Intergalactic Pain in the Ass

by Jaide Fox

  "Shit!” He reset the buttons, yelling at the computer, “Get me off the ground, Bunny!"

  "Honey, the fuel lines were disconnected to release the blockage,” Bunny said almost worriedly.

  "Fuck!” he yelled again, kicking the base cabinet, dropping his face in his hands. He took a deep, shuddering breath, calming the race of his heart.

  They were going to kill him.

  Fuck! He didn't care how damned repetitive he was getting, it was his favorite Earth expression and seemed to be appropriate for this situation. Hell. Damn. Shit. Fuck.

  He was stalling.

  Sighing into his hands one last time, Kerel straightened up and gathered his nerve to call Vulkahn, his home planet. He punched in speed dial and was connected within minutes.

  Stupidly, he realized he hadn't thought of a good excuse to give when Tor Severian's face came into view on the computer screen, blinking at him blearily. Good. He'd been sleeping. That ought to make it easier to lie to him and get away with it.

  "What the hell are you calling me at this hour for, Kerel?” Tor croaked, rubbing his eyes.

  Kerel rubbed his foot on the floor paneling, trying to think of how best to broach the subject that he'd screwed up ... royally. “Uh ... there's been some trouble.” Hell, he just didn't think fast on his feet with an empty stomach.

  "Where are you?” Tor asked suspiciously.

  "We're at Zampi. The trogs have taken the girl."

  That was all he needed to say. Tor roared something unintelligible into the communication unit. He stopped suddenly, looking behind him. “Nothing to worry about, shertouj. Go back to sleep. I will be back in bed shortly."

  Tor looked back at him and whispered, “How did this happen?"

  "The ship broke down. We had to stop for repairs. Someone suggested Zampi.” Great, that made him sound mature.

  "Someone? There are—were only the two of you!” Tor looked at Kerel like a kid who'd just taken a piss on his shoes. “If I'd known you were going to be a dumbass and do whatever she wanted, I'd have just sent Galan or Bradan. You're supposed to be the smart one."

  Kerel flinched mentally. He was at fault. He knew it, and his damned sarcastic wit had deserted him. He didn't feel like the “smart one".

  "Okay, you're at Zampi. Now, what exactly has happened?” Tor demanded quietly.

  "I ... uh....” He didn't want to tell Tor he'd left the girl alone and had been having lunch when he happened to notice a trog toting a kicking, punching, and probably screaming Cole out and into a troglydon ship. “I'm not really sure. It happened very fast,” Kerel hedged.

  Tor grunted, obviously disbelieving him. “It doesn't matter now. I'll let Hauk know what happened. You'll be damned lucky if Hauk doesn't shoot your ass when you come home."

  That was the last place he'd be going any time soon. “You want me to come back as soon as I get the ship repaired? I could help find her."

  "I think you've screwed up enough, thank you. Go to Earth and do what you were supposed to—send word to Sam's family that she's okay.” He paused a minute, rubbing his chin. “You should probably go see Cole's family, too. You should be able to handle that without fucking up, right?” Tor asked, giving him a hard look.

  Kerel frowned. “It wouldn't have happened this time if I hadn't been chosen to take her back. She was Hauk's problem—he should have been the one to bring her home to start with since he was the one who took her."

  Tor waved it away. “Yeah, but it was your brilliant idea to break into the earthling prison. Anyway, you and I both know why he wouldn't. Just don't screw up again. If anything's happened to Cole, you better find a good, deep hole to hide in ... or some planet that's not under the Federation, like Earth."

  Hauk shuddered, closing the connection down to the sound of Tor's laughter. No damned way in hell would he ever stay on Earth.

  Chapter Two

  "I'm not so sure it was a good idea grabbing this one. We probably won't get anything for her at the slave market. She's too much trouble."

  One of the troglydon's snorted with disgust.

  "She just about tore me a new asshole,” another grumbled, shuffling around Cole's lifeless body. “If it wasn't for those huge wubblies and that high pitched shrieking, I might've thought she was a man, she's so damned mean."

  "Strong, too,” another said.

