Her Alien Commander

by Ashe Barker

  She took intense pleasure in stuffing her filthy, tattered smock into the atomic recycling chute and ordering a new outfit to replace it. The clothing Caria requested was simple but comfortable. She put on the loose fitting all-in-one suit made of a soft, drapey fabric and cinched it in at the waist with a wide belt. The neckline was low but still modest, a consideration she felt was significant, prudent even, given the Vahlean’s earlier statement of what was to come.

  She also requested a hairbrush and now her long blond curls rippled down her back in some semblance of order as she perused the alien’s collection of classical literature from the Solaris zone. The Solarians were renowned proponents of the interplanetary arts, a learned, scholarly race and their culture widely regarded as among the highest across all known galaxies. Caria was particularly fond of Solarian poetry and hoped it might help to settle her nerves. Certainly, she would require her wits about her when Phahlen returned. She downloaded a collection of verses she had not encountered before and settled down on the hover-sofa. She was about halfway through when the door slid silently open and the Vahlean entered.

  The digital reader slithered to the floor as her nerveless fingers released their grip. She scrambled to her feet, ready to make a run for it.

  Phahlen spared her a glance, then he requested a glass of mineral water from the grill on the wall. He sipped his drink in silence as he took in the evidence of how she had spent her time. He strode toward her, and as Caria shrank back onto the sofa, he crouched to retrieve her reading matter.

  “Good book?” he enquired pleasantly.

  Caria nodded.

  Phahlen reactivated the device and skimmed a few lines. “Ah, Solarian. Excellent choice. Uplifting, motivational literature. I applaud your taste, Caria.”

  “I… I always liked the poems best,” she murmured.

  “I see. And do you feel uplifted now, little human? Suitably motivated perhaps to hear what I have to tell you?”

  She gazed back at him and shook her head. “I… those things you said earlier. I cannot do as you wish. It wouldn’t be possible. You must release me. I am a citizen of Earth, and—”

  “Ah, yes, an excellent place to start. I’m glad you brought that up. It appears the global judiciary on your planet are most anxious to have you back among them, Caria. So much so that they are about to initiate extradition proceedings. There’s a reward for your capture. Did you know that?”

  She shook her head again, her heart sinking. Who could possibly require a frying pan when she could simply hurl herself onto the flames that seemed to await her around every corner? “You have been in contact with Earth?”

  “Naturally. We needed to ascertain just what space vessel the bloody Galeians opened fire on and file a report with the owners. Imagine my surprise when I learnt that our little scaly friends were not entirely wrong about you.”

  “I am not a spy,” countered Caria, her defensive hackles arising.

  “Perhaps not. But you are a thief. Your ship was listed as a mercenary pirate vessel, and there are intergalactic arrest warrants out for all the crew. Sadly, I have had to inform the authorities that there was only one survivor, but they are most anxious to talk to you.”

  “You cannot send me back. Please…” She reached for his wrist without thinking, grasping his forearm as though that might lend weight to her pleas. “I did nothing wrong. I was just—”

  “I have no intention of returning you to Earth, Caria. I believe I have made my plans for you quite clear, and they do not include squandering a perfectly good female in such a manner.”

  “Squandering? What do you mean by that?” His choice of words was odd. Caria’s confusion grew along with her fear.

  “I shall explain. First, what do you know of the Vahlean race?” He bent at the knees as though intending to sit, and a seat materialised behind him. He settled into it, right in front of Caria. “Are you aware of the somewhat peculiar situation my group of planets now faces?”

  Caria shook her head. “I have heard of Vahle, and I know where in space your worlds are located, but I am not aware of the details. You are a technically advanced species, I can see that, but I have never directly encountered your race before.”

  His answering grin lacked warmth, though Caria still found his expression pleasant enough. Indeed, were this man less of a threat to her, if his power over her fate was not quite so absolute, she might even acknowledge that the Vahlean commander was a stunningly attractive specimen. When he had removed his helmet in the lounge, it was all she had managed not to gasp out loud. She had already noted his height, over six feet tall, and on Earth his features would have been described as Nordic. She had read legends of the Vikings from Earth’s distant past and this male epitomised her image of those legendary beings. His hair was a pale ash blond, much lighter than her own, and was not much shorter than hers. His was straight though, and swept back from his stern face. His eyes were incongruously dark and held a determined glint, a deep midnight blue fringed by pale lashes. His complexion was fair too, his features well defined. His jaw was square, his mouth mobile and expressive. Her captor exuded strength, wore his authority like a cloak, and not simply because of his muscular build though that contributed to his aura of dominance. She assumed his clothing to be a uniform, and it fit him as though it has been sprayed on. The metallic gleam of the fabric put her in mind of other ancient civilisations where the warriors protected themselves with armour, though the commander’s garments were supple and form-fitting, the perfect showcase for his powerful shoulders and sharply planed and chiselled torso. She could readily pick out the play of muscle and sinew beneath his clothes as he moved, and she wondered if all the males from his world were similarly striking.

