Primal Planet Captive: SciFi Alien Fated Romance

by Skylar Clarke

  I neither confirm nor deny the assumption and he plows forward.

  “He merely wishes to ascertain your goal in doing so.”

  “Fine,” I agree. The Velorians don’t seem particularly eager to shoot me, though the one who has yet to speak, younger looking than the others, appears a bit disappointed in the lack of a fight. I also appreciate the fact that they’ve at least attempted negotiation as opposed to simply dragging me across the bridge, which, now that I’ve lowered my weapon, the three would certainly be capable of.

  Leaving the rifle-style blaster on the table, I hold my hands up to exhibit their emptiness. The lead Velorian nods. There is still a second blaster at my hip, but they don’t seem to be worried about it so long as it’s not in my hands. I walk in front of the three of them across the bridge, stepping carefully, trying hard not to let the limp show.

  Their ship is uncloaked now, and I can see plainly that it is a Velorian military vessel. I relax a bit more at the familiar sight of it. It is a model of ship I know well, from a few situations wherein the Federation and Veloria had been aligned in their interests. This at least proves that they aren’t smugglers or slavers masquerading as soldiers.

  As I step onto their ship, I see several soldiers waiting. There are likely several others scattered throughout the ship, in the cockpit or below calibrating the engines or the guns. That is the usual number for ships this size. The Velorian military is impeccably run, and vastly different from the Federation’s in many ways. Were this an Earth ship, they’d have at least twice this number crammed aboard along with some sort of claim that living in each other’s pockets builds character.

  “She’s alone,” one of the Velorians behind me says. “As we thought.”

  Admittedly, it’s a bit intimidating being stared at by a room full of people whose species isn’t the same as my own, but I force myself to look up instead of keeping my gaze locked on the floor like a frightened civilian. I scan the faces of the Velorians in front of me, and end up locking gazes with the one standing at the forefront, a fire Velorian who is dressed in full armor, obviously hoping to up the intimidation factor and push me into confessing my motive without any actual coercion. It’s when I see his face that I feel my careful mask of composure crack, breaking into a grin.

  “Jari,” I say. “Since when are you in the habit of harassing innocent travellers?”

  The fire Velorian and I seem to have recognized each other in the same instant, and though he doesn’t smile outright, he comes close. There is warmth in his voice when he speaks, despite the words he says.

  “Tess,” he says in answer. “I’m not sure I would classify you as innocent in any situation. I heard you were taking bounties. Is that your mission here?”

  The Velorians in the room are watching us with interest. There is obvious confusion on a few of their faces, but they won’t yet interrupt Jari to ask. He must be in charge here. I note the insignia on the front of his space suit that states as much.

  “Yes,” I answer. “I have to pay the bills. Both the Federation and your Prince Takkan are offering a generous reward for information of any sort. I figure the best way to get information is to ask—nicely, of course.”

  Jari shakes his head. “The statement from Takkan was to citizens of Veloria. He doesn’t deal with bounty hunters.”

  “I know that he doesn’t … officially,” I say. “I just thought he might be desperate enough to outbid the Federation.”

  A Velorian steps forward, ice-white with eyes that cut. “Be careful how you speak, human.”

  Jari holds up a hand to silence him. “She means no harm,” he says easily. “Humans aren’t the most tactful in circumstances such as this. What do you know of them?”

  I shrug. “The same thing most do from the news. They were involved in that nasty assassination plot a few months back. Their leader was arrested. Someone else is pulling the strings now, though no one knows who. The frequency of their movements and small-scale attacks has everyone worried—even the Federation. They won’t devote their actual soldiers to it of course because officially, it doesn’t concern them. But they’re worried enough to hand out paychecks to bounty hunters who turn up with the right man or the right information.” I pause to look around the room. “But surely a well-funded operation like this one already has the details.”

  Jari’s mouth twists in amusement. “We do,” he says. “But I needed to hear it from you. Tell me the rest.” The words are an order this time. He never used to sound so sure that he would be obeyed—not as the lowly sergeant he’d been when we first met. I will have to remember to congratulate him on gaining such a high rank and on taking to it so well. Not everyone is cut out to lead. I’m most certainly not.

