The Complete Alien Apocalypse Series (Parts I-IV Plus Bonus Novella): An Apocalyptic, Romantic, Science Fiction, Alien Invasion Adventure

by JC Andrijeski

  All Nirreth had dark, nearly black eyes.

  A few had dark brown or very dark blue eyes.

  She’d once seen one with eyes such a dark green that the tint could only be seen in direct sunlight. A few also had eyes patterned or ringed like this one.

  Those were even more rare.

  This Nirreth’s eyes and his stillness got her attention enough that she found herself looking at the rest of him.

  For a Nirreth, he really was almost… pretty.

  Hard muscles shone on his arms below the sleeves of his Nirreth-tailored shirt, which fit him tightly across the chest to taper in a near triangle to his narrow hips and waist. He looked like an athlete, maybe a boxer or a field soldier.

  As was the style with Nirreth males, he wore form-fitting pants under the long shirt, the latter falling to the middle of his upper thighs. A heavier black cloth wrapped around his head, the knotted ends of which hung down his back like a ponytail.

  He wasn’t very adorned for a Nirreth; he wore no jewelry at all that she could see.

  He wasn’t with a companion then, at least not a regular one.

  In addition to rings and bracelets and other jewelry worn purely as decoration, Nirreth with companions wore stone pendants around their necks.

  The more serious of those companions lived in their Nirreth’s homes, often sharing their beds, acting more like wives or girlfriends than sex slaves.

  Chloe had trouble imagining that––with any Nirreth––but she knew from many humans that it happened, and that it could be very mutual.

  She had friends with Nirreth boyfriends back in Kabasi, the district near Old Santa Fe where she grew up. Some of those Nirreth lavished their human companions with presents and affection. Some adopted kids with them and set up house.

  Agnon would never deign to wear such a thing, of course.

  Not for her. Not for anyone.

  When Chloe glanced up, she found the silent Nirreth’s eyes on her still.

  He narrowed his gaze slightly as he looked at her, flicking his tail lazily to one side, right before he looked away. The gesture and his facial expression bordered on dismissive, but somehow, she got the sense that he’d done it more for Agnon than for her.

  Maybe she wouldn’t mind sleeping with this one.

  The thought brought a strange pull in the lower part of her belly, what might have been nervous butterflies. She wondered if he would be considerate about it, the way some of them could be. Sex with Nirreth wasn’t unpleasant, per se––physically, that is.

  As with humans, it was all in the delivery.

  Not to mention the delivery vehicle.

  “So, Trazen?” Agnon gloated. “Will you lower yourself to take my little bauble? Despite her lack of ex-skag toughness?”

  The quiet Nirreth studied Chloe a few seconds longer.

  “Yes,” he said abruptly.

  His voice came out blunt, deep. Flicking his tail again, he looked at Agnon.

  “I will take her,” he announced. “I have an… opening. I don’t suppose she can fight?”

  Agnon stared at him, his dark eyes widening enough to show a faint rim of white.

  Then he burst out with a laugh.

  “This one?” he said. “Fight? You must be joking!”

  Trazen let out a purring sigh, folding his muscular arms.

  His voice turned gruff.

  “Well, that is all right,” he said. “I will still take her. She clearly has other… uses.”

  Agnon blinked, the smile sliding from his dark, drink-smoothed face.

  Understanding ignited, seemingly for the first time in the exchange. He stared at the muscular Nirreth, then at Chloe, then back again.

  His next words came out with an edge.

  “I think you misunderstood my offer, Ringmaster. She is not for sale. I offered you a borrow only… and in my presence only.”

  Chloe barely heard the last part.

  She’d stiffened at Agnon’s first words, staring anew at the muscular Nirreth with the gold-flecked eyes.

  Ringmaster? Ringmaster Trazen?

  This was that Trazen?

  Nerves flooded her all over again, turning her brief interest in him to something closer to panic. Gods above. Could this really be the Ringmaster? He was too young, surely. And he was handsome, this Nirreth. He didn’t look anything like the image she remembered from vids.

