by Josie Walker
Who would listen to me? I am only a charl. The council is the highest level of authority on Krina, after the Elders. The council has spoken, and we must comply.
“Those monsters have my friends,” I wail. “And no one is going to even try to rescue them?”
“That’s not what I said. The council told me they will plan a rescue mission from Krina, Sarah. They will use all of their resources to find the women from the geological team and Tessa. But our team won’t be part of it.”
“Do you trust them to do this?” A spark of hope starts in my chest.
“Of course I do. They will do everything in their power to find them. And we must do our part by leaving Sagren to protect the new lives, and bring hope for future generations. It isn’t safe here. We have no idea when the metalheads will come back.”
“When do we leave?” I ask, wiping my tears against my arm.
“As we speak, Aptar and Lewsha are initiating the protocols to deconstruct the dome. Then they’ll convert it back into a ship. Zalken is heading up a team to gather food, water, and air samples that we will take with us to analyze further on Krina. We will start our journey for the home planet today.”
Silent tears continue to leak from the corners of my eyes as I try to process everything. I want to save Tessa and the others. I feel so incredibly guilty. My friend never would have been in this situation if she hadn’t been watching out for me.
I’d argue more if I thought I stood a chance of changing his mind. But Vorek would never defy the council or the Elders, not even for me. Even if I somehow succeeded in convincing Vorek to hunt down the alien kidnappers that wouldn’t change the fact that we lack both the manpower and the resources to rescue them.
I sigh and place a hand on my stomach. Fear for the safety of my unborn child is at war with my loyalty to my friend. Regardless, I have no power in this matter. I am just a human charl, and I must concede to the authority of the council.
Vorek picks me up and carries me into the shower. It doesn’t matter that we were in here only hours before, because with him I’m always ready. When he starts tugging off my clothing I don’t try to stop him. I think that deep down he feels just as wretched as I do.
There’s only one thing that could possibly take my mind off of my misery, and that’s him. He turns on the water and I throw myself at him, our mouths connect and it’s as though I’m on life support and he’s giving me oxygen. My arms slide up around his neck and my feet lift up off of the ground when he carries me into the shower.
The warm water slides down our bodies, and it’s perfectly designed to come at us from multiple directions so not a single bit of my flesh is cold. Water can’t possibly wash away all the pain, but it helps numb it for a time. I don’t see him reach out to press the button, but I know he must have when I see the little shelf sliding out from the hidden recess in the wall.
He lifts me up and sets me down on the bench, putting my breasts at the perfect height for his attentions. Pregnancy has made my nipples so sensitive that when he draws one into his mouth I can’t help but shudder. I run my fingers through his hair as he continues to suckle me, and bit by bit the pleasure travels downward, igniting a heat deep in my core.
By the time I feel him nudging his cock towards my entrance I’m more than ready for him. He glides inside and we’re both caught up in a frenzied tempo as old as time. My body clenches down hard on his shaft as I come, and I can feel him pulsing deep inside of me. And I’m so overwhelmed that I cry.
I cry because of the pleasure. I cry in despair for my friends and their scary plight. And I cry because there is absolutely nothing I can do about it. And all the while, Vorek holds me close to him. Thanks to the fact that I was raised in a cult I’m generally pretty standoffish to all things religious. But that doesn’t stop me from shooting up a quick prayer just in case.
“God, please protect Tessa. Please keep my friends safe from those aliens.”
I don’t realize I’ve spoken aloud until Vorek utters a soft, “Amen.”
Tessa
We are herded out of the space shuttle. It landed in an open area that is surrounded by unusual looking trees. Purple and magenta foliage let me know we are on a strange alien planet, as if I need any more reminders. I know I’m far from home!
The area is covered with tall grassy foliage that looks exactly like the exotic plants that were outside the dome on Sagren. The long blades gently wrap around my ankles and knees, but they release their hold when I kick my foot. Well, that’s freaky.
Since there are no days and nights in outer space, we’ve lost track of how much time has elapsed since our capture. We know it’s been at least a month now, since all of us have had at least one visit from Aunt Flo. While we stand there gawking, we are gently prodded to get us moving again. We follow our captors and walk around to the other side of the shuttle.
I’m busy keeping an eye on my feet. The crazy grass seems to be trying to trip me when Eclipsa exclaims, “Look at that!”
I turn immediately to see what she is talking about. The terrain is sloped and at the top of the rise in front of us is a walled city. The structures are made out of different colors of metal and the sun, correction . . . suns, reflect off of them like mirrors. The wall itself is mammoth, and the buildings behind it tower even taller.
The six of us stop dead in our tracks. We’re already freaked out by the fact that we just landed on a strange alien planet. But as if that wasn’t bad enough, now we’re being herded into an iron fortress. It’s even worse than the scary village in the 1970’s movie of King Kong.
Our captors are saying something in their guttural language. I can make out a few of their words now, like “VASTU,” which I think is something along the lines of, come here you human slave. I don’t recognize this new word, but the motions of their hands let us know that we need to keep walking.
