Alien Warrior's Bounty

by Lizzy Bequin

  I should be more careful about how I talk to this guy, but I can’t help it. Anyway, it sounds like I’m pretty much screwed at this point as it is, so what do I care?

  Rogar doesn’t respond. He swivels his seat around to face the control panel and checks some things there. I have a feeling he’s doing that as an excuse to avoid talking to me.

  We sit in silence for a few minutes, watching the hyperspace lights stream past, until something occurs to me.

  “This doesn’t even make sense. Why would an alien want me for his concubine?”

  “What do you mean?” Rogar grunts.

  “I mean, we’re not even the same species. There’s no way we can, you know…”

  He swivels his seat to face me again, giving me a perfect view of his muscled physique once more. I hate myself for the way it excites me.

  “You can’t what?” he asks.

  “Oh, come on,” I mutter. “You’re going to make me spell it out for you?”

  He just stares at me.

  “Sex,” I say in a slightly miffed voice. “I can’t have sex with this Lord Putrude if he’s an alien, right? You might as well save us all the trouble and call the whole thing off now. Just take me back home, and I promise I won’t ever talk about it again.”

  Rogar drops his head to his chest and shakes it again.

  “Unbelievable. You humans really don’t know anything about galactic history.”

  “Care to explain it to me then, smart guy? If we all evolved on different planets, then how are we supposed to do it?”

  “You’re only half right,” he says. “The sentient beings that populate the galaxy are all different species, and we have all evolved on different planets over hundreds of thousands of cycles. But going back before that, we all share a common origin with the Progenitors.”

  “Progenitors?” I whisper.

  Rogar nods.

  “A long time ago the whole galaxy was united as a single empire. It was a golden age of peace and technological advancement. The Progenitors were so advanced, they didn’t even use ships like this one. They used the Webway, a system of interdimensional portals to move from one planet to another as easily as you would walk down the street. The remnants of that ancient technology were the basis for the far more primitive FTL drive that this ship uses, as well as the matter displacement device that we used to beam up earlier.”

  Okay, this is a lot to take in. Less than an hour ago, I wasn’t sure if aliens existed at all. Now I’m learning about some ancient galaxy-wide empire. It’s almost awe-inspiring enough to take my mind off of my current predicament.

  Almost.

  “So what happened?” I ask. “Why aren’t these Progenitors around anymore.”

  Rogar shrugs.

  “The same things that lead to the downfall of any empire. Decadence. Infighting. The final straw, however, was when the last emperor died without leaving an heir. The result was a power struggle that tore the galaxy apart, and all of those planets that were once connected via the Webway all became separated and isolated. Many of them, like your own planet of Earth, forgot about the Progenitors entirely. It’s taken aeons for the galaxy to become gradually reconnected again.”

  What Rogar is talking about sounds more like a legend than a history lesson. Then again, if a big, teal reptile man can be real, I guess I have no reason to doubt the story he just told me.

  As we sit silently, I let the implications sink in. It does explain a lot. For example, despite his differences, Rogar is mostly humanoid in his shape, so it would make sense that our species share a common ancestor.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I glance at Rogar’s big, muscular body again, and my pulse quickens at the idea that he and I could be…compatible. My skin heats with a mixture of embarrassment and excitement, and I get a funny feeling like someone is tickling the inside of my tummy with a feather.

  It’s so messed up.

  Besides, it doesn’t matter whether Rogar and I are compatible. I’m not going to be his concubine. I’m going to be given to this Putrude guy. I have no clue what Putrude even looks like, and I’m afraid to ask.

  A ball of tension swells in my chest again like a panic attack coming on.

  “You can call this ‘apprehending me’ all you want,” I say, my voice catching with emotion, “but this is just a kidnapping, pure and simple. How much is this Putrude even paying you?”

  Rogar turns away, and I sense that I have touched a nerve. I can’t help feeling that there’s some little bit of empathy inside him.

