Kept by the Zandian: Zandian Brides Book 5

by Rose, Renee

  I cast my eyes down, an obedient human, and try to look as meek as possible.

  “B-4389742?” He leans forward and scowls. Makes a move as if to type into a device, then purses his lips in disgust. “System is down this planet rotation for the transfer. Master’s name?”

  “Master Ock-Len.” I feel dizzy. This name was fed to us from the Zandians who intercepted various messages. Ock-Len is supposedly a slave breeder on this planet who manages over 500 female slaves. Hopefully this guard won’t question my provenance too hard.

  “Ah, yes. Ock-Len.” His lips curl up into a smile. “He has quite the way with keeping humans in line. Give him my regards.”

  I don’t know if I’m supposed to respond to this; certainly I don’t want to, because my stomach heaves. Luckily, I don’t need to piece together an answer because the guard waves his hand.

  “Enter. Remember your place and do not make any unwarranted moves.” The door opens, revealing a long, dim corridor that reminds me of a crypt. The Ocretion’s scabby gray hand goes to the shock stick at his waist, which hangs alongside a stunner.

  I bow my head and clench my jaw to keep my teeth from clacking together. “Understood.”

  As I walk in, several Ocretions stride out, arms full of transparent containers that shine with silver discs. Mother Earth, what if the information I need is already moved?

  “The new facility… much better…” I catch snatches of their words, which waft back to me along with their odor as they hustle past, paying me no attention.

  “…more security… 360 degree camera surveillance…”

  I quicken my pace, following the path I’ve memorized, heart beating so fast I think it might give out altogether. When I reach the records room, I hesitate, then push the door open.

  It’s smaller than I expected. One human sits behind a counter, and a guard stands in the corner, looking bored. He’s doing something on a wrist comm and yawning.

  I approach the woman. “Slave B-4389742, here for Master Ock-Len.” I clear my throat. “Requesting discs BAY1 and BAY2.”

  She looks me up and down and her eyes go wide. Her face pale. She knows I’m out of place here.

  Oh Mother Earth, I should have known I couldn’t fool a human!

  Her mouth opens and shuts and she blinks fast. Then she stammers, “Ah, yes, of course. Right away. Please wait.”

  The guard glances over, scans us for a second, looks back to his comm.

  She goes behind a partition and is gone for a long time. I fidget with my hands, then still myself, because if I were a real slave here on a mission from her master, I’d not be so nervous. I resist the urge to pull my cloak over my face. So far, that guard in the corner doesn’t seem to care one bit that I’m here, and I need to keep it that way.

  When she finally returns, I hiss out my breath in relief. “Thank you.” My voice is shaky.

  She gives me a smile, a small flicker, and I notice dark circles under her eyes. Bruises on her wrists. My heart breaks anew, and I think to myself: Some planet rotation, I will come back here and save this woman, too.

  “These are children.” Her voice is still low. She glances at the silver disc, then back at me. “Humans.”

  I nod.

  Her fingers graze mine as she hands me the flat silver packages. “May you succeed,” she says, her voice so low I can barely hear her. Her eyes drill into mine. Sad, but determined.

  I nod. “I will.”

  The guard looks over again. “Is there a problem?” His voice is gravelly and grating.

  “No, Master,” I respond. “Merely ensuring I have the right information that my master requested.”

  He narrows his eyes, then steps closer. “Is that so?”

  The woman steps back, pulls her garment closer around herself, as if dissolving into the shelving unit.

  “I will be on my way.” I nod to her.

  “Let me see those.” The guard’s voice is firm.

  I swallow hard. “These are for Master Ock-Len. May I contact him for permission to share these?”

  “Even better. I will accompany you to him.” He smirks at me, flicks my hood. “Perhaps I will ask to breed you. I’ve never seen a lovelier slave.”

  My body screams out to run, but he’s got a shock stick, too, and a comm unit: One call, and he could have the cavalry upon me.

  So I merely jerk my head in acquiescence.

