Chapter 1
On the other side of the sterile lab, a familiar alien huffs out a frustrated breath. “You will be obedient today, female. The Commander will be stopping by with his hound.” Jurdaal, my Buuvani master and the lead scientist of this lab, does not even look up from his screens to address me. His rough, guttural language no longer sounds foreign to my ears after spending the last year under his command.
Female this. Female that. I roll my eyes behind his back.
“I will be a perfect little pet while our dear Commander is here.” My sarcasm is not completely lost on the alien, as he levels a stern look with those beady, milky little eyes. Our mutual distaste for the pirate commander is at least one of the few things the mad scientist and I agree on, even if he disapproves when I speak my mind. After all, my big mouth is what got me placed in this lab in the first place.
Literally, in an attempted escape, I managed to not only bite the brute’s hand and draw blood but also claw at his eye before being knocked out. As punishment, I was given to Juurdal. Something about not giving me the satisfaction of the death I clearly craved.
Clicking the four protruding tusks that jut from his mouth, Juurdal twitches his tiny pointed ears. “A muzzled she-beast is more accurate.” He mumbles to himself loud enough that I can hear him. “Have you eaten today, female? Your kind are always less volatile after consuming sustenance.”
Oh, if only I could punch that porcine face. Males will be males no matter the species. I know full well he is being serious, and it is not some backhanded joke; he simply accepts that people, humans especially, are more compliant with a full belly. It doesn’t make it any less annoying, though.
Without answering him, I turn my attention back to cleaning the equipment laid out before me. Various tools that benefit small fingers and sharp eyes to get into all the nooks and crannies that a simple sanitation cycle won’t completely reach. I gently scrape along a seam with a needle-like tool, removing the tiny bits of dried organic matter. Falling into a comfortable silence, I almost miss the slight shifting of fabric alerting me to my master’s movement.
I glance at the bulky alien in my peripheral vision as he stands from his desk, adjusting the teal blue medic uniform with all four of his bulky arms. “I am reassigning you to the kennels for the rest of the shift.” My stomach flips, and I almost drop the tool I am holding. Gently setting it down, I place my now shaking hands in my lap.
“I have given you my word, I will be obedient, Master Juurdal.” I adjust my tone, hiding the sudden flare of uncertainty building in my chest. I usually enjoy my time in the kennels, but soon the Commander’s personal hound will be added to the mix, and those beasts are one of the few things that truly terrify me. Usually, when he comes by, Jurdaal will send me on errands.
“Then do as you are told, female.” He grunts, stopping next to my workspace to tower over me. The buuvan are a huge alien race, standing easily eight feet tall and built for war.
I open my mouth to ask him to reconsider, but his scowl has me snapping it shut just as fast. Juurdal may treat me better than another of his kind would, but it does not change the fact that I am still his skitih, his slave, and he expects my obedience. He has the freedom to do what he pleases with me, so I need to stay in his good graces.
I swallow my pride and tilt my head down to the floor in submission. “Yes, Master.”
After cleaning up my workstation, I head towards the back of the lab where the beasts are held. The secure door glides open with barely a groan, and the familiar scent of beasts and alien creatures sweeps over me. It is not a pleasant smell, but a familiar one. I was kept in one of these kennels for what I would guess was three months before Jurdal let me out and trained me to do my job.
The room always has a low hum of noise - mostly the sounds of various creatures shifting in their cages, and the occasional yip or hiss. Eyeing the far side of the room where the terrifying beasts the buuvan use to track down their prey are kept, I gather my supplies to start my duties.
It doesn’t take long for the tapping to start up. Tap. Tap tap. Taptaptaptap. A small smile twitches the corner of my mouth. Digging into my apron, I pull out half my daily ration bar. The grey block of dense nutritional paste tastes of sweat and cardboard, and is the only thing we skitih are given to eat. Even after a year, I can barely stomach the stuff, unlike my eager friend here.
A round, glassy eye and thick black beak peer at me sideways from a low kennel. The creature’s long neck stretches from the bars of its cage. “Hello, Henry. Sorry, I only have half a bar today.” Making quick work of crumbling the rest of the pathetic excuse for food into large bits, I begin to drop them into the thing’s open beak. The space chicken has been one of the few constants here in the office, having been a resident before the Buuvan abducted me. I call it a space chicken, but only because Juurdal has not told me what it is or what it is for. The colorful creature is covered in odd prickly hair instead of feathers, but it reminds me of a goofy bird puppet.
We were not always friends. Henry is how I learned that Buuvan possesses the technology to reattach limbs. Since I secretly started sharing my ration bar with it, much to Juurdal’s continued confusion, the creature has become quite fond of me. If I ever get out of here, the chicken is coming with me.
