Defying The Alliance (Novokin Alliance Invasion 1) Page 3

  The three reptilian guards hefted large plasma rifles, and carried heavy serrated scimitars that must have weighed more than me swung from thick leather belts. Seemed like overkill to me what with their five inch long talons. They were big sheeteks with huge barrel chests, humongous watermelon-sized arms and thick, sinewy tails that heralded sharp bumps cascading down the top. Their bodies were covered by thick, smooth, dark gray skin and dark patches of thick green scales grew along their bony spines. Sharp, yellow, grime-filled teeth lined long prickly snouts extended out from their flat, ugly faces. They reminded me of pre-space travel Terran animals, now extinct, known as crocodiles. Nasty things.

  The guard toward the middle of the line turned sideways and...

  "Holy skeck..." I muttered out loud before clasping my mouth shut. I had miscounted. There were 13 slaves. Chained in the middle of the line of captives was a massive humanoid the likes of which I had never seen before. At first glance I thought he was a bulkhead the middle guard was leaning on. He had to be at least 6'8", but it was hard to tell the way he hung his head down. He was naked from the waist up, his big chiseled chest stretched into wide broad shoulders expanding southward into two hugely muscular arms. Deep scars darkened the golden skin of his chest while a larger, fresher wound reached over the top of his shoulders, hinting at further wounds on his back.

  I winced at the impossible pain I knew a laser whip could inflict. I'd never seen someone stay conscious for more than two hits from the illegal weapon. This man had been beaten over and over again while in chains, not being able to defend for himself. I bristled at the heart-wrenching images racing through my mind of this gorgeous alien being tortured. The seething of my soul was slowly tempered as my gaze moved up his stunning body. Thick tufts of unruly, golden-brown hair edged those chiseled shoulders lending him an air of a wild animal. A few stray gold locks draped over a pair of furious, smoldering hot, hazel green eyes. My heart skipped a beat or two. A warm, tingling sensation overcame parts of my body that had been engaged in their own Cold War since the beginning of the Novokin invasion. Gold, silky fur slid down the center of his chest past the rippling muscles of his abdomen going down into his... My eyes were held hostage by the alluring bulge in the loincloth between his well-defined, athletic thighs. My mouth dried up. Seemingly, all the juices in my body were headed in a single direction, south. My body responded to this male like the Terran Tulupian daisies do to the morning sunlight. He was a beautiful male specimen. Broken from the looks of him, but beautiful.

  What on the seventh misery of Galutian’s fifth moon, Caspia? The man is a frigging slave. A slave for prak's sake. And all I could think of were his strong, golden arms wrapped around me, his luscious, red lips kissing mine, his hard, throbbing...aaAAArgh!

  I shook my head trying to refocus to the task at hand. In my whole career as a Protectorate officer, I’ve never allowed myself to be distracted by a male like this before. Never. Especially while on a mission. I was losing my edge. A surge of panic flooded my chest. Can’t be distracted now. Too many people’s lives depended on me. People I'd sworn to protect.

  Then, as an answer to my pathetic soliloquy, images of the carnage that I witnessed over the last three years during the time myself and my crew ran for our lives flashed before my eyes. It was the ultimate anti-aphrodisiac, and just what I needed. Reality’s cold shower washed over my libido, giving it perspective.

  Ready and focused, at least that’s what I told myself. I watched and waited. The middle guard who also seemed to be in charge left the group, I presumed to make arrangements with prospective buyers in the main hall. That left only two guards, the big ugly one up front and his little brother at the back of the line.

  Aside from the tall, golden, gorgeous alien, I saw two Terrans in the group, one middle-aged male and one dirty, young female right in front. Three Oskevites, two Narndidites and the rest were either covered in rags or so caked in grime that I couldn't discern their species. Except for the young Floturan who couldn't have been more than a child. She was right behind the young Terran woman. Her light green face streaked with deep, dark, thick green tears that stained her innocent face. No wonder Jaxx flew off the handle before.

