My gaze darted furtively around the room, trying to find anything that would help me. Then I finally read the labeling on the crates against which I was leaning: Live Ammunition.
I sucked in a joyful breath of air upon seeing several ammo crates that had not been nailed shut, and I darted over to them, rifling with great care through the rough, dry straw in which they’d been packed. I pulled something out, the size of a pomegranate in my fist: a grenade.
I didn’t know anything in particular about grenades, only that you pulled the pin out and threw it. So, with the smallest wisp of a prayer on my lips, that’s precisely what I did. I pulled the pin out, and I threw.
The grenade made the clunking sound of metal against metal, which immediately drew attention in the direction I threw it. A few Quarter Moon even began to walk toward the sound. I squeezed my hands into fists so that my nails dug into the flesh of my palms, wondering if perhaps I’d chosen a dud and they’d find me there behind the crates. But just as I was beginning to worry that I’d never make it off the ship, the grenade exploded with such force that it threw me to the ground.
I got up fast and shook myself—I guess I hadn’t thrown it far enough. But the grenade had done its job, and the Keldeeri were rushing toward the subsequent flames, fire extinguishers gripped in their grubby little fists. I snuck around the periphery of the room. I realized, much too late, that it was perhaps unwise to ignite explosions in pressurized chambers around countless rounds of live ammunition, but desperate times and all that.
I climbed into one of the escape pods, and strapped myself in. It looked much the same way the pods aboard the Atria looked, and I had been taught how to command those. They were bulbous, egg-like things, inelegant but good at getting one or two people out of a ship at top speed and keeping them alive long enough for help to find them.
This one required only two things to initiate: that restraints be fastened, and that a button be pushed. I did both things in short order, and the launch countdown began just as a few snarling Keldeeri turned their attention to the nearly naked human girl in an active escape pod. They turned on me, advancing on me slowly at first and then with more speed, until they were running toward my pod.
“Come on!” I shouted at the countdown, which was still at twelve. “Come on, come on!” But seconds take as long as they take, and the Keldeeri were quick.
One reached me, and we were face to face, the saliva dripping from his mandibles onto the glass window of the pod. He slammed the butt of his weapon against the glass, and I was terrified that he would break it, that he would interrupt the launch and that I wouldn’t escape. Or worse, that he would crack the glass, and I would escape, only to suffocate in the vast vacuum of space.
He slammed the butt of his rifle into the glass again and again until there was a swarm of Keldeeri on the escape pod. “Eight,” said the pod’s computer, as the Keldeeri Quarter Moon Guard tried to lift the entire pod up and me with it.
Five...Four...Three...Two…
Some sort of alarm rang out, the blaring of an internal siren. They’d jostled something out of place, damaged the escape vessel with their slamming and their grasping, thick three-fingered hands. But then the computer said, One. I was shot down a pneumatic, pressurized tube at top speed until I was evacuated from the ship and out into open space.
I shot away from the ship, and got a good look at it for the first time: It was hulking and dark, as though it were made of black crystals from deep within the earth. Although it was probably only half the size of the Atria, it was much larger than I had originally thought. Somewhere on that ship were the women I vowed to save. I may very well be their only hope.
The siren insisted that I turn my attention away from the ship I’d just escaped and to the tiny little lifeboat I currently occupied.
Warning, the little vessel’s robot was saying in monotone Keldeeri, life support systems compromised. Life support at twenty two percent and falling.
I leaned forward and tried to see what, if anything, was around me: but I didn’t dare send out a distress signal, not yet. At this range, the Keldeeri Quarter Moon would be the only sentient beings to receive it, and they’d pluck me out of space and I’d be right back where I started.
Warning, the robot said again, Life support systems compromised. Life support at nineteen percent and falling. Yeah, no shit it’s falling.
The pod’s navigation systems scanned the area, and reported two planets within range, though none were exactly “close” by human standards. The first bore a name I had never seen before and couldn’t pronounce, and the second was Qetesh.
