Auctioned to the Alpha

by Lisa Lace

Malatov laughed huskily in agreement. He stroked his chin. A flake of skin peeled off his pink snout as he sniffed Eden.

  "She's little on the lean side. I don't like her hair, but she smells as sweet as my last kill."

  "I can guarantee that Thiago will be looking for her very soon. He'll come directly to you. When he arrives, you and your men are free to finish him off."

  Eden gasped. "Arleda, why are you doing this?" she asked. Her voice sounded more brittle than she had intended. "How could you? With him? Look at him!"

  "Don't take it personally, sweetheart. It's just business," Arleda replied promptly. The nasty tone of her voice sent an unpleasant tingle down Eden's spine. "You're a smart girl. Keep your head up. For what it's worth, I did like you. If you need to why, it should be obvious. Malatov is offering much more than any of the pitiful rewards the authorities are willing to fork over."

  "You greedy, two-faced bitch."

  Arleda stuck a hand on her hip and motioned to a new, ring-pop sized jewel on the little finger of her free hand. "That may be, but I've just bought myself a nice little treat worth more than your life ever will be. It only cost a quarter of what I received for escorting you here. The ring's not too flashy, is it? What do you think?"

  "I think you should take that ring and jam it up your mom's hole in case she spawns any more of Satan's babies."

  "Feisty girl!" Arleda rolled her eyes. "When you have no weapons left, all you can do is use your mouth."

  Malatov stuck a hand through the bars of the cage to caress the supple skin of Eden's burning cheeks.

  "I can see why the bastard's got a soft spot for her. She's attractive, in a primitive sort of way."

  Eden whipped her hair around her face as she pulled away from Malatov. Her shackles clanged together. Two small spiders crawled out from Malatov's sleeves, crossed the bridge of his crooked yellowing fingers, and leaped onto Eden's twisting neck.

  As his fingers approached her contorting lips, Eden reacted instinctively. She clamped her jaw over two of his fingers, chomping down as hard as she could.

  "Son of a bitch! Get off of me, you disgusting human!"

  There was a loud crack as Malatov's knuckles connected with Eden's cheek. Her head slumped to the side of her neck. She couldn't believe the viscous display of force. Malatov withdrew his arms from the cage, angrily setting the voltage of the cage bars to its highest setting.

  As a bickering Arleda and Malatov wandered down the flight of steps and away from her, Eden couldn't control her emotions any longer. Sobbing, Eden quietly cried herself to sleep.

  Chapter 26

  A woman's gentle modulated voice wafted out the speakers of the shuttle cars.

  This is a safety announcement from the staff at the HT-007 Inter-territory Shuttle System. Constant video recording is in effect for the security of both our staff and our passengers. We would like to remind patrons not to leave luggage or any belongings unattended. Abandoned belongings will be confiscated by security personnel and destroyed immediately without further notice.

  The air was thick with the musky sweat, body odor, and tentacle secretions of traveling passengers. In the after-work rush hour, the light chatter and pleasantries were muffled by the rhythmic whoosh of the ISS zipping through the tunnels. Most passengers were quiet. They were exhausted from a day's work. Some stared blankly into space with dead eyes; they kept their hands idly folded in their laps. Others snored loudly in their seats or slept standing up, resting their heads on their arms as they steadied themselves with hanging straps.

  Thiago loitered close to a door in a back of a congested car, leaning against a ridged wall. He was unprepared when the shuttle made an abrupt turn to the left. He collided with an Azkal next to him, who was already in a foul mood because his face had smashed against the ceiling. Thiago mumbled a quick apology and evaded the alien's six glowering eyes by tugging a hood over his head.

  A lifetime of social skills left unpolished had resulted in the enhancement of Thiago's naturally agoraphobic tendencies. He couldn't recall the last time he had been aboard public transportation. With the notorious stigma and unabashed racism that followed half-humans, he had grown accustomed to keeping a low profile. It was impossible to feel safe in a crowd without his cloak, or, at the very least, a prosthetic disguise to conceal his nature.

  Today, he opted to leave Hercules and his spaceship parked back at the campsite in case Eden decided to return. If he'd learned anything from their past disagreements, it was that it was best to keep himself at a distance until Eden's anger subsided on its own.

