by K. A Knight
Crawling back to my corner, I rest my head against the wall, imagining my Klan, letting the feel and heat of those memories warm me. That cheeky smile of Cryk’s as he teases me, the pressure of Trov’s arms wrapped around me so securely, Nul’s adorable blush, Joss flying. I fill myself up with good memories so nothing else can consume me, like fear. With their names on my lips, I fall asleep alone and lost in space.
I wake with a start, confused at first over what the clanking noise was. Then a familiar chill races down my spine as the chittering sound accompanies it. The same one I heard on the ship before we crashed, my mates, they called them something…
The Yarek.
I sit up instantly and back into the cell wall, watching them with wary eyes as two enter my cell. One has what looks like a silver trolley, but instead of wheels, it floats in before him. The other comes in after and slams the cell door shut, and I know I have lost my chance.
Fuck.
I refuse to cower before them anymore. Using the wall, I push myself to my shaking feet. Ignoring the fact that I’m naked and their eyes stare at me hungrily, I tilt my chin up and stare at them insolently. “Hello, boys, let me guess…here for some torture? How predictable. So very cliché of your Davy Jones asses. In fact, I take that back, he was better looking than you are.” I spit my words with a growl to my tone, and they look at each other before crowding closer.
The glint of a pile of tools along the top of the trolley has my bravado faltering for a second. “Fuck you, pussy ass fish bitches. I bet you even lay dirty little eggs like a fish. Actually, I bet you don’t. That would require someone to mate with you, and that’s a face not even a mother could love!” I scream, adding as much snark as I can.
“Youuuu will beeee prepareeed,” one hisses.
“Prepared?” I repeat, confused. “What does that mean?”
The other lifts one of the tools, turning it in the air for me to see, and I gape at it. It looks like a moving tentacle, but in metal.
Oh fuck no.
He walks towards me with it, malice on his grotesque face, and I cringe backwards. Are they preparing me for their captain to fuck me?
Nope, not happening.
I need to turn this into something else. “Really, that’s how big your cocks are? No wonder nobody wants you and you have to steal your mates,” I yell desperately. “You dick sucking heathens, no wonder the Totiv won the war!”
That stops them, and I freeze. “Whatss you sayyyy?” the other hisses, its tentacles moving quicker now. Ah, I think I pissed it off.
Great.
“You heard me. You lost, you couldn’t even win over a tiny little planet of defenceless humans, and look at you now! Hiding in space, thieving, making your pathetic ships from scraps of real spaceships. The Totiv will wipe you out of existence this time. Good fucking riddance.” I laugh, and the one holding the metal tentacle drops it to the table, and they both advance on me.
Okay, maybe not my best plan, but it sure as fuck beats being raped by a metal tentacle dick.
I prepare myself for their touch, but the burning of it still makes me scream as they grab me. One of them throws me to the floor, and then they start kicking the shit out of me. Their slime sprays all over my body, and I shriek in pain while they hiss words I can’t understand. I make sure to laugh through the agony—oh, that gets them. One of them bends closer, and my eyes widen when I spot the flash of a blade at his hip.
“Totiv butt fucked you, admit it! They bent you over in front of the universe and made you their bitch,” I wheeze through aching ribs, channelling my inner Carmen.
He snaps, his tentacles and hands roving over my body, leaving a trail of fire. I seize, turning and flipping to escape it before throwing myself at him. I make it look like it’s an attack, but I miss on purpose and swipe the blade as I fall back to the floor. I curve around the weapon to hide it before they start to beat me again.
I let my mind wander, thinking of my Klan, trying to ignore the acid eroding my flesh, the bruised and maybe broken bones. I let myself float away until they leave my cell with the trolley. Tears roll down my cheeks, and my whole body aches as I pass out.
When I wake up, I don’t know how much time has passed, but one thing is for sure.
I still have my blade.
