Tamed by the Alien Overlords

by Renee Bond

  At first, people fled. But as Kara, Drone Face and I disembarked, a few curious onlookers began returning to the scene. Many took pictures or videos. One and all were shocked to see two humans departing from a Domann ship.

  Kara and I wasted no time.

  We got the fuck out of there.

  After five blocks, I realized that Drone Face was following me.

  “Go back to the ship!” I ordered.

  “I… at once,” it said.

  It floated off.

  Leaving Kara and me alone.

  We made a rather conspicuous pair, wandering the streets of what turned out to be a densely populated residential area. She was wearing a resistance uniform, the same one she’d been captured in. I was wearing a Domann kilt and the funny-looking, too-baggy shirt they’d probably made especially for me.

  They made amazing spaceships, the Domann.

  Shirts? Not so much.

  The two of us alternated walking and running for about an hour, trying to put as much distance between us and the transport ship as possible - while also trying to draw as little attention to ourselves as possible. You never could tell who was a Domann informer. Who might report a pair of escapee-looking women to the nearest Domann patrol drone.

  Eventually, we ducked into a hole-in-the-wall cafe.

  Where we politely declined to order.

  “Have you got any contacts left that you could reach out to?” I asked, keeping my voice low and my eyes on a swivel.

  “I was just about to ask you the same thing,” Kara replied.

  We were in a tricky situation. The drones would be looking for us, which meant that we had to get off the streets and stay off them. But the other resistance groups would have heard that everybody from the base Kara and I used to be stationed at had supposedly been captured. Which meant that even if we did manage to contact another resistance cell, we’d probably be regarded as spies.

  Actually, we would definitely be regarded as spies. Escaping from the Domann after you’d been captured just didn’t happen. More than half of all people who did manage it turned out to have been flipped. It was getting so obvious that the Domann had taken to staging faked mass breakouts, just to mask the deployment of a few of their human agents into resistance networks.

  Oh, and then there was the far-from-trivial obstacle of resistance cell division, whereby one cell was purposefully separated from another to keep one informant from giving away the entire movement.

  After a time spent in silence, Kara heaved a sigh.

  “Actually,” she said, “I may know a way to contact someone. But you’re not going to like it.”

  “Try me,” I said.

  “You know how I used to volunteer for gunrunning assignments?” she asked.

  I did.

  “I managed to make a few contacts among our… business partners.”

  I swore.

  “You’re right,” I said. “I don’t like it.”

  Being an underground movement, the resistance didn’t exactly have the luxury of choosing where it got the equipment it needed to mount anti-Domann operations. And since the Domann registered and tracked every firearm sold anywhere in the world, that meant that most resistance cells had long since taken to buying their arms and ammunition from the various gangs and mafia families that populate the world of organized crime.

  Most of the time, such arrangements suited all parties involved just fine.

  But sometimes… shit, you can probably imagine. Gangsters aren’t the most ethical of people. Or the most disciplined. Or the most competent.

  And they’re just about the greediest motherfuckers you’ll ever meet.

  “If you’ve got any better ideas,” Kara said, “I’m all ears.”

  “Sounds like we haven’t got much of a choice.”

  “That we don’t,” Kara said.

  She stood up from the table.

  “Keep an eye out,” she said. “I’m going to ask the manager of this place if I can use one of their phones.”

  Chapter 35

  Liza

  Hesitantly, I pushed open the heavy metal door, and stepped into the warehouse.

  From the outside, the building almost looked abandoned.

  From the inside, it didn’t look any better. The fake-glass ceiling towered nearly forty feet above our heads, mostly plastic panes filled with dust and grime, the kind that could be swung wide open to help ventilate the warehouse. The walls were brick, filled with water stains from the leaky roof and several dozen pounds of cobwebs. The space inside the warehouse was large - a couple thousand square feet, at the very least. Here and there were stacked rotting wooden pallets, old boxes of cardboard and wood, and miscellaneous refuse.

  In other words, not exactly the kind of place I wanted to meet with hardened criminals.

  But, this is where Kara’s contact had told us to come.

  “Should I… call out?” I whispered over my shoulder.

  “How the fuck should I know?” Kara asked. “I’ve never met these guys on my own before.”

  “Let’s… look around, I guess. And keep an eye out for any other exits, in case we can’t get back to this one.”

  The two of us spread out.

  There wasn’t much to find.

  Thankfully, we didn’t have to wait long. Not ten minutes later, they arrived.

  Notice that I didn’t say “he.” No, it was “they” who arrived. Which came as an unwelcome surprise.

  “I thought I told you to come alone,” Kara called out.

  “About that,” said one of the four men who walked through the doorway - which, as far as I could tell, was the one and only way in or out of the place. “I, uh, got lonely. Plus, I don’t fucking trust you.” The man who’d spoken was big, over six feet, bald, wide shoulders, with a thick steel ring through each ear. In fact… all the men looked big. They all wore long coats, some of old leather, some of denim. They all walked with a practiced swagger, the kind that told everybody that these men thought they were really tough.

  Problem was, they probably were.

  Two more walked in. Bringing the total to six.

