Enslaved by the Alien Dragon

by Stella Cassy

  His face was shrouded in shadow, but I could still make out his eyes. They were tiny spots of light amidst all the darkness. He was terrible to look at, and yet, the sight of him brought me comfort. He moved forward, but no matter how close he came I still couldn’t make out his individual features.

  When he was close enough for me to touch him, I reached out, my hand shaking, and just before I touched him, I woke up. That dream had struck with me through most of the next day. I sifted through it like a puzzle that needed solving. It made me clumsy and distracted in my work and I had to duck more than once the next day when the cook threw various bits of crockery at my head for every mistake I made in the kitchens.

  This was my fault, and I had no one else to blame but myself. I had allowed Carissa’s advice to worm its way into my head and I had decided to act on it. The cookies had been something of a peace offering. I wasn’t looking for a husband, but I couldn’t help but wonder if befriending Ranel would be in my best interests.

  He was certainly powerful. He commanded respect and in terms of pure practicality he was the only Drakon I had consistent contact with. My plan to ingratiate myself in his favor had backfired badly and it had only served to confuse me more.

  Confusion and loneliness seemed to be my only two companions. They actually made me long to be in the kitchens with the bulk of the slaves. They may hate me, but at least their presence would curb my loneliness somewhat. I decided to try my luck and slip into the kitchens.

  The Nortian cook was by the stove, cooking up something with deadly spice that made my eyes water. He noticed me the moment I appeared at the connecting door between the kitchens and the scullery.

  “What do you want?” he demanded.

  I saw several of the other slaves’ eyes travel to me. The Vence glared at me with unadulterated superiority before turning back to their tasks, but the other slaves kept their stares trained on my face.

  “I just— I wanted to know if there was anything I could do in here?”

  “You think I want your help in here?” he demanded. “You’ll burn down the whole fucking kitchen.”

  He had enough evidence to support that statement so I decided not to refute that point.

  “I’ll be careful—”

  “No!” he said with stinging finality. “I was told to prepare a special feast for tonight because one of the commanders is going back to his own ship tomorrow. I can’t have the likes of you around. You’ll end up poisoning the lot of them.”

  I felt my chest grow cold. It seemed Ranel and his crew were going back to their ship tomorrow. I had heard none of it, which probably meant he had already transferred me into Dashel’s possession. I would not be accompanying them. I tried not to let the disappointment bury me. A part of me was equally upset that I was taking it so hard in the first place.

  “Get out!” the cook screamed. “I don’t want you ruining my meal.”

  I backed out of the kitchen before he could find something to throw at me. The last hit had nearly taken out an eye. I slipped back into the scullery and stared at the messy countertops and dirty floors. I might as well clean them all. I needed a distraction and I wanted to keep my hands busy. Perhaps my mind would follow suit.

  I started on the countertops first. No matter how orderly I tried to be, there was always a fresh layer of grime that found its way onto the surfaces of everything in the scullery. I used a thick scrub brush with bristles on the end to tease out the more stubborn oily blotches. Then I used water and soap to take off the lose layer of dirt.

  I had to admit, there was a part of me that hadn’t actually believed he would keep me on this ship. But perhaps I had just deluded myself into believing that he had developed an interest in me. Or maybe it was just desperate hope that I had foolishly chosen to fall back onto. Whatever my reasoning, I felt like a naïve child.

  Once the countertops were gleaming, I got out the mop and pail. Before I started on the mopping however, I went over the floor with a thick bristled brush that got into the nooks and crevices of the stone floor. I was on my hand and knees, trying to stay focused on the task at hand, but my own thoughts were distracting me.

  I remembered the day Ranel had stopped his Drakon friend from examining me. His tone had been neutral and his expression controlled, but I had detected an edge of panic in his stance. He had ushered me out of the impressive circular room as though he had wanted to protect me rather than get rid of me.