  Cole smirked to herself. Good. She was glad she'd at least put a hurting on them this time. If she'd known more aliens were going to kidnap her, she never would have let Kerel talk her into going to Zampi.

  Cole lay still until they finally got tired of goggling over her and filed out of the room. Once they'd gone, she opened her eyes and looked around the room she was in. They'd confined her to a closet. At least, that's what it looked like to her. An empty closet.

  It was barely wide enough for her to do one good roll over, and she wondered how they'd managed not to crush her as they stepped around her as they left.

  After looking around at the blank metallic room for several moments and seeing nothing of interest or use, Cole took mental stock of her body. She hadn't sustained any injuries, though her short nails were sore at the root from tearing at the hide of the troglydons. She was also bound. Her feet were free, but her hands were secured with something that felt a lot like flex cuffs.

  She frowned, wiggling her hands. There was just enough room to keep her blood flowing but not enough to get loose. As it was, she was starting to go numb from laying in one spot too long. She sighed and squirmed around until she had her legs pressed against one wall, then she wedged herself against it, pushing herself up the wall until she was sitting. With effort, she got her feet under her and stood, slipping up the wall.

  Standing, the room didn't look any better. It looked like they'd hastily cleaned it out. Small bits of trash and dirt clung to the floor while square, clean patches revealed they'd likely taken out anything useful just before they'd put her in here. There wasn't a sharp object in sight—nothing that she could rub against to cut her cuffs.

  She knew of a trick some thugs used to get out of handcuffs. They could extend their arms and slip their hands beneath their ass and then bring their arms around to the front by passing their legs through their arms. She'd seen it in movies, anyway. Hadn't they done it in Lethal Weapon?

  Maybe not, but Cole thought it was worth a try, anyhow. It wasn't like she had anything else she could do. She sure as hell didn't want to just wait around for them to take her to the slave market.

  Shuddering at the thought, Cole slid back down to the floor. Rolling her shoulders, loosening her muscles in preparation of being stretched, she propped her feet against the other wall until her butt was off the floor, and then she struggled to get her wrists under it. For not the first time in her life, she wished her ass was smaller. There might've been a reason she'd only heard of men accomplishing this....

  Her muscles stretched, in agony, but she finally managed to get around both cheeks and collapsed to the floor, panting from exertion, rolling off her hands and falling onto her side as she landed. Grunting and groaning, Cole strained to move her arms.

  That's when she realized she was stuck.

  * * * *

  "I'll kill him,” Hauk Desal said for perhaps the hundredth time since Hahn Sylo had picked him up and headed for Ustbol, the hub of the black market and the most likely place the troglydons would have taken Cole. “I don't give a damn if he is my cousin."

  Hahn rolled his eyes at Fuzzy, who sat beside him in the copilot seat. Fuzzy grunted and said nothing, focused on their landing.

  It wasn't like Hauk had particularly wanted to come and rescue Cole—she was a heur t’ asinu—but he did feel semi-responsible for her, seeing as how he'd managed to kidnap her from her home planet by accident. Okay, so he'd never admit it aloud to any of his buddies, but he'd thought the angry, yelling, authoritative, flame-haired woman was sexy as hell in that dark uniform. He'd gone hot all over seeing a weapon in her hands, caught halfway between
horror and complete fascination at her barbarism. He sure as hell wasn't going to admit he couldn't control the barbarian woman, or that he'd been in any danger of her bringing him down at that crude jail—he hadn't been, of course, but it still smarted that she was as immune to him as if he wasn't a man but some castrated bonghy. The boys, of course, could be counted on to aggravate the living mecre out of him until he wanted to strangle them. They never could let anything lie.

  Hauk scowled, imagining what she'd be like now. The woman had a hell of a temper, and she was more trouble than she was worth. Damn Kerel's scrawny ass! Bad enough that she'd fought him every step of the way in the beginning, hurled his belongings at him, scratched his back and chest and would've gone for his eyes if he wasn't faster ... hell, the only thing that had saved him from death by nail laceration was kissing her.