  I ducked behind a pylon to catch my breath and check in with my team. I hoped to the powers that guide, Jaxx was holding it together. Even more, I hoped they had figured a way out of here if things went south. I was just about to tap my communication piece to open the call –.

  “Aaaa!” a woman’s scream startled me. Copious amounts of adrenaline were dumped into my system.

  “I’ll show you dirty bii-satch,"another harsh voice growled.

  I peered around the pylon I was using for cover, toward the loud commotion. The big, hulking, one-eyed, lizard guard at the front of the line had jerked up the chain connected to the young Terran woman's manacled wrists. Hopelessly outweighed and outclassed, she swung in the air like a fish on a hook. His gravelly laugh raked my ears before he dumped her scrawny frame hard on the metal floor. The little slip of a girl raised her chin and shot daggers at him from her badly bruised green eyes.

  Oh, boy! Was I peeved beyond all peevedness. A fierce need to protect this young Terran overrode my every sense. I felt the veins in my head ready to pop as blood rushed tunneling my vision. My feet took a wide stance, my shoulders raised, my arm muscles tensed and I shifted my body forward ready to pounce.

  It was right then the girl’s foot landed a solid kick on the underside of the massive reptilian's distended jaw. More enraged than hurt he shook her like a ragdoll before releasing the chain and letting her drop once more bonelessly to the floor.

  The reptile man bellowed, "I warned you before stupid girl! But don't you worry, I will enjoy every moment of this." His hand went to something on his waist, a short black cylinder. That certainly seemed like an ineffective weapon. He made a show of clicking something on it and a long bundle of wires grew out of its top. Then he pressed another button and the wires began to crackle with blue energy.

  Skeck of all skecks! I felt my feet moving even before my brain had a chance to register what it was seeing. A laser whip.

  Chapter 5

  Trex stifled the growl building in his chest when he looked down at the manacles around his wrists. A long, heavy chain fastened his manacles to the metal collar shackled around the small Avanarian female slave’s neck in front of him. In similar fashion, the collar around his neck was chained to the manacled wrists of the slave behind him.

  Only his iron wrought determination forged in his personal war against an unspeakable evil allowed Trex to keep his head bowed and his anger subdued. It was not an easy feat. Since allowing himself to be captured, a few weeks ago and brought into slavery -another travesty fostered under the tender auspices of Novokin Alliance rule- he had borne witness to more unspeakable atrocities. The journey from his quadrant of space to this place had been exhausting. The food sparse, the beatings many and the stench of unwashed bodies nauseating.

  Being paraded through this alien space station, chained, barefoot and practically naked, he faced the covert stares of many a free citizen purposefully engrossed in their daily routine. It wasn't their disgust or their perverse looks that made his blood boil, but their pity. Their pity made it hard for him to mask the hatred that was in his heart, and the fury he would reign down upon he of whom he had sworn an oath of blood vengeance.

  The slave caravan stopped with an abrupt jerk of the chains, interrupting his musings. Trex struggled to keep himself from crashing into the small Avanarian woman in front of him and he winced as his neck’s shackle was yanked violently backwards when the Narnidite male attached behind him collapsed to the ground. Malnourishment and his share of the daily beatings finally caught up to the Narnidite. He held no ill will to the scraggy older male who had inadvertently choked him. Weak as he was, his days were numbered. The thought weighed heavily on Trex’s shoulders. His heart was tormented and saddened. He liked the old male. He merely stooped his posture t
o ease the pressure on the chain connected to his neck. Using this down time to study his surroundings.

  They were at what he thought must be the space station’s promenade, or at least where he assumed most business took place. A constant stream of customers were moving in and out of the various shops arrayed in circular, honeycomb patterns connected by long, well-lit hallways was dizzying. There were shops for everything and everybody. From fancy women's attire to dried meats and what passed for precious stones in this sector of space. Cameras hovered over the entrance of each hallway recording the shoppers’ every movement. Even amongst the chaos his keen eye caught Novokin guards covertly stationed in pairs along the upper walkways.