I knew something of Qetesh, and I could speak the language. Although I recognized the inherent risk of traveling to a more primitive planet, I didn’t see what choice I had. So I took in a deep breath and set a course for Qetesh.
Then there was nothing to do but wait. I was propelled backwards away from the Keldeeri ship, and it grew smaller and smaller in my window until it was invisible against the endless black of space. I shivered, hugging my arms close to my torso as I moved through the emptiness, toward an unknown future. Life support at twelve percent, the robot said, and I knew I had only minutes of consciousness left. I didn’t bother to look to see how long it would take me to reach Qetesh. I knew only that I needed to breathe slow and shallow and hope that I hit the ground before I suffocated.
I thought about my mother and my father, and hoped that I could spare them the insurmountable grief of losing their only child. “I’m sorry,” I whispered to the empty air.
I took in one last, deep breath and began to count backwards from one hundred. Ninety-nine, ninety-eight, ninety-seven… I said the names of the girls I would come back to save, if I somehow managed to survive.
Tierney Mafaren -- Ninety-six;
Ciara Zehr -- Ninety-five;
Sara Yve -- Ninety-four;
Teldara Kinesse -- Ninety-three…
CHAPTER FOUR: CALDER FEV’ROSK
I had seen many a vessel make berth upon my planet, so when the egg-pod came tumbling through the atmosphere, I knew its chances for a soft landing were slim. It pitched end over end following its own momentum as it burst through the cloud cover, sending streaks of white to trail behind it. I was a league or so at most from my dwelling outside the village, a pair of talatuna tied by the tail to my belt. I’d hunted them myself, the pair of them, and I’d spent the greater part of the afternoon in pursuit. I was tired, and had hoped to spend the rest of the daylight hours tending to the small herb garden I’d planted next to my dwelling. Talatuna meat was stringy, but flavorful, and could do with a little dried contichi.
So when the pod broke through and went plummeting to the dirt, I stood stock still for several moments, trying to decide whether or not I wanted to bother myself with it at all. If it had made a more graceful descent, if I thought perhaps that it had landed as intended, I would not have spared it a second thought. What business is it of mine, the comings and goings of our alien brethren? None, that’s what, not since I gave up my post as a Qulari Priest. I was done with the days of dealing with the Echelon and their cockamamie scheme to save the Qet from extinction. Europax women; bah. Tall and stringy as talatuna meat.
The members of the Echelon with whom I had been dealing had sent human women to another Qeteshi settlement; that would have been more to my liking, had I been in the mind to take a mate. Better human than Pyrtan women, which is what the third Qeteshi settlement got. The Echelon had turned our planet into a giant social experiment; and while I admired the efforts, I had no desire whatsoever to be a part of them.
So, I stood there pondering whether or not I wanted to involve myself. I had taken a few more steps toward my dwelling when my better conscious got the best of me. Once a man of the gods, always a man of the gods.
I muttered a few choice obscenities under my breath and turned around on my heel, stalking through the tall grass toward the direction of the crash. As I walked —
following the white streak the pod had left across the sky, like a giant arrow in the heavens pointing to where it had landed — I considered whether I might not have been happier if I’d stayed in the village and mated with the Europax they’d assigned to me.
I’d met her briefly; a dear friend had lured me back to town with the promise of a private meal shared between two compatriots. Against my better judgment I had gone, with the intention of staying the Winternight and leaving early the next morning. And he was there, my friend, the great warrior Waelden, with his new bride. And mine.
“Welcome, Calder,” he said, bearing a strange smile on lips I had known to be stern and stoic. “This is my wife, Vanixa.” The woman was tall, thin, with black hair brushing her waist, and dark, narrow, discerning eyes. I got the sense that she didn’t speak our language, as simply nodded her head when she heard her name. “And this,” Waelden went on, “is Fina. She has been assigned to you.”