  After a long period of contemplation, Thiago had enough sense to realize that even though he might not have been at fault, it appeared otherwise to Eden. Even though Eden exhibited a larger scope of moodiness than most of Thiago's other flings and one-night-stands, at the end of the day, she was the only female he had ever been with who eventually saw reason.

  Next stop – the Land of the Fallen Cemetery. If your final destination is the cemetery, please disembark and proceed to Exit A or Exit B. If you wish to transfer to the Runic Territory line, change shuttles here.

  Thiago squeezed through the crowds and out the open doorway of the shuttle. He exited the station and stopped at a corner store next to the cemetery. A friendly teenage girl manned the cramped booth in a threadbare coat patterned with illustrated shooting stars. She wore a mask that covered her nose and mouth.

  Except for the snow-white scales that covered her body, the girl could almost pass for human. She had black waves of hair that stopped at her shoulders, and wide-set, brown eyes. Born half-Noxx, the orphan had been immediately disowned by society and forced into poverty.

  She needed the money she made from the tiny booth to stay afloat. The young girl tended to her shop no matter what the weather conditions were, always displaying a cheerful disposition and a happy-go-lucky attitude that never went stale. Thiago purchased a pair of handmade pillar candles with sparkling moon rocks and blue seashells embedded into the orange wax. He left the girl speechless when he paid for the candles. Thiago was feeling generous and left an enormous tip.

  Thiago proceeded through the unmanned gates of the cemetery. The massive graveyard was respectfully silent. Only a handful of visitors wandered through an area that housed over thirty thousand headstones. He headed directly toward a cluster of gravestones situated on the eastern side of the territory.

  His solitary footsteps sounded disconcertingly loud against the stone footpath as he passed a sign over an archway. Letters were both missing or hanging on their hinges, but a newcomer could decipher the original words on the sign: Pacem Village Massacre Resting Ground.

  Except for a few select graves, most of the burial ground lay in miserable conditions. Shriveled plants, incense stubs, and ashes covered abandoned tombstones. Thiago moved off the footpath and made his way through a grid pattern arrangement of graves. As he drew closer to a particular pair of joined headstones near the center of the fourth row, he slowed to a stop.

  The twin tombstones of his parents looked freshly polished. The off-white marble shined like it had been made yesterday. Someone had carefully swept old leaves to the side. A gem vase filled with a bouquet of cosmic orchids sat on the patch of grass in front of the headstones. The vibrant petals of the quirky purple and blue orchids sniffled with their persistent illness, adding a dynamic touch to the somber graves.

  Thiago knelt on the ground and gazed at the miniature screens embedded on the tombstones above the engraved names and lifespan dates. Six-second scenes displayed in a permanent loop on the screens. The one on the left featured the face of a stern Arkadian man in his mid-fifties. An ill-tailored coat hung loosely over his translucent skin. It looked baked from constant exposure to the sun. The man's trimmed lampshade mustache wiggled like a baby caterpillar above his pursed lips. There were wrinkles around his eyes. It looked as if he were trying not to smile while someone made silly faces in the background.

  The screen on the right displayed
an attractive human woman in her late forties. The Swedish woman's heavily teased hair ran a little over her defined collarbone. She had the same white-blond locks as her son. Her thick, side-swept bangs bobbed along with her as she laughed soundlessly, tilting her bouncing head back with careless gaiety.

  Thiago unpacked his candles and set each one under a headstone. He lit them, using his hand to block out any unwanted drafts. The flames flickered on the wicks as they burned radiantly in contrast to the drearily lit cemetery. Shadows of the night lapped at the sides of Thiago's face. He folded his legs underneath him and sat rigidly still.

  In beautiful solitude, the son kept his dead parents company for two hours before he finally left.

  * * *

  Thiago returned to his ship with enough food for two people and a smelly satchel bursting with assorted fish heads for Hercules. He had to juggle everything he was carrying to keep his bag upright in his left hand. At the same time, he balanced the flimsy bags in his right. All the packages were in danger of collapsing under the weight of the stacked seafood and tentacle wonton soup. As he approached the ship, the feeling of relief that should have naturally appeared at the sight of home never arrived. The only emotion he felt was the worry in his heart.

