by Ruby Dixon
I was quiet when the others with the strange babbling alien language came into the room. When the female started screaming and crying, and when others arrived a short time later. I was terrified, but I’ve learned through weeks of hell that I can’t show my responses. So I sit as quiet and motionless as I can with my fists on my thighs, determined not to make a sound. Not to be disobedient.
Until I heard one speak English. He said “fuck.” I know he did.
And so I disobeyed for the first time in weeks, though it might cost me my tongue or my nose or my life. I just…I have to know who’s here.
“Your eyes,” one of the men murmurs in English, and the sound of my native language—hell, just being able to understand someone—is so welcome that I’d cry if I had tear ducts left.
“They’re gone.”
“They’re gone? That’s all you have to say about it?” The one man sounds incredulous, and I catch myself fascinated by the way his tongue caresses the words. He says them strangely, as if English—or anything human—isn’t his first language, and it probably isn’t. I wonder if he’s alien, too. “Just as calm as anything? They’re gone? They’re your eyes.”
I want to pour my heart out. I want to say I know they’re gone. I wasn’t a good slave and so they punished me because I fought back. And the more I fought back, the harder they hit. They took my finger and my toe and when I still wouldn’t stop fighting, they took my eyes. And that did it for me. I haven’t fought since. Now I’m the only one alive because I’m obedient. The others are dead. All dead. And I’m stuck here in this cage and have been for a month and I want nothing more than my freedom and the cool breeze of Earth on my face. Please help me because I can’t take much more.
But I’ve learned I can take much more. I’ll survive if I have to. So I don’t say any of that. I don’t know if this is a trap, a test to see how obedient I truly am. So all I say is, “I was disobedient once. I’ve learned my lesson.”
The man exhales deeply, a noise of dismay in his throat.
“Let’s get her back to the ship,” the other voice says. “Fran’s going to kill me if we take much longer. You’re coming with us, sweetheart. We’re going to take care of you. No one’s going to ever hurt you again.”
“Okay,” I say, since they seem to want a response. My heart thuds with excited hope once more. Is it true? Is it possible?
The men discuss something in low voices, and the fact that they switched languages makes me nervous. Here it comes, then. This isn’t the rescue I’ve been hoping for. It just means I can’t trust once more. So I put on my calm demeanor once more and I wait.
“You do that,” the one nearest my cage—his voice is closest—says to his friend. “I’ll get her out of here and back to the ship.”
“Fine. I’ll be back after I get the, uh, stuff.”
There’s the sound of footsteps and I realize someone’s leaving. I bite my lip because I want to scream at them to please take me, but I fight it back. I swallow hard and wait. Endless, endless waiting. That’s all my life seems to be anymore.
Metal creaks, and I feel my cage shudder. “How the kef do you open this thing?”
My heart beats fast again. “I don’t know. No one lets me out.”
The man growls low in his throat. “You’re never sitting in a cage again if I have anything to do with it. Tell me your name. I forgot it.”
“Iris,” I whisper. And then the cage creaks and groans, the air shifting.
I can’t see it, but I sense that the door is open. A wave of longing rushes through me, but I’m too scared to reach for it.
“Give me your hand,” the man says. I don’t hesitate, because obedience has been beaten into me. I put my hand out and warm fingers brush against mine.
A shiver runs through me when I realize how big the stranger’s hand is. His skin feels different, too. I remember from the few times the others—with the orange, pebbly skin—touched me. Their skin tore at mine and hurt. This man feels luscious, like suede. Pettable. He’s not like them. “I…who are you? What are you? Where are the others? The ones that took me?”
“Dead,” the man says flatly. “Or at least they will be very soon, if I have anything to say about it. My name’s Alyvos. I’m a friend.” His tone softens as if he realizes that he’s scaring me. “I’m a pirate, but I don’t hurt humans. You’re safe, I promise.”
Promises are easily broken, but I nod, because he seems to want an answer. I’m hopeful, but I won’t breathe with relief until I’m gone from this place. I memorize his name with the tongue-twist in the middle and repeat it as best I can. “Alvos.”
