by Lee Savino
I search frantically for a hint of familiarity, a mark or hint that would let me figure out what it is, but the thing looks more like a beast from Where the Wild Things Are than any species from Earth.
“You cannot fight me. Embrace oblivion.” The voice rolls out, echoing as if at the bottom of a deep well. Oblivion, oblivion. My eyelids weight and I sway a little at my seat on the floor.
Arkdhem’s gun wavers. He’s succumbing to the voice, too. It reverberates through my head, making my brain feel as though it is stuffed with cotton.
The creature lowers its shield completely, revealing something out of a nightmare. Tattoos scroll across a broad chest divided into deeply grooved muscle. A dark mane with a greenish tint tumbles down its back between its antlers, reaching a tattered loincloth suspended over enormous thighs. Furred limbs end with clawed hands and feet. More fur tufts from the ridges of its elbows, shoulders, knees. The rest of its body is part fur, part green-grey skin, thick and leathery, covered with black markings. As it steps into the light, its tattoos writhe in a hypnotic dance.
Balanced on clawed feet, the monster advances. Oblivion. The echo of its last whisper conquers the very air.
Slowly, as if moving through water, Arkdhem’s gun tilts down.
The smoke scrapes down my throat, making me choke. A dagger of pain in my lungs is exactly what I need to shake off the intruder’s spell.
“Arkdhem,” I hiss. “Wake up!”
My Tsenturion protector shakes his head, mouth slack and eyes dazed, even more affected by whatever is happening to us than I am. The creature’s face twitches towards me. The gigantic body stops in its tracks. Not a hair moves as it studies me. I recognize the preternatural stillness of a predator waiting to pounce. I cower alongside the couch, my fingers grasping at my silky robes, the only protection I have between my skin and the creature’s glowing white eyes.
I marshal my breath, welcome the pain and let it clear my head. Tightening every muscle I have, I open my mouth and let loose the only weapon I have—a scream.
Gavrill
The Vgotha warship sits exposed, tempting us. I’ve never seen one out in the open like this before. Unguarded. Vulnerable. “What are they planning?”
“Maybe they wish to surrender?” Bogdan offers. A thin chuckle ripples through the bridge, breaking some of the tension.
The Vgothas and Tsenturions have been locked in mortal combat for a millennia, ever since the Jabols hired us to protect them from the bully race. We embraced our mission with even more vigor when planet Tsentur was destroyed.
“Why would they be waiting there for us to fire on them?” Medik’s voice is a murmur
Bogdan’s eyes are fixed on the dun-colored ship on screen. “If we fire, we give away our position,” he murmurs, but not as if he’s rejecting the notion, just weighing the option.
“What could they do with that intel?” I ask.
My second officer shakes his head, still staring at the enemy ship. “If there are no other ships in the area… nothing.”
“The readings report a single life form. One. A large one.” Kalexston keeps checking his readings, searching for explanation.
Medik and I exchange glances. He has long entertained a theory that the Vgothas ships are actually alive, a planet-based symbiot evolved to be useful in space travel. That allows the Vgothas to spread their forces wide, because partnering with the symbiot means it only takes one or two Vgotha to pilot a ship.
“Why would they abandon a warship?” I muse aloud. If the tech was truly a living symbiot, abandoning it would be like cutting off a limb and losing an entire battalion of warriors all at once.
Beside me, Bogdan makes a sound of annoyance. “Does it matter why? They would not have done so unless they had no choice. Our weapons are superior. We must fire on the ship and destroy it.”
Beside me the doctor makes a noise of agreement.
We cannot just leave a warship here. They might come back for it. They might be trying to find a way to repair it. Or it might be a trap, but we won’t know until we will spring it.
“Lock weapons on the Vgotha ship,” I order. “You may send a warning shot. Fire at will.”
“Firing,” Bogdan says gleefully as the image flares with a sudden bright explosion.
The whole screen lights up for a moment, blinding us. Someone cries out as the floor under my feet vibrate, tossing as our ship is hit by the biggest blast I’ve ever felt. The entire bridge shakes, tossing warriors to the ground.
