Pairing with the Protector

by Evangeline Anderson

  Her would-be attacker played his role as well. Hooting and grunting in apparent fear, he scuttled away from her, his long auburn hair swinging in his face. He ran to the door of the cage and looked up at the mother alien appealingly.

  “Oh dear!” she exclaimed. “So she didn’t like you either, did she, Silky? What a shame.” She sighed. “Well, maybe she’s not in heat right now. We’ll have to try again later, won’t we? For now I think we’d better let her get settled down for the night.”

  She put the man she’d called “Silky” back in his cage, which just so happened to be right beside Rafe’s and then reached her trunk into the cage for Whitney.

  Whitney still didn’t like being handled like a Barbie doll but there wasn’t much she could do as the large blue trunk curled around her waist and lifted her, with surprising delicacy, out of the cage, only to deposit her into another.

  Unfortunately her new cage was on the right side of the large center cage and Rafe’s was on the left so they couldn’t talk—at least not at the moment when the mother alien could have heard them calling to each other. But she saw that the big Kindred’s face was pressed against the thick wire bars, looking at her anxiously.

  The whole time she’d been fighting with “Silky” he had been raging—furious at not being able to help her. Whitney had heard his inarticulate growl of fury, though of course he couldn’t get to her to protect her, as he was no doubt wild to do. She wished she could call out and tell him she was okay—that she hadn’t been hurt. But the mother and daughter alien were still down in the lower level so all she could do was press her face to the bars of her own cage and mouth,

  “It’s all right! I’m okay!”

  Rafe’s dark face relaxed a bit, though he still didn’t look happy. At last he gave her a short nod and turned his attention to Silky in the next cage. He appeared to be saying something in a low, threatening voice. It must have been a pretty awful threat because Silky’s face turned pale and he backed away from the side of his cage which was next to Rafe’s and got as far from the big Kindred as possible.

  Serves him right! I hope he’s scared to death! Whitney thought resentfully. She was still pretty shaken up by the attempted rape and it didn’t help that she was still so naked and vulnerable. Who knew what new male the mother alien might put her into a cage with next? And what if it was a mindless feral who couldn’t be reasoned with, unlike Silky? Whitney didn’t even want to think about what would happen to her in that case.

  Then don’t think about it, she told herself firmly. Put it out of your mind, for now anyway. She did say she would at least give you the night to settle down so there’s no point in worrying about tomorrow.

  One of Whitney’s best qualities was the ability to put things out of her mind and not pick at a problem like a kid picking at a scab. When she decided not to worry about something, she was generally able to manage it by focusing on something else instead.

  Right now, she decided to focus on exploring her cage. Crossing her arms over her breasts and cupping her elbows in her palms, she began to make a circuit of the area, which was about the size of a large living room back home on Earth.

  The greenish-purple grass was about knee-high and covered everything but when Whitney knelt down to sweep some of it away, she saw a papery surface underneath which covered the wire bottom of the cage.

  She swept more of the grass away and frowned at the squiggles and marks which reminded her a lot of the markings on the outside of the dome of the house she’d seen when the little girl alien, Zhu-zhu, had first brought them in. Hmm…did they decorate everything in this culture, even the paper they used to line the bottom of their pets’ cages?

  Wait a minute! Suddenly a light bulb went off in her head. She’d had a menagerie of pets herself as a child—everything from guinea pigs and hamsters to cats and dogs to a fat old parrot named Chuckie Cheese she’d inherited from a cousin who had gone off to college and couldn’t take him along. Her mom had put up with everything as long as Whitney took care of the animals herself and used her own allowance to pay for their food and supplies.

  And what was one of the supplies that came in most handy?

  “Newspaper,” Whitney whispered to herself. She’d used it on the bottoms of all her birds’ cages and also put it down on the floor for training puppies. Her mom had often joked that Whitney was one of the only ten-year olds she knew of who had a subscription to the paper and actually used it. That had been true enough though she mostly only read the comics and used the rest for pet purposes.