Once satisfied, the creature rests its head on the floor, still poking between the bars of its cage as I continue my cleaning duties. “Since we went over the Crimson Planet Fellowship last time, I thought it would be a palate cleanser to talk about another series, The Cloud Seeders. You think it will be this serious and bleak book about living in a desert, but it is quite fun and lighthearted.” I had reviewed both books multiple times, but Henry never seems to mind.
Avoiding the back cages, I get lost in kennel duty. On my knees, I scrub the inside of a cage, cursing the commander under my breath for getting me assigned in here for the rest of the day. I can even imagine the choking scent of the infuriating male surrounding me again. All Buuvan carry a terrible scent of burning rubber and trash - as if to let all those who encounter them know that they bring destruction wherever they go. But the Commander, I swear, carries the rancid scent of death on him.
When I was a child, humanity had first contact with the Buuvan and learned we were not alone amongst the stars. Everyone thought we could learn from them. We were wrong and quickly learned it might have been better if we had been alone. The violent race of aliens only knows how to steal and destroy, having zero issues with forcing those they capture into slavery.
Sitting up to inspect my work, every hair on my body suddenly stands on end.
BOOM. A horrible metallic bang echoes all around, a sharp pain exploding through my head as it makes contact with the metal ceiling. My heart racing, I spin and press my back into the corner of the cage, the spots in my vision still obscuring whatever could have made that terrible noise.
His sharp musky stench is as unmistakable as his barking laugh that erupts from the Buuvan outside—the Commander. Gritting my teeth, my fear is overtaken by rage. Behave Rowan. He is looking for a reaction.
“Commander, please refrain from damaging my kennels and distressing my subjects,” Jurdal calls through the door from the central lab with a bored tone.
The Captain’s muggy, rancid breath blows into my small temporary prison. The creature still bears the scar of my nails across his right eye, the milky white now clouded with a grey film. His tusks are longer and sharper than Juudal’s, stained yellow and brown.
“Not going to sing for me today, little yifiti? Did Juurdal finally tame the feral female?” The skin around the Commander’s eyes wrinkles slightly in amusement before standing to his full height. “If she is finally tame, maybe I can take her off your hands.” The lurid gaze he sweeps over me sends shivers down my spine.
With the alien no longer blocking the entire opening of my cage, I spot Juurdal still in the main lab, examining the Commander’s terrifying hound on the exam table.
“Like the hounds, Commander, if you continue to provoke her, she will lash out. I would rather not have to treat any more unexplained injuries.” The medic is cool as a cryo-frozen cucumber, but it still elicits an angry scowl from the commander, successfully pulling his attention away from me. The two quip back and forth a bit before the warrior joins the other buuvan in the central lab. Slumping against the back of the cage in relief, I take slow breaths to regain my composure.
Head pounding, I gingerly tap the swelling bump on the top of my head. Wet. Shit, I’m bleeding. I bite my lower lip to keep my thoughts away from the pulsing pain and decide to wait until I can point it out to Jurdal after his meeting. A little bit won’t be an issue, but last time I neglected to tell him of an accidental injury, I had gotten a nasty infection.
I rattle the cage door, but it is secure, my key card out of reach on the floor. Great. Locked in, again. Slumping back and settling in to await my release, I keep my eyes on the two aliens who were hopefully wrapping up whatever appointment they had. The hairless four-legged monster leaps from the table, the lead exchanging hands from Juurdal to the Commander. The hound easily stands at the elbow of her eight-foot-tall master. I strain to hear what they are saying, as the grunting guttural language is easy enough to eavesdrop from this distance.
“It is too dangerous to bring to the main fleet. The other warlords…” Juurdal turns his back to the open door, further muffling the conversation but motioning to the containers sitting on the table nearby. The cylinders I was forbidden from even getting near. His secret project.
“You don’t have a choice, Doc. It will be tested, and soon. We are already on course to meet with the ship that will deploy the test.” The Commander huffs, running his hand along the spine of the beast at his side.
A low hiss forces my attention to the hound itself next to him, realising the beast’s rapt attention is trained on me, causing all other sounds to fade into the background. The small spines scattered along its thick neck stand on end, a low rumble slicing through my heart as it opens its hinged jaw. All six pupilless eyes bore into me. Trapped in the kennel, I cannot make any sort of escape - easy prey already cornered for the hungry beast.
I didn’t do anything! Look away! My heart skips a beat before racing towards oblivion. A deep, primal fear ices over any annoyance I hold toward the beast’s master. Hurry up and leave!
