by Marie Dry
A few days later, she woke up when Zacar leaned over her and pressed his forehead against hers.
"Good morning," she said while lying perfectly still. The winter was speeding by in a haze of long, heated hours of lovemaking, cocooned in her tent with Zacar. When he wasn't working in the new cave, he insisted on his bargained-for four hours. Not that he had to insist very hard. Her alien might not say any sweet words to her but he sure knew how to make sweet love.
"Good morning, my breeder."
She stifled a groan as her belly did flip-flops. Obviously, her birth control had not worked against his alien sperm, and she was too worried about losing the content of her stomach to care that he'd called her that disgusting name. Sometimes she wondered if he did it to see her reaction.
Physically, they were as close as two people could get. But although he carefully fed her and watched over her every move, emotionally, they were still oceans apart.
It had been awhile since Azagor said she should ask Zacar about his mother and she was still working up the courage to do it. Whenever she thought about what could've happened to his mother, nothing good presented itself. If only she knew more about their customs and history. But whenever she asked about his planet or people, Zacar clammed up.
It was as if he came into the world a fully grown warrior. He would listen when she talked of her childhood, his face expressionless, and she never knew if he enjoyed listening to her.
"Are you off to practice?" she asked.
He and the others practiced with their swords every morning without fail. These last few days she'd been very grateful for that habit. It meant he left their tent early, allowing her to hide her morning queasiness from him.
He leaned down and pressed his forehead against hers again. "Yes, do you come to watch today?"
Natalie swallowed as her stomach let her know it was time to make a run for the bathroom. Even so, she felt her cheeks warm. She'd watched Zacar and the others do their sword practice a few times and he'd noticed how avidly she'd looked at their movements.
She nodded. "Go, I'm sure the others are waiting for you."
He grunted and left the tent. When she was sure he'd left the cave she went to the bathroom and lost the contents of her stomach. To take her mind off her queasiness while she bathed, she tried to figure out why her translator was acting up. Whenever she mentioned it, Zacar made love to her until she became a walking pleasure zone, with no brains left to question him. Why she didn't understand them when they were far away from her or why he didn't trust her with their spaceship--the taboo topics mounted up.
She felt better after she'd taken a shower and brushed her teeth. Her stomach settled even more after she went to the kitchen to eat some vitamin cookies. So far that had been the only food that settled her stomach. Her father had bought them in bulk from one of his mysterious sources. Luckily, they had a shelf life of twenty years.
Feeling human again, she returned to her tent. Once inside, she stood in front of the mirror examining her body, with her hand on her stomach. Satisfied that she didn't look pregnant, she opened the chest and took out the jacket Zacar had given her. The most comfortable garment she'd ever had, it was made from the same material as their uniforms. He'd given it to her the day after Azagor got wounded. He'd done it without a word, without ceremony, but she had the feeling it was a silent thank you for caring about his warrior. If they could produce a jacket in her size, they could make her a pair of boots like theirs as well. Maybe not as heavy, but if they were from the same material, they would keep out cold, water, and snow.
None of the others were around and, for once, she got to eat breakfast by herself. It was strange being able to use a knife and fork again after being fed for so long. Whatever Zacar was busy with had to be really important. Normally, he watched her like a hawk during meals. She still couldn't figure out why he insisted on feeding her.
She was on her way to the hothouse to water her plants when Zacar staggered in, blood spurting from his shoulder. She stared at him. The water bottle in her hand slipped from her grasp, crashing to the cave floor. A weakness came over her muscles and her ears rang. She stood rooted to the spot, using precious minutes as she fought to get her body moving.
"W--what on earth happened? Where's the doctor?" She looked around and saw Viglar with his little silver instrument hurrying over to Zacar, a truly strange look on his normally emotionless face. She ran to Zacar and hovered, holding his hand, while the doctor worked on him.
After what seemed like forever, the doctor and Zacar grunted at each other. She was about to scream at Viglar to do something when he nodded, held his instrument to Zacar's shoulder, and proceeded to treat the wound. He took out the blow torch and she tightened her grip on Zacar's hand. He was so big she ended up braced under his uninjured shoulder, her arm tight around his waist.
She avoided looking at what the doctor was doing and crooned to Zacar, kissing his forehead. To her surprise, he allowed her to cuddle him in front of his warriors. Heavy and warm, he leaned some of his bulk against her. She had to brace her feet apart not to stagger, but nothing would have induced her to let go of him. She'd hold him until her arms fell off.
Azagor came in to stand at the door and she realized something. "You guys better watch out for Tuesdays. This is the third time one of you got wounded on a Tuesday." She awkwardly turned her arm and frowned down at her watch. "That's strange. It's almost exactly the same time of day as well."
Zurian grunted something and the doctor grunted back. Neither one of them looked at her. Azagor and Zurian busied themselves, arranging medical instruments on the doctor's table. Zacar got subtly heavier in her arms while he grunted at the others.
