The Princess of the Wild

by Lorelei Orion

  The Trobins, from their knowledge of their area of space, had powered a ‘black atom’, creating the portal to which starships could safely pass through, being that the fabric of space between the two systems was very compressed. The wormhole was like a large tube similar to an hourglass set somewhat on its side, but instead of sand, there was a flow of a form of kinetic energy. They had stabilized it with their advanced computers, controlling it enough so that the passage between Dazen and Urania cycled every eighty-seven minutes. This was still a dynamic area, and the magnetics were creating havoc with the helm, flickering the panels with static. He had been here before and knew to power down to the minimum current necessary.

  One of the ships waiting was a Trobin cargo ship, a somewhat rectangular, somewhat clunky vessel. It had an emblem of a red star within a circle on it, their planet’s flag. All of his instincts told him that she would be on that one.

  When the portal began sparking, the first ship in line entered the area and disappeared within it. The Trobin ship was eighth in line, and he uttered a curse when it disappeared beyond. Restlessly, he waited. When his turn came, he braced himself for the tumultuous ride, bent on vengeance as he was drawn into the blinding brilliance of the portal.

  Chapter 4

  Skye huddled in the corner of the spacecraft’s dimly lit cargo hold, immersed in her despair. She sat with her arms above her knees, her head upon them, her eyes closed to block the sight that was before her. She wished that this was a nightmare, but she knew that she was awake. The tranquilizer that the Kalcoon had given her appeared to be gone and she was alert, but her mind was anything but clear.

  She was a prisoner still, but now she was a victim of the Trobins. She had risen from the bed after the man had left her, trying to ascertain all that had happened to her, when a Trobin burst into the room. He had smothered her scream, thrusting a thin mesh material over her head, the rough ties enclosing around her neck. She had struggled violently against his strong grip while he had carried her in his wiry arms, but the mesh was suffocating her—she could scarcely breathe! The next that she knew was a blast of icy-cold air assaulting her nakedness. Her captor ran with long strides, and suddenly the biting chill left her. He set her down, depositing her on a cold padded surface. She clawed at the mesh—needing air—and he drew the ties and yanked it off, giving her the horrifying sight of his leering face, his bright pink eyes. She recoiled, scrambling backward from him, bumping into a bent, bundle of a woman who was on the floor. Wildly she glanced around, seeing all the people.

  This is how it had been on the Kalcoonian transport—these were the same faces, only there were more here than before, about thirty. They were all female—from the visages that she could see—and some stared at her, silently commiserating with her plight. They had all been here quite some time, their spirits listless as if they were resigned to their fate. They all wore black Trobin robes, huddled together for protection in their misery and terror.

  The Trobin’s pink, glowing eyes enjoyed her nakedness before he threw a black robe at her. She made it up to her feet and hurried into its protection. He gripped her arm and ushered her over to a more deserted, far corner of the hold, and motioned for her to sit. She did, seeing his threatening and ominous eyes. She noted that he had the man’s travel bag, which he set down beside her. He seemed smug, as though the bag—and she—were worthy prizes that he had triumphantly won.

  He took an injection dispenser out from his pocket. Her efforts to fight him were futile while he injected her, sending an airy rush into her left hand. He sneered at her and then moved off to join two other Trobins who were securing the doors, preparing for flight.

  She fell back and awaited the drug’s effects, but they didn’t come. She was left to wonder what the injection had been for ...

  She discovered that this wasn’t a typical cargo ship; it had been modified to carry passengers, equipped with a padded floor and a small room in a corner, a bath that the prisoners could use for their necessities. This obviously wasn’t the first Human cargo that it had carried. Clearly, if the Trobins had their way, it wouldn’t be the last.