Fina was as tall as I was, and a quarter my width. She had little in the way of bottom or breast, and forgive me if that’s crude, but Qeteshi women are made of stronger stuff. She kept her perfectly spherical head free of hair, and her blue eyes were wide as saucers. She extended her hand to me.
“Calder,” she said, her voice smooth and sweet as honey, “I’m so pleased to meet you at last.”
“Well, you should not be,” I said, giving her hand a tentative squeeze. “I have no intention of making you a wife or mother, so you are better served finding occupation elsewhere.”
Fina blinked her fine blue china eyes and Waelden cleared his throat in a manner meant to warn me. There was a time where Waelden would have come right out to tell me I was being an ass. Apparently, the presence of the Europax ladies meant that that time had long since passed.
“Shall we eat?” Waelden asked, and we did. His Vanixa had prepared some strange foodstuffs that were altogether too sweet for my taste, and I was never very adept at hiding my displeasure. As such, my sour expressions made Vanixa keep her eyes on the floor. Though Fina, to her credit, was growing bolder by the moment.
When at last I tossed my fork upon my plate, Fina stood up, the sudden force of her movement sending her chair toppling backward. “I think you’re very rude,” Fina said to me.
“Yes,” I agreed. This only seemed to make matters worse.
“And I…I don’t think I want to be assigned to you anymore.”
“Well, that suits me just fine,” I assured her. Her entire head turned red with her rage, and I marveled at how high a blush could travel.
“I will mate with someone else if you do not amend your behavior,” she said, one final chance for the likes of me to bed the likes of her, but I was having none of it.
“Do what you will,” I said, rising myself from the table. “It matters not to me.” I gave a sharp nod of my head to the heretofore mute Vanixa, but she did have a word to offer me.
“Cad,” she said, and I couldn’t help but laugh a little.
“She speaks!” I said to Waelden, who was fuming. I held up my hands defensively. “Forgive me. I have lived too long outside the village, and am no longer fit for mixed company. Thank you, sincerely, for your invitation, friend. Even if it was an ambush, it is always a joy to see you.” I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, and made a show of making a little bow. “I’ll show myself out.”
As far as I knew, Fina made good on her threat to mate with someone else. Some lucky young lad got to claim her, no doubt, and if there is any justice in the universe, they are both very happy together. But she was not for me. Nor, I thought, was any female creature. Not since all the strong and proud and beautiful Qeteshi women had died off.
I had spared no thought to Fina from our first meeting until that moment, tromping through the underbrush. I thought, perhaps, that it would be one of her kind, womanfolk who had been sent to the planet and were in distress. And if it were, I probably owed them a little kindness.
No one from the village would have seen the pod, not in broad daylight. It would have been lost amongst the white of the cumulous clouds hanging low in the air. So, it fell on me to do what was right. I would fetch the poor soul, and bring them to the village where they could be collected by the appropriate parties.
When I finally saw the pod as I climbed the crest of a small hill, I broke into a run. It was in much worse shape than I could have anticipated. The top was broken clean off, as though it had rolled to a stop, end over end. I rushed forward, slowing only when larger pieces of debris began to litter the ground. I darted around and over them until I came to a stop just outside the pod, which was lying on its side.
I peered in through the broken top, and that was when I saw her. My heart dropped down into the pit of my stomach when my eyes befell that lovely face, so placid. She had cut her head at the line of her dark, dark hair, and bright crimson streaked across her pale cheek, but I could see that she was breathing, if unconscious. She was still strapped into the chair, and a good thing, too — that was probably the only thing that saved her life.
I pried the door of the pod open and reached forward to unclasp her restraints. I caught her when she came tumbling out of the chair, and dragged her away from the wreckage to lay her in the soft, tall grass.
She was a vision. Sweet pink lips, pert nipples peeking through the golden strands hung around her neck. I felt a twinge in my manhood as I eyed her, the jewel between her thighs catching my attention. I came forward slowly, parting her legs just slightly to get a better look. I recognized the crest: Quarter Moon slavers. Ah. So she was an escaped slave.