I see metal aliens walking along the top wall of the fortified structure. It reminds me of a wall around a medieval castle. More aliens come out of what looks like guard towers atop the wall. We hear the strange chattering sound start up from the ones on top. The massive drawbridge is lowered as we walk toward it. I hear gears turning and huge doors open in front of us.
“That sound is really freaking me out,” Nokey says.
“Yeah, me too,” I agree.
I hear more alien chattering, but the volume has been turned up from a two to a ten. I look up to see that the top wall is now completely covered with aliens. I turn and look behind me to see if there’s any way we could make a run for it, but all of the metal men who were on our ship have formed a wall, herding us forward.
My ever-present trident man reaches out, putting a hand on my shoulder to guide me. It’s as if he’s reading my mind, and letting me know thoughts of escape are futile. I really, really hate these guys. I wish we spoke the same language so I could tell them off properly.
My friends and I walk through the door and my heart stops in my chest as we’re greeted by a sea of aliens. There are more of them than I can even begin to count. Every one of them is chanting and reaching for us. We scream and try to back up, but we’re pressed in on all sides.
Claustrophobia doesn’t begin to describe how I feel. Something’s bothering me, but I can’t quite put my finger on it. Then it hits me. I haven’t seen a single female metal head. That can’t be good.
The trident man puts a hand on my shoulder, and thrusts his trident up in the air. Somehow he magnifies his voice, and the wild chattering stops, allowing everyone to hear his words. I know something is happening when the sea of metal parts, clearing a path for us to walk through. The trident man keeps one hand on my shoulder as we walk forward.
“Tessa, what’s happening?” Eclipsa says. “Did you understand anything he said?”
The only thing I could make out is DAS GAHMEN. He said that on the ship when any of the others would come n
ear me.
“I’m starting to fear that I know exactly what that one phrase means,” I admit nervously.
“What?”
“She’s mine,” I answer softly.
Eclipsa gasps, when as though to verify my theory cold steel arms grab me around the waist. I’m ripped from my friends. I scream as I see them being restrained and carried in the opposite direction. But what scares me the most is the fact that I don’t recognize the alien who’s carrying me.
I look back expectantly towards trident man, but for once he doesn’t try to stop others from touching me. He says something to me, but I haven’t a clue what it means. I guess the bastard isn’t interested in me anymore. I’d be thrilled, but I’d rather have one admirer than thousands!
One of the aliens presses a strangely scented cloth to my face, and calm consumes me as I slump in their arms. Oh God . . . I’ve been drugged. Several sets of cold metal hands lift me up, and I am stretched out lying down on my back. I’m being passed from one set of hands to another.
It’s like I’m in a mosh pit at a heavy metal concert, I think as I’m passed over their heads. Their wild chanting adds to the dizziness. Whatever they gave me makes me feel like I’m having an out of body experience. Whatever happens, I can only hope it’s over quickly.
My disoriented thoughts slip over the series of events that brought me to this point. Why am I even here? I remember spying on Vorek because I was afraid for Sarah, then stowing away on the shuttle. I’m really regretting that impulsive decision right now. I sob as I think of Sarah, my best friend. What’s happened to her? Was Vorek able to keep her safe or did the metal heads kill her? Will I ever see her again?
Thoughts of Sarah make me worried for my other friends. I crane my head hoping to get a glimpse of Eclipsa and the others, but I don’t see them anywhere. How can I keep them safe if I don’t even know where they are? I ignore the more obvious question regarding how I can keep them safe when I can’t even save myself, because such thoughts aren’t worth dwelling on.
A wave of dizziness crashes over me, so I go back to looking up into the pale white sky. Silver clouds float above me as I slip from consciousness. And then . . . all is calm.
CHAPTER FOUR
Tessa
I have no idea how much time has passed, but the next thing I know I’m standing upright on a steel platform. No one is near me, but my legs are stretched wide, and tethered to heavy chains that are connected to the floor. My arms are also secured and pulled out to the sides with chains attached to tall poles. I struggle and scream, and see that the chains allow for very little movement. I can’t even sit down.
Something is weighing my neck down and I look at my chest to see that there are heavy strands of chains looped around my neck, but these are not restraining me. They seem to be decorative in nature, ornate jewelry fashioned from different metals. I see gold, silver, copper, and others I don’t recognize. I also feel the cool sensation of metal on my forehead and I think they’ve put some kind of headband or crown on my head.
There’s a sickening dropping sensation in my stomach and I realize my platform is rising. I scream in terror, and look around frantically for my friends, but I don’t see them anywhere. The higher the platform goes, the further I can see; but they’re nowhere in sight. The platform is soon towering about twenty to thirty feet in the air.
From this vantage I have a clear view of the flat expanse below. It’s shaped like a football field, complete with stadium seating which seems to be made of metal . . . like everything else on this freaking planet. Only the metal doesn’t look smooth. It’s rough, like a natural rock formation. Is it possible that the steel bleachers have been carved out like the face of a mountain?
Wait? Is this a sporting event? Are sports universal?
Every seat is taken. Oh my God. It’s worse than we could have imagined. There must be five thousand metal heads down there. They’re pounding their feet on the bleachers and the sound is terrifying in its intensity.