  He searched the crowd for familiar species. Some he recognized from his time on the slave ship. Others seemed as fanciful as the images of the wild worlds often featured in Space Geographic. He’d never admit it to his fellow soldiers, as a fierce warrior of the now extinct Othmarvian Royal guard holding the rank of Esmardlan or exalted commander, but reading was one of his favorite leisure activities. His soul ached to see his people. He hadn't seen another of his kind for several months, not that he had expected to. There was none left. He was the last of his kind. And the last of royal blood. How ironic. Being 16th in line for the throne, there was no chance of him ever ascending to the crown, not that he even cared about such matters. The cry of the battlefield drummed in his warrior’s heart. Diplomacy and bureaucracy rarely graced his disposition. However it was customary to have at least one member in line for the throne off world at all times. This forced vacation spared him from sharing the same fate as his people.

  The majority of the species hastily traversing the promenade were foreign and somewhat strange to him. Even stranger than those he was accustomed to. A large blue semi transparent gelatinous creature walked together with a huddled old brownish humanoid sporting a face as wrinkled as a charchave nut. A reddish creature that seemed to be made of intertwined vines hurried past the slave line, while three women who shared the same skin as the young girl near the front of the line gawked with fear. Either at him or at the entirety of the scene itself, he could not be certain.

  It was a hodgepodge of sentient life forms who seemed to share two things, beside the need for commerce. They all had that scurry to their step and nervous eyes that spoke of a Novokin Alliance presence. A flutter of hope touched his spirit. Could his quarry be here?

  Across the main thoroughfare he saw three Daunietes scrutinizing the caravan. Though they had no home world in his sector, he had seen his share of this despicable creature. They were ruthless, conniving and dishonorable creatures, selling biological weaponry to the highest bidder. Warmongers, always in the shadow of an emerging conflict, but decidedly absent in the carnage. On top of it all, they were speciests. Whenever one of them left their home world or more precisely their home atmosphere, they did so only in protective gear and breathing masks. They refused to share the air with what they considered inferior species, which apparently included every sentient life form in the galaxy but them.

  He bristled, the muscles in his arms tightened, his hands folded into fists... But only for a moment, as the awareness of his purpose kept him in check -albeit didn’t quell his rage- and he forcefully slumped his shoulders back down. If the Daunietes were looking for slaves it was for suicide work. He'd have to make sure he didn't end up with them. This most likely would mean a demonstration of strength and a limited show of resistance on his part, certain to be followed by disciplinary action from the lead Lizardian.

  Shouting at the front of the line caught his attention. He suspected it had something to do with the Terran girl the slavers had picked up less than a week ago. He liked her, she was kind. He bore witness to more than one occasion when she shared her food with the older, sick Oskevite female. She also kept the Floturan child by the hem of her skirt. Tending to her like she was her own. Protecting her against the abuse of the guards, placing her own body between the beating stick of the guards and the child. The thought pulled his lips into a smile. It was rare he witnessed such acts of compassion and strength from someone in her predicament, let alone to a different species. Was it just her or was such honorable behavior part of all Terran people’s make up? Since this sector of space was largely populated by Terrans, he had a feeling he soon would find out. Either way it was admirable, if not suicidal.

  The Lizardian with one missing eye that led them onto the Promenade and had been left to guard the front of the slave line, he must have pushed the Terran girl to the ground. He screamed something at her. Trex didn't catch what he said. When his emotions ran high, his people's particular genetics interfered with the nanocircuitry of the universal translating chip the slavers had embedded in his skull, a standard practice in Novokin space. Trex's blood boiled as the one-eyed monster pulled out his electrowhip. A deep rumble shook the massive Othmarvian’s chest. The jagged metal spikes of that infuriating whip had colored Trex's back many times during the long, abusive journey here. His fists tightened involuntarily straining against the manacles around his wrists. If he wasn't careful, he'd accidentally break his bonds. His jaw shook with silent rage.

  Then the most curious of things happened. One of the Daunietes who had been watching their group intently stepped in between the girl and the irate Lizardian. It seemed the Dauniete wanted to haggle for her. Another small piece of his heart cracked at the thought of her being sold to such a dishonorable species.

