Prison Moon - Ice Heart: An Alien abduction Sci Fi Romance

by Alexandra Marell

  “You are Janie Roberts. Owner of The Pink Cupcake Tea Rooms in Dev On in the land of Brit Ain. Your home planet is Earth. You have another woman’s face. You suffer in her stead.”

  And he made it happen. Guilt and remorse battled the master voice inside his head.

  Fight. Win. Prizes. Her.

  The woman he loved. The woman he betrayed.

  Balanced on a knife edge. On one side of the abyss, Gladiator Kelskar, cipher with no will of his own. On the other the noble head of royal security who sacrificed his family for a princess. Who gave up his freedom for an Earth woman.

  The cameras made slow circles, hemming them in.

  Blood dripped to the forest floor. Not at his best, but when had that ever stopped the brave?

  One more searing charge from that box and the update would complete, turning him back into a slave.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Two things. Just two things.

  Stay alive and make him remember. Janie beat the words into her brain.

  She brought him back before. She would do it again, though she’d never seen him like this. Coiled like a leopard bracing to spring. Watching her with sharp, appraising eyes, like she was some contest prize.

  No illusions over what happened next.

  Luminous eyes, glittering like lamps. A dead giveaway the chip had taken charge.

  “Fight for me, Kelskar.” Her voice sounded small, very far away. She tried to reach out, to touch the man waiting impassively for what? Orders? Were the Corporation talking to his brain, talking to the chip?

  “There will be prizes,” he said, with no trace of emotion. “I will win many prizes.”

  “You will. You’ll win me, Kelskar. They’ll make you fight and you must try to win me. Do you hear?”

  She couldn’t have sounded more desperate. Surely some spark of what she meant to him remained? Blood painted a thin line from his wrist to the curled finger tips, falling to the leaves drip by drip. He looked taller, bulkier, more focussed.

  And completely out of it.

  Why was she so tired? The two camera boxes had somehow become four, joined by two of the fridge sized boxes that rarely came too close. Now they hung low in the sky, skimming the tree line. Keeping sentinel with their more nimble counterparts who raced around like overexcited sheep dogs corralling them in the small clearing.

  “Your hair alone makes you valuable.” Kelskar tilted his head to study her long plait. The light in his eyes dimmed, clouded by confusion. “No other man shall have you. You will be mine.”

  “Hold that thought, Kelskar Vespasian. Hold that thought.” A pulsing energy pressed her down, pinning her in place. Denser than the charge that lit Kelskar like a Christmas tree. More solid, like a rubbery veil separating her from him.

  Couldn’t run if she wanted to.

  Wouldn’t run.

  Wouldn’t leave him.

  Would she have a choice?

  “Remember me.” She emptied her lungs screaming the plea, slumping against the transparent prison walls. Kelskar stood rigid, arms at his side, looking up at the camera box as if he knew exactly what to do. The way he stood at the edge of her patio and watched her taken up into the alien ship. Accepting, no longer fighting fate.

  Fight. She shoved at the wavering energy walls, feeling her hands dig into the spongy air holding her like the stoutest prison door. Blotting out the forest now, dimming the noise. Turning the bright day to darkest night.

  Had they taken him too? She couldn’t see past the opaque shield, pressing on her with such force she thought her head might explode.

  Please don’t separate us.

  Like images caught in a strobe, the world blinked and the forest disappeared. Blinked and the rubbery shield became four black walls. Blinked and she was back in the cage on the alien ship.

  “Oh no.” Her heart, all hope slithered into her boots. “Oh no, no.”

  A dirty rough-wood floor beneath her feet. Cells on either side, separated by bars. A woman in a flimsy dress, not Kelskar in his long coat and metal plating, sitting against the wall, knees pulled up to his chest.

  Not the alien ship. Janie tested her shaky legs. How in hell’s name did she get here? There were cameras, flashing lights. They were in the forest and now she was here without him. Janie closed her eyes, getting a grip on the pounding in her brain.

  You survived captivity on the ship. You’ll survive it here.

  Kelskar would fight for her and win. Where was he?

