by Alyx X
Taken by the Tryon Scavenger
Terran Relocation Act
Alyx X
Text Copyright ©2020 by Alyx X
The Series, characters, names, and related indicia are trademarks and © Alyx X.
All Rights Reserved.
Published by Market Street Books
No part of this publication may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without written permission of the publisher. For Information regarding permission, write to:
Alyx X at [email protected]
Production Management by Market Street Books
Printed in USA
This Edition, May 2020
Contents
Prologue
1. Piper
2. Lyx
3. Piper
4. Lyx
5. Piper
6. Lyx
7. Piper
8. Lyx
9. Piper
10. Lyx
11. Piper
12. Lyx
13. Piper
14. Lyx
15. Piper
16. Lyx
17. Piper
18. Lyx
19. Piper
20. Piper
21. Lyx
22. Piper
23. Lyx
Thanks For Reading!
Now Cumming From Alyx X
About the Author
Prologue
Lyx
I was in the shittiest bar I could find, the grungy place not one you would find a Tryonian male in. We were a dying breed after all.
But here I was.
All green and glistening.
I stood out like a Porpinian Female in heat. No wonder everyone was looking at me. Let them look, this place was all I could afford. Nothing jingled in my pocket. My last coin bounced all by itself in my pocket as I moved, squeezing past all manner of species packed too tightly, as I made my way to the long bar.
I jostled carelessly past a Gurg, and he spun around to wrap his slimy, reptilian fingers around my forearm.
Sighing, I glanced down at the slime he’d excreted all over the most recent tattoo that had written itself in the familiar cursive alien script of my home language. My tattoos told my story, and right now, the latest one was obscured by Gurg secretions. Great. I yanked my forearm back from his grasp and jerked it down, flicking the slime off onto the already sticky floor as discreetly as I could. That tattoo wasn’t one I was particularly proud of. They were supposed to mark important life events, and this one marked an event I’d rather not remember. My parents… Oh well.
“You know what you need?” the Gurg whispered, as a whole crowd of the galaxy's most forgotten beings seemed to crawl through the bar behind us. Truly, no was here but the universe’s most unwanted. Each with probably as little in the way of spending power as me.
Music played from somewhere, and the bodies that lurked in every corner were little more than shadows in the dim light. I’d just finished my meeting with someone I thought was going to provide me with a great deal. Maybe even the deal that would have saved my life. However, he’d denied my offer and melted into the crowd. Almost as if our conversation had never even happened. He hadn’t even offered me a drink. I pride myself on being a pretty easygoing business transaction. I’d spent the entire meeting trying—and failing—to channel Dad. Good old Pops. He’d been so good natured. Good tempered. Good humored. Just all ‘round good. He’d built up his scavenging and scrap business from nothing, and customers flocked to him because he was really that kind of guy. He exuded good will—so much more good—and people wanted to be a part of that.
Except, now he’d…quite literally left me holding the can. Only my can was broken, and the bottom had fallen out. And I couldn’t continue scrapping alone. It wasn’t a one guy job, and people had seen that I wasn’t Dad. They saw right through me and my fake pleasantries, and one by one the contacts and resources had dried up, until I was living on my last coin. The same one bouncing by its lonely self in the corner of my pocket.
I returned my attention to the Gurg, trying to ignore the slime oozing from his pores. “What? What do I need?” I inhaled in shallow spurts through my mouth as he wheezed and chuffed his words. Just his breath could get me drunk, judging by the stench in the air.
“A new trade.” His cackle of a laugh bounced off the walls.
I sighed. Great, a Gurg who fancied himself a comedian. Anyone could see I needed a new trade. I sighed again and turned away.
“I mean it, boy.” That slimy hand came back down and gripped my shoulder. It was remarkably strong for a drunk guy, and the spikes on his palm pricked my skin.
“Okay.” I left the ‘wise guy’ unsaid as I turned back against my better judgement and perched an ass cheek on the edge of the bar stool next to him. “You got anything in mind?” I was really losing it now, allowing a drunken Gurg to advise me. But as it goes, desperate men do desperate things, and these were certainly desperate times.
“Humans.” He hissed the word and glanced meaningfully around the room like he was sharing some sort of intergalactic secret. “Everyone out there wants a human woman they can call their own these days.” He laughed again, but it was uglier this time, and spit flew from between his lips.
I fought the urge to wipe my face with the used napkin on top of the bar. I was interested, In spite of the reluctance tingling between my shoulder blades. “Oh?” I attempted to make it sound casual.
“Yeah.” His grin exposed yellowing, pointed teeth. “It’s easy. You just head to Earth, find a human female, and sell her for the highest price you can. Three easy steps.”
My shoulders slumped. “Earth? Isn’t it dead now?” It should have been. It was next in line behind my own planet to die.