  “Well,” said Kara, “can you put us in touch with your buyers in the resistance, or not?”

  “I certainly can,” said the bald one. “Only, how do I know you’re not some filthy Domann rat? How do I know you’re not recording this whole meeting?”

  “I can’t exactly prove anything,” Kara said, “until you put me in touch with the resistance. I know about drop points, safehouses, protocols, that will prove that we are who we say we are. But I’m not about to tell any of that to you. It’s the kind of thing we like to keep to ourselves. You understand.”

  The bald man nodded. Face impassive. As two more men walked into the warehouse

  That’s when I couldn’t help but notice that all eight of them were slowly all spreading out. Beginning, without being too obvious about it, to surround us.

  “Kara!” I whispered.

  “Why don’t you boys just stay where we can see you?” Kara asked. “We’re no threat to men like you, right?”

  “Maybe,” said the bald one. “Maybe not. We’re going to search you, just to be safe.”

  That’s when the alarm bells in my head started screaming.

  “Stay the fuck back,” I said.

  “How do we know that we can trust you, motherfucker?” Kara demanded. “How do we know you won't turn us in to the nearest Domann base for whatever pocket-change bounty they got on us right now?”

  “I’m not the one who just “escaped” from a fucking alien warship,” said the bald one. “And I’m sure as fuck not the one wearing a fucking alien kilt!”

  Shit. I should have found some fucking pants.

  “They didn’t exactly offer me a choice!” I protested.

  “Take them!” roared the bald one.

  Give us credit. We put up a decent enough fight, considering the odds. I’m pretty sure I broke one guy’s nose with a well-timed
jab. Kara definitely sent one to the floor with a shattered kneecap, courtesy of one of those low kicks she does so well.

  But the men had timed their initial rush well. In seconds, there were eight of them virtually on top of us.

  In no time at all, they had us on the floor.

  In even less time, our hands were tied behind our backs.

  They searched us. Not politely. In fact, nearly all of them felt the need to search the area under my kilt. Fucking assholes.

  Shortly after they found no weapons on either of us, Kara and I found ourselves standing back to back.

  In the middle of a ring of very mean, very angry looking men.

  “You fucking satisfied, you shit-eating prick?” I demanded.

  “You know,” said the bald one, clearly a leader of some kind, “you’d think I would be. But… I’m not.”

  “Come on, man,” Kara said. “Just let me talk to your buyers-”

  “That ain't gonna fucking happen,” said Baldy. “You see, I’ve had members of my own crew “escape” from alien custody. More than once, in fact. And every fucking time, it turns out that those “escapees” were actually cut loose by the Domann.”

  He stepped close to Kara. Put his face right up next to hers.

  “So that they could fucking inform on me and my guys!” he screamed, spittle collecting at the corners of a mouth twisted in fury.

  That, right then, was when my knees started to feel a little weak.

  We were in deep shit. The kind where the odds of you making it out are slim to none.

  I thought of Karkan. Lenth. Sandora. They wouldn’t be happy with me for getting killed by mobsters. I felt bad for them. They’d been waiting for me their whole lives. And they’d gotten to spend all of one night with me.

  At that moment, I felt a profound regret that I wouldn’t get to spend any more nights with them.

  Then I got an idea.

  “So what the fuck do you think I should do,” the bald one was asking, as he took a long, wicked looking knife out of a case on his belt, “with a couple of rat-shit women who come to me fresh from-”

  “You’re right,” I cut in. “We are spies.”

  Every face in the building, Kara’s included, whipped to me.

  “Not only that,” I said, “but we’re being monitored right now. I say one fucking code word, and a thousand combat drones are going to swarm this place. You’ll all be lucky if you even make it to a labor camp. So drop the fucking tough-guy act. You don’t fucking scare us. We were hoping you’d be sensible, and lead us to our real targets. See, we just don’t really care about you. Small potatoes, bigger fish, all that. So either you be a good little boy, untie us this fucking instant, and call your fucking contacts, or all your lives are about to get a hell of a lot shorter.”

  Every mobster around me drew a weapon. Most had pistols. Some had sawed-off shotguns. Baldy even had a heavy-caliber rifle, like the resistance used.

  “If that happens,” he said, aiming his weapon at me, “you’ll be the first to die.”

  “It doesn’t have to be this way,” I said. “Like I said, we just don’t give a fuck about you boys. We want the resistance. So contact those buyers of yours, and I’ll even put in a good word with our alien overlords on your behalf. No labor camp. That’s a promise.”

  “Check it out,” Baldy said to one of his men.

  That man took out a smartphone.

  I didn’t like where this was going.

  “I’m starting to feel a bit threatened now,” I said. “As such, I’ll be saying that code word - unless you assholes untie us within the next ten seconds. It will blow our cover, of course, or I’d have done it already. But keeping that cover ain't worth dying for.”

  Nobody moved. Nobody responded to me. The man with the phone turned away, and was saying something to somebody.

  “It was a nice try,” Kara whispered.

  “Not nice enough, I guess,” I whispered back.

  “Only a few drones in the neighborhood,” said the man with the phone. “None of them combat models.”