  “You get a translation chip, honey? That transport thing makes you dizzy as a carousel. Keep still for a while or you’ll throw up. And believe me you don’t want to do that. You might have noticed they’re not big on cleaning around here.”

  An American accent? Janie cracked open her eyes. The drawl sounded so incongruous she could almost believe she’d fallen asleep watching some film noir on the TV.

  “You’re an American?” Janie grasped the bars between their cages, picking out the woman watching her with faint amusement. Mid-twenties, she guessed. Wild platinum hair curling around perfect features. The woman stood, arching her back in a stretch. She folded her arms and looked Janie up and down.

  “Sure am. Billie Rae Chikovsky, the current Miss Krunchy Kreme. Where did they take you from?”

  “Janie Roberts. I’m English. Or at least I was.” Janie leaned her forehead against the bars, remembering how she and Kelskar held hands long in the night. “I don’t know what I am any more.”

  “Fuckers took me on the way to my beauty pageant. I was going to win that baby, too.” Billie Rae pouted her perfect lips. Fuckers.”

  “You were abducted?”

  “I sure didn’t come here for a vacation. At first I figured it was a rival, taking me out of the game. But those fuckers had green skin and eyes like... She unfolded her arms, making two circles with her fingers. Beamed me up like I was in some Star Trek movie. Stuck me in this sorry excuse for a dress and told me I was the prize in the next contest. Welcome to the Arena, baby.”

  “They took me too, but weeks, it could be months ago. I was out there on the moon and then I was here.”

  “Yeah. Seems those boxes that hang in the sky double as transport so they can move you around like chess pieces on a board.” Billie Rae blew out a long breath. “I aimed to reach the stars, but hell I never meant it to happen this literally.”

  Not the ship. The place smelled ten times as bad. Latrines, unwashed bodies. A sickly stench like too much incense burning. Cages faced them across the narrow corridor.

  More women came into focus, moving cautiously to the cage bars to check out the newcomer.

  “Can you get me out? Someone get me out of here.” An Australian accent, called out. “What are they going to do to us?”

  “Oh Jesus, will you give it a rest?” Billie Rae yelled back in time to the thumping in Janie’s head. “There ain’t much sleep to be had around here. She hasn’t stopped whining since they brought her in.”

  “I guess she’s scared.” A small woman, dark head bent over her knees, huddled in the corner of the opposite cage. Muted light filtered through a dirty skylight. Janie’s eyes adjusted to the shade, the brown water puddling on the corridor floor. A small creature, the size of an Earth rat squeezed through the bars of the empty cage to her right. It rose onto its back legs, twin tails flicking from side to side, nose and whiskers twitching at the new smell.

  Janie stared it out, ready to run if it showed sharp teeth.

  She bit back a laugh. Run where?

  “They’re friendly enough,” Billie Rae said. “Stink like a cesspool, though.”

  “How long have you been here? Tell me what’s going to happen.” Janie turned to Billie Rae. Gather information and make a plan. She’d already been away from Kelskar for too long.

  “You’re not scared? I’ve heard nothing but wailing and whining since they put me here. You’re different.”

  “Yes, I’m different.”

  She was different. No longe
r the baker who let dreams slip through her fingers. Or the woman who’d shivered on that ship praying to wake up from the haunting nightmare. She was Kelskar’s woman and only she could save him.

  A heavy door opened and closed with a jarring crash. A whistling draught whipped through the cages, the noise competing with a clanking rattle.

  “Dinner time.” Billie Rae wandered to the front of her cage, lifting her nose in an exaggerated sniff. “Spiced greens again? Don’t you fuckers care what that slop does to our guts?”

  Janie watched the small woman opposite shake her head, refusing the steaming bowl pushed through the smaller, food door. The shuffling server shrugged and stuck it through Janie’s food door instead.

  “Take one,” Janie said to the cowering girl. “You need to keep up your strength.”

  Billie Rae snorted. “Aww, save your breath. She’s a lost cause. Ain’t no man going to fight for a meek little lamb like that.”

  “How will they do it? I need to learn what they do.” Janie kicked out a warning at the rat-creature inching towards her food bowl. They’d taken her weapons, the water bottle and small tools gleaned from the men Kelskar killed. She said a prayer of thanks they left her the jacket. Too cold in here for the gauzy dresses putting intimate curves and more on display.