Dragging myself to my knees, I stare down at my bruised and battered body. Large, painful red welts cover nearly every inch of my blue and purple skin, the bruises blossoming from their beating. I look like a walking, talking punching bag.
Sighing, I examine the cell door.
Now, how to escape? My brain is struggling to think of a plan, the pain in my body too extreme to concentrate on anything else. Come on, Shiloh, fucking think. You have to get out of here.
Escape the cell.
Get Tatiana.
Kill the Yarek.
Go back to Oxious.
Find mates, live happily ever after.
That’s an easy plan, right? One step at a time. How the fuck do I get out of my cell, they haven’t come to let me back out—
Food!
They come to feed me! I bet I could attack them when they do, get them to open the door. I would only have one shot, and if more than one of them shows up, I would be fucked. But I have to try. I can’t just wait here to die.
I’m a Harvest Girl, we are survivors.
Pulling myself across the floor, I sit near the cell door and formulate my plan. One chance, that’s all I’ve got. Here’s to hoping it works.
Pretending to sleep next to the door, I keep one eye slitted open as I hear the stomping of approaching boots. I knew they would be feeding me soon. They had to, they need me alive, even if they want my life to be consumed by pain. Pressing the knife closer to my body, I take a deep breath and hold it. Waiting. This better fucking work, I’m running out of strength, and I know I won’t survive whatever they have planned for me next. I hear him get close. My lungs start to ache, but I don’t let myself breathe as the food is dropped through the cell. I see him hesitate, staring at me in confusion, watching my naked, unmoving chest.
“Ffffeemmaalee,” it hisses, but I don’t answer. My lungs are screaming now from the lack of oxygen.
The sound of the cell door sliding open has me grinning inside. This is it. I falter when he closes it behind him before leaning down to check if I’m still alive, and I take the opportunity to pounce. Sucking in a deep breath, I grab his neck, ignoring the agony coursing through my hand as his goop sears my skin, and press the knife there. “Open the fucking door, fishy bastard.” He chitters at me, and I press the blade deeper, making him howl, the sound almost causing my ears to bleed as a brown liquid slides over my hand. Is that their blood?
He does as he’s told though, and the door slides open. I have to retract my hand at the last second. He doesn’t know what to expect, after all, he is the captor and I am the prisoner. I smile at how much they’ve underestimated me. They could never know just how strong a woman’s survival instinct is or what they will do for those they love. It will be their downfall.
Darting forward, I slash the blade across his tentacles, and he falls back with a scream as the still wriggling appendages plop to the floor. I hack again and again like a woman possessed, until I’m covered in a revolting combination of excretions and blood. My chest is heaving, my body coated in sweat. What used to be the Yarek is a brown, bloody pile at my feet.
I’m free.
One down, a whole ship to go.
I turn to race towards the labs where they are holding Tatiana, but the metal boots on my feet weigh me down. Fuck, I have no choice. Taking the metal contraptions off my feet, I step out of the only protection my feet had, and race through the open cell door. A scream lodges in my throat with each step through the goop covering the passageways, but I wouldn’t be quick enough with them on. I feel the soles of my feet burn, eroding little by little. Each step is so painful, bile rises, and I have to swallow it back.
Something glints on the
floor to my right, making me slide to a stop. Looking back over my shoulder, I spot a turn in the corridor I didn’t see before and a window at the end of it. It’s tiny, almost like a cupboard, or a small hiding spot.
A window!
I rush down it and press myself to the glass, my heart slamming in my chest and my eyes widening as I realise where we are.
That’s Oxious right below us.
I’m confused for a moment. I see Oxious, but not the ship I’m in, only a slight shimmering around me. That means only one thing—stealth. It has to be, that’s what Nul said, right? Floating in orbit just above Oxious, I think about my mates, knowing they are somewhere down below.
So far, yet so close.
Thirty-Seven
Shiloh
Chittering comes again, chilling the blood in my already frozen body. I’m going to hear that noise in my nightmares forever, even if I manage to survive this. A dragging sound accompanies it, and the awkward gait of someone who has three legs grows louder down the main hallway.