  Hercules was going berserk. The creature ran around in erratic circles on the plot of land where Arleda had parked her spaceship. Thiago raced to the animal's side as quickly as possible, sacrificing what he was carrying. Sloshing soup escaped from overturned lids. Fish heads spun around in his satchel. His pet's mewling whimpers only came to a halt when Thiago arrived at the scene.

  "Herc! What's the matter?"

  Hercules arched his back and stamped his eight legs on the ground in reply. Thiago dumped the treats from his satchel onto the ground. The creature snapped his pincers, ignoring the mound of fish heads in front of him. Thiago frowned, his brows knitting as he tried to figure out what his pet wanted to communicate.

  "You're not upset Arleda's gone, are you? You should be the happiest creature around."

  Hercules shook his head angrily. He jerked his head to the left twice. He wanted his master to follow him. Thiago set his satchel and the bags of the remaining soup onto the ground. Scratching at the nape of his neck, he trailed after Hercules inquisitively.

  "Where are we going, Herc? We can't mess around now. We need to get back to the ship in case Eden comes home."

  Thiago's words faded as he saw something in the scorch marks on the gravel floor which indicated Arleda's recent departure. Hercules lowered his head and nudged a small spherical object in Thiago's direction. He crouched close to the ground to pick it up. A lump formed in his throat as he examined the object in his palms.

  He was holding one of the trapped starlight earrings he'd given to Eden the night before the Katakee mission. Rubbing off the dirt caked around the clear glass of the globe, he twirled the post of the earring in his hands. Exhaling deeply, he rose from the ground, brushing off the grains of sand clinging to his pants.

  "Let's go, Herc. Eden's not coming back. Arleda's taken her, and we need to bring her home."

  Chapter 27

  "Come on. I need to move faster," Thiago muttered under his breath as he jiggled the ignition lever of the spaceship controls. Warning klaxons blared over the speakers. He squinted at the diminished level of the drained fuel gauge on the corner of the dashboard screen. Shaking his head, he hastily left the cockpit and moved to a storage locker. At the locker, he collected backup jugs of puranium fuel and clamped them under his armpits. He raced back to the cockpit to start refueling.

  Hercules slid through the gap of the door just before it sealed shut. He wagged his tongue between his pincers, a puddle of drool pooling underneath him as he watched his master at work.

  Thiago lifted a hatch door behind the driver's seat. He unscrewed the caps of the black jugs and tore off the protective seals with his teeth, dispensing the gooey, blue-tinted liquid into the opening of the fuel tank. Hercules moved from side to side behind him, carefully evading the empty jugs of fuel flying in his general direction.

  "All right, Herc," Thiago announced. He slammed the hatch door closed and locked the latch with his feet. Swiveling around in his seat to face the dashboard, he started up the ignition. "Hold on, buddy. I'm kicking up the gears, and we're going to be moving quickly."

  Hercules nodded, wrapping his bristly legs around the base of the passenger seat. Thiago requested some information from his shipboard computer, drumming his fingers on the dashboard as he waited for a tracking page to load. A complex set of maps complete with grids and exact coordinates filled the monitor. After inputting a set of codes on the keypad, the system beeped. A highlighted route appeared on the map, showing a neon yellow path leading from the current location of the ship to a general area that was unfamiliar to the computer.

  Thiago's natural inclination for distrusting everyone had ultimately paid off. Years of a solitary life and never-ending clashes with polite society may have created a jaded personality, but it also formed an efficient bounty hunter. As soon as Arleda had 'stumbled' uninvited into Thiago's life, he had concealed a tracking device of his own on her ship.

  The ship's wheels rattled against the rugged terrain, rolling forward on the ground before lifting off into the air. Thiago steered the vessel at a steep angle as he tried to accelerate. He angled the spaceship to the left until his course aligned with the route on the screen.

  There was nothing Thiago could do now except wait. Although his exterior looked like an empty slate, his fists were clenched impotently around the controls in a death grip. There was nothing empty about the chaotic anxiety running rampant through his body. His eyes repeatedly moved from the windshield to the dashboard screen, confirming the autopilot was still working.