  “I see. In that case I should acquaint you with a little of our recent history.” He paused to sip his water again. “Have you heard of the Oestral Pandemic?”

  Caria shook her head, forcing her concentration back to the matter at hand and her somewhat unpredictable situation.

  “It’s a disease, a viral infection to be exact, virulent and highly contagious. It swept through Vahle some twenty-seven years ago and halved our population within a matter of three par-cycles. We were able to develop a vaccine, but not quickly enough to prevent the spread of the disease. By the time we were in a position to control it, the damage was done.”

  “Half your population, you said?” Caria gaped at him. She could barely comprehend such a tragedy.

  “Yes. The female half. The Oestral virus only affects females, and it proved fatal in ninety percent of cases. Those Vahlean females who did survive were rendered infertile by the virus. We became a race of males and a handful of sickly females, doomed to become extinct unless we could find some way of producing a next generation, and over time re-establishing a gender balance. So you see, as a healthy female you are of great value to us and we will reject demands for your extradition in order to secure your… contribution… to our efforts.”

  “But, I am not Vahlean.”

  “No, but humans are among the half dozen or so compatible species who can be impregnated by Vahlean males to produce young who are themselves fertile. Your offspring will be half human, but we are prepared to accept the dilution of our species if that is the cost of survival. We are a pragmatic race, Caria, and a determined one. When we learned that a human female remained trapped on the planet, it became imperative that we extract you alive. That is the only reason you are here.”

  “So, if I had been of no value to you, you would have left me to die?”

  Phahlen had the grace to shrug, his expression decidedly uncomfortable. He hesitated, clearly reluctant to answer.

  “Wouldn’t you?” Caria was not about to allow him to evade her perfectly fair question.

  “Yes, probably,” he bit out at last. “The situation on planetoid three seven nine was perilous in the extreme. If you had been a male, or even a female past her fertile years, I doubt I would have risked my life and the safety of my
crew in affecting a rescue. And now…”

  “Now you will have your payback.”

  “In a manner of speaking. I have been in contact with the Vahlean High Council and registered my claim. Confirmation was received just a few moments ago, and you are now fully under my jurisdiction and protection. The authorities on your planet have accepted this ruling in exchange for our guarantee that there will be no repetition of your earlier transgressions and that you will be held in a secure unit for an appropriate length of time. The suggested sentence for piracy is thirty of your Earth years, I am advised. Needless to say, you will cause no further trouble to Earth or other allied civilisations, and I have no doubt we can provide the required level of security to satisfy the conditions imposed by your home world.” He paused, as though waiting for her to concur with his view of the matter. Caria remained silent. She was stunned.

  Thirty years! Thirty fucking years…

  Phahlen lifted one eyebrow, then continued. “You are no longer Caria, of the Montgomery line. From now on, and for the foreseeable future, you will be designated as convict three seven zero, Delta class. I regret that no appeal will be permitted, and that I can offer you no choice in the exact nature of your confinement and the treatment you will receive whilst in my custody. The stakes for Vahle are far too high for that. You are, to all intents and purposes, mine now. You will make yourself available to me, and your children will be part of our repopulation project.”

  He paused to cast a swift smile her way. Caria believed he intended to offer reassurance. He failed utterly.

  “However,” he continued, “as I assured you earlier, this need not be an unduly unpleasant existence. I am prepared to treat you fairly, with respect and consideration, and of course your good health will be my paramount concern.”

  “Because I am breeding stock? No better than a brood mare?” Caria managed to grind out the words, her lips dry, her throat already closing as she struggled to catch her breath.

  He chose not to reply, but she couldn’t mistake the incline of his head.

  “How is it that you get to stake your claim to me? The privileges of rank?”

  “In part, yes. However, given our need to optimise the outcomes of the Vahlean repopulation programme, we also vet all males to grade their fertility. It would be foolish indeed to allocate one of the few females we do have to a male who may fail to produce the goods. My grading is alpha ten, the highest fertility ratio in the Vahlean spectrum, so I have priority status in such circumstances. I am at the head of the line, so to speak.”

  “The line? You mean, there are others, other males who would also have a right to, to…”

  He shook his head. “No. Because of the virus, our need for females is somewhat primitive, and the biology, regrettably, is very basic indeed. But we like to think of ourselves as a civilised culture even so. I mentioned respect and consideration already, and I meant it. You will not be passed around, and no other male will be able to assert any right to you unless I relinquish mine. I cannot foresee circumstances in which I would wish to do that as I am unlikely to find myself in a position to replace you very easily.”