“Close enough.” There’s a hint of amusement in his voice. “We’ll save the language lessons for later. Can you stand?”
Stand? When he tugs on my hand again, I realize he wants me to get out of the cage. Joy rushes through me and I surge forward before he can change his mind. It’s been weeks since I’ve stretched my legs, though, and they cramp up immediately, sending me lurching forward into open air.
Strong arms move around my waist and I’m hauled against a large body a moment later. He’s warm and smells so good and clean that I whimper.
“I’ve got you, Iris,” Alvos whispers, and his breath stirs against my skin. “I won’t let you fall.”
I’m filthy and I feel unclean and weak, but I also feel…safe. I want to see his face, and the ache of that realization hits me. I’m never going to be able to look at him. Ever. I’m going to be lost in the darkness forever.
No, I can’t think like that. I’m a survivor. If I’m going to be blind for the rest of my life, so be it. I’ll just use my other senses even more. Like touch and smell. Right now, both of those senses are going haywire thanks to the man holding me against his chest. I press my fingertips against his chest and feel the fabric of a shirt as well as something hard underneath. Armor?
“Can you stand?” Alvos asks me.
“It’s been a while, but I can try.” I attempt to straighten my legs, but it’s painfully obvious that they won’t support me. I can’t straighten them and they feel weak as noodles. “Just give me a moment.”
“Exactly how long is a while?” His voice is an angry growl in my ear and then he swings me into his arms, princess style. “I’m taking you to med-bay.”
“Okay,” I say timidly. I want to ask where med-bay is or what’s going to happen there, but I’ve noticed that aliens have volatile tempers, so I keep my mouth shut and do my best to look obedient.
Obedient keeps me alive. Even if I want to scream with joy at being out of the cage, or run away and hide so no one can ever find me again, I’ll clasp my hands in my lap and do my best to be calm and placid, like a good little slave. Emotions are too dangerous, and I can’t afford to look like anything except the perfect pet.
4
ALYVOS
As I carry my light, fragile burden onto the Fool, I notice things about Iris.
I notice she’s a little too thin compared to Fran or Cat, because I can see her ribs through the tatters of her clothing, and her collarbones are so prominent they look painful. I notice she’s covered in caked filth and her hair is matted and should probably be cut from her scalp it’s so badly snarled. I notice the deep scars where her eyes once were have been cauterized, and in a rather haphazard fashion. Given that every ship is equipped with medical supplies and surgical machinery, it’s clear that this was just another form of torture by her captors. I notice she sits with perfect, utter stillness, expression bland, her hands clasped against her waist as if this is an everyday pleasant sort of jaunt instead of a rescue.
I notice she has the cutest, tiniest little nose and a dusky-colored mouth that I can’t stop staring at. I know I shouldn’t, because she’s been badly used, but I’m already feeling incredibly possessive towards her.
And angry. I’m so keffing angry right now. Not at her—but at the szzt that held her, and the conditions she’s been kept in for so long. I’m angry that she’s been hurt
and tortured and she’s covered in her own filth and yet…she has the mildest demeanor ever, as if none of this bothers her in the slightest.
I’m angry that she’s not angry.
But maybe she’s in shock. That, I could understand. The hysterics will come later, when she’s safe.
Carefully, I take her through the narrow halls of the szzt junker. I move slowly because I don’t want to jostle her trembling form, or knock her feet against a wall that she can’t see. She deserves so much better than she’s been given, and I vow she’ll never have reason to fear me. Once I know that she’s safe in med-bay, I’m going to return to this keffing ship and finish the job that I should have done before. I’m going to make sure those aliens never harm another human for as long as I live.
Just the thought fills me with an almost unholy anticipation. Soon.
I take her through the docking tunnel connecting the ships, and the moment the air changes, I can feel her stiffen. Her head lifts a little and she looks less relaxed, a bit warier. “I’m taking you to our ship. You’re safe. It’s called The Lovesick Fool because a nice, silly name doesn’t make people think of pirates.”