  When the craft powered up, the floor beneath her vibrated and then her belly felt the lift of take off as the craft rose up into the air. Soon they were on a cosmic flight. She could do nothing but wait and wonder about her fate. When a severe turbulence came, she screamed out her panic like the other prisoners did, but when the ship became silent and still again, she concluded that this wasn’t yet her death. She settled back in her corner. She couldn’t escape from here. She would have to wait and find her chance when they reached their destination—wherever it was that the Trobins were taking her.

  The significance of the events of the last hours began settling within her head, leaving her in a state of listless apathy. Her father was gone. Her innocence was gone. Had that truly happened? Had she truly been with a man? The only evidence that it had happened was the aching of her breasts and the soreness of her loins. The man had come to her like a phantom in the night, showing her the ways of passion, stealing from her her spirit—even her will. She had nothing left within her but her survival instinct—which, as of now, wasn’t very strong. She truly hadn’t much to live for. In this life she’d never see her father again, or the man.

  One certainty, her dreams of the blond-haired, blue-eyed man would never be the same—for forever.

  A disturbance in the hold brought Skye out of her reflections. She lifted her head from her knees to see a Trobin standing menacingly above a delicate, petite girl who sobbed, unable to contain her emotion. The creature unlatched a round metallic orb—much like a collar—off from his wide belt that encircled his blue robe, and lifted it above her, threatening her with it. All of the prisoners in the hold cringed and Skye herself tensed. The woman nearest the girl grabbed her and clung to her, desperate to stop her cries. The collar was a very adept deterrent, as if all of the prisoners knew of its pain-producing power, having before been given a horrific demonstration. Satisfied of the girl’s submission and of her silence, the Trobin snapped the collar back into place on his belt and moved slowly around the hold, keeping his captives in check.

  Skye felt a wave of fury rushing through her, but she was careful not to show it. She knew about the Trobins, having learned about them on her computer with her father. They were an odd race, living in huge domed cities on Strou, their planet. Strou was an arid, desert world, the Trobins having depleted their ozone long ago. Still, they chose to stay on their home world, learning to adapt. The seas still flowed and there were pockets of vegetation, but the planet’s core temperature had risen to a scorching level. They had built their domes, controlling the atmosphere, and had designed special robes that gave a flow of cold air at the touch of a button on their belts, keeping their body heat down when needed. Their robes also announced their place in their society by their color. They had a hierarchal society, which made her think of their similarity to a colony of bees.

  “Strange creatures,” her father had said. “Makes me thank God that we were born as Humans.”

  She agreed. They were strange in that everything was done to please their queen and she, in kind, took care of the colony. Queen Te Sa Narr wore a scarlet robe, a color reserved only for her, while her many consorts wore white. The blue robes of the Trobins here told of their prestigious position as administrators, quite close to the queen’s bidding. What her computer hadn’t told her about them was their brutality. Unlike the Kalcoons, they didn’t need drugs to keep their prisoners in line. They enjoyed intimidating them, making them suffer with the threat of their ‘collars of death’.

  She thought about the black robe that she wore. If she recalled correctly, the color signified the lowest status, that of menial workers. This class did all the drudgery for the others, really no better than—

  It dawned on her that she—like these others—had been taken to be their slaves.

  A vow followed this revelation: ‘I will never be a slave! I
will die first!’

  Skye clung to her vow, fearing and dreading the time to come. She would do her best to escape, but if she did not, at least she’d be with her father.

  She realized that the spacecraft was docking, hearing the clank as the cargo ship lodged at its pier. Her heart began thudding within her while she awaited the Trobins’ next move. A sense of intense nervousness emanated from the crowd as the ship’s doors slid open and two white-robed Trobins came into the hold, snapping out orders.

  “Feet now! Stop down!”

  Although the Trobins hadn’t quite mastered the Human language, everyone understood. She, like they, rose to her feet. The captors began ushering their prisoners through the doorway. When she neared the exit, the Trobin—the one who had taken her from her cell on Kan—stepped out before her. He held the man’s travel bag, and took her elbow into his other wiry hand.

  “I you keep all me,” he said in a nasal but oddly shrill voice.

