by Raven Dark
The ship began to pick up speed on a downward descent, headed for the planet’s surface.
4
Rith
Okay, so here’s the thing.
I’ve never been afraid of flying. Over the twelve years I’d lived with my father, he’d had a couple of tours a year that took him out of state, which meant I’d been on planes plenty of times. But the worst Earth flight didn’t come close to this.
I’d never entertained the idea of being in space, and though I didn’t know much about it, I’d seen videos of satellites and launchings. Nothing about what I saw made me want to try it. Ever.
Men drifting through the cockpits of shuttles with no gravity to keep their feet on the floor, and the flight tests that had astronauts in simulators spinning in circles until they were ready to puke. Not to mention, all the news reports and television broadcasts I’d seen of shuttles exploding in balls of flame before they even reached space. No thanks. Except, apparently, I didn’t have a choice now.
Well, I was landing, not taking off, but the terror was still the same.
The ship’s floor rumbled and vibrated underfoot, the roar of its powerful engines making me feel as if I were being rattled in a tin can about to blow apart. The computer gave occasional pronouncements, its stoic, unaffected voice a strange contrast to the sheer horror of knowing I was going to end up as cosmic dust scattered across an alien stratosphere.
My stomach jumped into my throat, my head feeling like it was going to pop off.
I spent the entire landing process with my eyes squeezed shut, trying not to throw up. As a result, I saw nothing of the world we’d entered beyond those clouds, and nothing of where we’d touched down. It felt like hours, but it was probably only minutes before the ship slowed and settled with a heavy, hollow thud that reverberated through the craft’s metallic floor.
I swallowed, afraid to move or open my eyes, even after the shaking and the rumbling stopped. “Can we not do that again?” I asked the room at large as soon as I found my voice. “Like, ever?”
Of course, I was ignoring the fact that, if I ever intended to get home, I’d have to go through the same flight again, only in reverse. I shut down that thought. These aliens might have no intention of taking me home, and I wasn’t ready to face what that might mean.
Peeling open my eyes, I saw each of the men unbuckling themselves and straightening from their seats. Raul said something to the other two and crossed the room to the door that clearly led to the rest of the ship. Not one of them seemed affected by the flight, making me wonder if they’d become so used to it that it didn’t affect them, or if there was something about their alien physiology that allowed them to handle it better.
I groaned and leaned forward, head between my knees, waiting for the waves of nausea to pass. A hand on my shoulder made me lift my head up.
Z’pheer was kneeling in front of me. He had a small metal mug in one hand. With the other, he held a tiny white capsule to my lips.
I jerked back, unwilling to allow myself to be drugged again.
He cupped my nape and patted my belly with his palm.
“Oh. It settles the stomach?”
He nodded and pushed the capsule into my mouth. Once I swallowed, he handed me the mug and helped me drink, making sure I took the water down slowly.
When Raul returned with a groggy-looking Tarku, the huge dog wrapped in his arms, Z’pheer turned and said a few words to him, nodding to me.
Raul gave an impatient nod and set Tarku on the floor, responding with something about him. The dog lay on the floor, his breathing slow, his eyes a little glassy.
He was drugged. Now I understood why Raul had taken him to another part of the ship. He’d put him out to keep him calm during the landing. Raul stroked his fur and whispered reassuringly to him.
He must have given Tarku some sort of antidote to counteract whatever he’d used to put him under, because within a few moments, he already looked more alert, while my stomach was still spinning wildly. Raul rubbed his snout and let the dog lick his face.
Watching the way he behaved with Tarku almost made me want to like him. Almost.
Raul caught my eye, and his lips quirked on a sardonic smile. He said something to Z’pheer, nodding to me.
My heart sped up. What had he told him to do?
Z’pheer took my hands and pulled me to my feet. He led me by that infernal leash toward a back area of the ship.