  It was the same feeling I had felt when he bandaged my finger that day in the medical bay. At the time, I hadn’t yet possessed the objectivity of distance, so I hadn’t examined the moment until later, not until after my opinion of Ranel had started to shift.

  It was that shifting opinion, and Carissa’s careful words in my head that had encouraged me to bake those cookies for him in the first place. The process had certainly not been easy. Flour was not a common ingredient in Drakon kitchens and that meant I’d had to grind my own flour and work late into the night because I didn’t want to further irritate the Nortian cook who still refused to tell me his name.

  All my efforts had fallen to dust when Ranel had kicked me out of his room unceremoniously. It had snapped me out of the delusion I had been under. I was his slave and he was my owner. We couldn’t possibly be friends. The idea was absurd. Maybe it had worked for Carissa, but she wasn’t marked.

  My hand slipped up to my cheek and touched the three-leafed clover. There was no escaping my fate. It had been set in stone from the moment the Pax had marked me. Some would argue I deserved it. Hell, I would argue I deserved it. I blinked and saw the red-blotched skies on the day of the Invasion.

  No, I thought, shaking the image from my mind. Don’t go there, Yvette… not now. I heard the scullery door slide open and I uttered a silent prayer of thanks for the distraction. I expected to see the cook, but instead I saw the tall, imposing form of the Drakon that had invaded my thoughts for the past three days straight.

  His expression was impassive, but I could sense tension in the rigid arch of his back. His name was on the tip of my tongue, but I swallowed it at the last second. I shouldn’t be addressing him by name.

  “What can I do for you, sir?” I asked.

  Ranel’s eyes flitted across the scullery. “I… need something from you,” he said curtly.

  “What is it?” I asked.

  He paused for a moment. “Cookies.”

  I stared at him, trying to make sure I’d heard him right. “Excuse me, did you just say cookies?”

  “Yes.”

  “Oh.”

  If the circumstances had been different, I might have smiled. “I— I suppose I can make another batch today,” I nodded.

  “Good.”

  I nodded, wondering why he was hovering by the entrance now that he had issued his command. “I’ll get to work right away… sir,” I said.

  “Good,” he replied shortly.

  I stared at his expression, trying to decipher the meaning of his presence here. He could have sent an order to the kitchen through another slave. The fact that he was down here telling me himself meant something… right?

  “I heard there will be a feast tonight,” I said, breaking the pregnant silence. “In your honor.”

  “An unnecessary extravagance,” Ranel said with annoyance. “Dashel can be overly sentimental and generous.”

  “Well I suppose he felt the need to reciprocate,” I said, trying hard to keep the bitterness from my tone.

  Ranel looked at me questioningly.

  “I take it you are no longer my owner,” I said, proud of the fact that my voice didn’t shake.

  Ranel’s eyes dipped down. “It turns out Dashel doesn’t have a need for you on his ship,” he replied. “And there’s no one who wants you either… I asked around. You will be coming aboard my ship. I do still need a scullery maid.”

  He answered me with indifference, with a kind of forced apathy that made me believe there were stronger, less detached feelings hidden behind
his stony words. I felt the soft warmth of satisfaction, but I kept my face neutral, as though this news didn’t make a difference to me.

  “Gather your things together, we will be making the move tomorrow morning,” Ranel told me. “The whole fleet will be taking off immediately after boarding.”

  “I suppose I can start making the cookies on board your ship,” I said.

  “That would be best,” Ranel nodded. “You can give my cook a list of ingredients you’ll need.”

  I nodded, and he shifted on his feet. It was like he was looking for an excuse to stay. I decided to give him one.

  “If you’re interested, I squirrelled away a few cookies,” I admitted. “Would you like one now?”

  His eyes widened. “Yes.”

  I went to retrieve the old crock-pot that I had stowed away on a cabinet in the storage unit next to the sinks. I had saved a few cookies from the last batch to eat whenever I needed a little break. I brought it out, opened the lid and offered it to Ranel. His large hand reached out but couldn’t get past the small opening. I knew that if he tried, he’d just end up breaking the crock-pot.