She nods, and I wish she’d say more, but she doesn’t. It’s disappointing. I want to know what’s going on in that head of hers, what she’s thinking. I’m hungry to hear her thoughts in a way that I’ve never been with another female before.
Something deep inside me instinctually recognizes her as mine. I’ve heard other mesakkah talk about it. How when they meet their female, they just know in their gut that she’s the one. That the connection is lightning fast and soul-wrenchingly deep. Always thought that was garbage until now.
Now, I think I’d dismember the next person that tries to lay hands on her.
It’s not romantic. Not yet. She’s too fragile, too wounded. But that’s all right. I can wait, now that I’ve got something to live for. I’ve always had something to fight for, but this is different.
Everything’s different.
“Iris,” I murmur, because I want to feel her name on my tongue, and I want to see how she responds to it. “You’re going to stay on my ship for a while. Well, it’s not my ship. I’m not the captain. I’m the muscle. But I’ll make sure nobody messes with you. The rest of the crew are good guys. They’re mated, too. They have females, so you don’t have to worry about them. Well, except for Sentorr, but he wouldn’t touch you. I don’t think he’s ever looked in a female’s direction twice. When he falls for a female, it’s going to hit him completely by surprise, I think.” Kef me, I’m babbling like an idiot.
She just sits in my arms so calmly, her head slightly cocked to indicate she’s listening to me.
I grit my teeth at that serene silence. “You can say something, you know.”
Iris licks her lips, as if trying to think of what to say. I’m fascinated by that small flash of pink tongue until she speaks up. “Thank you, Alvos.” Then I’m fascinated by the gentle, rolling sound of her voice.
“You don’t have to thank me for saving you.” When she’s silent again, I bite back a sigh of frustration. “I’d like for you to speak up, please, Iris. I don’t want you to be afraid to talk around me.”
She hesitates, then nods. “All right. I’ll try to speak. I’m sorry.”
I growl low. “Or apologize. Don’t keffing do that either.”
Her brow wrinkles and she turns her head in my direction. “Kef-fing?”
I can feel my ears get hot. “Not a human word. Sorry about that. It’s, uh, cursing.”
“I see.”
She’s still so bland. I know there has to be fire inside her. She went through hell and back. I just need to be patient and figure out how to coax it out.
I step into the Fool and immediately, the air quality improves. I take a deep lungful with appreciation and continue on towards med-bay with my burden tucked in my arms. “We’re going to meet Tarekh in med-bay,” I tell her as I continue on. “He’s going to look at your wounds and make sure everything’s all right. We’ll get you patched up.”
“Thank you.”
“You’ll be in good hands with him.”
I can feel the tension slide over her and she bites down on that dusky pink lip of hers. She swallows, and I’m fascinated by even the tiniest of movements she makes. When was the last time I noticed how anyone swallowed? Kef me, I’ve got it bad.
“You’re leaving me?”
Her voice is utterly calm, but I can feel the tremor that moves through her.
I’m torn. I want to hurt those szzt again, so badly I can taste it. More than that, I want them to know why I’ve come back to give them another round of pain. I want to see the spark of life die from their eyes. But Iris is holding herself tense now. Even if she doesn’t say it, she wants me to stay at her side. Because I’m already feeling possessive and protective of her, I can’t help but change my plans. “I’ll stay with you.”
She nods, but I can feel some of the tension ease from her.
The door to med-bay opens and Fran comes out, snapping an ammo cartridge into a darkmatter blaster. “Oh, Alyvos. You—” She blanches at the sight of Iris’s ruined face and staggers backward. “Oh my god.”
I shift my weight, holding Iris tighter against me, as if I could somehow protect her from the look Fran is giving her. It’s one of pity and horror, and I recognize that expression. It’s one I saw for so many years. People would ask me about the war. I’d tell them where I served, and then that look would come across their face.
I hate that look. I glare at Fran. “This is Iris,” I tell her, my tone deadly. “She’s staying with us for a while.”