Alarms blare. Bogdan’s crowing turns into a curse. I reach out and steady the doctor, helping him find his feet.
“Report,” I shout.
“Sensors down,” Kalexston sounds shaken. “Commander, the ship detonated some sort of energy pulse.
“They have a new weapon,” Medik murmurs.
“Whatever they hit us with, it’s affecting our sensors. My team needs to re-calibrate them,” Kalexston says.
“Do it now,” I order.
“Commander, we must lock weapons again and destroy them,” Bogdan snarls. “This is our chance.”
I meet Medik’s gaze. We’ve destroyed Vgotha ships before, but never one that’s scuttled. Something doesn’t feel right.
“Lock weapons on their coordinates again,” I order.
“Die, alien scum,” Bogdan says, his armor practically glowing, seething with righteous victory.
The bridge hums with the powering up of our weapons, almost drowning out the science officer, who whirls from his com desk. “Commander! Our shields have been breached!!”
Dawn
The room shakes like something hit the ship.
I kick backwards, scuttling across the floor. My dress rips. The creature reaches for me.
A roar blasts my ears along with the sinister hum of a weapon. Arkdhem is upright, firing.
The creature angles the shield and the laser reflects back on Arkdhem, slicing into him until he falls.
“No,” I scream. I race to Arkdhem’s side, whimpering in sympathy at the gash in his suit, peeling away from his burned body.
“Tribute,” he rasps. “You must run. You must survive this.” His eyes flutter closed. “Tell the High Commander I fought well.” His suit dims as if shutting down.
“Arkdhem,” I whisper, planting a hand on his chest to feel the slight movement of his breathing. He still alive, I think, but unconscious.
Dammit, where are the other Tsenturion warriors?
Blood rushes from my face as I remember what I was told—These quarters are at the heart of the ship. Perfectly safe. If the enemy breaches them, we are already lost.
Oh my God… is everyone else dead? Is Gavrill dead?
The horned creature stalks forward. I’ve seen sketches of the Horned God, leader of the Wild Hunt according to fae-lore, a giant satyr-type god with a stag’s head. This alien looks exactly like that pagan deity come to life. Terrifying and intimidating and...
And it’s coming for me.
I hoist the gun and rise, scrabbling for the trigger even as a scream rises behind my clenched teeth. But I’m too late.
The creature rips the weapon out of my hands and wrenches it apart. I throw up my hands to shield myself from the spray of gun pieces, staggering backwards.
If I can run and reach the adjoining room, maybe I can lock myself in and radio for help.
A few steps and a claw yanks me back, whirling me around. Another claw closes around my throat and the creature hoists me in the air. I grasp at the rigid arm holding me aloft, my feet kicking wildly, looking for purchase as I choke. Spots swirl before my eyes and I put all my strength behind one desperate kick to the alien’s gut. It drops me, I think more out of surprise than the force. A second later, I’m cuffed and thrown against the couch. My head is numb from the blow and I can already feel a bruise forming over the side of my face.
“I see. You must be the High Commander’s Tribute,” the creature murmurs thoughtfully. A purring hum rumbles from its chest, the
soft sound at odds with its powerful body.
It reaches for me. I kick again, much more weakly this time, but it’s much faster it grabs me and scoops me up. Not by my throat, in fact it cradles me almost gently, and I don’t understand the change in its demeanor. I meet its blazing white eyes in terror.
“Peace, little creature,” it growls, and the voice fills my senses again, trying to make me sleep. There’s a shushing sound, an exhale, a rush of soporific fog enveloping me. It’s a gas, not a spell, and if I can just tear off its mask, the creature won’t be immune. I try to hold my breath, but my limbs are already feeling heavier and heavier, like I’m trying to push through Jello as I lift them.
As my fingers reach the knotted coils, my head lolls on my neck, and darkness rises to swallow me whole.
Gavrill
The ship on screen flares with light and the bridge shakes with another pulse. Consoles light up and the alarms whine louder in protest.