Getting my first look around the craft, I could see it was a simple ship with only enough room for three beds that weren’t even in separate rooms. The beds consisted of metal platforms attached to the back wall of a sectioned off area, the way they would be on a boat. Each had a comfortable looking mattress atop it with a pillow.
As soon as I saw the beds, nervousness had me pulling back from Z’pheer. “Look, pal, I’m not getting into bed with you, so if that’s what you’re thinking, you can fuck the hell off.”
He chuckled huskily but otherwise ignored me.
I’d have been kidding myself if I didn’t feel more than a little heat between my legs as he led me toward the beds. Hot he might be, enough that his being twice my age didn’t bother me—hell, his apparent age turned me on a little, and everything about him screamed of experience—but he was an alien, for Christ sake. He and his crewmates had brought me here against my will.
Only, he didn’t take me to his bed. Instead, he tugged me over to a cabinet and opened one of the drawers. He pulled out a strange looking contraption, holding it up.
I felt suddenly foolish. “You didn’t bring me here for sex, did you?”
“Heit.” He pulled me closer to him.
Then I saw what he was holding, really saw it. “Hold it…what the hell is that?”
Between his fingers, a circular band dangled, made of something that looked like the same tan leather as the collar. Except there was a strap on it to make it tighter, and at the other end, was what looked like a flat rubber piece in the shape of a tongue.
“Wait. Is that what I think it is?”
Z’pheer took the band in both hands and lifted it toward my head.
I jerked back so sharply I slammed into the floor on my back. In the other room, I thought I heard Malek laugh.
“That is a muzzle, Z’pheer. No fucking way. Get that thing away from me—”
Z’pheer hauled me to my feet and took my nape in his palm, a firm commanding grip that left no room for escape and almost hurt. I didn’t understand a word he said, but his tone carried authority. The kind of authority that said I had no choice, that I had to deal with it.
I was suddenly shaking, and my eyes stung with tears. Wearing clothes obviously meant to humiliate and strip me of all human dignity in front of him and his crew, and even wearing a collar as if I were some kind of animal, was one thing. But to let him steal away my right to speak… The idea threatened to shatter something in me that lay hidden at the most basic part of my soul.
And yet his grip on my nape, his gaze trapping mine, made it clear that I wasn’t getting out of this. I couldn’t get away from him. To resist would have been pointless.
I let my eyelids slide closed. Hot tears splashed my cheeks. Z’pheer’s fingers brushed them away with an almost painful gentleness.
I hated these men. I hated their world, hated it all with a violent, bone-deep passion.
If I ever got home, I was curling up with the biggest tub of double chocolate fudge ice cream I could find, locking myself in an apartment somewhere, and never, ever letting a man touch me again.
As soon as I deflated in front of him, Z’pheer slowly undid the leather strap, pushed the flat rubber-like piece into my mouth, and closed the strap at the back of my head.
Fuck me, this thing felt horrible. Z’pheer had buckled the strap tight enough that it couldn’t be removed but without putting dangerous pressure on my head, yet the confinement of it was just as bad as the unsettling feel of the piece in my mouth. It wasn’t painful—more humilia
ting than anything, making me feel like a rabid pet. The rubbery piece lay neatly against my tongue, allowing me to swallow while making speech impossible.
Speech or screaming.
As soon as the God-awful contraption was in place, Z’pheer nodded with satisfaction. I didn’t miss the approving light in his eyes.
That approval turned my fear and panic into seething anger that made my fists clench until my nails bit into my palms. His pupils grew a little bigger, his gaze turning smoky.
Fuck, he thought this was hot? The minute this thing was off me, I was going to shove it right up his extraterrestrial ass.
With no other way to express my rage, I glared at him and made a wordless growl.
He pulled me against him, stroking my hair. His smooth cheek was warm against mine, his fingers massaging my nape.
Raul shouted in impatience from the bridge.
Z’pheer held me a moment longer. I felt his chest expand heavily against mine. For some reason, the feeling made my tears run faster, hotter.