  “Let me,” I offered.

  I pulled out the three last cookies and set them down on a plate in front of him. He eyed them carefully. “You didn’t hide these away for me, did you?” he asked.

  I hesitated. “Well… no.”

  “You were saving them for yourself.”

  “Dashel’s Nortian cook doesn’t exactly give me the choicest portions of food,” I said defensively.

  Ranel smiled and the effect seemed to lighten his face considerably. If I concentrated really hard, I could picture him as a human man— a broodingly handsome one at that. He had the square jaw, patriarchal cheekbones and drooping eyes that would have made any woman on Earth swoon. I felt a long-lost tingle zip through my body before landing between my legs.

  “Take one,” Ranel said.

  “What?” I said, staring at him in confusion, certain I had misheard him.

  “You saved them for yourself,” he said. “You should eat one.”

  “It’s ok… you seem to enjoy them more than I do.”

  “I can share,” he said. His tone may not have been kind, but I couldn’t avoid the intention behind it.

  I felt the corners of my mouth turn up, wondering what dangerous new territory we had just embarked onto. Again, Carissa’s voice echoed in my head and I wondered if maybe she had a point after all. Maybe befriending the Drakon would give me an easier life, if not a free one. After years of servitude, the thought of having a kindly master seemed like a victory in itself.

  I reached out and took a cookie off the plate. He watched me as I bit into it. I should have felt self-conscious, but I didn’t. I felt a little nervous. I felt a little uncertain. But most of all, I felt hope.

  10

  Ranel

  The Wyvern’s drawbridge had been lowered, creating a long, elevated ramp that the slaves were being herded through. Deveron came to stand by my side as the slaves passed by us in a single file line.

  The ramp had received a new paintjob. It had been filmed over with two new layers of Chyra dye and the way the drawbridge gleamed told me that it would last through decades without needed a touch up of any kind. It acted as low-grade armor, an added layer of protection that many smaller spacecrafts used for extra protection.

  I could see only a small section of the underbelly of the Wyvern. I had installed new intergalactic lights and added some missile capsules that protruded oddly from the sides. I’d had to compromise aesthetic beauty in favor of practicality. The design of the Wyvern didn’t really allow me to do both. Still, I was satisfied to have saved the ship from the scrap heaps of Nadage, the waste planet where the old, broken and obsolete went to die.

  I walked onto the Wyvern feeling as though I were finally home. It was less about the ship itself and more about the feeling of being at the helm of my own vessel. I didn’t like having to defer to another commander’s authority and as much as I loved Dashel, we were very different leaders.

  My crew had been spread over the whole fleet in an effort to share the burden of expense, but now they were back on one ship and everyone seemed relieved. I briefed the lot of them early that morning just before the slaves were brought on board. I was very aware of the girl but was not the only one. She was the only human in a ship full of Drakon and superior slave species.

  “Their quarters have been readied, we have several additional rooms now so we don’t have to crowd them in to one cell,” Deveron told me. “There’s going to be two slaves to a cell now and I’ve placed same species together wherever I could.”

  I could see the girl coming up down the line of slaves. The strap of her slave’s robe kept slipping off her bony shoulder and she kept righting it uncomfortably. I saw her trip twice before she had even passed me. Her dark hair looked curlier than usual in the swirling winds and her expression was contorted into one of concentration. I knew instinctively that she was trying very hard not to trip again and crash into someone.

  “Who is the human sharing with?” I asked, trying not to sound too concerned.

  “One of the female Vence,” Deveron replied. “There wasn’t another Vence to couple together and she is the only human on the slave charter.”

  “I’m aware,” I said impatiently. “It doesn’t matter. Give her a solitary space.”

  Deveron frowned. “The human?” I glared at Deveron and he tried to pedal back quickly. “Are you sure?” he asked.