“My lady,” I said to the unconscious girl in the grass at my feet, “I am going to relieve you of the paraphernalia of your enslavement.” She, being unconscious, said nothing. “Very good.” I tugged at the leather straps wrapped around her upper thighs until the jeweled covering came away from her sex. I could see that it had a bulbous purple mound that had been inside her, and it glistened with her juices. Abandoning the jewel, I removed the gold strands from around her neck as well, paltry coverings that they were. I had clothes she could wear, if I could get her back to my dwelling.
“My lady,” I said, turning away again so as to give her a bit of privacy as we spoke. Well, as I spoke to her. It was difficult to keep my own lust in check at the sight of her soft, round breasts, full hips, and thick thighs. I wanted to sink my fingers into her and see her come alive at my touch. “I am going to be carrying you back to my dwelling now.” I swallowed hard and turned back to her, tucking my hands beneath her and lifting her into the air. Her arm flopped to one side, and her head drooped back, and I knew that it was going to be a long trek back to my dwelling.
“My name is Calder Fev’rosk,” I said to her as we began our journey, “and I am at your service.” It felt silly to be speaking to someone who could not hear me, but it felt worse to think that I would just manhandle this poor girl without so much as introducing myself to her.
The light began to wane, and I knew we were still a considerable distance from my dwelling, but the trek was slow going, even over relatively friendly terrain. I still had my kills tied to my hip, but the girl was dead weight. Trying to carry her like a babe in my arms was doing neither of us any favors. After a moment’s hesitation, I hoisted her up and bent her over my shoulder. I steadied her with my hand on her bottom; I could feel her breasts pressing against my back. But at least in this manner I was able to move a little faster. It would be bad for us, indeed, if we were caught out of doors for the Winternight.
We reached my dwelling just as the last rays of light dimmed and the flowers closed their buds. I had built myself a fine little cabin out of Panyan wood, and it gleamed in the low light of evening. It was a friendly little home, if small; there was the fire pit at the front, as was standard in a Qeteshi dwelling; then there was the bed, a fine, large thing with soft feather mattresses, pillows, and blankets, all of which I had inherited, all of which I had taken with me from the village.
The bed itself I had constructed by hand, along with all of the furniture in the cabin. A trunk sat at the foot of the bed, a table and one chair at the side of the room, and a staircase leading to the loft. I had my cooking utensils on the walls, my weaving on the loom. Once I could get the fire going, it would be cozy enough, indeed.
But when I brought my lady to my home, I thought how bare it looked. How sparse. Not at all fit for a lady such as she. But it would have to do.
I laid her down on the bed and covered her with blankets before taking my kills to hang on the wall. Then I set about stoking the fire with slow-burning oils that would keep us warm through the night. Finally, I fetched a bowl of fresh water and a clean cloth, setting the bowl on the table next to the bed as I gently tugged the blanket away from the sleeping girl.
I examined her closely, trying to ascertain the extent of her injuries. I was concerned that she had not yet awakened, but all I could conceivably do for her was make her comfortable and clean her wounds. I dipped the cloth into the water and began to wipe the blood from her face, until there was no trace of the injury save for the cut itself, a long slash that ran parallel to her hairline.
Next, I dabbed gently at her lower lip where there was another cut, and then one on her jawline. Then lower, on her left shoulder, her arm, her hip. Setting the cloth aside, I trailed my fingertips gently over the slope of her cheek. She stirred me to wanting; I covered her up again. I leaned in to listen to the steady rhythm of her breathing. She did not appear to be in any distress, but I knew little of such matters, particularly for a human girl, as she was. It was likely that lesser injuries could claim her life.
I resolved to go back to the village to fetch the healer if she did not wake up before daybreak. At least then I could say that I did all I could for her. Climbing off the bed, I went to the front door and tossed the bloodied water out into the cold night air. Then, I set about skinning the talatuna to prepare it for roasting.
Alien Prince: (Bride of Qetesh) An Alien SciFi Romance Page 4