  “I’m sure you know where your master is at the moment?” The guard eyes me. I can’t tell if he’s suspicious of me, wants to rut, or both.

  “He’s…” I think frantically. “He is ah, surveying some land in the wooded area near the outer city.”

  “Why would he be there?” The guard stops and stares at me. “That is an unpopulated area.”

  I make up the first thing I can. “He, ah, my master is crafty. He is thinking of building a new slave training and storage system there to take advantage of the space. He’s assessing the land for suitability.” I look down again, as if I’m not supposed to say this, but had to, because this Ocretion is above me as well. “I’m not supposed to speak of this, but I am sure that Master would trust you.”

  The guard grunts. “A new compound, eh?” His eyes gleam. “He will want investors who can keep it a secret, I am sure, so the price of the land does not go up in a bidding war.”

  I incline my head.

  I don’t know what in Mother Earth I’m doing. I only hope that if I can lead this ugly Ocretion back to the ship where the Zandians are waiting, cloaked, they will see and understand what I’m doing. Will kill him before he can sound the alarm.

  But I’m going to have to play this right.

  “My Master says that this is a project that must be secret,” I say.

  “Then perhaps we should see him immediately.” The guard grabs my arm and digs in, his sharp nails nearly puncturing my skin.

  I hold back a whimper. “I will do as you request.”

  He grunts again. “Come with me.” He runs his other hand over my breast, a gross, blatant gesture, then laughs. “I am sure your master is a reasonable Ocretion. He will be willing to trade something of value for my silence on this matter.”

  I’m dizzy and cold as we walk through the baking streets. No beings seem to take notice—it’s mostly Ocretions on the move, and slaves going here and there, heads down, walking at a serene pace.

  As we near the tree line, the activity dies down, and soon we’re the only beings there. You’d think the woods would be inviting, but the trees are rotting at the outskirts, poisoned by chemicals that leach out of Ocretion factories which ring the city. Deeper into the forest, where the greenery is healthier, is a clearing where our Zandian ship waits, masked.

  The Ocretion sniffs the air. “Not a pleasant place to build a slave barracks.” He scans the area. “Where’s his retinue? His hover craft?” A small note of something enters his voice. “Answer.”

  He shakes my arm.

  Do they see me? Surely they are watching on their system, yes? Maybe the blind navigator can find me, small speck of humanity that I am in this vast sea of shit?

  “He said he’d be back in here, where it is clear.” I swallow bile.

  The guard takes out his shock stick. “Show me.”

  I don’t know what he’s thinking, but I nod. “Yes, of course.”

  I pick my way through the tall grasses that have razor sharp edges, like back on Romon-3, and gag a little as we pass a rotted out tree stump that holds a fetid pool of green liquid in a black cavern.

  “We are nearing his place.” I raise my voice. “I will be glad to have you meet my Master and discuss a trade with him.”

  I wait in anticipation. Any second now, my Zandians will leap out and overpower this Ocretion. They will save me.

  But nothing happens. “It’s just ahead,” I promise. “We will see him soon.”

  The guard snarls and pokes my back with his shock stick. I scream as a bolt of electricity enters my spine, paralyzing me with a bu
rst of pain so intense that I can’t see. I bend over, retching, gasping, sparks of color popping behind my lids.

  “I am tired of your faltering.” He hits me with the stick on my temple, this time without energy, but the new pain makes me cry out. “You are taking too long. Where is he?”

  It’s almost like a baby animal whining for its mother.

  “I-I…” I gasp, unable to get out words. He knows I’m lying.

  While I am lying on the ground, I fumble blindly for the discs. He is going to rape me and kill me, or take me back to slavery, and I need to get this data uploaded before it happens. At least I can save some children. “Leylah, forgive me,” I whisper.

  I double over and manage to pull my cloak over my body. I frantically scrabble to insert the first disc into the slot on my comm. I practiced on the ship, and it’s not hard. It’s only a few moments before I hear the “bip” that signals the completion of the upload.

  But I still have one more disc to go.

