon, like putting a heavy rock into a sock and swinging it. It's crude but effective.

  Sophie's hands caress my face, and I look over at her. She's terrified, her pupils large in her face, and instinctively, I wrap my arms around her. I need to comfort her.

  The butt of one of the blasters slams into my shoulder, right where my prosthetic is attached to my body, and sends a bolt of agony flaring through me. "Let go of the female."

  "She's cold and scared," I growl at them. "Let me comfort her."

  "Tell us where the credits are stashed," a second alien says, coming up to us. "You can play with the female all you want after that."

  I snort. The moment I tell them anything, I'm dead. The only way I get out of this alive is holding out on information for as long as possible. "What credits?"

  "We know there's a stash on this ship. It's a pirate ship, is it not?" They nudge one of the blasters into my face again.

  I shrug, deliberately not looking in its direction. "I'm just here to take her to the port captain wants her at."

  "And your human? And your carinoux? Those are both pricey pieces, friend." The V'tarrian smirks.

  "They belong to the captain. I'm just watching them."

  "If everything belongs to the captain, then you won't mind telling us where his credits are stashed." The avian alien gives me an evil look. "We'll even cut you in if you work with us, friend."

  Sure they will. "Go kef yourself. I'm not telling you anything."

  The butt of one of the blasters slams into my brow. It makes a loud cracking noise, but doesn't hurt all that much thanks to the plating on my forehead. I give my head a little shake and glare up at them. "Gonna have to do better than that, friend."

  This time, the alien kicks me, hard, his clawed foot landing at the joint of my shoulder. I slam backward, and my arm sizzles with feedback as my circuits flare, the wiring stretched. If I were a normal male, that kick probably would have knocked my arm out of socket. As it is, it just sends pain rocketing through my system. I groan, rolling around on the floor even as my head fills with the pinging alerts of my prosthetic in danger of going offline.

  “Kef…you…” I grit out.

  "You can make this easy on yourself, or you can make this difficult." The avian looms over me, planting a foot at my shoulder again. "All we want are the credits. Tell us and we'll let you leave with the female."

  That's when I know they're lying. If they didn't care about taking Sophie with them, they'd be kicking her, too, trying to get information out of her. She's not marked up, and as awful as it is, I know it's because a pretty slave fetches a lot more than a beaten one. I glare up at the alien. "You think I'm a fool?"

  The V'tarrian leans on my shoulder, until my joints crack painfully.

  "Leave him alone," Sophie sobs, crawling across the floor toward me. "You're hurting him."

  "It wouldn't be necessary if he cooperated," the avian says. "Look at how unreasonable he is." And he steps on me again, sending a fresh wave of pain through my body.

  I can feel where the wiring is coming loose, and it sends needles of pain through my body as if it were a real limb. It's a nightmare.

  It…gives me an idea.

  80

  SOPHIE

  I can't stop crying as they abuse Jerrok, trying to get him to admit where the guns and credits are stashed on the ship. He takes all that they unleash on him, not saying a thing as they hit his face, kick him, and use the butts of their guns as bludgeons. It's not just terror that makes me cry. I'm so damn angry and frustrated that I'm helpless. That every time I get to my feet to help him, they shove me backward as if I'm nothing. Jerrok shoots me a warning look and I know he doesn't want me to interfere.

  So I stop trying to help and just bite my knuckles, watching.

  They don't touch me, at least. I'm not sure if that's good or bad. The two men continue to brutalize Jerrok until the door opens and a third bird-alien steps through. "Any luck?" he asks.

  "Nothing."

  His feather's ruffle and he makes a sound that reminds me of an angry crow. "Leave it for now and come help me search, then. We don't have much time before we meet up with the others."

  So there are more coming? Or are they meeting up with a group that's going to haul us back to V'tarr? Either way, I'm not a fan. We have to do something, and quickly.

  I hold my breath as they file back out of the room, leaving Jerrok rolling on the floor in agony. The moment they're gone, I rush to his side. "Jerrok! Are you okay?"

  He groans, clutching at his arm. His eyes are squeezed tightly shut, as if the pain is too much. "Are they…gone?"

  "For now." I glance around the room, but we're alone.

  Immediately, he sits up, wincing as he rotates his arm. "Keffing bastards." He tilts his head, neck cracking, and I blink in surprise at the transformation. "Think they're so tough," he grumbles. "I want to wring every one of their skinny necks."

  I touch his good shoulder gently, studying him. "Are you okay? Do you…need to cou
nt?" I remember the nightmares he had, where he had to count aloud over and over again to keep himself strong. I'll hold his hand and count with him if he needs it. I just have to make sure he's okay.

  He gives me a wry smile, his face bloodied. "Knowing you're all right makes me able to handle this."

  I bite my lip, nodding. The question I've been afraid to ask is on my lips. "Sleipnir…"

  "Drugged." When my shoulders slump with relief, he continues. "They won't harm him, Sophie. He's more valuable alive and unharmed than dead. You are, too." He gives me a protective look. "No matter what happens, you'll be safe."

  My throat feels tight. I cup his cheek. "What about you?"

  "I'm going to kill those keffing bastards." He grins, his lips tinged with blood. "Or go down trying."

  Good. I'm glad I'm not the only one feeling bloodthirsty and full of rage. "What can I do to help? Should I distract them? Feign sickness? What?" I gesture at the comm panel in the corner of the room. "Can we call the Jabberwock—"

  He shakes his head. "Comms will be down. That's the first thing any pirate hits. Hopefully the Jabberwock will notice when our flight path changes. We just have to survive that long."

  "Got it."

  Jerrok gives me a stern look. "As for what you can do to help—let me handle it. I have a plan, and it'll work better if I'm not distracted by worrying about you."

  I don't know if I like that. I dab at a bit of blood at the corner of his mouth and frown at him. "I can take care of myself. Let me help you."

  "I know you can. I'm not saying that to be dismissive. But worrying about you distracts me and I need to focus." Jerrok touches the auto-fastener at his throat and then shrugs his tunic off, detaching it from the pants of his uniform. He winces as he pulls it off, and the creak of his arm is louder than ever, sending a note of concern through me.