  He groaned mentally at that move—one he never wanted to repeat again. He'd swear his tongue was shorter. She'd only warmed up enough to him to lull his guard and then her hands were on him like snapping blades. He grinned, rubbing his jaw. It was worth it though, feeling that minute surrender, even if only for a minute.

  It was possible he'd gone mad. What sane Vulkahn would crave abuse from a woman he barely knew?

  Thanks to Kerel, he had to do this all over again. He seriously doubted she'd be all that happy to see him fly to the rescue. He had only more abuse to look forward to, if they managed to pull off this insane plan.

  The changing view snagged his attention, making his head swim dizzily as the atmosphere swirled around the sides of the ship past the view ports. “You sure they took her here, Sylo?” Hauk asked, looking out the windows at the planet rushing up to meet them.

  Sylo swiveled his chair, facing him. “Do you know the black market like the back of your hand? Do you have connections in the underworld? No? I didn't think so."

  Hauk yawned, rubbing his belly before gripping the arms of his chair as they pushed down through the atmosphere, hurtling toward the ground. Swallowing to get his stomach out of his throat, he said, “I didn't think you were allowed to come back."

  "They can't keep me out,” Sylo said, chuckling confidently as he turned back to the console to adjust the ship for landing. The ship slowly began leveling out as Fuzzy pulled back on the steerage controls. “Nothing to worry about. We'll be in and out before anyone even notices us."

  "That doesn't leave me with a lot of confidence, Sylo,” Hauk grumbled. The landing gear hissed as it released, and the ship shuddered, settling on the ground.

  Sylo swiveled in his chair to face him. “Now, you remember what we talked about, right? Out here, you're not the Prince of Sharmin. There's plenty of cutthroats here ready to steal and sell off a prime piece of royalty if he struts his stuff in front of them."

  Hauk gave him a look.

  Sylo grinned. “Guess it's time for the transformers,” Sylo said with a sigh, switching his on at the neck. His face immediately began to distort into a grimace as his facial features shifted on a molecular illusory level. Hauk couldn't tear his eyes off him.

  The transformers had been developed expressly for covert Federation agents, but of course, like most useful technology, they'd gone underground and been made available to anyone with the right amount of credit disks.

  Hauk watched him with sick fascination as the transformation finished. Swallowing his revulsion, he turned his on. A tingling burn spread through every inch of his face, making it itch. He resisted the impulse to scratch, and within a minute, the feeling subsided. He felt like someone had threaded wires through his skin and pulled his flesh in multiple directions—stretched out.

  Sylo examined him, holding his chin thoughtfully. “I think you might want to consider keeping the transformer on when we leave."

  Hauk glared at him. “Shove it."

  Sylo chuckled and stood with a stretch, ignoring him and heading for the exit ramp. Fuzzy and Hauk followed him.

  Outside, the engines stirred the dust in a torrent, stinging their eyes. Hauk blocked the wind from his face, stunned to feel that his normally angular features felt ... fleshy now. His lips were fuller, pouty feeling. His squared jaw was rounded with flesh, and the dimple in his chin had filled in. Even his eyes didn't feel as deep-set now. Hauk shuddered with distaste, frowning. This would soon be over.

  "Okay, Fuzzy, you wait here. We'll be back in half an hour, tops.” Sylo paused a minute, turning back. “Better leave the engines running."

  Fuzzy nodded, heading back inside.

  "What do you mean, leave the engines running?” Hauk asked as they walked into town.

  Sylo looked at him like he was an idiot, not commenting on the obvious. “Better check you com. unit and make sure it's on."

  Hauk's was, and he secured it back to his belt and looked at the buildings they were just beginning to pass. They were the same sandy material as the ground, blending in with their surroundings until they'd be nearly invisible at a distance—obviously constructed of mud, though where anyone got water on this planet was beyond him. Vulkahn at least had a few well-guarded areas abundant in water ... and trees and plant life.

  The alleys were strangely devoid of people, and he assumed everyone was at the market awaiting the arrival of fresh meat and illegal wares.

  They hadn't taken two steps into town when four futts stepped out of a branching alley and grabbed hold of him and Sylo.