  “Get to your feet.” The guard hauls me up by the neck of my cloak. “Do you think that humans get to lie around, lazy, any time they like?”

  His lip curls in a vicious snarl and little bits of foam form at the corners of his mouth. “Or are you a slut, hoping to entice me to to give you a pretty reward, like a coin or a piece of fruit?”

  I choke back my sob of fear, pulling away from him, still managing to keep my hands and the discs hidden under the cloak.

  Wrong move.

  He slams me again on the temple with his stick, and even without electricity, it’s such a strong blow that my mind goes black for a second. I fall back down, heavily, and land on my wrist, the one that holds my comm.

  There’s a dull crack and then a pain that radiates up my arm, and now I can’t move it all at.

  But I persevere. “Please, I’m sorry.” I gasp out the words, little choking sounds. “I beg for your leniency.” While I’m back down here, I insert the second disc into the slot, wincing as it moves my broken bones against each other, trying not to pass out. With the cloak over me, I can barely breathe, but it gives me the moment of privacy I need.

  When the beep comes, I feel a burst of energy.

  “If you’re just going to stay down there, it seems I will have to try you out.”

  The Ocretion kicks me in the ribs, then I hear him start to fumble with his pants buckle. “We’ll see if you’re more obedient once you’ve been used like human slaves deserve.”

  I push the upload button.

  The guard stills.

  “Wait. What was that sound? What are you doing?” He stops with his buckle and leans down. “Give me the discs.” His voice rises. “Are you wearing a comm?” He’s completely taken aback at the possibility. “Human slaves never get comms. Where…” He furrows his brow.

  I was supposed to dig a hole and push the self destruct button on this specially engineered comm, starting a small explosion that would then burn the items in a contained but hot fire, leaving only ash behind.

  But the Ocretion grabs at me, urgency in his hands, pulling at my garments.

  If he sees me doing this, surely he’ll call on his comm for backup and tell them I’m a spy. They’ll find the discs, unscramble the comm, and come after Zandia.

  I need to get rid of this immediately.

  I activate the destruct button under my cloak, hoping it will mask the fire from burning me too badly.

  There is a small pop and then a bright light and a searing pain in my hands. Then everything goes black.

  But just a moment before I pass out, I think I hear my Zandian’s voice.

  * * *

  Drayk

  My female. My little human.

  She nearly died. I can’t get the image of Taisha’s crumpled form on the ground, the odious Ocretion battering her. Even as the ship speeds safely away, my body is in warrior-mode. I’m sick to my stomach. Ready to battle.

  I would’ve liked to tear that Ocretion’s limbs off, but I couldn’t.

  “Jump to hyper complete,” Tarak reports.

  “Acknowledged.” I step back and turn. “Update on Taisha. How is she?” My voice is taut.

  “Stable but still unconscious.” My med tech stands in front of me at the comm center, where Tarak and I just completed our stealth exit from the airspace of the planet.

  “But she’s alive?” I step forward. “Speak faster.”

  He puts up a hand. “Yes, Captain. She’s alive. Burns on her hands and forearms, and a broken wrist. We have her in the healing pack and have splinted the arm. She is improving as we speak, but will still need medical care when we arrive on Zandia.”

  “Veck.”

  “But we got the data!” My navigator’s voice is jubilant. “And she destroyed the evidence, and we left airspace without being noticed.”

  “Except for the Ocretion we left dead back on the planet.”

  “What will happen when he is noticed as missing?”

  I run a hand over my face. “Since we used the toxin from our human on him, hopefully his peers will assume it’s a heart attack. Why he was in the woods, the excuse for that? They will wonder. We left no evidence of our presence.”

  “In the end, a clean mission. As good as we could have hoped. Only one casualty, with a valid excuse, and nothing points to us. Nothing at all.”

  “Except Taisha was on the planet,” I point out. “And she was seen by beings. If anyone reports her as being out of place, they might start to suspect something.”

  “It’s a chance we had to take. It was a lower risk than us going personally. And at least now we have the information Dr. Daneth needs. He can get the children back.”