“Not hardly.” He made a scoffing noise that sounded like a gurgle of vomit in his throat. “The TerraLink Program makes good money taking people off-planet from there. Flying them out. Selling them.” He flew his hand in the air in front of himself like he was actually seeing a ship travel through space.
“Right.” I nodded like I knew all about it. “So, if someone was interested in trading in humans, he’d contact the TerraLink Project?” I didn’t say I was interested, but his tongue flicked across his lips as his smile turned sinister.
“Program,” he corrected. “And no. No, boy. Not unless that someone wanted all of his money swallowed by TerraLink. No, the best money is to steal their trade from under them. Get the humans first.”
I closed my eyes. That sounded risky.
“But it’s risky,” he said, and my eyes pinged open. The idea he might be reading my mind hadn’t occurred to me before. “More than risky. It’s criminal,” he continued. “Because TerraLink is the only program with license to traffic.”
I breathed out a slow exhale. “Then I don’t think it’s anything I’d be interested in... I mean I, I woul—”
“Black market, boy, black market.”
I knew nothing about the black market. Fuck. I slumped back. “Why are you telling me all this?” I was suspicious of him providing me with information like this. If it really was such a lucrative trade, you’d think he would want to keep it on the down low.
“Because you have the right ship for it. I’d buy one from you,” he slurred.
Well that was unexpected.
“You need cages, a tractor beam, and a claw.” He continued like he hadn’t lost his train of thought and nodded. “That should get you started.”
But I shook my head. “No… You… I… I’m not interested.” If I couldn’t do it right—I couldn’t afford those adjustments to my ship—I didn’t want to do
it at all.
And by right, I also meant the actual right side of the law. Maybe my next step would be to research the TerraLink Project. Buying and selling legally had always resulted in a good profit before, so maybe I could just buy their humans from them and sell them myself. Like the galaxy’s classiest middleman.
But as I carefully slid off my stool, picked my way over the gooey puddle beneath the Gurg, and departed from the potential mind reader, I checked the prices on the TerraLink Program. I checked again each day after that, scrolling through their available slaves on my device for the next week… and the humans were either poor quality specimens and more than I could afford, or they were better quality and vastly more than I could afford.
Finally, after chewing over the information for who knows how long, the day came where I reached my breaking point. My stomach had rumbled all day before I begrudgingly reached for my comm device and contacted Dad’s best customer. The last contact I had. Apparently, I had a business proposition for him, though I didn’t even know it at the time. It turned out I was living up to a trend—last coin, last contact.
I arrived a little late for the conversation with the man. We met in another bar; slightly upmarket from the one I’d met the Gurg in. My contact, Satyan, had the rust-red skin common to the entirety of his Mycax race. They all looked as if they’d narrowly escaped being boiled alive, but on the women, who were gifted with voluptuous curves and full lips, it was strangely beguiling. On Satyan, however, with his usual sheen of sweat, the boiled alive part just looked true.
“Lyx.” He greeted me with a lift of his tumbler.
Wheat beer wasn’t my preference, but it was his drink of choice, so I accepted one of the same. Part of the ‘customer being right’ and all that.
“Satyan.” I sounded jolly. I was never fucking jolly..
I found myself trying to channel Dad again. I had to stop that. I didn’t have time to waste anymore. My stomach rumbled and my brain agreed. Let’s get down to business.
“Satyan, I have a business proposition for you.” I blurted the words out low and fast, before he could lose interest, and before I could properly examine my conscience.
He looked me up and down. “I heard a rumor you weren’t in the scrap trade anymore. All sold out.”
All washed up. He didn’t have to say the words. They were right there in his tone.
“Not sold out exactly,” I met his gaze directly. “What I’m offering is more attractive than simple…scrap.”
“Oh?” He swirled his drink, watching the thick green liquid rise up the sides of the glass. The hint of interest in his tone wasn’t present in his demeanor.
“Human females,” I hissed. “I can get you one.”
He turned to me, his eyes wide and mouth opened slightly, but he didn’t say anything.
“Are you interested?” I pressed my point. “If not…” I gestured casually to the other people in the room, hoping he picked up on the unspoken end of my sentence. Any one of these guys might be my next customer, right?
He closed his mouth and gulped, then nodded. “I see.” His eyes narrowed. “I could use the TerraLink Program for that, though.”
I tensed my jaw. Hardball time, apparently. “I’m cheaper. Guaranteed.”
“I bet.” He nodded, running his gaze over me like he was assessing my ability to do what I’d said.
I stood at least a head taller than the tallest Mycax male, who were already a fairly large species as far as the known races went, and that height seemed to grant me an automatic advantage in terms of earning their trust. Or their respect. Their fear. Something. But it was a useful something, and it was getting Satyan to go for my deal when maybe he wouldn’t have otherwise.
He nodded. “Okay. What are your terms?”