  I tell him about the tips I’ve collected, as well as the fact that I’ve spent weeks jumping from planet to planet looking for scraps of information that might point me in the right direction. There is no point in lying. I consider myself to be an accomplished liar, but Jari can generally see straight through bullshit, particularly my bullshit. Besides, given what the cult seems to have been up to on Morda-6, I’m actually feeling a bit relieved that I’m not the only one on their trail. Perhaps, with what I know and what they know, we can help each other. So long as Jari will vouch for the fact that I was useful, I’m certain someone will pay me for whatever part I play. I skip nothing in my story. When I get to the part about placing the trackers on all of the suspected ships, one of his men breaks in, helpful, to remind me of the illegality of the action. I quickly interject, rolling my eyes in Jari’s direction, that I deactivated the others as soon as I knew which one to follow. I do gloss over the fact that it was my leg that cost me my perfectly aimed shot, but it’s hardly an importantly detail.

  Regardless, the bulk of the soldiers seem profoundly amused by the fact that my grand bit of stalking through the marketplace ended so abruptly with me spooking the cult into leaving the planet. The remaining few seem profoundly irritated; I decide quickly that I vastly prefer the former.

  “Leave it to a human to screw up such a simple task,” one says.

  I’ve been called worse things than human and choose to ignore the jab. Truth be told, it’s often the sort of thing said in jest between soldiers of differing species, but it is the ice Velorian with cutting eyes who speaks, and I know that he means it as an actual insult.

  Jari does not chide the soldier for his words. He seems to fall into the category of amused. “Seems like just your luck,” he comments, and that is the only criticism I receive. No doubt something more will come when we’re alone about how monumentally stupid it is to take on a larger number without backup. But that will be later. I already look foolish and I’m sure he won’t be petty enough to add to it, even considering the fact that our relationship has always been based more in friendly rivalry than anything else.

  “We’re not allowing her to continue, are we?” asks a Velorian that has not yet spoken. He sounds more concerned than angry with the thought of working with a human, and I have to remind myself that the aliens who haven’t worked with us often think us too physically vulnerable to function as soldiers. It’s a stupid assumption, given the advancements we’ve made in body armor and weaponry, and the skill with which we are trained to use them. Of course, I’m speaking as a biased party here, being a former military member. However little they had done for me when it mattered most, I suspect that I will always jump to the organization’s defense.

  I look to Jari, hoping for an actual endorsement of my skill this time as opposed the near apathy he’s shown so far. He says nothing, seemingly waiting for me.

  “Jari and I have run missions together. He knows I’m competent,” I argue. “Besides, what harm can an extra gun do?”

  A few of the fire Velorians look excited at the prospect, and perhaps a scant few of the ice Velorians. It doesn’t surprise me that the fire Velorians are more open to the idea. Those on the ice side are generally more reserved in manner, breaking the mold o
nly in the company of their mates and closest friends or during one of handful of festivals that are celebrated each year on their planet.

  Before any of them can speak in my favor, Jari clears his throat.

  “I can vouch for your worth in a battle,” he says. “But I cannot allow you to hunt the cult with us. The soldiers of separate militaries can’t join on a mission without permission from the leaders of both.” He pauses here, remembering something. “Besides that, you’re not an official soldier anymore. It will look bad if Prince Takkan’s handpicked team is seen openly consorting with bounty hunters.”

  I scowl. “Since when are you so into politics?”

  Jari scoffs. “Since I know the Prince personally.”

  I decide to try a different approach. “I’m registered through the Federation. I don’t need your permission to run a job.”

  Jari squares his shoulders, as though readying himself for a fight. “I’ll be speaking to Takkan about getting the Federation to retract their bounties. They can send an organized army or nothing at all. If you refuse to back off and allow us to handle this through the proper channels, I can have you arrested.”