  She understood that he had said that he would keep her all to himself.

  The sound of her heartbeat drummed dully in her ears as she moved beside her captor, very aware of the tight grip he had on her arm. He escorted her down a long hallway, behind the other prisoners, and soon he turned down another hall, leaving the others. They walked in the quiet down yet another hall, and soon into what became a labyrinth of halls, a maze with many tall and narrow doors. He finally stopped before one and opened the door with his thumb. He ushered her into a spacious room, setting down the travel bag. He took a small remote out from his pocket at the hip of his robe, used it to lock the door, and returned the remote to his pocket. He released his hold, and she absently rubbed her aching arm, glancing around for any means of escape ...

  The room was airy and ovular in shape, with many windows bright with the sun. There was a hallway to her left that—no doubt—led off to other rooms. Maybe there was another exit there ...

  The Trobin motioned for her to sit on a long blue lounge, and she moved and sank down to it. He picked up the travel bag and moved into an adjoining room, returning without it. He then went to a kitchen counter filled with many bottles, and took up one bottle, and poured the green liquid into a clear goblet, and then into another. Her eyes spied a long and sharp knife, there on a tray, a knife that one would use for the cutting of fruit. But, it could cut other things ...

  He came to sit down next to her, offering her a glass. She didn’t take it, so he set it down on the long table before them, settling back to have a delicate sip from his.

  “I, Stra Akka,” he said, too pleasantly. “You?”

  Skye thought of the strangeness of the situation. Clearly, he was trying to seduce her! She must keep her wits if she were to survive. She didn’t want to die, just yet ...

  He awaited her answer.

  “Skye,” she murmured.

  “Skye,” he echoed in his shrill, nasal voice. “I like.”

  He took a tress of her hair into his hand, and she shrank away from him. He tested its luster between his thin, bony fingertips, sighing softly, very pleased. She reached for her glass to distract him and took a quick sip of the tangy liquor. It worked; he returned his attention to his drink.

  Suddenly he rose, staring down on her with his pink, intense eyes. “Make home, you,” he said.

  He had invited her to make herself at home before he went off to the adjoining room to answer nature’s call.

  Skye rose quickly to her feet, moving quietly down the hall. There she found his sleeping quarters, but no exit. She hurried back into the other room and saw the knife lying on the tray. She went to pick it up, considering the long sharp blade. She didn’t know if she could ... she didn’t know if she could do it ...

  Determined, she carefully placed the blade in the folds of her hip pocket ...

  She was moving back to the lounge when her eye caught the motion beyond the vast curve of windows. She moved there and gasped at the sight.

  It was a misty cloud that was floating by, blocking the sun and darkening the reddish hue of the sky. She looked down below and saw that there wasn’t any ground, the land being shrouded by clouds far down in the distance. She was struck with dizziness, awed by the concept, and she humbly made her way back to the lounge, reminded of her mortality.

  She tried to control her trembling, but her limbs wouldn’t obey. The next moments would bring her escape—or her death.

  Her hands began to quake while she awaited Stra Akka’s return ...

  ***

  Nicholas strode through the chaos of the vast Trobin marketplace, on a mission. He took in the hugeness of the dome—the walkways high above him and the great distance around him—while he searched, determined to find her. He saw other Humans out shopping in this maze of gregariousness, eager to find a Trobin treat, but he was only interested in one. He would find the plucky wench—he could guarantee himself that.

  He had trailed the Trobin ship to its destination, careful to keep back so as not to be detected. He was surprised when the ship docked at Space Station One, a highly secure area that was the private docking bay of Queen Te Sa Narr.