“They can reverse the weapon’s path and send an energy pulse back! Disengage!” I order. Suddenly the scuttled ship before us doesn’t seem so harmless.
“Get me readings. I want to know what just hit us.”
“The pulse blew our sensors offline for a moment, but they are returning,” my operations officer, Miths, reports.
“Weapons are disengaged,” Bogdan adds gruffly. “Permission to take a pod to engage the enemy personally.” My second looks ready to grab a gun and storm the enemy ship all by himself.
“Denied. We need to know what we’re dealing with first.”
“No change in the enemy ship,” Kalexston says, his eyes on his beeping panel.
“Keep running scans.” I turn to my operations officer. “Miths, did we sustain damage.”
“Negative, commander. All sensors are functioning again.” He frowns. “Except for some slight damage to an exterior portal near the lower right quadrant.”
“Exterior portal?” Medik asks. “Was there a breach.”
Miths frowns. “I’m trying to gather more data. My crew informs me there’s a number of sensors offline in that area. They’re headed onsite to repair them now.”
An alarm clangs in the back of my mind. “Was the portal damaged with the pulse?”
“Unsure, Commander. My crew should arrive to secure the area soon.” He pauses to listen to his crew’s report before continuing, “There’s a row of damaged sensors extending from the exterior portal down the halls leading towards the core. The aft quadrant.”
“The aft quadrant,” Medik repeats. “That’s near the officer’s quarters.”
I’m on my feet a second before Miths cries out, “Commander, we’ve found wounded Tsenturions.”
“High alert,” I shout. “The enemy breached the hull! Kalexston, report.” An enemy on the ship is unthinkable.
“My crew is working to secure the area. We’ve found six Tsenturions down in the halls. They appear to have been overpowered by their own weapons.”
Drakk. The enemy is here, on my ship. And instead of calmly accepting this and sending my crew to kill the intruders, I am seized with fear. The situation below decks requires caution. I have a Tribute, a defenseless female I’ve sworn to protect. I cannot risk her being caught in the crossfire.
For the first time in a thousand tsencycles, I have something to lose.
We wait in tense silence. Medik looks like he might say something but bites it back at the last minute. Every muscle in my body is rigid. The moment I decide to grab my weapon and run down there to save Dawn myself, Miths stiffens as he receives a piece of news.
I know what he’s going to say even before he turns around. “Commander, we’ve found evidence of a Vgotha intruder. He entered one of the portals, found his way to infiltrate your quarters, wounded Officer Arkdhem, and left via the same exterior portal.”
“The Tribute?” Medik asks before I can find my voice. His face holds all the fear I refuse to show.
“Gone,” Miths looks at me, his armor flickering sickly and I feel my hearts sink in my chest. I already know what he’s going to say and it’s all I can do to keep from howling at the pain already ripping into me. “The Vgotha took her.”
16
Dawn
There’s something cool plastered on my face. It feels good on my bruised skin, tingling lightly. Healing me? I definitely don’t hurt as much as I expected to. Gingerly I pluck the cloth from face, sitting up and tossing it to the side so I can see where I am.
The space is dimly lit and close, the air a mix of humidity and mist, a warm, flower scented gloom. The walls look like a blend of moss and some sort of fungus, almost... breathing.
I lay on a soft mass that shifts slightly under me. It feels like a cross between a bean bag and a water bed. The supple form has a soft, slippery skin that’s bright yellow.
A giant shadow moves out of the corner of my eye, and I stiffen. My tattooed captor paces forward on large, clawed feet. The mass of tubes that were a sort of gas-mask are gone from its head, leaving a more humanoid face with a pointed, goatee-tipped chin and wide cheekbones framing large, limpid eyes. Back on the Tsenturion ship they were glowing white, but now they’re a comfortable brown. Beneath the tattoos is a gray-green skin that reminds me of stone.
I’ve been abducted by aliens—again.
He opens his mouth and sharp teeth flash at me. “Are you awake?”
There’s a buzz in my ear as my translator works overtime to interpret what the creature is saying. The voice seems to go directly into my head.
I nod, then realize it might not understand the gesture. “I’m awake.”
