by K. A Knight
Seeing my shock, the fucker hisses, and a fleshy mane flares up around its head, shaking at me, spewing more liquid. I cower in fear as the drops connect with my skin, howling in pain as each globule eats away whatever it touches.
“Ssssuchhh a frrrragile thinnnng.” It lowers its head, and I peek through my fingers as his face gets inches from my own. His rotten breath burns my nostrils, making me breathe through my mouth. I can almost taste him, and bile rises in my throat. “Fffffollllowww meeeee.”
It rises and backs away on its three legs, leaving a trail of wetness behind. Not wanting the creature to force me, I comply. Standing on shaky legs, I shuffle forward with my bound ankles, my dirty nightgown clinging to my skin.
The creature points to a pair of shoe-like things on the floor. “Wwwwearrr themmmm.” They look like medieval torture devices. With gaping maws and rounded toes, they appear to be metal shoes split in half. The two halves snap shut around my ankle when I step inside, holding my foot hostage. “Againnnnn.” It points to my other foot. I allow the device to take me once more. It nods in satisfaction. “Commmme.”
Each of my legs feel like they weigh fifty pounds as I attempt to walk with these metal boots. But I try to look on the positive side—if I was forced to walk without them, my feet would erode in minutes from trudging through the creature’s excretions.
As I exit my cell, a leash is attached to the chain binding my wrists and the creature tugs me behind it. The narrow hallway is poorly lit but slippery, the floors covered in slime. Boot prints depressed into the viscous liquid reminds me of a nightmare footprint you’d make on freshly fallen snow.
The leash jerks, and I stumble, the heavy shoes on my feet weighing me down. As we walk, I see other empty cells and realise I’m the only person here.
I’m thankful for that, and terrified at the same time. My stomach heaves when a large gloop of goo plummets to the floor from the creature’s back, and I have to grit my teeth and slog through it. I want to ask the cocksucker where we’re going, demand he free me, but I don’t. The fear of him touching me and eroding my skin, or the worry I’ll faint from the smell of his breath convinces me to keep my mouth shut.
The hallway passes through a laboratory-like area. The glass walls are pieced together with random sections of metal, the inside housing gurneys. My heart drops when I see women bound to them. Tubes connected to bags with off-putting colours in shades of brown, green, and yellow drain into their bodies.
Lesions cover the skin of one, while bandages conceal another. A tanned girl lies still, her eyes closed as a grotesque alien uncovers her body. His gloved hands crawl over her naked flesh, pinching her, poking. She’s quite thin with protruding hip bones and ribs pressed firmly against taut skin. Squinting my eyes before we pass the end of the window, I take a closer look at her gaunt face and sunken eyes. I almost didn’t recognise her at first, but her long, dark brown hair gives her away, and I realise I know that girl.
It’s Tatiana!
“Don’t fucking touch her!” I scream, throwing myself against the window with a bang. The alien stalking her freezes, his fleshy mane popping off his neck with a hiss as the one pulling me yanks me hard past the window.
“No!” I cry out, tears running down my cheeks. I could accept my fate, allow these creatures to use me however they want, if they would just let her go. I won’t even put up a fight.
My heart shatters further with every step I take away from my Harvest sister. Our path widens, and we enter an elevator much more traditional than the morfka I’m used to riding in.
As the creaky contraption moves upwards, my mind is consumed with thoughts of Tatiana. How did she get here? I remember being on the transport ship with her. She was with me when we were being tested with the blood of various Klans for matching.
What happened to her after?
How long has she been here?
By the emaciated look of her body, I’d say weeks. Tears continue to fall from my eyes. I’m totally fucking overwhelmed. I go from the happiest woman alive, from spending time with my best friend and falling in love with my Klan, to being kidnapped, torn away from my Klan—who might be fucking dead—and learning my sister has been held prisoner for longer than I care to imagine.
It’s just too much.
As the door opens and I’m led into another room, I don’t even bother looking around. Grief has taken hold of my heart, and I can’t suppress the sobs rolling through me. It’s not until I’m thrown on the ground that I come to my senses.