He made a soft shushing sound in my ear. Whatever he said, it might have soothed me, except his tone held the barest hint of enjoyment that had me fighting every urge not to shove him off me and claw his eyes out.
Releasing me at last, Z’pheer grabbed a couple of backpacks and a canteen sitting by the dresser. Then he slung them over his shoulder and escorted me back down the hall.
Back on the bridge, Tarku was up and about, chasing his tail, the drugs Raul had given him apparently having worn off. He had a collar on, and Raul held the other end of his leash.
It was disturbing to think I had to wear the same thing as his damn dog, reminding me of the apparent sub-human station these men expected from me.
As soon as Raul and Malek saw me, both men whispered to each other and grinned. Raul, his arms crossed, looked me over with hungry eyes like he was going to eat me, while Malek tugged playfully on my hair. I wished the hell I could have understood what they said about me.
Man, this broken translator shit sucked ass.
With a wave at the other two men to follow, Raul led the way down a short narrow hall to a small weapons room. Shelves stocked with weapons—both primitive and more sci-fi looking—lined the walls. Metal staffs, an axe, and swords with wickedly long blades had an old appearance, but they looked well-maintained.
The futuristic weapons, although badass looking but worn, must not have worked, because the men ignored them. Each strapped some kind of weapon holder to their backs, ones that crisscrossed their chests. Malek picked up a sword and pressed a button on the side of the hilt. I gasped when the blade lit up with a bright glow.
A laser sword.
He winked at me, shutting the weapon off and slipping it onto his back. Z’pheer took up a long metal staff. With a click of a button on the side as if he was testing the weapon, the staff shrank to half it’s length with a soft clang. Z’pheer pressed the button again, and the weapon elongated. Raul hefted a huge axe with a blade the size of my head. It must have weighed a ton, but he slipped it onto his back as if it weighed nothing. He added a long, coiled metal whip with a deadly, biting blade at the tip to his belt.
If I’d thought these warriors looked like barbarians before, those weapons only made them look more so, almost savage. If not for the muzzle, I would have asked them if they were expecting trouble. I hoped they carried the weapons as a matter of protocol and not because they expected to walk into a battle as soon as we left the ship.
Once everyone was armed—everyone except me—Raul headed for the steel hatch that led out of the front of the ship, Tarku at his side. Malek followed a pace behind, Z’pheer a pace behind him. Z’pheer kept the length of the leash wound about his wrist, keeping me close, his staff in his other hand.
At the exit hatch, Raul put his hand on the thick steel handle on the door as if to lift it but stopped and turned to Z’pheer. He said a long string of words that sounded like an order, with a nod indicating he was talking about me.
“Daz, Atan Raul.” I heard the amusement in Z’pheer’s tone as he laid his hand on the small of my back.
Raul turned and lifted the handle, pushing it up with a heavy clang. Then his fingers worked over the keys on a control panel by the hatch.
The control panel buzzed alarmingly but nothing happened.
Raul cursed and keyed the code in again.
Were we going to wind up trapped in here?
But this time the door to the hatch lifted slowly.
A sliver of bright white light turned the open hatch into a halo of brilliance. I shielded my eyes against the glare.
Raul keyed in another code and a metallic ramp lanced out from the bottom of the hatch on a downward angle. The bottom end of it probably rested on the ground, but from here, it seemed to disappear into the light like some otherwordly ramp from heaven.
Malek and Z’pheer waited for Raul to head out first. I swallowed, nerves making my hands shake.
“Tama mek, nayna,” Z’pheer whispered warmly in my ear. “Ast ava.”
He seemed to have already forgotten I couldn’t understand him. Or perhaps he thought his tone would reassure me. It didn’t. For all I knew, I might be walking into a hell-world, filled with fire and ash, giant bugs the size of my head, or crawling with predatory animals that would eat me alive.