  “Look at her, she’s the tiniest among them all. She has no abilities or physical advantages. If there are fights she will not be able to hold her own among any of them,” I said, without considering how my words would come across.

  “I didn’t realize that was a concern of yours,” Deveron said.

  “My concern is a smooth-running ship,” I growled, alerting Deveron to tread carefully. “I don’t want fights, even if it is among the slaves.”

  “Yes Commander,” Deveron nodded. “I’ll see to it now.”

  He walked off and left me to survey the slaves’ progress alone. I preferred it that way. It gave me some time to think. Within the hour, the whole fleet would be leaving Minapolis behind. Dashel’s ship was set to sail alongside mine for the first three jumps. The rest of the fleet would be in the nearby vicinity, so that we could fly to each other in case of an emergency whenever necessary. We didn’t anticipate any trouble on the journey to Grissa but since we were all travelling the same route, it made sense to fly close.

  I saw the girl coming up past me. Her eyes slipped to my face searchingly, but I pretended as though I hadn’t even seen her. It was easy to miss her in a crowd of larger, more noticeable slave species, but once you did spot her, she stood out – a flower among a sea of thorns.

  Once my crew and the slaves were on board, I walked up the ramp and gave the command to close the Wyvern’s doors. I didn’t bother entering the body of the ship. Instead, I took the elevator to my right and headed straight to the control deck, where both of my second commanders were ready and prepared for takeoff. The control deck boasted a panoramic view of Minapolis’s mountain scape. Some might have found it peaceful, but I for one had always preferred the ethereal beauty of space.

  “How are we looking?” I asked, turning to Bletchgor.

  “All systems are a go,” he nodded.

  “Gormson?”

  “We’re ready to go, Commander,” Gormson confirmed.

  I watched as the other ships started to close their main portal doors. Then the lights blinked on one by one and I saw the dragon helms emblazoned on the front of the larger ships twirl with purpose.

  “It’s time,” I nodded, giving the command for lift off.

  The Wyvern was the first ship in the air. Soon after, I saw Dashel’s ship take flight. The floor vibrated with the thrum of the engine’s great power and I felt my body slip slowly into comfort. We were finally off the ground.

  The whole ship shook
just as Gormson and Bletchgor prepared for our first jump. Everyone braced themselves, but I remained standing. I had developed a tolerance for the head spinning, stomach churning seizures that jumping could give you.

  “And three,” Gormson started. “Two. One.”

  The jump pulled us into the travel zone of light speed. My body sang with a numbing ache and five seconds later blue sky and flurried clouds gave way to the midnight blue of space and its grand infinity.

  “Beautifully done,” I told Gormson.

  “Thank you, Commander,” he replied.

  We would need to watch for any anomalies in our flight path for only a short while longer before switching into cruise control. I was staring at Grissa on the map that projected our arrival coordinates when Deveron showed up in the control booth. I wanted to ask him about the girl immediately, but I curbed the instinct and waited for him to tell me if he had carried out my order.

  “It’s done Commander,” Deveron told me, after greeting both Gormson and Bletchgor. An act I found highly unnecessary. “I’ve settled the human into her own room. It’s right by the scullery.”

  “Good,” I nodded.

  “Uh… Commander?”

  “Yes?”

  “She asked me for ingredients.”

  I frowned. She had promised to make me more of those delectable snappy things, I realized. “She was meant to ask the cook.”

  “Apparently he refused her.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “I’ll handle it.”

  Deveron looked a little perplexed. “You’ll handle it?” he asked. “Commander… you needn’t concern yourself with trivial matters. I can sort out their dispute.”

  “I’m going that way,” I said with finality. “I need you to stay here and watch our progress. Contact the fleet’s captains and make sure their jumps were successful. Understood?”

  “Understood, Commander,” Deveron nodded, but he still looked perplexed.

  “Once we’ve cleared the jumping zone, put the ship on autopilot,” I said. “We can cruise for a few leagues before the next jump.”