  He speaks in the voice he uses with lesser ranking soldiers who are about to push him to the brink of his patience, and I know better than to keep going at the present moment. Jari may have been my friend once, but there were years between us now filled with things that neither of us knew about the other. He had always been the type you didn’t want to prod too far, and it would not surprise me to learn that he had grown less patient during our separation. I have grown less patient too, which is why I’m in the mood for no further argument.

  “Fine,” I say tiredly. “I’ll leave behind the paycheck of a lifetime because of politics.”

  Jari’s demeanor changes in an instant, the lines of his body relaxing as he drops the façade of stern Velorian commander and morphs back into my old friend—one of my oldest friends, truth be told.

  “Good,” he says.

  I relax as he relaxes, and as I do, my knee unlocks from the careful hold I’ve kept on it. I do not stumble, but my posture shifts into something awkward and pained and a small hiss of air makes its way through my clenched teeth.

  “You didn’t mention you were injured in the chase,” he says. Sharp eyes scan my armor for blood, and move back to my face when they find no obvious stains. “We have a medic. He can tend to it.”

  I shake my head. The eyes in the room are on me. A Velorian nearby looks as though she’s contemplating offering me some support to keep me standing. I do not want to speak of my leg in front of the entirety of the room, but to leave and speak of it to Jari privately instead would be to look weak.

  I clear my throat of nerves. I don’t speak of it much, though I’d always thought, before this, that I was far too strong to let such a small thing bother me. “It’ nothing bad,” I say. “Just my trick knee. I fucked my prosthesis a few jobs ago and haven’t had enough pay yet to spring for a new one. It’s been trucking along fine enough, but it gave it out earlier just before I took my shot. Fell ass over breakfast while I was firing and gave my position away.”

  My voice is light, and I make the story into a joke with ease. The soldiers chuckle and I smile at them sheepishly, still trying to win them over in spite of Jari’s decision.

  “Even so,” he says, when the laughter has cleared. “I’m sure someone here has enough technical knowledge to patch it for you, even if it’s only a temporary fix.

  “That would be helpful,” I admit, and loathe though I am to take the thing off in front of people, I won’t turn down assistance when he so clearly means well, at least in this regard. There is no need to fight with him on this.

  Jari holds out a hand, and I take it, easy as breathing. There is no pity there, only a favor from one comrade to another, the same way you pulled someone up when they lost their footing on the battlefield, without any thought behind it. His hand is overly warm in mine—I realize I’ve forgotten how hot fire Velorians have a tendency to run when they aren’t actively regulating their temperature. He helps me to a nearby chair, where I collapse gratefully. Sometimes, it’s not until I sit that I realize how uncomfortable I’ve been standing and walking on the prosthesis. I remove the lower half of my armor, roll up the leg of my spacesuit, and press the button to release the series of clasps that hold the prosthesis in place. The sigh of relief that comes with removing it is immediate and blissful. I do my best to lean forward, hoping the breadth of my shadow is wide enough and dark enough to hide the redness there.

  Jari scowls, but says nothing; I doubt he’ll resort to dressing me down in front of his men, though I can now add this to the list of several lectures I can expect when we next find ourselves alone.

  “I’ll call Hadar—the medic,” he says. “He’ll see to the leg on both counts.”

  Both counts meaning the prosthesis and the state it’s currently in. I scowl back. “Thank, you,” I say. If he notices how forced and strained the words are, he chooses not to comment.

  “He’ll probably have the prosthesis and you up and running again within a few hours. Then you’re welcome to head back to your ship and self-destruct however you like.” He gives me a teasing, bitter smile. “So long as it doesn’t interfere with my mission.”

  “Very gallant of you,” I reply. Both of us are carefully looking everywhere but at the end of my ruined leg. “But I was actually angling to stay until morning.”

  I realize as soon as I’ve spoken the way that the words sound, but I do not take them back. It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve outright flirted with Jari and nothing came of it. We are old friends and past comrades and though I occasionally find him infuriating, I have a great deal of respect for him. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t curious about something more than friendship.