  “You’re not familiar with galactic monetary denominations,” he mutters. “It would be meaningless to you.”

  “Is it a lot?” I ask. My voice is angry and accusatory. “Please tell me it’s a lot. If I’m going to be nothing more than a helpless alien sex toy, I at least want to be a valuable one.”

  Rogar stares silently at the controls. The approach I’m taking is dangerous. I run the risk of pissing him off. But I sense that I might be getting through to his human side, for lack of a better word.

  “You don’t care whose life you ruin, do you?” I say. “All you care about is your money.”

  “It’s not like that. It’s complicated.”

  “I have a family.” I persist. “A mom and dad. Friends. They’ll never see me again.”

  Rogar’s slams his heavy fist against the control panel, making me jump with fright in my seat. His teal skin darkens until it’s almost black.

  “It’s complicated,” he growls.

  Suddenly, the cockpit fills with red light, and an alarm starts making a vwoop-vwoop sound. A monotone and vaguely feminine voice begins speaking in a language that I can’t understand. It sounds similar to the way that cat man and reptile woman were speaking before.

  “Shit,” Rogar snarls. He begins frantically messing with the controls of the ship, turning dials and flipping switches like crazy.

  “What’s happening?”

  Rogar ignores me. He leaps from his seat and opens a panel on the wall that looks like some kind of super high-tech circuit breaker.

  “Shit, shit, shit.”

  “Rogar,” I whimper as the alarm continues. “What’s going on?”

  He drops back into the pilot’s seat and begins strapping himself in.

  “It’s the FTL drive. It got damaged in that fire fight, and now it’s in critical condition. We’ve got to drop out of hyperspace right now or else we might be stuck.”

  “Stuck?” I gulp.

  Does he mean we’d be stuck in the fourth dimension forever? I don’t think I like the idea of floating around with this alien for the rest of eternity.

  “Secure your safety harness,” he says. “We’re re-entering realspace in five, four, three, two, one…

  The ship shudders and rattles precariously as the hyperdrive powers down, and the fluid stream of colored lights outside of the windshield resolves into a field of stars splashed across the black void of space.

  “Where are we?” I whisper.

  “Shut up,” Rogar snaps.

  His rebuke doesn’t sting as sharply as when he barked at me before at the convention center. Still, I stiffen in my seat, and a dull ache of tears wells behind my eyes again.

  Rogar drops his helmeted head and sighs.

  “I’m sorry,” he says quietly. “Bear with me. I just need a few minutes to concentrate. I’m trying to figure out where we are, okay?”

  “Okay,” I whisper.

  Did he just apologize to me? Color me shocked. Maybe I was right about this guy after all. Maybe there’s a bit of warmth underneath that cold, hard exterior.

  But I know I can’t rely on that. I’m still a captive, and if I’m ever gonna see Earth again, I have to be ready to take some drastic measures.

  The tiny pistol is hard and cold against my tailbone.

  CHAPTER 8: ROGAR

  Dropping out of hyperspace unplanned is dangerous. We’re lucky we didn’t rematerialize in the middle of a damn supernova.


  I don’t tell that to the human, however. The poor thing is rattled enough as it is.

  Whatever happens, I can’t let myself get attached to her. She’s a bounty, and an important one at that. I remind myself of the reason I’m doing this, and the reason this job is so important for me.

  This isn’t about getting rich. It’s about family.

  The monitors on the control panel flicker with incoming data about our surroundings.

  We’re in the middle of nowhere. The nearest star only bears a numerical code on standard galactic charts. According to the readings, the fifth planet has solid terrain and a breathable atmosphere. The perfect place for us to set down temporarily.

  I set a course for the nameless planet. Then I switch on the communication system and prepare to send a message to Acquisitor Lorka. it will take several hours for the message to reach the nearest astro-telecommunications buoy so that the transmission can be forwarded through hyperspace to its destination. After that, I’ll have to wait several more hours to receive Lorka’s reply.