Fuck.
With nowhere to go, trapped at the end of this damn hallway, all I can do is make myself as small as possible. Adrenaline courses through me, my heart beating so hard I’m surprised they can’t hear it. If I get caught, I may as well offer my vagina up as a sacrifice to the gods. Maybe then I’ll earn my freedom.
The burning on my feet becomes unbearable, but I crouch down anyway, keeping my ass hovering above the ground, biting my lip until I taste blood to hold back my whimper of pain. Damn this flaming red hair and the lack of protection it gives me!
The clomping gets louder, and the Yarek who’d accompanied the one lying dead in my cell passes the hallway without even glancing down it. I know I only have about fifteen seconds until he gets to my cell, finding I’ve escaped and his comrade is dead.
Double fuck.
I’ve got to get out of here.
Now!
Trying to be as stealthy as possible, I slide down to the end of the hallway and stick my head out, looking right. The Yarek is ten feet from my cell. My cover will be blown any second.
So I make a break for it.
Pushing off the back wall to give myself a head start, I hurry down the hall as fast as someone with corroding feet can on a floor of slime. The labs on my left give me pause. I know Tatiana is in there, but right now, the best way I can help her is by bringing down this ship and getting us help. She was passed out in there the last time I saw her. There is no way in my condition that I can carry her. If they find me in there, we’re both as good as dead. No, I need to help her the only way I can. With mixed emotions, I fly past her with regret and determination. I can do this, for her, for all of the women held captive in there.
The hallway ends, and the elevator lies ahead. I know if I go up it will take me to the bridge, but I can’t go there. It’s sure to be filled with Yarek, but I have to go somewhere.
The angry roar of the Yarek erupts behind me. I’m out of time. Heaving myself forward, I run into the elevator and press random buttons, knowing my fate is now out of my hands and hoping for the best.
To my delight, the shaky contraption lowers. Sirens go off, blaring in my ears and making my anxiety spike. Now they’ll all be looking for me. I grab hold of the pendant with my Klan’s symbol around my neck and give it a squeeze, willing my mates to find me.
To help me.
The doors open, and I find myself in a darker hallway. I listen for any sounds of the three-legged alien fucks, but any noise I might have heard is drowned out by the sirens. So I run and hope for the best.
The bottoms of my feet scream in agony as the ooze continues to eat at them. I know by now my skin is all gone, muscle and bone replacing my soles. I will myself to move as tears flow freely down my face, my only acknowledgement of the pain. I cry for my feet. I cry for my life. I cry for my Harvest sister.
Yet I still keep going.
I open every closed door, looking for something, anything, that might help me.
And then I find it.
At the very end of this empty hall is a control room.
Bingo, motherfuckers.
The room looks virtually unused, like an auxiliary room the Yarek don’t think they need. A vacant chair sits in front of a makeshift control board. I don’t sit in fear of burning off my crotch—that would not be a good way to die. The buttons glare at me in a variety of colours, each daring me to touch them and see what happens.
I’ve done it before, right?
And the last time I did, I blew up one of these Yarek fucks. So what could go wrong?
Shrugging my shoulders, I press a bright yellow one. The ship rocks, throwing me to the ground. I cry out as the ooze sizzles the skin on my knees and hands.
But once again, I ignore the pain and pull myself up, smashing as many buttons as my hands can reach, desperately smacking my hands on the console. My fear and anxiety spike the longer I’m here, knowing they will be close to finding me, and my heart thunders in my ears. The ship lurches, throwing me forward into what is now a blazing screen showing the view outside the ship.
We’re still in space, the stars’ glimmering beauty a stark contrast to the disgusting prison I’m locked in. Down below, Oxious hovers, floating amongst the stars.
Knowing I have no other option, I press a large black button, the middle glowing a deep purple, and the ship shudders. Outside the window, the front of the ship appears before my eyes, like magic.