  “I bet this is writing and this is their paper,” Whitney thought to herself. She studied the squiggles harder, willing her brain to make sense of them. She had heard that the translation bacteria often gave the ability to understand written languages as well as spoken ones but it didn’t seem to be working for her. Maybe this particular written language was too different from anything the translation bacteria was used to.

  After she had stared until she started to give herself a headache, she gave up and decided to worry about the alien’s language later on.

  Anyway, it’s probably just an ad or the latest political news which wouldn’t mean anything to me, she told herself. Time to look at the rest of the cage and see what she could see.

  Which turned out to be quite a lot, since her private cage was much better fitted out than the bare middle cage. Near the back of the cage was a veritable wonderland of pet toys—all of them so big Whitney felt like she was in an adult-sized playground.

  To start with there was a giant wheel which looked like something you would see in a hamster cage. Whitney was tempted to get in it and run around a bit—it looked like fun. But she was acutely conscious that she was still naked and she didn’t want to do any physical activities that would make her over-bountiful curves jiggle all over the place.

  Reluctantly, she turned to the other toys she could see. There was a vast hollow ball about the size of a big rubber exercise ball back home which came up to her thighs. It was dark blue and had tiny slits all over its surface. When Whitney gave it an experimental push, it rolled a little way over the grass-covered cage floor with a dry rustling sound and emitted a spicy aroma which was strangely compelling.

  She rolled it again and took a deeper whiff, then giggled for no apparent reason. The smell—which was a little like wild cherry cough syrup crossed with the skunky odor of someone smoking pot, made her feel light-headed and silly. What could be making it? Was there something inside the ball?

  Whitney looked more closely at her new toy. Sure enough, through the slits in the ball she could see something like red hay mixed with dried purple flowers. The dried plant material rustled when she rolled the ball and emitted more of the spicy aroma which made her feel stupidly giggly.

  What the hell? Is this some kind of drug? But why would the blue elephant aliens leave a ball filled with drugs in a pet cage?

  Then she thought of her cat, Mr. Fluffypants, back home. He was an extremely dignified Persian mix who looked with distain on all the world. Until, that was, he was given a toy filled with catnip. Then he lost all restraint and went completely crazy. There was almost nothing funnier than watching her decorous pet lose it when he got his kitty high on.

  “Catnip,” Whitney muttered. “Or in this case, humanoid-nip.” That must be what it was—some kind of drug that affected only the aliens’ pet “tweedles.”

  She had to restrain herself from rolling the ball again or leaning over for another sniff. Now that she knew what the stuff in it was, it was probably better to avoid it.

  Although I wouldn’t mind getting high right now—it would certainly take the edge off this crazy situation, Whitney admitted to herself. Still, she decided it was better to keep her wits about her and see what else she could find in the cage.

  There was a dome-like climbing frame made of brightly colored wood which looked a little like the jungle-gym she’d used as a kid in elementary school and an assortment of large oblong things covered
in soft, red, blue, and green fur that seemed to be stuffed like pillows.

  Best of all, in Whitney’s opinion anyway, was a kind of Teepee-looking structure which was made of soft blue felt-like material and hanging from the back, right corner of the cage. At first she was puzzled by it, but when she climbed the short swinging ladder which led up to it and looked inside the round opening, she saw that it was a little nest where she could curl up and sleep.

  Like one of those hanging hamster beds they sell in pet stores, she thought, climbing in and looking around. The bottom was just cloth, so it was a little like walking on a hammock and the inside space was about four feet across by six feet tall. Not a lot of room, but it was someplace to get some privacy and if she brought some of the fluffy colorful oblongs up and used them as pillows, it should be warm and cozy.

  So much for toys and a place to sleep, Whitney thought, climbing down again. What about something to eat and a place to pee?