All I could do was stick close to these men and hope they valued me more than the clothing or collar I wore seemed to suggest.
Malek followed Raul down the ramp, with Z’pheer and I a step behind.
We were halfway down the ramp before I was able to see anything other than the blinding light, which turned out to be sunlight. The sun seemed unusually bright, and I looked up at the sky.
A small, startled sound escaped me. Two suns gleamed in a cobalt sky, one the size of the moon as seen on Earth, the other five times larger.
Two suns!
The awareness of where I was made my chest constrict with something between wonder and terror. This really was an alien world.
Reaching Raul’s side with the others, I looked out across the landscape. What I was expecting to see, I didn’t know, but I hadn’t expected…this.
We’d landed on soft, white, almost snow-like sand spreading downward on a steep mountain slope. The ground leveled out, sand spreading for half a mile, up to a series of squat, one-floor shacks made of stone. Beyond that, for miles, a gorgeous jungle spread out like a carpet of green. Here and there, obelisk-shaped towers rose up from the trees like the fingers of some giant metallic god.
The landscape held me spellbound. And relieved that the world didn’t look like a place bred to eat humans alive.
Next to me, I heard Raul growl one of those curses. The alarm in his tone made my back stiffen. I shielded my eyes and followed his gaze to a distant horizon.
My heart jumped into my throat.
On the other side of the stretch of green, smoke and fire rose from half-toppled buildings reduced to rubble. In the farther distance, parts of the land looked untouched, teeming with life, but in other areas, cities lay wasted, smoke and fire rising from half-destroyed structures. Where the devastation hit, it looked like it had struck at the epicenters of civilization. It was as if some giant kid with a magnifying glass had sent apocalyptic beams of death down upon the world but hitting only major anthills while leaving other, less important ones, alone.
For the umpteenth time in a single day, my mouth fell open, horror spearing me. Oh my God.
What the hell kind of place had these aliens brought me to? Their world looked as if it had been attacked by something that had either been interrupted, or perhaps driven off or killed before it could finish the job.
“Rith,” Z’pheer rumbled. The anger in his tone made me snap my gaze up to his.
Malek said something to him in a low voice, and Z’pheer nodded.
Unable to speak with the damn muzzle on, I scrunched my brows at both of them. Asking them what had happened here.
“Rith,”
Malek said, as if that explained everything. Confused, I looked at each of them, registering the devastation on each face, an echo of the horror that had apparently become their world.
They didn’t know. The thought hit me right in the gut. They weren’t expecting to come home to this.
“Malek.” Raul nodded to the inside of the ship and gave him what sounded like a quiet command. Malek nodded and disappeared back inside the craft.
Much as I didn’t want to care about these men, the devastation that pounded off them nearly brought me to my knees. These three warriors had probably returned to their world expecting to enjoy the safety and security of the home they knew, only to return to a world half reduced to a wasteland. A world that, from here at least, looked like it had barely survived the beginning of apocalyptic war.
In my mind, I equated it to someone returning home to New York in the days after 9-11, only this catastrophe was on an infinitely larger scale.
A minute later, Malek returned, handing Raul and Z’pheer long, thin garments that looked like Mexican ponchos. Each of the men shrugged out of their scabbards and set them down. Raul took off his belt and whip. The men threw the ponchos over their heads, shaking them out to settle them. The thin cloth reached past their waists in a multitude of browns, greens, and blacks that would blend well in the jungle.
Camouflage.
Malek threw on one of his own and then helped me put on another, covering up my obscenely red pillowcase that would have been seen half a mile away.
Each of the ponchos had a hood, and the men pulled theirs up, well over their faces. Malek pulled mine up, snapping it smartly over my head. Without a word, the men then replaced their belts and returned their weapons to their backs.
These were disguises. The thought settled in the pit of my stomach. To hide from the intruders who had attacked this world? Was Raul expecting whoever had attacked his planet to still be on the surface, lying in wait somewhere?