  Yet she knew she hadn’t heard Agnon wrong.

  She’d also seen close up images of Trazen before, in publicity photos for the Rings. Looking at him now she could see the resemblance. In those images, they made him out to be a savage, a near-animal encased from head to toe in a form-fitting, midnight black sense-suit. He’d also been bloodied up and bruised and even more muscular back then.

  But she remembered those gold-flecked eyes.

  Now that she looked for it, she remembered the long line of his jaw and high cheekbones, too. She’d just never seen him wearing civilian clothes. She’d never seen him without that murderous look in his eyes, the bared teeth, the bruised and bloodied skin.

  If this was that Trazen, he had an even worse reputation than Agnon.

  Her initial shock turned even more intensely to fear.

  She forced her eyes to remain on the two Nirreth, fearing she might be tempted to look for Kiji if she didn’t.

  Trazen wasn’t looking at her now, though.

  He stared at Agnon instead, his gold-flecked eyes holding an overt threat.

  “I wasn’t asking, friend. I will buy her from you. You will tell me the price.”

  “There is no price!” Agnon hissed, his tail lashing angrily. “She is not for sale!”

  “Did you not bring me down here to see her?”

  “For an evening! For a night’s amusement, nothing more!” Agnon growled. “You may have her for that… but do not be greedy, friend. She does not leave this house!”

  Trazen’s eyes turned to blackened steel.

  That time, something in his expression caused the other Nirreth to take a step back. His tail grew less violent in the same set of seconds, even as he partly lowered his head.

  Everything about his posture transformed into one of visible submission.

  Chloe watched and felt her stomach drop.

  Seeing Agnon that way brought a different kind of shock, one that had her torn between an even greater fear of Trazen and a part of her wanting to like the Ringmaster again.

  She’d never seen Agnon submit to anyone.

  She’d seen him kiss copious amounts of ass to higher-ups, sure––she’d seen a lot of that––but always from a place of boastful arrogance.

  Realizing which direction this stand-off just swung, Chloe bit her lip hard enough to taste blood, remembering Kiji. She remained silent, watching the contest unfold between Agnon and this strange Nirreth who looked like a boxer and who had likely killed hundreds in the Nirreth Rings.

  “I think you brought me down here to gift this human to me,” Trazen said next. His dark eyes didn’t waver as he gazed at Agnon’s. “I think you did it to show your support for the Rings, for all the beloved institutions of the Royals, put in place to engender loyalty to the race. Am I mistaken in this, friend Agnon?”

  Agnon hesitated.

  He looked at Chloe, then back at Trazen.

  Chloe knew what his answer would be.

  She knew it before he spoke.

  “No,” Agnon said, a colder defeat in his voice. He let out a low hiss, but his held more frustration and displeasure than aggression.

  He stepped back, lowering his head.

  Even his signal of displeasure had submission woven into it.

  “No, you are not mistaken, Ringmaster Trazen. Please have her, with my compliments.”

  “Thank you,” Trazen said. “I accept. In return for your kind gift, I myself will gift a generous sum to the Royals on your behalf. This will raise your esteem in their eyes. Which could use some raising, frankly.”

  Agnon said not
hing, but Chloe saw fury bloom in his dark eyes.

  He kept his head lowered though, and now he wouldn’t look at her at all.

  Watching him, she found herself thinking that, for Trazen’s sake, he had better be as untouchable as his words implied. When she glanced over at him, Trazen was looking at her, his expression even more unreadable than before.

  “Come,” he said, holding out an arm. “I must take my leave. My work requires it.”

  Chloe only stood there for a moment, paralyzed.

  Agnon broke the silence that time.

  “Go, mammal,” he hissed. “You are his… for now.”

  That time, the submission was entirely absent from his words.

  Trazen gave him a look, but Agnon only lowered his head.

  Chloe saw the posturing behind it that time, even before Agnon spoke, his words coming out sickly sweet.