I can’t give up now.
My Klan needs me.
Tatiana needs me.
I have to figure a way out of this.
Sitting back on my knees, I pull my body up. I’m on a makeshift bridge. This looks nothing like J-Lo. The chairs don’t match, and the floor is made from several types of material. More of the hideous aliens are scattered about the room, but it’s the one in the largest chair that scares me.
His huge eyes are fixed on me, and then he blinks, and I startle when his eyelids flicker sideways. What I think is a grin creeps across his face, stretching his lipless mouth wide. The tentacles on his face twitch relentlessly, and his tongue flicks out like a snake to taste the air.
“Brrrrinnnng herrrrr cllllosssse.” My body shudders at the maliciousness in his voice. Two aliens grip my upper arms and haul me to his feet, their excretions searing into my skin and making me scream in pain. He chitters to the guards who drop my arms. I blow on my burning flesh, trying to take away the searing heat. He chitters again, and an alien prowls towards me with a weapon drawn. It reminds me of a smaller version of a bakket, like a large pocketknife.
I still as he brings the blade to my throat. He rests it there for a moment, and I hold my breath, knowing the slightest movement will make the knife cut into me. Then, he drags it down my chest, letting the knife kiss along my skin. It feels like a papercut would on your finger—a sharp, quick pain. I gasp when he cuts through my nightgown and rips it from my body. With my hands bound, I can’t even try to hide myself. Mortification sweeps through me as I try to curl around myself, tears filling my eyes and clouding my vision.
The one in the grand chair stands, his enormous eyes moving along my skin, making me cringe in disgust. “Helloooo mmmmmate.”
Mate?
No. He can’t possibly mean that. I just couldn’t understand him, he said something else. Yes, something else, definitely not “mate.”
He starts to circle me, his ooze dripping on the floor around me, trapping me as he walks. “I havve wwwwaiteddd fffffor youuuu fffffor a llllong tiiiimmmme.”
The slowness of his speech and the gurgled way his voice comes out makes my stomach churn with nausea. I wonder what he means by a long time. Has he been watching me with my Klan? Did he spy on me at the Harvest House?
“The sssspeciallll girlllll with ffffffire hairrrrr.” He kneels down in front of me and leans close, and his tentacles push along my chin to raise my head. With anger fuelling me, I raise my eyes and meet his gaze defiantly, wanting my anger, my disgust with him to come across with just a look.
It chuckles at me.
“Youuu willlll be funnn toooo brrreak, mmmmate. I cannnnnnot wwwwait tooooo ffffuck youuuuu.”
My face pales, my heart dropping to my feet as anger turns to dread. “N-No. You-you can’t. My skin…I won’t survive it.” My voice wobbles, only making him laugh harder.
“Thennnn youuuu willll burrrrnnnnn.”
Thirty-Five
Trov
I need to find her, I can think of nothing else. The fear in her eyes the last time I saw her before we crashed is stuck in my head on repeat, making me angrier and angrier. The people of Lorenthis get out of our way as we storm through their midst.
They know.
They can read the death in our eyes.
Nul has a theory, he thinks someone betrayed us. It makes sense, how else would they have gotten their grimy hands on the same tech that we were working on? The question
isn’t if someone betrayed us, but who. Nul has the answer to that as well, or at least he thinks he does. We have to investigate, to find out if it’s true, but each step we take feels like I am getting farther and farther away from my little mate.
I bet she is so scared. My arms ache to wrap around her and promise everything will be okay. If—no, when we get her back, I am holding her tight and never letting go. Nul is leading us for once. I hate that I am weak when she needs me the most, but anger and fear consume me, screaming inside me, breaking my ability to think clearly. Nul seems to be managing that enough to focus, though his fists are clenched by his sides.
Joss looks ready to murder anyone who glances at us, and Cryk actually does. When a fes stumbles into our path and makes a joke, he rips out his throat without missing a beat, a snarl on his face.
Without Shiloh, we are nothing.
