Page 11 of Abalim

A long tray extended as her body floated over to it. Something clicked, and she was turned to face her captor. With a hiss that sounded suspiciously like laughter from the pudgy alien, she was lowered on the slab and forced to lie on her back. The minute her body touched down, several straps wrapped over her from the tip of her head to her ankles and locked her in place.

Well, shit-snacking crackers. Not again. What was she? The poster girl for alien kidnappings?

As the table slid backward into the dark cavern of the ship, she tried to scream, but the gag muffled any sound she tried to make. Something sharp pierced the side of her neck. Darkness rolled over her, and she absently heard the sliding panel click shut.

Revulsion coursed through Abalim as he and his brothers disembarked from the spaceshipElemi, on the gangster planet FiPan. Chaos, filthy and unrelenting, was their welcoming committee.

“Holy shit, what a dump.” Arakiba put his meaty fists on his trim hips and looked around with a scowl. “I bet this place didn’t look any better before it fell apart.”

Asmodel nodded. “Agreed.” He crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes at the dilapidated buildings on the outskirts of the small town.

The structures were only one- or two-stories high and didn’t appear to have much support. Broken doors, windows, and roofs weren’t quite abandoned since several figures hid in doorways or peeked out cracked windows as they walked by.

Abalim wrinkled his nose at the combination of stinging sharp odors. The vile smell of feces mixed with rotting food left a bad taste in his mouth. He stepped on small debris and pebbles, crunching as he walked alongside a shallow ribbon of dubious liquid running down the middle of the cobbled road.

Small bits of trash swirled in the air, mixing with wispy dust devils.

“Do you think that’s where we should go?” Azazel pointed at a nondescript building that had a wide doorway permanently open.

Inside and out were various types of robots and droids, either lying broken on the ground or frozen in mid-action. Most were female shaped with bright metallic neon skin in various shades, complete with a set of three breasts and barely there short skirts in transparent silky fabric.

“Jeez, I wonder what these babies did when they were wake.” Arakiba snorted. He chuckled as he passed a model in eye-burning metallic pink.

“I think they were called sexbots by the prior owner, the Dred Pirate Maynwaring.” JR15 helpfully provided to Abalim from his favorite perch on Abalim’s shoulder. “They were once programmed to give sexual pleasure to whomever paid the pirate for their services. They were also spies or thieves if the need arose. I would recommend we don’t activate any of them.”

Abalim humphed his agreement. “Be sure to share that information with your brothers.” He eyed Arakiba, bending over to examine the pink droid. “Especially him.”

He watched as each JR droid on his brothers’ shoulders vibrated as JR15 communicated with them.

When Arakiba didn’t move, he walked over to him. “Come on, leave the damn thing alone. I’m sure JR12 told you how dangerous they were.”

“Maybe when everything is done, I’ll come back and grab one of these.” He fingered the robot's bald head. “I bet I can activate it.”

“Holy Goddess, Arakiba. Don’t you think about anything but your libido?” Asmodel groused as he fist-bumped his kneeling brother and pushed him onto his ass. “We don’t have time for this bullshit.”

Arakiba laughed and stood, brushing off the seat of his brown leather pants. With one last glance at the prone droid, he followed them to the open archway. He whispered something to the gold-and-silver JR on his shoulder.

The little bot did a dance and waved his spindly forelegs before wiggling his bulbous body in what looked suspiciously like joy.

Abablim resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Keeping Arakiba focused had always been a challenge. Now that they were no longer slaves to the Akurns, the tantalizing taste of freedom made the task harder than ever. And his robotic companion was of little help. Where JR15 was shy and reserved, Arakiba’s bot was part daredevil and part mischief-maker, eager to try new things.

“Keep an open communication between you and JR12,” Abalim whispered to JR15. “If they even so much as hint they’re going to veer away from what we have to do, let me know.”

“Yes, Mister Abalim, sir.”

Satisfied JR15 would help keep an eye on Abalim’s mischievous brother, he followed his other brothers to the only semi-fortified looking building in the small square. He had to admit, even in its heyday, it probably didn’t look much better.

“Are you sure this is where that human Althea said she was held prisoner?” Azazel narrowed his pecan-brown eyes. “I can’t imagine them surviving in all this disarray.”

They’d passed through the open arch and proceeded into what used to be some kind of lobby. All the furniture had either been smashed or stolen, leaving a mostly bare room.

“Which way?” Asmodel stopped, his head swiveling from right to left.

“You two go that way.” Abalim pointed to the right. “Azazel and I’ll go this way.” He thumbed to the left and gave Arakiba and Asmodel a stern warning. “If you find anything, have your JR bots tell ours immediately.”

Arakiba waved his concerns away and trotted ahead of Asmodel. “Come on, bro. Let’s see what we can find.”

Asmodel frowned as he followed his brother.

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