I thought fast, remembering the TerraLink Program terms I’d read. Really, I only needed to undercut them to seem the better deal. Satyan already trusted my company—Dad’s company—because of his historical dealings with us, and now I was here looking all tall and fear-worthy and shit. I almost crossed my fingers that trust and fear would be enough to close this deal for me.
“A deposit now, and the rest of the money due on delivery,” I murmured, keeping my voice as low as possible.
My new, self-proclaimed vocation still sent a shiver of unease rippling through me.
“Of course a deposit.” Satyan nodded eagerly. “But how much?”
I reeled off the first figure in my head—huge, but it needed to buy the equipment the Gurg had spoken of, plus fuel and minor repairs to my ship, and also food and supplies for me. It still undercut the TerraLink Program deposit amount, and maybe that was what swung Satyan’s decision in the end.
He nodded again, a terse movement of his head, and his jowls wobbled. “Agreed. What’s the total amount?”
I named another outlandish sum, again skirting below TerraLink Program prices.
“Very good. You obviously have your father’s head for business.” But Satyan’s approval felt slimy and wrong. “If this goes well, I can send other business your way.” His eyes gleamed with sudden greed. “In fact, this could work out very well for you. Possibly for both of us.” Well that seemed suspicious.
I didn’t say anything. I was still holding my breath, trying to slow the plans in my head until his actions matched his words.
He lifted his wrist and displayed the small, black disc inlaid in the skin there. “Am I sending the funds to the usual account? The same one your father used?”
I nodded and hardly dared breath as he tapped quickly against the disc. Then he looked at me. “There. Your deposit should be with you now.”
“Then I’ll head to Earth as soon as I can secure permission to leave orbit tomorrow.” I nodded, hoping my words concluded our business.
Satyan caught my upper arm. “Lyx, remember there’s more coin where that came from. And…” He paused, appearing to think of something else. “Strong willed. For my female. But I want to be able to mold her.”
I pressed my lips together as my stomach roiled at his words. I had to get through this abduction first before I worked out the finer points of personality to order. Instead of speaking, I nodded again, and did my best to melt away through the crowd, but standing head and shoulders above many of the patrons at the bar made a covert departure unlikely.
My pace increased as I walked from the bar, heading to find a mechanic who could make the necessary adjustments and repairs to my ship. I could probably get away with still declaring myself as a scrap trader, even with the upgraded beam and claw.
Once I’d secured someone to carry out the upgrades, I collected food and supplies to last my journey and back. Of course, on the way back, I’d have an extra mouth to feed. But human food looked expensive, and I didn’t want to arouse suspicion by shopping for it. My head warred back and forth—I needed a healthy female specimen to satisfy Satyan, but I didn’t want the authorities shutting me down before I even began. Eventually, I gave in and bought the human food because I could always say I was collecting a client on my journey who had need of it. That much was nearly true, anyway.
1
Piper
I could see the heat. The sun blazed down from a clear blue sky, and heat rose in waves from the ground as I moved through the rubble and ruined buildings, turning everything in the distance shimmery and almost beautiful. But it wasn’t beautiful here.
That illusion was a lie.
Cracks scored and punctuated what had once been roads and sidewalks, and scrubby, desperate weeds sprouted from any gap, taking over. Dried grasses grew and swished in the hot breeze that blew between the structural remains of a once great city, and long strands of dried out moss hung low from the sides of skyscrapers like nature’s badly grown beard.
I’d never known this ruined civilization as a ‘great’ anything, apart from a place where nature fought to reclaim what humans had ruined. I was born into this—into SanFrisco—high on a mountain, home of my tribe. Desert su
rrounded us on every side, literally stretching as far as the eye could see and then a good way beyond that, if the stories were to be believed.
My people travelled around a little, following what was left of seasonal changes out into the desert and back again, but this was my favorite place. Hunting was better here—more chance of feeding my people.
Father believed in the traveling way of life, in the traditions of our ways, but what use were traditions in the face of a dying world? We needed to adapt and change to survive. Truthfully, it was likely only Father’s memories of the seasons that kept us travelling. These days, spring slipped into summer and fall with the same degree of decay sprinkled throughout each, and winter no longer brought cooler temperatures in the face of a sun doing its best to decimate us all. That was my overriding memory since being a child.
Just heat.
Relentless heat.
But life continued. People still fucked. Babies continued to be born. We still discarded our dead.
And I hunted to feed my people. Another day on the job.
I crouched low as another hot blast of air rustled the grasses in front of me. “Here, chiddy, chiddy, chiddy,” I whispered.
Okay, so maybe I was being greedy, but it was a good hunt day, and it made sense to capitalize on that and ensure the whole tribe feasted well at least once this week. Some days, I found little more than small mammals or even grubs to take back. Today, I already had one chidder lying in the shade against my wooden sled, waiting to be dragged home, and I was stalking another.