Fran regroups, giving herself a little shake. “Of course.” She switches to English. “No one told me there was another human coming on board. Are there more?” She glances behind me and lowers her gun to her side but doesn’t holster it. “Where’s Kiv?”
“Still on the junker, taking care of business.”
“Alone? You’ve got to be kidding me.” Her voice goes sharp and she lets out an irritated breath. I can tell that her attention goes from the wounded female in my arms to focus on her mate. She gives her head a little shake and pushes past me. “I’m going after that man. I swear he’s going to be the death of me. Nice to meet you, Iris, but I have to go give my mate backup.”
I want to point out that we wouldn’t have left Kivian alone on board if there was a hint of danger, but it’s also probably a good idea for Fran to join him anyhow, just in case. Besides, the captain’ll appreciate the sight of his small human mate brandishing a blaster and covering his backside. I watch her go and glance at Iris’s face to see her expression. She’s gone back to blandness again, her hands clasped tight in front of her.
“We’re going into the med-bay now,” I tell her. “Tarekh’s probably going to be there with his mate, Cat. If she makes you feel uncomfortable, you let me know and I’ll make her leave.”
Something flickers over Iris’s face. Surprise. “You would?”
“I would,” I tell her solemnly. “You just say the word.”
“Okay,” Iris says softly. “Is it…that bad?” One trembling, filthy hand goes to her face and hovers at her cheekbone, as if she’s afraid to touch the badly sealed wounds herself.
“It’s fine,” I say abruptly. Because what can I say? Her eyes were gouged out by males who acted like animals and cruelly cauterized, ruining the chance of regenerative tissue being reattached later on. They deliberately marred her beauty. They wanted to break her. “You’re beautiful,” I tell her, because I can’t not. In my eyes, she is. I see beyond the ugly marks and the harm they’ve done to her.
Her mouth curves faintly. “Are you blind, too, Alvos?”
My heart skips a beat at that smile. For that, I’d do anything. For her, I’d move asteroids and fly through black holes, unafraid.
I’m hers in that moment. Completely and utterly hers.
If Cat’s startled by Iris’s appearance, she doesn’t show i
t. She’s snuggled up in a blanket on Tarekh’s lap and remains in his chair even after the big male gets up to run medical scans on Iris. Tarekh isn’t surprised to see her, which tells me that Kiv probably sent him a private message while I carried her back to warn him that we were incoming. Neither one is chatty like their usual selves. Cat’s normally sly and loves to tease Tarekh, and the big male is usually full of laughter and easygoing. Today they’re both silent, and I imagine Cat’s going to struggle with what she experienced for a while.
It’s just a reminder to me that Iris needs time. I’ll give her all the time she wants, then. If it makes her feel safer to remain silent and calm, she can do that.
Tarekh examines Iris, and I watch her vitals as intensely as he does, maybe more so. She’s malnourished, vitamin deficient, and dehydrated. I’m not surprised, given the conditions we found her in. Her body’s fighting off an infection, and the long, ugly wound in her thigh needs stitching. She’s missing the tip of one finger, one toe, and another toe has been broken. Her muscles are extremely weak and she’ll have to spend time each day in med-bay while the computers run her through a few physical therapy machines, but it doesn’t look like there’s anything fatal. Tarekh gives that prognosis and I breathe out a sigh of relief, which makes my buddy give me an odd look, his tail twitching.
I don’t explain myself. I don’t have to. I’m sure he can guess how I’m feeling.
“You need a bit of fixing up, but nothing that a good meal and some nutrient injections won’t cure. As for your eyes…” He hesitates.
“I know,” Iris says. “They’re gone. I can’t see anything.”
Tarekh raises the scanner, moving it over the scarred tissue and hollow sockets. “Normally this would be where I gave a patient a nice pep talk, but I don’t have anything good to say about what they did to you. Even the cauterization…” He trails off. “There’s nothing that can be regenerated. I’m sorry.”
“Thank you for trying,” Iris says in that sweet, simple tone of hers.