There is no happiness, only anger. No love, only hate.
I pull out my borrowed tablet for the thirtieth time since she has gone missing. I check for the tracker we had built inside her necklace to see if it has come back online, but can’t find a location. I don’t know if they have destroyed it or not. Nul thinks they are using stealth still, which would block the signal, making it harder to find her.
Harder, but not impossible. No one will stop us from getting our mate back.
“So, who the vekk is this Klan?” Joss growls.
“Gryme, the ones we haven’t heard from. I knew there was something wrong with them when they didn’t return Joss’s messages. I suspect they were giving us falsified reports and purposely being obtuse while playing double agents and working with the Yarek. We find them, we find Shiloh,” Nul mutters.
“Surely they will know we suspect them,” I snap.
“They do, they have gone into hiding. I can’t vekking locate them. But I’ll keep trying. They may know where the goulyg is,” Nul fires back, losing his temper.
“Can we prove it though?” Joss inquires, and we stop, all looking to him.
“Do it, find us proof, undeniable evidence. Cryk, stay with Joss. Nul, you and I will go to their home, there may be something there.” I see the relief on their faces that I am taking charge again.
We split up, heading to Klan Gryme’s last known residence, located in the outskirts of town. The unit is small with an untidy front, and when I go around back, I see a small hut barely big enough to hold a pet with a lock on the door. Maybe in there? I hear Nul entering the main house, so I kick down the door, only to find a blanket on the floor and a pan in the corner, nothing else. From the smell in here, someone was living in this hole. Sniffing deeper, I almost snarl.
It smells female.
Under the dirt, blood, and piss is a flowery scent. Do they have a mate…or did they steal one?
“Nothing inside the house so far. Did you find anything?” Nul queries from behind me. I turn, snarling, wanting to rip this place to shreds. What kind of mishans keep a female in a hole like this? They are to be treasured and loved above all else…this…this is vekking wrong. “Is that—” His nostrils flare, and his eyes widen as I nod.
“We need to find them and the woman,” I roar.
“Let’s get back to the others, maybe they have something.” Nul sighs. Nodding, I cast one last look around before following him back out into the busy streets. We find Joss working away on a tablet, and Cryk sitting opposite him while watching the crowd with sharp, angry eyes.
“Anything?”
He ignores me, and I slam my fists onto the table. “Vekking answer me!” I scream.
Joss snarls, leaping to his feet, tablet forgotten. “If I did, I would tell you! Let me vekking work! I want her back too!” We are both panting, glaring at each other.
“We need to work together, or we will lose her forever. Find us proof. We will take it to the kings, and they will locate them,” Nul interrupts with his voice of reason.
“And Shiloh?” Cryk asks.
“We will get her back, we have to,” he answers sadly, and we all deflate.
“Wait, I have something!” Joss exclaims, staring at his tablet, anger overtaking his face as he looks up at us. “Nul was right, it’s Gryme, I’ve got proof! Their signature is on this communication shooting off-planet, which was intercepted by an unregistered Yarek ship.” Joss’s scales flare bright red, his voice dropping to a growl. “They did it, they betrayed us. They are the reason Shiloh has been stolen.”
“We have to take this to the kings, they will be able to help us,” Nul suggests and looks at me. “I know you want to do this alone, Trov, but what’s more important? Getting Shiloh back, or our pride?”
“That’s it? They will take care of it?” Cryk yells, whirling to look at me as we enter the okkren. The virtual meeting with the kings did not go as smoothly as we would have liked. “Now what? Clearly the kings don’t give a shit about our mate. What do we do, Trov?” he questions, deflating at the end.
“We keep looking!” I snap.
“Wait, I have something,” Joss mutters, and we all look to him as he types away on his tablet. “I didn’t just find the signature, I managed to decrypt some of their communications with the Yarek. It’s not much, just some broken bits and pieces. I’ve been running a decoding program on them to see if it came up with anything.”
“And did it?” I demand impatiently.