  Baldy grinned.

  Then he stalked over to me and backhanded me.

  Hard.

  My head rang as I hit the dirty concrete floor, the warehouse spinning around me.

  And that’s when I saw it.

  And as soon as I saw it, I knew that Kara and I might just have a chance to survive.

  Chapter 36

  Liza

  I couldn’t help it.

  I smiled.

  “Oh, you like that, you little alien-loving cunt?” Baldy asked. He walked over to where I lay.

  Loomed over me.

  Brought his leg back, about to kick me.

  “I wouldn’t do that,” I said.

  Baldy actually froze. Maybe it was the deep confidence in my voice.

  “If you boys will look up at the ceiling,” I said, slowly getting to my feet, “you might notice something that should make you rethink pointing all those guns at Kara and me.”

  “The fuck are you babbling about now?” asked Baldy. “Shut the fuck up, before I-”

  “None of those windows were open when we first got here,” I said.

  Baldy actually started laughing.

  “This supposed to scare us, love?” he asked. “Another lie? I’ve got to say, your first one was a hell of a lot more convincing! You must be really fucking desperate if you think we’re not going to take turns using your filthy alien-loving holes right here on this filthy warehouse floor because of a fucking open window!”

  “Those window frames are rusty as hell,” I noted with a sweet smile. “It would take military-grade sound dampening technology for anyone to be able to open that window without any of us hearing it. Not to mention full-invisibility camouflage, to keep us from seeing whoever did it.”

  A few of the men were looking up at the window, now. Their brows furrowed.

  One spoke up.

  “Hey, if she’s right-”

  “Shut up!” screamed Baldy. “She’s just trying to spook you. One more word out of you, bitch, and I’ll break that pretty little mouth! Now, both of you, get down on your fucking knees.” At that, he held his pistol to my head. “The two of you are going to suck us all off, just like you suck off your alien lovers. And if you do a really, really good job, we might keep you alive for a few more days!”

  I did my best to ignore the gun barrel pressing into my temple.

  “Not even combat drones carry the tech that got that window open without any of us noticing,” I said. “Nope. The only thing that could possibly have done that… is a Domann combat exoskeleton. Probably three of them, if I had to guess. You see, fuck face, I’m a Domann mate. Not only do I suck those aliens off, I’m going to have their fucking babies. Do you really think they would ever let me come down here alone? Not a fucking chance. There are three cloaked Domann warriors in this warehouse right now, each one sporting the most powerful war tech on the planet. They came in through that window, while you were shooting your mouth off.”

  I sounded confident. Not easy to do when you’re tied up and staring death in the face.

  But, as I spoke, that little voice at the back of my skull was screaming at me.

  Telling me that I was wrong.

  That I just hadn’t noticed the open window when I’d first scanned the warehouse.

  That my mates hadn’t really come for me.

  But I pushed ahead. I’d specifically noted the windows when I first arrived. And everything I’d said about them was true.

  They had to be in here. My mates. My men. They just had to be. They’d come after Kara and me, and had found us just in time. Had snuck in through that window. Were just about ready to spring their ambush.

  Right?

  “Get it now?” I continued, acting a hell of a lot more confident than I felt. “As soon as they have the perfect shots lined up, each one of you assholes is going to just… die.” I leaned in close to Baldy’s face. Hoping my perform
ance was giving Karkan, Lenth and Sandora the time they needed to get into position. And that Karkan, Lenth and Sandora were even here. And that Baldy’s trigger finger wasn’t getting too itchy.

  Baldy looked uncertain now. Hesitant.

  He glared back at me. Holding his pistol. He clenched one hand into a fist, as if to strike me… then let it go.

  He looked around.

  All the men did.

  The warehouse was deadly quiet.

  And….

  Nothing happened.

  Nothing at all.

  Oh. Fuck.

  I’d been wrong. So terribly wrong.

  That window was just a stupid open window. It hadn’t meant anything at all.

  My mates hadn’t come for me after all. They might not even have realized that I’d escaped yet.

  Baldy turned back to me.

  “Down on your fucking knees, alien-whore,” he hissed.

  I forced myself to grin at him. Clinging to my story. The only thing I had left.

  “Why don’t you get down on your knees,” I said. “You might live long enough to see the inside of a Domann labor camp.”

  Baldy’s breathing was ragged. He swallowed hard.

  For long moments, it was as if everyone in the warehouse was frozen. Waiting.

  Waiting.

  Silently, I willed my mates to show themselves. To fucking be there.

  Baldy snorted in contempt.

  Opened his mouth to speak.

  But before he had a chance, a new voice spoke.

  “No. They won't.”

  Chapter 37

  Liza

  This new voice came from everywhere and nowhere.

  It was ominous. Full of smoldering anger. Full of the promise of pain.

  It was Karkan’s voice.

  “These men have threatened you,” said the voice. “Our. Mate.”

  The mobsters’ guns waved frantically around, seeking the source of Karkan’s voice.

  In vain.

  “Nobody threatens our mate and lives.”

  “Fuck you!” shouted Baldy. “Show yourselves, alien scum!”

  Two of the men broke and ran.