  He ignores the innuendo, outwardly at least. “You’re right,” he says. “It’s late, and we could use the company.”

  I do not plan to heed our agreement. From now until the morning is plenty of time to change his mind, and if that doesn’t work, what’s to stop me from following discreetly and making myself useful anyhow?

  4

  Jari

  I allow her to stay because I respect her.

  I watch her as Hadar berates her for not taking better care of herself. The medic may not know the human woman, but yelling sense into soldiers is such a part of him that he doesn’t know how to stop. I watch as she ducks her head under the assault and says something about resting the leg more often. He lets her go at that, though he does give me a glare as though asking why I would associate with someone so careless.

  She joins us for the last meal of the evening, sitting in the center of the table, across from me, and hogging more than her fair share of the attention. Luckily, the dining quarters are only a few short steps from the main control room. She walks most of the way under her own power, using the high table to support her right side. For the short distance from one table to the next, she allows herself to take my hand to bridge the distance.

  Dinner is unsavory military food, which consists of ration packs heated up quickly by whichever soldier has drawn the short straw. On a larger ship, or a less covert mission, there would be a cook and a mess. For the duration of this mission though, we are living with the basics. In truth, we’re lucky to have found a human friendly ration pack buried in the supply room. There seem to be a few on hand for every species whose body chemistry might not match up just right with our own. Tess has dined with enough Velorians in the past to know what is safe to eat and what might land her in a hospital. The fact that she has her own plate does not stop her from snagging the odd desirable bite of Velorian fare from mine. She is partial to some of the fruits grown on the fire side, I remember, and apparently enjoys them even when they’ve been dried for preservation. The soldiers, while a good deal of them had been initially unsure, are hanging onto her every word by the time their plates are empty. She is spinning some yarn about gunnin
g down a hogtyn in the canyons of Binlar, which I’m almost entirely certain isn’t true.

  “Then what happened?” Jeyal, our youngest recruit asks, right on cue.

  “We roasted the meat over a campfire, of course. Federation military rations are worse than this.” She nods at her plate with an exaggerated expression of disgust. “It was a nice change.”

  Everyone is finished, save for Tess, whose constant asking and answering of questions has kept her too busy to chew. She takes the opportunity to swallow several bites in quick succession. “I’ve got some human goodies on my ship if you’d like some,” she offers. “Had two whole crates of strawberry jam gifted to me in payment for catching a thief. I can see myself finishing one crate sometime this year, but definitely not two.”

  “What’s jam?” a soldier asks. “Can we eat it?”

  As Tess attempts to explain the concept of jam, complete with dramatic gestures and comparisons, Hadar returns her prosthesis. She greets him with a nod, and though her expression seems genuinely happy to the untrained eye, I still detect a hint of unease and perhaps of embarrassment regarding the leg. It makes little sense to me. Velorians believe that an injury, even a life altering one, is something to wear with honor if it was earned through honorable actions. I know for a fact that she earned the wound in service to the Federation’s military; it should not bring her shame. Irritation and inconvenience were inescapable, but shame to me does not make sense.

  I add it to the list of questions I am resolved to ask her before she leaves my ship. There are things I need to know, which she might answer honestly or genuinely in front of an audience. How does she find bounty hunting? Does she always work alone? Doesn’t she have a pension saved up that she could spend on repairs to her leg? How did she win the new scar along the left side of her jaw? Were there others, hidden away, that I have not yet seen?

  Lost in my thoughts, the drinks have been broken out without my realizing it, and I start to berate the soldiers before I remember that according to the pilot’s last estimates, we won’t catch the ship anytime tonight. There are men already assigned to watch the radar in the cockpit, and if they for some reason turn and close in on our ship, we should be made aware long before they actually reach us. I accept a single drink when the bottle is passed my way, filling the glass in front of me. Even those Velorians who were less than enthusiastic seem to be participating, as it is an extremely rare occasion to have a guest on an active military vessel. One thing that seems to bridge both culture and species is that guests merit drinks. I take a long one, and settle in to watch as the cards come out at Tess’s urging.