They’re all worked up about something. What? Something like football? I’ve never been big on sports, but I guess that makes sense, especially if they don’t have television. I need to know what’s happening! Why am I tied up?
And then a horrific thought occurs to me. What if I’m the sporting event? Am I going to be a human sacrifice? Did they bring us all this way just to kill us? That would explain all the chains. The better to tear me to pieces with!
I look back at what I’m dubbing the football field, and try to figure it out. It has walls around it, so the bleachers don’t go all the way to the bottom. There are some things attached high on the walls. They look like shiny versions of medieval weapons.
There appears to be only one of each type of weapon. I see a sword, a spear, a spiked ball and chain, a net, a trident, and a massive hammer with a spike on one end. Maybe they aren’t planning on killing me. Maybe it’s like a giant Tupperware party, but with weapons. Yes, I know how pathetic this last idea sounds, but can you blame me for hoping?
The floor of the football area is not empty. There is a platform in the middle, but there are also random sets of stairs and scaffolding that don’t seem to go anywhere. There are poles with chains and other structures. None of them seem to have any purpose. It must be for their alien game. There’s definitely no football in sight.
A whooshing sound below me catches my attention and I jerk my eyes back to the ground directly in front of me. A geyser of molten metal surges from a circle in the ground. The force increases, and it’s now pumping the liquid lava about ten feet into the air. Unlike water, the sound is heavy when it surges and slaps back down to the base of the . . . fountain. A fountain? They have a metal fountain? And why is it right in front of me? Shit! Are they going to melt me alive or turn me into some kind of gory statue?
Then a lone figure steps into the arena, commanding everyone’s attention. A solemn silence falls over the crowd. It’s the trident man. His entrance seems to be signaling something. He walks to the base of my platform and climbs up. He places his cool hand on my cheek and peers into my eyes with his ice blue ones.
“DAS GAHMEN, TSSS,” he says quietly for my ears only.
There’s that phrase again, just slightly different this time. I think it means, You’re mine. And what’s Tiss? Is he trying to say my name?
He places his trident at my feet and turns to address the masses. Something about the way this structure is constructed allows his voice to be heard as clearly as if it were amplified. He speaks in his alien tongue and I understand almost nothing of what he says, except for that one phrase, the one he always shouts when another alien dares come near me.
“DAS GAHMEN!” he shouts again, ending his speech. This causes a flurry of activity to overtake the crowd. From every quadrant metalheads start leaving their seats in the bleachers to make their way purposefully to the playing field. There are about fifty of them on the dirt in front of me now, surrounding the metal fountain, staring up intently. Trident man looks at me one last time, as if memorizing my face, then climbs down to join the others.
I reach my toe out and it bumps against the trident he left at my feet. Wait . . . why did he leave his trident here? He always has it either in his hand, or attached to his back. With a weapon maybe I can fight my way out? Of course, that’s assuming I can find a way down from the tower I’m currently trapped on.
My biggest fan joins the others at the ground, and they all walk toward a circular platform in the center of the football field. They stand around the edges of the platform in a row staring up at me. I can see each one of them clearly. Something odd strikes me. Weapons. None of them have their weapons.
Why is that? All of these aliens usually have some sort of weapon that’s part of their body. So what happened to them? Each of their hands is just that . . . a metal hand. There’s not a dagger, spear or chainsaw among them. It’s weirding me out.<
br />
My eyes jerk to the display of weapons hung high on the side walls. That’s when the revelation hits me hard, like a blow to the chest. This isn’t a field for sports; it’s an arena. These are gladiators. They’re going to fight. And if my suspicions prove true . . . well I’m pretty sure I’m the trophy they’re all fighting for.
A fog horn sound fills the air, ripping through me with the intensity of its volume. It’s the same sound we heard back in the dome when we were dragged to the ship by our captors. The metal men vault from the platform at the signal, sprinting toward the walls, each hoping to get their weapon of choice.
I note instantly that there are way less weapons than men. My eyes are drawn to the only alien I know and I see he’s on a direct path toward the trident. My breath catches as I realize there are a half dozen others running for the same weapon. It shouldn’t matter to me who wins, after all they’re all my enemies. But he’s the only one I know, and he did pick broken glass out of my hand and bandage it up.
The shortest one gets there first. He puts on a burst of speed and scrambles straight up the wall, grasping for the trident. His fingers fall a few inches short before he slides back to the ground. He jumps up again, trying to reach it, but without the running momentum he’s nowhere close.
An alien with grooved ridges on his head reaches the wall next. He grabs the shorter one by the shoulders and bashes his head repeatedly into the wall. The shorter one’s metal skull caves in flat, blood pouring from what used to be his face as the ridged-headed man tosses his unmoving form to the ground under the trident. I feel sick.
Ridge-head steps on top of the one he killed reaching up for the trident, but he can’t quite catch it either. He jumps up trying to grab it, but misses on the first attempt. He jumps again and is pulled from behind by a creature who is simply massive.
With a roar, the giant robot lifts the ridge-headed one high in the air and slams him down over his raised knee. The smaller alien’s spine snaps as he’s bent in half backward, then tossed to the ground like a pile of rubbish. I scream as my mind tries to comprehend the horror I am witnessing.