By now, she had a very good idea what was wrong with her implant. Nothing. They were simply speaking a different language than the one her translator could understand. They switched so fluently between the language that sounded more like grunts and throat clearing than talking and the language she understood, she wasn't surprised it took her this long to figure out what they'd done. Those jerks! But Zacar was injured so she couldn't scold him about it now.
She looked up at him and kissed his cheek. He had to hurt terribly but he didn't even tremble. "How did you get wounded?"
"Raiders," he said briefly.
After a quick look at the others, he leaned even more of his weight into her. She loved holding him like this, but her arms shook from the strain.
When Zurian walked out, Zacar stood with an abrupt movement and Natalie frowned at him. "Where are you going? You need to lie down and rest."
"I have to get back to work, Natlia."
He leaned down and kissed her sweetly on the mouth. A soft, almost thank you kiss. Her hormones went wild and, if the others hadn't been standing around, she'd have climbed his body like a tree.
"No, you have to recuperate." His tough skin had been pierced by who knew what kind of weapon? And Viglar had just taken a blow torch to his skin. He could still get a fever. Besides, she wanted him to herself, to pamper him and look after him.
"I am fixed." He pressed his forehead against hers then walked away without looking back.
"Zacar!"
In the doorway, he stopped and turned back toward her. "Yes, Natlia?"
"The implant you gave me isn't working." He'd brushed it off every time she brought it up, and now she knew why. But he wasn't going to get away with it this time.
"Why do you think this?" he asked and glanced over to where Azagor and Viglar huddled over an instrument mounted on the wall, trying to look innocent. Viglar fiddled with his silver gadget while Azagor tried to appear interested in what the doctor was doing.
How stupid did they think she was? "Whenever you don't want me to know what you're saying to each other, you speak in that growly language. And when it's okay for the little woman to know, you speak in a language I can understand." She pressed her nails into her palms until sharp pain speared her hand. "You'd do it so well, it took me a long time
to catch on." She would keep talking until he admitted that he'd been keeping her in the dark.
They stared at each other, until she had to battle the urge to furiously blink her eyelids.
"Your implant translates standard galactic," he admitted. "That is the language most races in our galaxy speak." He took her arm and walked her out of Viglar's enclosure. Dazed at getting an answer that easily, she looked around and saw they were at the entrance to the room holding her tent.
Did he trust her a little? Was that why he was answering her now? "So what do you speak?"
"We speak the old language." He didn't sound trusting. More as if the words escaped from his mouth without his permission.
"And this old language is the language of your planet, Zyrgin?" Maybe she could study his language until she at least understood their growling. If she was going to spend a lifetime with Zacar, she wanted to at least understand his language.
He stood straight, his demeanour formal. "Yes, we speak the old language."
"Why didn't you program my implant to interpret the old language?"
As if she didn't know. They wanted to keep her ignorant. Even more important, they obviously had something to hide. The face of the strange alien in the hologram flashed through her mind. Could they be planning an invasion? What would she do if they were?
"It is forbidden to allow outsiders to understand the old language."
"I thought I was more to you than simply an outsider." She seriously doubted his ability to love like a human man would. But she'd thought he cared for her and trusted her at least a little.
"You are my breeder."
"What does that even mean? You always avoid my question. I'm some breeding machine? A slave?" Throwing her hands up, she paced in front of him.
"It means you belong to me," he said, crossing his arms over his chest. With his legs planted wide and his massive arms crossed like that, he was an impressive sight.
"Why implant me with a useless device when you make sure not to speak around me anyway?" For now, she'd let the breeder thing go. She needed some sign from him, however small, that she had his trust. She needed it more than her next breath.
"It is not useless. You can communicate with us and any other alien you might meet."
"Oh, that's very funny. Like the Earth is just crawling with different kinds of aliens." The silence from him had her do a double take. "You are the only aliens around, right?"
He hesitated then nodded.
She didn't like his hesitation but let it go for now. She had another gripe. "What if your alien implant didn't work on humans? You could've killed me." Or worse, she could've ended up a vegetable.
"I would never implant you without testing first." He straightened his arms and drew his warrior body up. He glared at her, outraged.
Oh, yes, he'd mentioned that before he'd implanted it, but at the time the full implications hadn't registered. "You tested it? On a human? Like you did with the vitamins?" Please let him say they did it with a computer simulation, like they used to test pilots when planes still flew. She didn't want to be responsible for some hapless human having the bad luck to be experimented on.
"Yes," he said as if they were discussing the weather.
"When? How?" she asked, not sure she wanted an answer.
"We captured a raider and implanted him. He could speak rudimentary standard galactic after only a few minutes," he said matter-of-factly, as if he hadn't just confessed to doing experiments on humans.
She moved between gratification at having her questions answered and horror at what he told her. Her mouth opened and closed but no words emerged. The casual disregard for human life settled over her like a heavy shroud. "How can you do something so terrible and not even be sorry?" she asked, her voice a mere whisper. "What did you do with him after you implanted him?" Somehow, she knew what his answer would be.
"I killed him." No hesitation.