  She’d been holding it for some time and by now she really had to answer the call of nature. But the fact that she was trapped in a cage and being treated like a pet, pretty much eliminated any chance she might have had for a nice private bathroom with plenty of toilet paper.

  Whitney left the right corner of the cage and wandered over to the left, looking for a private place to do her business. On the way there, she nearly tripped and fell into what appeared to be a shallow kiddie pool filled with water.

  “What in the world!” Whitney hissed to herself as she stumbled. She just barely saved herself from going ass over teakettle right into the stupid pool. Why would anyone hide something like that here in the middle of the bedding-grass?

  Then it hit her—this was no kiddie pool—it was her water dish.

  Oh, okay. Whitney nodded to herself and knelt down to see if it was fresh.

  It was and she had a moment to be grateful that Mama alien appeared to be a good and responsible pet owner. But if this was the water, then where was the food?

  Whitney hunted around in the greenish-purple grass for some time but she came up empty. It wasn’t a big deal right now—she really wasn’t hungry at the moment. Her body was still coming down from fight or flight mode and she had no appetite. But she knew herself and nothing made her crankier than low blood sugar so it would be a problem soon.

  She remembered Mama alien’s promise that she would let Zhu-zhu feed the new tweedles. Would she remind the little girl when it was feeding time or would she expect Zhu-zhu to be responsible and remember it was time to feed her new pets?

  Oh dear, I hope she reminds her! Whitney thought. But that was another worry she decided to push to the back of her mind. After all, it wasn’t like she was about to starve to death anytime soon. She would be okay if she missed a meal—just not very happy.

  At the moment, however, there was a need even more important than food which was pressing urgently at her nerves. Whitney resumed her search for a bathroom and continued on to the left far corner of the cage.

  There was no toilet of course and not a single square of toilet paper to be found. But the grass used for bedding was especially thick and high here and Whitney decided to make it even thicker. Industriously, she gathered enough of it to erect a kind of barrier around the far left corner with a small opening on end. Then she slipped inside her makeshift bathroom and squatted over the mounded pile of grass she had put there for the purpose.

  It was awkward peeing in the corner, but at least she had relative privacy. Afterwards, she used one of the giant blades of grass, as wide as her palm, in lieu of toilet paper. It was cool and waxy and not very absorbent but it was better than drip-drying as far as Whitney was concerned. Plus, she could always use some of the water from her kiddie pool-water dish to wash up afterwards.

  She came out of the corner bathroom feeling like the setup she found herself in wasn’t perfect, but it would do—at least until she could get out of here. She had privacy for sleeping and for elimination, a source of fresh water, toys to play with and the alien newspaper to try and decipher if she got bored. Hell, she even had access to recreational drugs, though she was determined not to use them unless she was desperate. For right now, she was set.

  She wondered how Rafe was finding his cage and if it was as nicely set up as hers. And she also hoped that Mama alien and Zhu-zhu, who was still playing with her dollhouse and a family of dolls as big as Whitney, would soon leave so she could risk talking to the big Kindred.

  But in the meantime, all she could do was wait.

  Twelve

  Rafe couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so enraged or felt so fucking helpless.

  Yes you can, whispered a caustic little voice in his brain. Remember what happened to Tenda?

  He pushed the memory savagely away—or tried to. But it lingered in the back of his mind like a bad taste lingers on the back of the tongue.

  You weren’t in time for Tenda, just like you weren’t in time for Whitney, whispered the voice. How can you ever expect her to trust you again when you weren’t able to protect her from that raping bastard?

  Of course, she had pressed her face to the bars of her cage and mouthed to him that she was all right but was she? Was she really? What had that bastard done to her in the middle cage while Rafe was locked in his own cage and unable to help her?

  She fought him off—I’m sure she did! I saw her do it, he told himself. But the fact that she’d had to fight the attacker off without his help made him all the more angry and enraged. He was her Protector—what Whitney called her “bodyguard” and yet he had been unable to do his duty and keep her safe.