  “I need to send a message,” I tell the girl. “I’m going to switch off my translator device.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you don’t need to hear it.”

  “Why?”

  I feel a surge of anger rising in my chest, but I take a deep breath to calm myself.

  “No one informed me beforehand about your species’ unique ability to be annoying as hell. I can’t imagine that Lord Putrude will have much appreciation for that trait. Or that he will be as forgiving as I am.”

  The little human folds her delicate arms in front of her breasts and pouts, tossing her braid behind her shoulder.

  Fuck, she looks adorable when she’s pissed off like that.

  Hidden by the visor of my helm, I let my gaze wander over her body again, drinking in the sensuous lines of her exposed legs, and imagining running my fingers over her soft, warm flesh.

  My cock pulses with desire.

  I wish I had a damn burlap sack to put over her. I don’t need the constant distraction of her smooth skin. And then there’s the way she smells.

  “It’s a business call,” I say, trying to keep my voice level. “You don’t need to hear it, that’s all.”

  Why the hell am I even discussing this with her? She’s lucky I haven’t tossed her cute little butt into the stasis field already. This is my ship, and I don’t need her permission to send a message to my employer.

  “Is it about me?” she asks.

  “Yes, partly,” I tell her.

  Before she can ask anymore questions, I switch off the translator device and start recording my message to Lorka. Outside the front viewing port, the nameless planet to which we are heading grows from a pale blue-green speck to a marbled sphere.

  “Lorka,” I say, starting the transmission. “I’ve apprehended the target, but I ran into a situation. Remember how you told me that there wouldn’t be any trouble with non-guild bounty hunters getting involved? Yeah, well, that was bullshit. I had a run in with Van Cleef and his crew. That stupid droid of his even zapped a few Earthlings. Total shit-show. My ship took some pretty hard hits too. I managed to get away, but my FTL drive is fucked. I’ve had to drop out of hyperspace. I’m setting down on an uninhabited world. No clue yet how long it will take to fix it. I’ll contact you again when I have a better idea about the extent of the damage. I’m sure Putrude won’t be happy about the delay, but that’s your problem for now.”

  I finish the transmission and switch my translator back on.

  “We’re gonna land here to repair the hyperdrive.”

  “How long will that take?”

  The human asks more questions than a hatchling.

  “No clue.”

  By now, we have drawn close enough to the planet so that it is filling nearly the entire view port. With its white clouds basking in the light of its brilliant sun, it looks like a virgin world, untouched by sentient life.

  As we dive through the atmosphere, however, and the clouds open up to reveal the water and terrain below, it becomes clear that is not the case.

  Yes, the natural environment of this world is mostly pristine, but here and there along some of the forested ridges and slopes I detect little threads of pale smoke rising toward the sky.

  Settlements. No doubt they’ve spotted my ship streaking across the sky. They look primitive, however, so I’m not too worried about it. All I need is a nice, secluded spot to set down so I can inspect the damage to the craft.

  I spot a broad, treeless plateau that looks perfect.

  As I bring the ship into a landing pattern, however, it begins to shake and shudder. Heavy turbulence. It feels like we are passing through a storm, but the sky is completely clear. It doesn’t make any sense.

  The girl senses that something is wrong as well.

  “What’s happening?” she whimpers.

  I shake my head, wishing that I knew. Something is definitely not right.

  There is a sudden clap of thunder, and blue lightning envelops the ship. Then, just like that, we’re falling. My stomach does a somersault and the girl groans in the copilot’s seat.

  The ship is dropping like a brick, and the broad expanse of the rocky plateau is rushing toward us.

  I flip the switch for the auxiliary engines. They sputter weakly before dying. I try the landing thrusters and gear too. Both dead.

  “We’re going to crash,” I tell the human. “Is your safety harness secure?”

  I hear the click of her buckle and the zip of the straps tightening.

  “Yes,” she answers, her voice warbling with fear. “I think so.”