  “From what I heard, you get this prom dress then you get to meet your date. If you’re lucky, he’ll have two arms, two legs, and an eight inch dick. Either way you get no say.”

  “But only the strongest warriors get to pick, right?”

  Billie Rae eyed her food bowl with undisguised disgust. “Yeah, but that rarely has anything to do with looks. Eat up or you’ll miss your pee break.”

  “And then what? They’re allowed to leave with their prize?”

  “I don’t know.” Billie Rae crouched and took up the cracked bowl. With a grimace, she brought it to her lips. “Hear tell they do this parade thing, where all the contestants get to have a good ogle and feel. They put a bid marker on the women and the prizes they want and then they fight it out.”

  Janie picked up her own bowl, breathing in the steamy scent of the spiced greens. Billie Rae eyed her over the rim of her bowl.

  “What? You got a plan?” She made a low, dismissive sound. “If you have, bring it on.”

  “Yes, I have a plan.” Janie sipped, forcing the over-spiced gruel down her throat. Faith. All that mattered now. Survival depended on that one little word. Believe in Kelskar and she’d survive.

  “Care to share?” Billie Rae looked at her sideways, with more than a hint of suspicion. She waved an elegant hand. “What is it? What makes you so sure? Why are you so cocky?”

  The squat food server shuffled past, pushing the squealing cart, ignoring the taunts and cries from the captive women. He thought their fate sealed so wasted no compassion on their distress. They might not know their ultimate fate but Janie did. While they still breathed, her destiny lay with the man who betrayed her and then did everything in his power to atone.

  “Why am I so sure?” Because I know where my journey ends, that’s why. I know who’s taking me home.”

  Janie. Janie. Janie.

  Kelskar drummed the word into his brain. The name meant something, but by the Dark gods, what?

  Here to fight and win, that he knew. Bounty and prizes for the taking and he would prevail. Yet still the name occupied his thoughts, refusing to be forgotten.

  Standing in the well of the crude fighting pit, the open sky above, he wondered at the value of prizes gleaned in such a ramshackle excuse for an arena. Bare dirt beneath his feet, the boundary a circle of rough stones. A high wooden platform at one side. Beyond the standing area, a palisade fence of slender sapling trunks bound together with twine.

  Nothing like the grand carbon glass arenas he frequented as Gladiator Kelskar where masters made good coin from their fighters.

  Masters.

  He turned a slow circle, studying the other beings scattered about the fight pit. Some solo fighters, others in small groups, laughing and squabbling. One great mountain of a man stood meek and collared, the chain held by a short, wiry humanoid with a sharp, grim face. A mixture of unencumbered men, chosen champions and those in thrall.

  And all of it watched by a pair of ever present camera boxes. He remembered those.

  The gate in the palisade fencing stood open, allowing free movement. He wandered over, testing the limits of his freedom. None hindered his path through the opening onto the flat cleared ground behind the arena. Only a few trees remained, giving a good view of the pit to those nimble enough to climb into the higher branches.

  A vague feeling of unease clung to him like a gauzy cloak. The chip in his head engaged and operating, but where was his master? Why was he fully armed and walking free. Keep on walking and he’d be out of there and never seen again. He knew how to hide, even from the camera box shadowing him above.

  Something kept him here, urging him to fight this contest. Something to do with that name.

  Janie.

  “Bamfruit? Goatling? You look like a hungry man. What you got to trade?” An ancient crone stuck out a wrinkled hand bearing an even more wrinkled fruit. Kelskar waved her away, adding a glare to discourage any persistence. Traders of all kinds plied their wares on the small plain between the arena and a wooden building tucked away under the trees. Two squat hairy quadrupeds ran free, snaking through the stalls, stopping to stand on their stubby back legs to yip and beg for scraps.

  Opening his eyes, Kelskar engaged the chip to sharpen his vision. Two humanoid beings stood sentinel at the wooden building’s only door, each holding sharpened poles. Between them, sat a heavily muscled creature with dark, sun-leathered skin, standing tall as the guard’s shoulders. Alert, the pointed head swinging from side to side, it invited no argument.