  The thought made the Rage, which had taken him during the attack, want to come on again and he pushed it down with an effort. It would do no good to lose his senses right now—he had to be thinking of a way to escape—a way the two of them could get out of these cages and back to their ship.

  But not before I tear that bastard who attacked her limb-from-limb, Rafe told himself grimly.

  When the mother alien had first deposited the attacker back in the cage beside his own, Rafe had run to the side of the cage which abutted the other male’s cage. He’d reached through the bars and made a grab for the raping bastard, but the other male was just out of reach. The male had taken a step backwards anyway, staring warily at Rafe, whose eyes were red and hot with Rage.

  “You son of a bitch,” he’d muttered thickly—careful to keep his voice low so the mother alien wouldn’t hear. “The minute I get my hands on you, you’re as good as fucking dead! Nobody hurts my female and gets away with it. Whitney is mine! Do you hear me, mine. So I’m going to enjoy tearing you apart—tearing you into tiny little fucking pieces—while you scream in pain. Those screams are going to be music to my fucking ears—do you hear what I’m saying to you? You’re dead—fucking dead!”

  The words had poured out of him like a thick torrent of bile and though he didn’t expect the feral male to understand, he was surprised to see his pale blue eyes widen as he backed away. The other male had retreated to the far corner and used a bunch of the greenish-purple grass to make a kind of barrier to hide himself from Rafe’s glare. He was still in there, huddled by himself, as though he hoped Rafe would forget him.

  That wasn’t going to happen. Rafe was determined to tear the bastard apart the first chance he got.

  Of course he was never going to get a chance if he didn’t find a way out of the damn cage.

  The mother alien had gone away and was doing some sort of chore which seemed to involve putting huge pieces of fabric in and out of a gurgling machine as big as a mountain. She was humming as she worked—a low rumbling sound like boulders crashing downhill in the distance—and seemed completely preoccupied, so Rafe felt free to try and escape.

  He went back to the door of the cage and reached through the bars again, trying to find a way to open the locking mechanism. It felt simple to his seeking fingers, but it stuck fast when he attempted to work it. Damn it, what was wrong with the fucking th
ing and how was he ever going to get out of here if he couldn’t open it?

  He gave up for a moment and examined the bars of the cage instead. They were made of some kind of thick metal which might pass for wire in this world. Back on the Mother Ship, however, they would have been iron girders. Each one was as big around as his thigh and extremely solid. Rafe tried pushing them apart to no avail—he also couldn’t fit through them either, since there was barely six to eight inches of room between each one. So there was no escaping that way.

  Giving up, he went back to the lock and worked on it with single-minded focus and no results for what felt like hours until he heard the mother alien calling in her deep voice to the child,

  “All right now, Zhu-zhu, be careful when you feed them. I don’t want you fiddling around with the cage doors so just push the chick-chak slices and the tundu sticks through the bars of the cages.”

  “Yes, Mama,” the child replied and before he knew it, something that looked like a pale green plank of wood was making its way through the thick wire bars of his cage.

  Rafe got out of the way as the long, narrow plank worked itself between the bars and into his cage. It was followed by two huge flat slices about the circumference of bicycle tires. The slices were about six inches thick and had a white center and a deep blue rind all around the edge.

  “There, Mama—is that enough?” he heard Zhu-zhu ask.

  “Yes my dear, I think it is.” The mother alien sounded thoughtful. “That ought to satisfy them.”

  “And should I give the same to the little female tweedle or are we going to use the special food?” the child asked.

  “Not tonight, I don’t think,” the mother answered. “Just give her the same as the little male for now.”

  “Yes, Mama,” Zhu-zhu replied and Rafe watched as she shoved a thick green plank and two of the bicycle tire-sized white and blue slices into Whitney’s cage as well. Whitney had come out to watch the operation and when the little alien child pushed the green plank into her cage, she took the end and tugged it playfully, grinning at Zhu-zhu.