  “…I meant only that Ringmaster Trazen’s tastes are said to be as changeable as they are discerning,” he said, that colder anger disguised in overdone politeness. “I would not be too possessive with his affections as a result, my no-longer companion.”

  Trazen grunted, but didn’t answer apart from a harder flick of his tail.

  Chloe didn’t try to pick apart his words, although she fully understood their meaning.

  Agnon thought Trazen would kill her.

  Even knowing he might be right–-that if the rumors were true, he probably was right––Chloe couldn’t do anything about it. Nor could she entirely shake the feeling of relief that came over her, simply to be leaving Agnon’s pens.

  She closed the gap to Trazen, taking his arm obediently.

  She found herself gripping the soft Nirreth skin and hard rope of muscle there, conscious of how large his bicep was, especially compared to Agnon’s. Of course, him being strong would be significantly less of a turn-on if he ended up being like Agnon in other respects.

  Only then did she let her thoughts return to her sister.

  She hoped desperately that Kiji wasn’t watching this, or if she was, that she hadn’t understood the significant elements of the exchange.

  She hoped also that the other slaves would look out for her, that they might continue to train her on the sly to be a possible candidate for the Rings.

  Maria and Brent and a few others knew of Chloe’s hopes in that regard; maybe they would take pity on Kiji, help her in Chloe’s stead.

  Even as she thought it, Agnon moved.

  Chloe flinched into Trazen’s side, but Agnon barely spared her a glance.

  He walked past them through the open gate, entering the slave pens.

  Without preamble or hesitation, he walked with long strides towards a cluster of humans lurking in the shadows directly across from the main gate. Seeing the determined flick of his tail, the lingering fury at what Trazen had done, Chloe tensed. Her whole body stiffened, even before she saw who crouched there, in the midst of the other slaves.

  Kiji. She must have slunk forward to try and hear what was going on.

  Terror eclipsed Chloe’s mind.

  Watching Agnon take long strides towards her eight-year-old sister, it struck her suddenly that Agnon knew. He knew exactly who Kiji was. He’d always known.

  Which meant he must have been saving her for something.

  Perhaps for something like this.

  Perhaps for something Trazen had now robbed Agnon of.

  “No,” Chloe breathed, so softly it was like an exhaled breath.

  She didn’t realize she’d moved in the direction of the pen gate until Trazen’s muscular hand and fingers clamped on her shoulder, dragging her roughly back to his chest. Feeling the warning there as much as the strength behind his grip, she stopped, her heart slamming harder into her ribs as she watched Agnon grab hold of Kiji’s arm.

  The thick-bodied Nirreth with the kink in his tail begin to drag Kiji unceremoniously to the middle of the pen.

  Trazen murmured against her ear. “Who is she?”

  She didn’t see any point in lying, not now.

  “Sister,” she said, lower than a whisper.

  Trazen tensed, but didn’t answer.

  He raised his voice instead, speaking to Agnon.

  “Have you another gift for me, friend?” he said loudly in Nargili.

  Like before, his voice was a growl, the warning on the surface.

  Agnon stared at him, then at Chloe.

  Without a pause, he pulled a long knife from a sheath on his thigh.

  Grasping Kiji by the hair, he yanked her head back and cut her throat in one smooth motion of his hand, wrist and arm.

  Chloe screamed.

  She jerked forward, but again Trazen held her, his tail wrapping her waist even as his hand clamped harder on her shoulder. She writhed against him, screaming again, shock blanking her mind as she tried to get free, but the Ringmaster wouldn’t let go.

  She watched, her whole body wracked as it strained against Trazen, but unable to take her eyes off Kiji. Her sister’s eyes had gone wide in shock.

  She choked, one blood-thick attempt to suck in air… then she collapsed.

  Agnon held her by the hair for a beat longer.

  Then he released her.

  Kiji fell, face first, to the dirt of the pen.

  Chloe screamed again.

  That time, it broke in a despairing sob.