  Hauk reacted instinctively, freeing an arm by tossing a futt over his shoulder onto the ground. The futt grunted and belched, clutching his stomach as Hauk whirled around, his hair flying out around him as he kicked back and caught another in the groin. He looked up to see if Sylo needed help, but he was just standing there watching as Hauk beat the Futts off, yelling something indistinguishable at him. Hauk couldn't hear past the battle roar in his ears, and soon even that was ringing as something hard clobbered him over the back of the head.

  Stars and black spots danced in a swirling pattern before his eyes. He blinked to disperse them, and immediately felt like heaving his guts out.

  Shaking his head, staggering as he felt blindly for blood on his crown, he couldn't resist as two Futts grabbed his arms and began dragging him down the alley. Sylo walked behind them, but Hauk was too tired to question him or the futts about where they were going. Trust Sylo to get them into some shit! And then not even help out. He knew they could've taken the futts if Sylo had just given him a hand.

  Hauk dozed as they dragged him through shadowy alleys, grateful for some relief from the scorching sun. He woke up with a snort when a door slammed and his arms were released. He fell to the floor in a pile, laying there for a full stunned minute before he finally staggered bleary-eyed to his feet.

  Sylo was beside him, facing their captor. Hauk followed the line of his vision, widening his eyes at the sight he beheld. He rubbed his eyes, sure they were fogged up or something. They weren't.

  A man with an enormous brew gut sat in a sagging lawn chair, surrounded by empty bottles and brew cans. He wore a shirt that looked like it used to be white, which bared his mottled arms and rode up the round crest of his distended belly. Straggly hair, cut short in front and long on the sides and back clung to his shoulders. His bulbous nose was red—a stark contrast to the fleshy beige pattern of his skin.

  The futt reminded him of someone, but he couldn't remember whom.

  He laughed at them, a high pitched, whining noise that grated on Hauk's nerves like a screaming kid. Hauk clenched his hands into fists, glaring at the man as he clapped his pudgy hands together in glee, sloshing brew over his fingers.

  The man giggled at Hauk's look and took a swallow of brew, throwing down an empty bottle, which shattered on impact. “Nice trick, Hahn Sylo,” he said, burping delicately. “Did you really think this disguise would fool me? You used the same one last time.” He noticed Hauk, perking up in his chair with interest. “Who are these charming men? Aren't you going to introduce us?"

  By the federation ... the thing was drunk! With any luc
k, they'd get out of this alive and he'd never even remember they'd been here.

  Sylo glanced at Hauk, giving him a meaningful look, but Hauk wasn't presently able to read his mind. “No."

  The futt glared at them. “So, Hahn, you thought landing outside of town would prevent me from knowing you were here?” he squealed.

  Sylo shrugged. “I just didn't want to take a chance on getting my paint job scratched."

  The futt snorted, taking another brew from a cooling case at his side and popping it open. “We'll do worse than put dings in your ship's hull if you don't tell me why you're here.” As if on cue, the half dozen futts inside glared menacingly at them.

  Hauk rubbed his eyes, trying not to fall asleep, and resisted a yawn. He was really sleepy now. He wanted his bed.

  Sylo crossed his arms over his chest, assuming a look of indifference. “My friend has come to make a little purchase from your market, Bubba. He wants a pleasure slave."

  "Friend? Oooh.” Bubba slimed a lusty gaze over Hauk. “Will you be buying a male? Please don't tell my achy breaky heart you're buying a woman?” he said hopefully, fluttering his lashes.

  The excited tone in his voice finally roused Hauk's attention. He glared at Bubba and would've taken a drunken step forward to pound his face in, except Bubba looked a little too eager for him to come closer. He thought that maybe the only thing saving him from being raped and molested was the fact that the futt's ass was practically welded into that chair. Bubba stared lasers at his groin, and it was all he could do not to put his hands over it and protect his precious. Hauk shifted uneasily on his feet, feeling his cock and balls sneak up into his belly.

  "Don't get your hopes up, Bubba,” Sylo sneered. “Female. You going to let us go?"

  "Pity. Such a waste. The ugly ones are always straight,” Bubba said, rubbing his belly morosely.

  Sylo barely held Hauk back from pulling the hair out of the futt's fat head.