  About two and a half hours later, the triangular symbol on the craft finally crept toward the flashing dot indicating Arleda's destination. Rings appeared around the dot, alerting any observers that the journey was almost over. Thiago looked out the windows of the spaceship, trying to find any clue that would help him locate Eden.

  The ship hovered over a dark expanse of barren land covered with innumerable craters. Thiago modified the map on his screen to display thermal imagery, which would show him any living beings. To his dismay, nothing but dark blues and greens turned up in the forsaken land underneath him. When the craft began its inevitable descent, Thiago groaned with frustration.

  Had the tracker he planted on Arleda's spacecraft been faulty? He didn't see anything here.

  Thiago decided to exit his ship to investigate. He transferred the tracking data on his dashboard computer to a portable device in his hands. He exited the cockpit with an excited Hercules hounding him from behind. Thiago packed a spare satchel with flashlights, weapons, rope, rounds of ammunition, and other necessities. He slung the bag over his shoulders before donning a weapon belt strapped with restraints, laser magnums, and a lightweight black-market submachine gun smuggled in from Earth. Fitting his black helmet over his head, he left the ship to begin his search.

  As Thiago looked around at the darkness surrounding him, he clicked a button on the side of his helmet visor. The glass whirred to life as his night vision gear activated. He glanced down at the portable tracker in his hands. According to the computer, he should be close to the location already.

  Exploring the site on foot didn't help. He couldn't see anything in the deserted area. Uncertain of what he should be looking for, he started to become frustrated. The mark on his head flashed in anger. Thiago angrily hit the side of the tracker with his fist.

  Behind him, Hercules was becoming more agitated. "Not now, Hercules," Thiago called out without looking over his shoulder. "I need to concentrate."

  But as Thiago spun around to retrace his steps, he missed his footing entirely. With his complete attention on the computer in his hands, he had neglected his safety. His feet were dangling over the edge of a deep crater. Before Hercules could grab hold of him, Thiago's grip
slipped, and he plummeted down the slope of the crater into a pitch-black abyss.

  Chapter 28

  The visor screen on Thiago's helmet intermittently flashed as he flopped back and forth, tumbling down the slope. As a final humiliation, his torso took a beating from a mossy boulder that protruded from the bottom of the crater. Every part of his body hurt when he hit the ground. Rolling like a runaway log, he forced his mouth closed to stop himself from accidentally biting his tongue. Thiago slammed his elbows on the ground. Bits of rubble sprayed around him as he slowed down.

  Thiago collected his scattered weaponry and shoved it into his open satchel. He gingerly removed his helmet, looking at the cracks on his visor and examining the damage on its dented and scuffed shell. It was useless now. As he cast it aside, he heard the mournful squeals of Hercules. Moments later, the oversized alien arachnid came sliding down the slope on its back, ending in a slow, spinning stop by his master's feet.

  Thiago flattened the crop of hair on top of his buzzed sides. His jumpsuit had holes and patches of missing fabric that had snagged on distended branches on his way down. He winced at the slightest movement of his body.

  Something was wrong with his shoulder. Excruciating spasms of pain stabbed at his tender limbs. As veins emerged on his neck and temples, he suppressed an agonized cry as he painfully stretched his arms out in front of him.

  Slamming his eyes shut, he clenched his teeth to brace himself. He seized his grotesquely dislocated shoulder and forced it in the opposite direction. A tear fell out of his eye as a sickening crunch sounded and his shoulder snapped back into alignment.

  As he held out his shaking arms, he observed his Arkadian genes start to work. The raw, open wounds visible through the shredded fabric of his jumpsuit began to heal. The cuts sealed themselves, leaving darkened traces of scars in their place.

  He closed his eyes into focused slits as he analyzed the quarry-like environment. A thick fog of yellow smoke carrying the distinctive stench of sulfur rose from the ground. Steam hissed out from dozens of bubbling acid pits underneath them. On top of the acid pits was a single steel bridge wide enough to fit two tanks side by side. The old surface of the structure was covered with spacecraft scorch marks and tank treads leading to thick, sealed doors in a cavern opening.