“Are you hurt?”
I reach up to touch my face where it hit me. The soreness is gone, though a slight numbness lingers. “No. I’m good.”
The creature settles on its haunches before me. I flinch as it reaches out but it—he? I definitely get a male vibe—only lifts the wet cloth I discarded and tucks it into his belt. His gaze meets mine and he tilts his head, studying me as much as I’m studying him.
As we stare at each other in silence, a door opens and a second creature stalks in. This one is a slightly smaller version of my captor, only with large bat like wings draping down his back. I’m pretty sure it’s a he because of the loincloth hanging between his legs.
“Tor, why did you bring that back here?” he asks, looking down at me in disgust. “We needed a high-ranking captive, not a pet.”
“She belongs to the High Commander,” the first Vgotha—Tor—answers. In the gloom of the ship, he looks even more like the Horned God, though his antlers look slightly smaller. Maybe they can grow at will. His teeth are long with canine-like incisors, and his ears are pointed. The second Vgotha also has elfin ears, along with the rippling muscles of a beast with fur tufted at the joints.
Of all the alien races who could kidnap me, I’m the captive of ones that look like elf-demons. Great. Just great.
The winged Vgotha cocks his head to the side, studying me in the same manner Tor is, a slight look of disbelief on his face. “She is the Tribute? But she is so small. Is she sentient?”
“I believe so. The Tsenturions have high standards.”
The winged one laughs. I scowl at them, using anger to help cover my fear. Obviously, they don’t think much of the Tsenturion standards.
“Welcome, Tribute, to the Vgotha ship,” the winged Vgotha says mockingly, his leathery wings shifting with a sound like crackling paper.
I don’t answer, pressing my lips together to keep my temper at bay. I have no idea what these creatures will do to me, but I don’t think a spanking would be their first move. My heart pounds but my fear feels muted. Maybe I’m getting used to being abducted.
“What now, Tor?” Mr. Demon Wings asks.
Tor studies me thoughtfully. “Let’s see just what lengths the High Commander is willing to go to in order to save his little Tribute.”
I shrink into my seat on the bed as the giant monster alien rises and stalks away, Mr. Demon giving
me an assessing look before following. The door closes behind them, leaving me all alone. Which I should be happy about, but I’m not. I’m even more terrified than before.
I suck in a breath, trying not to panic. There’s a little hum in my chest that tells me not to worry. A little voice in my head that says—My mate is big and strong, and he will save me. Talk about being brainwashed. I realize I’m stroking my collar, as if for reassurance, and immediately snatch my hand away.
Who am I kidding? Gavrill doesn’t want me. He can just ring up the Jabol and order another Tribute. Brunette this time or maybe a redhead. One who won’t fight him so much. The Jabol can put together a catalogue, complete with swimsuit photos. Maybe even Bogdan will get on board. And me? I’ll be trapped with new aliens whose only use for me is apparently to bargain with the Tsenturions.
So what’s going to happen to me when they realize the Tsenturions don’t think I’m worth bargaining for?
The yellow blob I’m sitting on quivers and hums a little, as if to reassure me. It sounds like its alive. In fact, the whole ship feels like I’ve been swallowed by a living, breathing creature. That would explain the rainforest feel.
I gulp and push myself up. I already know there’s going to be no white knight riding to my rescue. I don’t mean enough to any of the Tsenturions. Heck, I doubt Bogdan would even think twice before blowing up a ship I’m on if it meant he got rid of all the Vgothas on it too.
I’m not tied up, I’m not in a cell, I’m not even sure I’m guarded… and it’s up to me to get myself out of this.
Gavrill
“Commander, we’re picking up a frequency from a Vgotha ship,” Sholtorin says, cutting through the panic that has gripped me ever since I knew Dawn was taken. We still don’t know where or even how.
The camouflage on the small Vgotha hunter and raider ships is frustratingly sporadic, allowing them to wink in and out of existence on our scanners. Whatever technology they’re using to hide is not perfect, but it is enough to keep us from knowing which one managed to board us and take Dawn.