  I nod. “It’s not an unmitigated success, but I’m cautiously optimistic.”

  “She was brave.” Tarak looks toward the iso bay, where our human is still confined, albeit this time with more medical care.

  “Yes.” I nod. “Indeed. It must have taken great courage to go there, knowing the risks.”

  “I thought you were going to rip him apart, the Ocretion.”

  “He deserved it,” I snarl, my fists clenching. I force them to relax. “But it was important not to leave any mark on him. By killing him with the syringe, it will leave the symptoms of a heart attack. Any damage on his body would be suspicious to the ones who find him.”

  “Plus, you laid him out with his hands clutching his chest,” points out Tarak “That’s the classic way that Ocretions usually suffer from chest pain before they have an infarction.”

  “Star willing, they will not find anything suspicious about his death.”

  My mind is now on Taisha. “I will check our human.”

  Our med tech on board, Kurtt, or the Zandian with the most medical knowledge to be exact, has treated and bandaged Taisha’s wounds. Seeing her hands and arms swathed in white gauze sends an unfamiliar feeling through me, forcing my chest to tighten and my blood to boil. I want to go back to that planet and incinerate all of the Ocretions.

  Then I remember that she only put herself into this position because of me, and our mission, and I want to curse myself as well.

  I sit beside her on the hoverdisk where she lies, her eyes shut. Long lashes brush her cheeks. She’s breathing evenly, and the pack affixed to her arm flashes one red, one green light.

  “Does this mean she’s healing?” I point to the display.

  “Yes.” Kurtt steps closer. “The bone has already resealed. Human skin is fragile and burns readily, but the salves and medicines are speeding new regrowth using a botanical formula that some of the humans created under Dr. Daneth’s supervision. But it will take some time, probably a few planet rotations, before she’s fully healed.”

  I brush one of her dark curls out of her eyes. “Is she in pain?”

  “I administered medications that block pain in humans, so I assume not.”

  At this moment, Taisha opens her eyes. She looks at me, uncomprehending, her features laden with panic and fear.

  Rememb
ering what happened last time I startled her awake, I gently grip both of her arms, above the bandages.

  She gasps and fights me.

  “It’s just me,” I say quickly. “It’s Drayk. I’m not going to hurt you. Don’t hit me; you’ll aggravate your injuries.”

  Focus returns to her eyes and recognition dawns. Her whole body slumps back down. “Oh, Mother Earth. I’m safe? Where am I?”

  She gets a burst of energy and struggles to sit up, so I help her, letting go of her arms to support her shoulders.

  “You’re on my ship. You succeeded. We got the data, and we’re on the way back to Zandia.”

  “But the Ocretion.” She glances around sharply, muscles tensed, as if she might need to run. “He was going to… he was…” She shudders.

  “You destroyed the discs and comm before he could sound any alarm or notify any other beings, and we killed him before he…” I scowl, unable to finish.

  I know what that Ocretion beast was going to do to her and the thought of it slays me.

  She puts a hand to her chest, her legs. “He didn’t rape me.” She sounds almost surprised.

  Rape her? Veck. I would’ve torn his dick off with my bare hands if he had.

  “I was hoping you’d come.”

  “I should have come sooner.” My voice is harsh, and I find it hard to forgive myself for leaving her out there too long. “As soon as we saw you approaching with him, I knew we would have to kill him. I came out immediately, but it was almost too late.”

  “You saved me.” She looks up, her dark brown eyes wide. “Thank you.”

  I avert my gaze. “Thank you, is more appropriate. You put yourself at considerable risk and got what we needed. And, ah, the toxin you brought on board the ship? We used that to neutralize the Ocretion.”

  “Good.” Her voice is fierce. “If all goes well, they’ll think it was a random heart attack, just like back on Romon-3.”

  “It weighs in our favor that it’s the number one cause for Ocretion deaths, apart from battle.” I snort. “Are you all right?”

  I take her arms, but gently, encircling her narrow wrists with my hands, just barely touching. “Does this hurt?”