  Caria shuddered. The entire situation was cold, unfeeling, utterly functional, with her fertility right at the heart of it. She was valued by this handsome Vahlean for nothing more than her female biology, and by the sound of it she would never have been wanted otherwise. She would have been considered worthless and left behind to die. And therein lay her predicament. An infertile female had no worth at all by the sound of it. Should she tell him? Should she describe the years spent with Petros her previous partner and cook on the privateering vessel they had called home? They had failed to produce any children, despite Caria’s longing to be a mother. Petros already had two sons and a daughter from his previous relationship, so it had to be her fault…

  She shoved that notion aside. If he were to learn this secret, the Vahlean commander would send her straight back to Earth to face the authorities there. A lifetime of incarceration beckoned and she did not fancy it, not one bit. Even so, she had no desire either to play out this ridiculous charade.

  “I won’t do it. You can’t force me. There must be interplanetary regulations governing the treatment of prisoners. I demand that you—”

  “Interplanetary law is not on your side, Caria.”

  She shook her head, tears brimming in her eyes as she got to her feet and backed away from him. “You’re a monster. I shall never agree to this.”

  “I won’t ask you to. Your agreement is not required. You have no say in the matter, none at all. As for whether I am a monster or not, I prefer to think of myself as a man who does what must be done.”

  “And if I don’t cooperate, you will kill me. Or hand me over to Earth.”

  “You are not listening, Caria. No such unpleasantness will arise. I intend to fuck you, because that is what must be done, but I will not harm you. You will become pregnant and our daughters will be raised as part of the next generation of Vahleans. Of course, you will be welcome to remain too. We would not forcibly separate you from your children. Once your child-bearing years are over, if you then wished to return to Earth we would not prevent it. I could not, however, guarantee your freedom once you arrived there since that would be a matter for the Earth judiciary to determine.”

  She glared at him, trying to process this implacable future he laid out for her. At last she asked the questions whirling around inside her head. “What if I don’t? Become pregnant, that is? And how can you be so sure our children would be female?”

  “Vahle is not short of males. We require females in order to repopulate our planet, and since the gender of our offspring is one aspect of reproductive biology under the control of the male parent we have genetically altered those males designated as breeders to produce only X chromosomes. Do you understand the significance of this?”

  Caria did. She managed a brief nod. “But I may not conceive at all…” she began.

  “You will,” he affirmed softly. “Believe me, you will.”

  * * *

  Caria replaced the glass on the tray, and noted that her hand still shook. After their heated exchange, Phahlen had instructed her to retake her seat. For want of a better alternative, Caria had obeyed him. He had then brought her a glass of chilled water and ordered her to drink it. She had done so, and had managed to restore some semblance of calm. It was enough to enable her to ask her next question.

  “When? When will this… thing… start?”

  “Soon. At once, if I deem you fit enough. It’s clear you’ve not been well treated by the Galeians. You’ve been undernourished, certainly, and I’ve arranged for our on-board clinician to examine you in order to ensure you are free from infection or other medical problems. We shall take care of you and ensure that your physical needs are fully met. To that end, I have some questions regarding your experiences in captivity on the planet. Are you feeling ready to answer me?”

  “Do I have a choice?”

  “Ultimately, no. But you look exhausted right now and I appreciate the events of today will have taken their toll. If you prefer to rest now and resume this discussion at a later time, I could allow that.”

  Caria sighed and shook her head. “No. I, I don’t mind telling you about what happened on the planet. Not that there’s much to say.”

  “Very well. How long were you there?”

  “I’m not sure. I was underground for most of the time so I lost track of the days. The weeks. Months?” She looked to Phahlen as though he might be able to assist.

  “Do you remember the date when your craft was attacked?”

  “Yes, it was ninety-seven, four one point six.” Caria resorted to the interplanetary standard system of recording time.

  Phahlen nodded. “We are now at ninety-eight, five three point zero. In Earth time that would amount to… seven months?”

  Caria nodded, hardly able to credit it had been so long. She had managed to block out great swathes of her time
in captivity; the monotony had been so mind-numbing. “Toward the end I was kept in the dark, chained as you first saw me…”

  He nodded, encouraging her to continue.

  “They only came down there to feed me, and that wasn’t every day. I don’t know, it’s hard to judge.” She looked straight at him. “They had no idea what humans should eat. They fed me grass. Grass!” She glared at him, demanding some sort of response.

  “I take it you are not fond of grass?”

  “Do I look like a fucking rabbit?”

  He cocked his head to one side. “I am not familiar with that particular Earth mammal though I understand it to bear some similarity to the krevehris common on Vahle. Now you mention it, I must concur that you do not bear so much as a passing resemblance to that creature either. I shall issue instructions that our housekeeping data systems should be updated to ensure that there is no grass on the menu.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Did they ill-treat you in any other ways? Were they violent?”

  Caria nodded, and tried not to twist her hands together. She hated to think of herself as feeble, but the frequent beatings by her Galeian captors had worn down her resolve, especially in the early days. “When I was first taken prisoner they were very interested in me. I was a novelty, I think, something unusual to play with. They used to drag me along the underground passages, and sometimes they would release me, force me to run from them so they could chase me. I did it a few times, believing I might escape…”