  Worthy of further scrutiny. On the short walk, Kelskar sifted through random recall, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. Memories came, of sweetness so sublime it made demons weep. He tasted it once, a long time ago.

  Janie. Janie. Janie.

  That name again. Woman or man? The chip in his brain teetered on the edge of command, threatening at any moment to dive into free fall, taking with it the last of his will. He slapped the side of his head, feeling the lancing pain from a newly healed wound. It was all there, hiding behind a veil, but he couldn’t fucking access it. He remained a man neither in thrall, nor free.

  Fuck. Where did that word come from?

  These masters played a sick game.

  “Can’t come in here, warrior. You get to see the merchandise tonight, not a moment before.” Both guards stood to attention, teeth gleaming yellow against dark curling beards. Red unblinking eyes, the heavily scaled eyelids marked them as wyverns in humanoid form. In unison, the sharpened poles slanted across the barred door. The creature between them grinned, baring long teeth. Too bulky for speed or agility, Kelskar dismissed the threat and folded his arms. If he required entry, none would stop him.

  No windows, vigilant guards at the door, the building must hold treasure indeed.

  “So, what’s inside, friend?”

  The two guards exchanged incredulous glances. The camera box flew by to hover at the flat roof, taking it all in.

  “You’re new here?” The shorter guard relaxed a little, assessing his friendly demeanour as no threat. Kelskar took note of the clawed fingers grasping the pole.

  “I might be. You guard the prizes?”

  “You could say that.” A wicked leer split the guard’s wide mouth. “Females and human, too,” he said, a spot of drool dribbling from his flabby lips. “Fresh consignment from the Corp. These here are for the Arena spectacle, not The Chase.”

  “Explain.” Kelskar heard the unmistakeable note of command in his own voice. He had commanded men in another life.

  “Prime time, man. Where you been hiding? Arena, The Chase. The two most highly rated spectacles on the Corporation’s schedule.”

  “You would make thes
e human females fight for the purpose of entertainment?” Rage darkened Kelskar’s vision, quickly followed by images of the female gladiatoras who fought with as much vigour and bravery as the males once in thrall to the chip. Still, that concept no longer sat well with him.

  “Ten hells, no.” The short guard let out a grating guffaw. “Unless the Corp have turned to comedy. If you’re here to fight, you get to pick your desired prize at the parade. Put your bid tokens on them that catches your fancy and then fight.”

  “These bid tokens, where will I find them?”

  “You bring your own. Each fighter or faction has their token.”

  “And how do you become the guardians of such treasure?” The camera box had dipped low for a better view. Taking a special interest in him.

  The guards exchanged glances, as if he should know that answer. “Because wyverns know how to survive, unlike those cowardly dragons.”

  Kelskar nodded in deference. Well chosen as guards then if they could shift their form at will.

  “You’re a new cock for the viewers to drool over. That’s why the camera follows you. Play it up, warrior, and the rewards will come.”

  Yes, they surely would. Kelskar meant to make sure of that.

  “Until later then.” He touched a fist to his chest, making a swift inventory of two more armed males, each guarding the corners of the long building. More at the back of the misery cages, no doubt to secure this valuable hoard.

  He stopped for a moment to witness a three-armed being kicking out at a fallen male who grovelled and begged at his feet. A memory spun in his head, linking somehow to the cages behind him.

  The fallen man fell silent, blood seeping from his ears and mouth. Kelskar continued watching storing away useful information on the three armed male’s style, should he choose to fight. The male turned a dark glare on the small crowd, lingering too long on Kelskar’s face. His mouth stretched in a feral grin. In the sky, gathering clouds sailed across the sun, racing shadows across the plain.

  Kelskar stood impassive, staring him out. He knew this being. But from where?

  “Lose her already did you? Been looking for you. The Corporation promised me your blood and I’ll have it.” The being stepped over the inert body, mouth open, grating with insane laughter. “Maybe I’ll find your little woman. Make you watch while I fuck her brains out.” He stopped a few lengths short, one eye on the guard thundering to intervene, sharpened pole tucked under his arm like a lance.