“Yes, I know where Gryme last met the Yarek. If we go there, we might find the goulyg.” Joss grins, and it’s tinged with anger and slightly scary, which is unusual from our easy-going brot.
“Then what are we waiting for?” Nul rushes out, changing the direction to follow the location outlined in the message.
“I was hoping the tracker in the necklace would come back on,” I admit.
“We will find her, Trov.” Nul is so confident, his voice strong, that it surprises us all. “We will, and then we will kill every Yarek in this universe.”
“Too vekking right!” Crykk shouts.
“Yes!” Joss growls.
“For my little warrior,” I murmur to myself.
Joss types in the coordinates he found in the decrypted messages, and we begin to descend. It’s an empty patch of land far outside of the city and beyond the Lomons. Previous records of the area indicate that it’s not used for anything and almost dying, with a thick growth of trees shielding it. A perfect place to hide. We ready our weapons in case the Yarek are here. A quick scan from the air tells us there is no ship, but if they have stealth, it wouldn’t register.
With our hearts pounding, we leap from the okkren, all of us in battle stances with weapons drawn, waiting for an attack that doesn’t come. Nothing even moves. “Search the area!” I order, before striding away to do just that.
But over two rotations later, I know the truth. It’s empty.
She isn’t here…so where is she?
Thirty-Six
Shiloh
After my encounter with the horrid leader who plans to claim me as his own, I’m feeling beaten. Defeated. Fear remains my constant companion, my whole body quaking from it. I was too complacent. I thought my Klan could protect me and look where that got me. The one who brought me to the bridge takes me back down to my cell, parading me past all of the horrible fish aliens. He leads me by the laboratory again, and I struggle in his grip, my hand catching on the window as I stare at Tatiana’s still body. She is alone now at least, but she looks so small and vulnerable.
She needs me.
Not her Klan—if she even has one—and certainly not these aliens.
I’ll get us out of here, I promise, I vow to her silently as my hand is pulled away, the stinging bite of the alien’s excretions making a scream catch in my throat. With a high-pitched, chittering laugh, I’m thrown back in my cell, the door slamming shut behind him as I crash onto the cold floor. He watches me for a moment, his sharp teeth flashing and eyes blinking. “Sssssooon.”
I know it’s a promise, they will be back. I can imagine just what’s going to happen
. The question is…am I strong enough to survive it? I have to be, I have no other choice. My sister needs me, my Klan needs me.
I will survive.
Taking a deep breath, I curl around myself in the corner to keep warm and wait. They will have to enter my cell again to retrieve me, and when they do, I’ll be ready. I’m getting the fuck off this ship, even if I have to bring it down to do it.
So I wait. And watch.
I’ve learned so much from my Klan. Observing Nul, I’ve learned to think outside the box, from Joss, patience. From Trov, I’ve learned to never stop fighting, and from Cryk, the ability to have stealth.
My kidnappers peer through the cell at me at different times, some even waking me in the fleeting moments when my body fails to stay awake. They try to reach me, laughing when I jerk away. My eyes are heavy, and my body is protesting from all the damage and lack of sleep, but I don’t care. I’m past it.
Later on—though I can’t tell how much later, time has no meaning in here—food is dropped through the cell door. The grey slop, which I swear moves all by itself, and an amber coloured liquid are served on a tarnished metal tray. I force myself to crawl to it, shivering from the cold. If I’m to survive, to escape, I need to eat to keep up my strength. It could be drugged or poisoned. It could hurt me or make me ill, but what other option do I have?
I try the liquid first, dipping my finger into it, and when nothing happens, I suck down a drop and wait. When a few minutes pass and I’m still okay, I groan, knowing I’m going to have to drink it. My mouth is painfully dry, and my stomach reminds me I haven’t eaten in ages.
Slurping back the amber liquid, I hold my nose to try and combat the wretched taste. I use my hands to devour the grey stuff like I’m in one of those eating competitions. I don’t look at it or even taste it as it slips down my throat, thick and heavy. I wait for it to come back up, but it stays down, and I feel a little better.