“This will turn the tide.” The Commander booms from across the room, but I can no longer focus on what they are saying. A single step forward by the hound breaks my paralysis. I shrink into the corner to try and flatten myself to get out of its line of sight—wrong choice. A disgruntled shriek echoes from the other room before the screeching of claws rending metal pierces my ears. A scream tears from my throat, and I crush my eyes closed to watch the open maw full of needle-like teeth biting into the bars. The metal bends and creaks as hundreds of pounds of death rip at the cage to get inside.
This is how it ends, eaten by that jerk’s ugly dog. Chaos erupts around us as every caged creature in the tiny office screams and hisses. The Buuvan are yelling, things are breaking, and a whirlwind of sound and vibration echoes through the room. As fast as it had started, everything dropped into a dead silence.
Am I dead?
“It is unconscious, and it doesn’t look like any real damage was done.” A breathless Juurdal calls from somewhere in the room, his voice distant, but he is the only thing holding me to this plane of existence. The Commander responds in turn with a series of curses. I force my eyes open slowly as the two continue back and forth while dragging what appears to be the hound to the back empty kennel.
The room is a disaster. The normally organized shelves across from the kennels have had their contents strewn across the room. Broken containers litter the floor. From what I can see, deep claw marks mar the floor and kennel. The door that once kept the beast at bay can no longer be locked after being crushed in the center. The evidence of its reach inside is etched into the metal floor of my cage, missing me by a hair.
Adrenaline still pumping through my body, I considered running for a split second. I could push the door open, hop down, and hide. But if caught, it could mean losing all the privileges I have worked for…
Slowly reaching for the door, doubt starts to flood my thoughts. You cannot get off the ship. You do not even know if there are escape pods. What if they send that thing after you? Each thought dragged me deeper into the still-raging ball of anxiety.
“She will be ready in three shifts. It is not my fault the beast lacks discipline.” Juurdal’s voice pulls me back to the present as I sink into the safe corner of the kennel. The Commander growls something out as the two aliens emerge from the back holding cell.
“I need my hound for the handoff to keep those imperial freaks on their toes. Get her up by the next shift.” The commander pushes past Jurdal and pauses only to give me a quick, seething glare before stomping from the room.
Despite the Commander’s exit, tension hangs heavy in the air. My heart is starting to slow, but my mind is still on high alert. The Buuvan medic seems more exhausted than usual from my vantage point. After a few minutes of checking various systems and electronics, he finally returns to the damaged cage to crouch down and look me over.
Running his calloused upper right hand over his bald head, the medic grunts to acknowledge my presence. “Come here, female.” Still wired, I have to force myself not to obey mindlessly. I shake my head no, staying in my corner. It was safe here.
Silently, he swings the damaged door open and reaches for my feet. I tuck them under me, trying to be as small as possible. I just needed a moment, that is all. The sharp pain at the top of my head causes me to wince when I adjust away from his next grab.
“You are not in trouble. Do not fight me.” His voice is quiet, and for a moment, I could swear I saw a flash of pity on his face. Could Buuvan feel pity? Taking advantage of my momentary hesitation, Juurdal’s fist latches onto my entire calf, swiftly yanking me forward and throwing me onto my back from the force. Hissing through my teeth, I grab my head but can’t find the energy to continue fighting. Thankfully, his grip is not crushing, only firm.
Scooping me up like an injured animal, he places me on the same exam table the hound had been on only a few minutes ago. With my legs dangling over the ledge, he holds onto my right thigh, pinning me in place while still allowing me to sit up. Taking deep breaths, I tried to calm myself.
He just wants to check my injuries. He isn’t cruel; he always helps when I am hurt. Satisfied I was no longer struggling, the Buuvan quickly takes vitals and cleans the split skin on my head. With a practiced hand, he opens, labels, and presses a sample vial to my free thigh without looking. Once full, he leans toward his desk and inserts the vial into the weird machine built into the wall. Normally, getting stuck had me in flight mode, but my brain is already too busy with everything else to care about a little blood sample.
“This one is for the pain.” He holds up another device, pressing it to my neck before I can flinch away. The soft hiss barely registers in my mind before the wave of relief washes over me.
“That works fast,” Is all I can get out, but the words feel slurred and gummy. Two gloved hands slide under me, lifting and laying my limp body on its side, the smudgy face of the medic looking down at me.
When the hands lift me again, the world is painted in red. My stomach lurches as I am surrounded by the smell of burning worlds and screaming sirens. Too many hands surround me as I am swallowed into a smaller cage, curled onto the cold metal with only a thin blanket. From the smeared visions flying past the bars of the door, we pass through halls and the rushing bodies of other Buuvan.
Where are we going? My voice cracks when I realize I spoke out loud. “My shuttle. Just rest.” Juurda’s last grumbled words are all I hear before the darkness swallows me again, slipping into a strange world of dagger-filled mouths, flaming yellow eyes scorching my soul, and the unmistakable sound of death tearing through metal.