The alarms blare louder, my heart racing faster. I must have disengaged the stealth.
Fuck yes!
“Take that, motherfuckers!” I scream.
Like a kid in an elevator, I press every fucking button, and the ship responds with a groan and starts to spin out of control. I grip onto the chair as the g-force threatens to toss me against the wall. The revolutions grow faster and faster, making my hair fly out behind me as my fingers dig into the fabric. I won’t die like this, not here, thrown into a wall covered in Yarek ooze.
Not today.
My head feels heavy and anything in my stomach threatens to expel from my mouth, my fingers gripping the fabric as it starts to tear, lurching me backwards slightly as we twirl.
Faster and faster.
I won’t be able to hold on much longer.
The landscape outside is no longer discernible, all the colours blending into a greyish blob.
In the hall behind me, I can hear the chittering of the Yarek.
They’re coming for me.
I cry out as my fingers slip, and I go flying into a wall. My head crashes against it, my vision goes white, and I will my eyes to stay open, though the desire to let the blackness take me is hard to deny.
Then a boom sounds, followed by shouting in a language I don’t understand, and all movement stops. I fall to the floor, then slam into the ceiling as the ship free falls to Oxious. I won’t survive this. I think of my Klan as we race towards the ground, wishing I’d told them how I felt when I had the chance.
Wherever you are, I love you.
Then, everything goes dark.
Thirty-Eight
Cryk
“Vekk!” I shout, upturning a rock like it did me personal harm. “Where are they? We followed the vekking blip on the map! They should be here!”
I’m so vekking frustrated that I want to rip my own damn hair out, ready to fight or kill anything in my path.
Joss narrows his eyes. “Calm down, Cryk! Getting upset won’t solve anything.”
“Yeah, yeah. But it makes me feel better,” I snarl, knowing I’m being a mishan but unable to help it.
Nul is scanning the area with his tablet when we hear a noise. “You hear that?” he asks, looking around, his face turned down in confusion.
Trov nods, also gazing about, and that’s when I hear it too. “It sounds like—”
“An okkren!” I finish for him, pointing to the sky. For a brief moment, I think Shiloh could be in there, and I draw my weapons. We all watch with bated breath
as it lands next to us, but the moment the doors open, I’m taken aback.
It’s Klan Marix and their mate.
“What are you doing here?” Trov growls, though a smile plays on his lips as he greets our friends.
“Couldn’t let you kill people without getting in on the action,” Carmen retorts with a grin, swinging an oprey covered in nightshimmer.
Nul looks puzzled. “But how did you find us?”
Kronk shares a grin with Vrid before speaking. “You had your video chat on our tablet in our home, mishans. We heard your entire vekking conversation.”
Now it’s Nul’s turn to smile. “We’re glad to have you.”
“What have you found?” their silent warrior, Xal inquires, crossing his bulging arms.
“You’re looking at it,” I say, gesturing to the surrounding scenery. “They should be right vekking here, but all I have to fight are trees, grass, and rocks.”
A boom sounds, and the air around us shakes. We all still, searching for the threat. Klan Marix circles around Carmen, crouching, ready to fight. We copy them, opening our stances, ready for battle. We stand there, waiting, our eyes wide and scanning. The noise grows louder, like a hiss of a rock entering the atmosphere, the burning of it. Suddenly, a goulyg appears in the sky only a few hundred feet above us. My eyes widen in shock. We are out in the open, completely unprotected. If they start to fire on us, we’re dead. “Run!” I shout, as the ship jerks before it starts spiralling out of control and descending at a rapid rate.
We take off, running as fast as we can. Kronk scoops up their mate, carrying Carmen on his back as my Klan and I take to the sky, our wings much faster than our feet. Xal trips and skids to the ground, but Trov sees him falter and swoops down to grab him. And just in time too, as the Yarek ship crashes to the ground behind us with an almighty boom, the sound filling our ears until we can’t hear anything else.