  He had docked there before, not quite a year past, when the queen had entertained his mother and father and him. The wormhole had recently been opened for use, and the two races needed to set up relations, their two worlds now being so close in vicinity. Queen Te Sa Narr, with her flowing scarlet robe and tiara of red gems, was a haughty creature, though she had treated the Royal Family of Adriel with due respect. The two queens, with completely opposite personalities, had somehow found a rapport for the good of their subjects. It was when they were heading home, when their entourage of guards had settled in their places for the night, that his mother stated her opinion. She didn’t truly like Queen Te Sa Narr and had an uneasy feeling about her. His father and he had agreed. But, for the sake of civility, they must put their personal qualms aside.

  He had been surprised that the cargo ship had docked there. What was that little tart of a girl doing with the queen? Who was she? Did she know of his identity? Nothing made sense—but he would get his answers ...

  He, with his sleek craft, had docked at a pier at the nearest marketplace, a thoroughfare in the domed city that was open to all. He had entered the elevator pod that took him down to the city, a spherical structure that was still in the clouds high above the planet’s surface. The Trobins liked high places. He thought that it might have to do with their inflated, lofty egos.

  The pod had opened, and he moved into the crowded halls, making his way in the direction where the Trobin ship had docked. There would be a way into Queen Te Sa Narr’s headquarters somehow, he just had to find it—even if he had to shed his disguise.

  He ignored the Trobin merchants who tried to get his attention, shouting at him about the excellence of their wares, and he walked the promenade, avoiding the four-wheeled transports with impatient Trobin drivers who threatened to run him down, from time to time. He turned down the halls, finding a pleasant restaurant or a rowdy bar, to which he would retrace his steps. When he reached a more deserted area of the dome, he turned down a less traveled path and discovered that he wasn’t suppose to be here.

  A Trobin, garbed in a golden robe of security status, stepped out from the checkpoint booth. “No enter!” he warned, blocking the way.

  Nicholas put up his hands and backed away. “Sorry!” he said, and turned, heading back in the direction he had come.

  Nicholas smiled. He could bet that was the hall he was looking for.

  He moved out again into the dome and chose a nearby vendor selling jewelry trinkets, pretending to browse. From the corner of his eye, he watched the activity around that certain hall. He saw that the black robes—the menial class—were allowed to enter. He would soon be wearing one ...

  As a black-robbed figure came out of the hall into the dome, he set his sights on following him. He trailed the Trobin down the walkway and couldn’t believe his luck when the creature entered a resting area, summoned by
the call of nature. He followed him in, his luck better yet that the room was deserted. The Trobin entered a stall, but when he exited it, he was met with a startling surprise. Nicholas gave him a harmless press to the neck to make him lose consciousness for a while, and then he took his robe from him, returning his naked form to the stall. He hurried into the robe, seeing that it was a snug but adequate fit, and pulled the large floppy hood over his head. Then he was off to the chase ...

  He averted his face while he showed the security guard the card he had found in the hip pocket, and the disinterested guard ran it across a computer panel and let him pass.

  Nicholas moved through the open doorway, smiling in his victory as he set out to explore the interior of the queen’s headquarters, the labyrinth of halls.

  ***

  Skye resisted the urge to spring to her feet as Stra Akka entered the room. She must remain calm. All she knew was that she would not let this creature have her. She didn’t know why he would be sexually interested in a Human—except for the fact that it appeared that their anatomies were very similar. But, he was a Trobin, an analytical, almost insipid breed. Why would he have an interest in her?

  Whatever his reasoning, he did. The leer in his narrow and pink, cat-like eyes told of his eagerness to get down to the business at hand.

  Suddenly he disrobed, tossing the garment beside her on the lounge. Skye gaped. He stood there in his bare form, tall and thin, his nearly hairless skin a pale, chalky white. He was aroused, his very long and thick member pointing at her. He bent a bony knee, with his hands on his hips, his head high and arrogant as if he were proud of his physique.

  “You like?” he asked seductively, as if certain that she would.

  Skye could have laughed, if not for her dire predicament. He was motioning for her to rise. She rose onto her unsteady legs, thinking of the knife ...

  “See you,” he urged, meaning that she should take off her robe.