  Wiping the blade on his dark pants, Agnon stuck it back in the sheath and walked just as purposefully out of the pen. Crossing the threshold of the gate, he turned his back on both of them, hitting the panel to shut the door. Only as it slid closed on its tracks did he turn, looking Trazen directly in the face.

  He ignored Chloe’s sobs entirely when he spoke.

  “Did you say something, Ringmaster?” Agnon said politely.

  Trazen didn’t answer.

  He didn’t release Chloe either, but continued to hold her up as she sobbed. Leaning against his broad chest, she couldn’t think well enough to care by then, couldn’t do anything but stand there, watching as her sister bled out in the dirt.

  2

  A Strange Bed

  Chloe didn’t remember falling asleep.

  She lay there in the morning light, blank, staring up at a low, wood-beamed ceiling. Her mind felt buried in mud as she tried to think about where she was, how she’d gotten here.

  An instinct borne of living with Agnon, she didn’t move at first.

  Instead, she tried to discern what she could about her surroundings, about who was with her, without giving herself away.

  She did open her eyes.

  When no one reacted, she did her best to look around.

  Slowly, the bare bones of her predicament returned.

  Trazen. Agnon.

  She was in the Ringmaster’s house. She belonged to him now.

  Then she realized something else.

  She wore clothes. Someone had put clothes on her.

  Not the cloak Trazen wrapped around her bruised and naked body to transport her here from Agnon’s the night before. Real clothes, women’s clothes. She studied her covered body under the sheet, fingering the soft material of the short-sleeved shirt and loose pants.

  She barely remembered the ride here.

  She remembered the cloak, Trazen’s warm hands.

  She had a recollection of being put into one of those sail-like trolleys the Nirreth used on the main thoroughfares of the city. Everything seemed to happen in a daze. She had no memory of arriving here or what happened after.

  She had absolutely none of the leftover clarity that usually accompanied being stung by a Nirreth. She found herself wondering if Trazen had stung her at all.

  She didn’t think he had.

  Fighting to think, to recall anything, she had to conclude he hadn’t stung her. She would definitely have some memory of his mind if she had. She would at least recall its basic flavor.

  She couldn’t remember anything like that.

  She couldn’t feel anything about Trazen at all.r />
  All she recalled of him were those black, gold-flecked eyes with the faint gold rings, and his hand on her shoulder, holding her away from Agnon and the pens.

  Memories of her sister returned as her mind grappled with the blank spaces in her mind. Part of her responded in terror to that emptiness. Another part of her catalogued what occurred, looking at everything from a distance, like a backwards telescope.

  That more rational, free-floating part understood.

  She had to be in shock. She didn’t remember… that was shock. Shock made sense. What she saw put her into such a deep state of shock, her mind simply cut out, rebooted.

  Her blood… there’d been so much blood.

  Kiji’s blood.

  …Blood running down pale, young skin, terror in her eyes as her mind caught up with what Agnon had done, perhaps scarcely having time to realize what it meant before…

  Closing her eyes, Chloe forced the memory away.

  She fought to numb her mind, but for a long-feeling stretch of time, she couldn’t.

  She didn’t intend to make a sound, but she did––what might have been a gasp, a lungful of breath that wanted to turn into something else.

  Before it could, she heard movement inside the room and froze.

  Cloth rustled against what might have been skin, followed by a light creak. It sounded like someone shifting a not-small body on a thick-mattressed bed.

  Chloe held her breath.

  On the plus side, the reality of her current, right now situation cleared her mind of Kiji, yanking her into the present.

  Immediately when that happened, she realized a few things.

  One, she very badly had to go to the bathroom.

  Two, and more importantly, if the movement did come from a bed, it wasn’t the same bed where Chloe herself was lying. Rather, it sounded higher up.

  Taking a breath, she decided to risk turning her head, even as it occurred to her it didn’t matter.

  It didn’t matter what they did to her now.

  The thought brought back another whisper of grief––a darker image of Kiji, covered in blood––but she smashed it down. Somehow, both things steeled her resolve.