  I do a visual check of her seatbelt harness to make sure it’s okay before settling back into my seat and securing my own harness.

  “Are we gonna die?” she chokes.

  The answer is maybe, but I keep that to myself.

  “Tuck your chin. Try to keep your muscles loose.”

  The first impact hits a moment later.

  The hull of the ship screeches in protest as it scrapes over the surface of the plateau. Then we are airborne again, and my stomach is back in my throat with that sickening, weightless feeling. This is followed by another jolting impact.

  The ship is skipping along the ground like a flat stone over water.

  I’m rattled in my seat, and the straps bite into my chest. I concentrate on keeping my muscles relaxed, knowing that to resist the repeated shocks would do more harm than good. I can only hope the girl is doing the same. She isn’t screaming, but I wish that she was. At least then I would know that she’s alive.

  That’s the moment when I realize, beyond any doubt, that my protective feelings for her go beyond simply looking out for my cargo.

  We hit the ground a final time, but we are still barrelling forward, skidding toward the precipice that marks the edge of the plateau. The scrape of earth against the outer hull is almost deafening.

  At last we are still. The ship’s superstructure creaks as it settles.

  We stopped not a moment too soon. The nose of the craft is hanging off the cliff’s edge.

  I pop my buckle and leap to my feet, rushing to check on the human. The ship has come to rest at an angle, and the deck is tilted almost forty-five degrees on its longitudinal axis. I have to lean and climb to reach the girl where she is shivering in the copilot’s seat.

  “Are you okay?” I ask her. “Are you injured?”

  She stares at me, her eyes circled into white saucers of fear. She’s sucking breath in short, wheezing gasps.

  “Clare. Are you injured?”

  When she doesn’t respond, I strike her with my palm, not too hard, but enough to jolt her out of her daze.

  She gulps and blinks like someone waking up from a dream.

  “Did we die?”

  “No. Not yet. But we need to get off this ship immediately. It’s not safe.”

  The way that the hull is groaning is making me nervous. We’re perched on the edge of the
plateau, and one wrong shift of metal on stone could send us tumbling over the edge.

  “Come on, let’s go.”

  I reach for the human’s harness buckle, but she puts her own small hands on it first.

  “I’m okay,” she says. “I can get it.”

  Something in her voice makes me suspicious, but now is not the time to worry about it.

  “Okay, just be careful getting down. I’m going to get the rear door open.”

  Leaning to one side, I crawl out of the cockpit. With the power out, the passageway is dark, lit only by sun coming in through the cockpit window. I clamber to the stern and manually open the cargo hatch. The pneumatic pistons wheeze as they release their pressure and the door rises, flooding the interior with light.

  I take a deep breath. Lucky for us, the readings were accurate. The atmosphere here is breathable.

  The local fauna, on the other hand, may not be as welcoming. At the very least, we know there are small settlements of sentient creatures. And then there’s the matter of that electrical burst that disabled the ship. I’m fairly certain that wasn’t a natural phenomenon.

  I think we were shot down.

  One thing’s for sure. I’m not stepping outside until I’ve armed myself to the teeth.

  Heading back to the middle of the ship, I see that the tiny human has managed to free herself from her safety harness, and she has climbed out of her seat. The straps left some reddish burns on the tender flesh of her shoulders and thighs, but other than that, she seems okay.

  She sees me and hesitates. She steadies herself against the frame of the cockpit door as the ship lurches slightly.

  “Hurry up,” I growl. “We need to get outside. We’re not safe in here.

  I use the manual latch to open the weapons compartment. I don’t know what kind of creatures are living on this planet, but I’m going to assume the worst. I grab a heavy rifle, which I sling diagonally across my body by its strap. Next I take a sidearm bolt pistol, which I holster to my leg.

  Now all I need is a small backup weapon. As I reach for a small blaster, my hand freezes.

  Something is missing from the case.

  There’s an empty slot where my small, non-lethal stun ray should be.