  The Lizardian brute gestured to the rest of the slaves in the line behind the Terran girl but the Dauniete shook his head and pointed vehemently at her. He waved what must pass for currency in this quadrant in front of the reptilian's face.

  The foul creature snorted. "Why? I have plenty more. Look at this line of fine specimens. Many, much stronger for whatever you need."

  The Dauniete said something. Trex’s translator was still malfunctioning, or had never been keyed in to the Dauniete language. The Lizardian dropped his striking arm and pointed toward other slaves in the line again. "I understand good sir, but I have more that are also just as small."

  Trex was keenly aware that if she wasn’t sold today, she would definitely die under the Lizardian’s hand.

  The haggling continued between the guard and the Dauniete and Trex watched as the Terran girl rose to her feet in defiance to her reptilian abuser. The guard raised a scaled eyeridge, amused by the girl’s futile act of opposition. His yellow, reptilian, sinister eyes remained locked on her as he hissed at the Dauniete, "This girl isn't being sold here today. I have other plans for her.” He flicked a long, skinny, black, bifurcated tongue out the corner of his toothy snout. Averting his attention back to the potential customer he continued, “Anyway I'm going to enjoy breaking this one before I get rid of her. So if you want a slave today you better pick another one." He then turned his back on the shorter than usual Dauniete captain and charged his whip.

  Trex's fury threatened to boil over. Already small cracks spiderwebbed the steel around his wrists. Yet, he couldn’t reveal himself. He had to steel his heart. He had to stay true to his mission. To avenge his people. He at least owed them that.

  The reptilian scum flailed the electro-whip backwards to gather momentum and as he did, the electrically charged filaments passed within millimeters of the Dauniete. For the briefest of seconds the Dauniete's face flickered, revealing the image of a woman. A Terran woman. A very beautiful Terran woman.

  Every shield Trex had built since he discovered his lifeless world, cracked.

  The whip, now mid swing held the promise of death should it find purchase on the soft skin of the Terran slave girl. Blinding rage shook Trex’s body. His jaw clenched painfully. Gold-hued blood spilled to the ground as his nails dug deep in his fisted hands. He saw himself jumping the foul monster, his hands tightly wrapped around the Lizardian’s neck, as he slowly vanquished the life out of him, relishing every second. Making him pay for the death and destruction his pitiful existence has caused so many. Make
him-.

  PHISHZeeew! Nanoseconds later, the green scaled arm holding the flesh hungry whip was gone, simply vaporized.

  Chapter 6

  I struggled to hear the com link over the howls of the one-eyed and as of one minute ago, one-armed reptilian guard. A fitting gift from yours truly. Finally Jaxx's voice broke through. "Captain, I thought you said something about not drawing attention to ourselves?”

  Was this really the appropriate time for snark? "Shut it J, kind of busy right now." I fired two shots at an approaching Novokin guard, relieving him of his knee. "What have you got for me by the way of exit strategies?"

  Jaxx turned all business. "Well Captain, based on your position, at your 5 o'clock, there's another hallway, like the one you're in. It extends for at least 2 clicks. There's a service access tunnel point at your 9 o'clock, and of course in front of you, where all the security guards are coming in is the main route back to the ship." Decorum dictated that it was not okay to slap a pregnant man, but when this was over I was at least going to make fun of how much weight he put on.

  "Thanks for that one J. What can you give me by way of distraction?"

  "Your best bet Captain is to take out one of the power conduit junctions. They're designated by three orange parallel stripes on any of the panels you see running overhead. Usually every 10th panel. Big boom. However, the safety overrides on a station like this should keep it from becoming a cascading explosion. So individual big booms, with minimal loss to structural integrity or injury to innocent bystanders."

  I ducked down behind the now whimpering, minus-one-arm, reptilian guard as plasma beams burned through the air where I stood, a mere moment ago. I fired at a gray plate with the three orange parallel stripes above their heads. The blast wasn't as big as I would've liked but the resulting concussion knocked both of the Novokin guards firing at me out cold. I'd have to remember to tell Jaxx how beautiful he looked today. I radioed him again. "What have you got for me strategy-wise?"