"That's murder." She stumbled back from him, her back landing against the cave wall with a small thud. Horror clawed through her flesh, creeping into her very bones. Somehow learning that they experimented on and killed raiders was much more horrifying than them taking on a raider camp and killing hundreds.
He grabbed her and pulled her tight against him. She lifted her hands to brace them on his shoulders, only to jerk back when she touched his wound.
"Don't you ever move away from me like that." One of his hands clasped the back of her neck as the other spread over her back. Claws pressed against her skin. "Never move away from me." He drew her closer again.
"But--your wound."
Ignoring her concern for his wound, he continued, "He hurt many women. Our probes watched his camp for a long time. We made sure we took a very bad human."
"And you think that makes it okay?" Still, she wondered if he killed the man because he had their technology in his head rather than punishing him for the atrocities he'd committed.
"We saved some women from him," he said, as if saving women justified murder.
For heaven's sake, he experimented on a man then killed him. And she was even worse because she almost accepted his actions.
"What did you do with the women?"
Lately, the main topic of discussion around the cell at night was finding women. Azagor especially speculated on where to find good breeders. She seriously dreaded the moment one of the others would appear with a woman they'd stolen. Zurian might not say much, but she didn't doubt he'd act on his interest. And he'd been disappearing for short periods lately.
"We left them outside town."
He obviously had no further interest in them. She prayed the other warriors felt the same way. Still, she couldn't forget the casual way he'd admitted to murder.
"On Earth, we have a saying. 'Two wrongs don't make a right.'"
"That does not make sense."
"It means you can't make up for a wrong doing with another wrong doing. It's wrong to kidnap a man and experiment on him, even if he's a bad man. Lowering yourself to his level doesn't make it right. It only makes you as bad as he is."
He growled at her, the scary growl that made her want to run and hide. "I'm a warrior with omgraz'ra."
"You can't justify murder."
"The probes showed that raider raped four women before we got to the camp and took him."
"He should have been dealt with by the Police."
He snorted. "Your police are too scared to go near the raider camps."
"You do realize if you keep going after the raiders, it's only a matter of time before someone catches you and broadcasts it for the whole world to see."
"Humans are weak and we go camouflaged." His body, his voice, showed his extreme contempt for human adversaries.
"How do you get to the camps?"
"We walk."
"Some of them are hundreds of miles away." Every time she asked him he dodged the question or tried to make her believe they walked.
Natalie looked to the side where she'd left the club against the wall, seriously tempted. "We're getting off the subject. We were talking about my implant. If you could, would you have programmed the implant to translate the old language?"
"No," he said with no hesitation.
She stepped away from him, turned to hide her reaction, and pretended to study the gleaming silver panel set in the wall that they'd installed at every entrance. "I see," she said. She searched for an argument that might sway him then turned back to him. "Did your mother have the old language implanted?"
His whole body seemed to tighten, vibrating like a weapon about to go off. He took a step back. It was the first time since she set eyes on him that he'd distanced himself from her. His claws lengthened. "To ensure our planet's safety, no breeder is implanted with the old language. It is too complicated to be taught and takes decades to master. By the time they master it, we can be assured of their loyalty."
"So you don't learn it from your mothers?"
What a strange culture. She'd hate to be that
distanced from her children. Instinctively, she laid a protective hand over her stomach, but quickly fisted it and dropped it when his eyes followed the betraying movement.
"We are born with the knowledge of our language."
"That's incredible." Would their children be born with a language she couldn't understand? What other knowledge were they born with? "The women on your planet must be terribly unhappy."
They were second class citizens, unable to even understand the language of the planet they lived on. She wanted to cup both hands over her stomach again, but didn't dare. If it was possible to have a girl, what kind of life did she have in such a society?
"No warrior worth his salt would allow his breeder to be unhappy."
Zacar widened his stance and appeared relaxed, with his arms hanging loose at his sides. But she noticed that his hands slowly, very slowly closed, and wondered if he hid claws in those loose fists. From that first day when they all saluted her, none of them ever lengthened their claws in her presence. Still, he was answering her questions at last.
"And your mother? Is she happy?" she asked, seeing an opportunity to find out what Azagor didn't have the courage to tell her that day not so long ago.
He looked away from her. She could see his muscles bunch and tighten and reached out to him to soothe him. She'd obviously touched a nerve by mentioning his mother. "What happened to her, Zacar?"
She touched his thick bicep and he shrugged her off. Zacar closed in on her, stalked her, his claws displayed, his muscles so tense they vibrated. He loomed over her, into her. Natalie cowered away from him, ducked her head, and held out her palms in a futile effort to keep him away. She already knew she couldn't outrun him. Before she could figure what to do, he leaned into her even more, caging her between his arms. Only yesterday, it would've been a scarily sexy move. Now it only scared her. His fists, on either side of her face, opened and closed as if he wanted to crush the wall.
Natalie ducked out from under his arms and stumbled away from him. Never had she expected such a violent reaction to her question. He turned and speared her with a look so vicious, she almost peed herself. His fist was bleeding but he didn't seem to notice or care.