Page 26 of Kidnapped By the Alien Chieftain

It is no surprise, really, given the constant warfare and chaos that grips this station. It is clear that Javik takes his security seriously. We continue our way deeper into the stronghold.

The décor is plain and functional, with simple stone pillars and columns interspersed with polished metal tables and chairs. This is a place of business, not pleasure.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the guard stops in front of a heavy door at the back of the hall.

As we enter the room, there is a sense of tension in the air, like the crackle of static electricity before a storm.

In the center of the room sits a massive Crongarian male, his feet up on a table, his attention focused intently on a console before him. But as he catches sight of us, he stumbles out of his chair in surprise.

With a bulky body covered in muscle, a bestial face brimming with razor-sharp teeth, and a savage horn protruding from the front of his skull, he is the very picture of his species’ fearsome reputation.

His large figure, decked out in the Crimson Beast’s clothes and armor, only enhances his already-intimidating presence. It’s clear he is used to commanding respect and fear from those around him.

He seems taken aback by our appearance, his eyes widening at the sight of the dried blood that coats our robes.

“You’re getting blood all over my carpets!” he exclaims in a panic. I couldn’t care less about the absurdity of his concern.

I remain standing on his precious carpets and recount the attack by the Osiron gang and the death of their leader.

Javik’s eyes light up at the news, and he claps his massive, clawed hands in joy. “Brilliant news, friend, brilliant. Old Sawface finally gone,” he exclaims, clearly thrilled by the prospect of having a rival gang leader eliminated.

“You’ve just unknowingly done me a great favor, and for that, I’m going to be honest with you,” Javik says, his tone conspiratorial. “I saw your ship scan, and I know the tough position you’re in. But I can offer you two pounds of Elerium and a cool 50 thousand credits, more than enough to get your hull repaired if you help me with a little problem.”

“The Psykes have already agreed to do the repairs,” I interject.

Javik’s face twists with disdain. “The Psykes! Oh, friend, you’re playing with hot plasma there.” He hisses between his sharp teeth. “But even still, you need the Elerium, and those credits could buy anything, even a whole new set of robes,” he adds, nodding towards my group’s ragged and blood-soaked attire.

“What’s the job?” I ask, keeping my tone neutral.

“You’re a male of few words,” Javik observes with a wry smile. “But most importantly, you can definitely handle yourselves. It’s clear to see.”

Javik paces behind his desk, his expression thoughtful. “The Whores Orphans attacked a Nebian vessel some days ago. And somehow subdued them, if you can believe it. A Nebian ship! They looted the ship before it self-destructed and now have some of the most advanced tech in the entire universe.”

Javik speaks in a rush, almost tripping over his own words. “And then, as if by divine providence, look who arrives at my station - none other than Klendathians. You and your masters have been at war with the Nebians for some time now, so whoknows better than you about how to deal with their tech? I want you to retrieve whatever they have and bring it back here.”

Nebian tech?To think that some Terminus Exile Station gang bangers took out a Nebian vessel is truly shocking. If they have recovered any working Nebian battlesuits, we’ll be in deep trouble without our full war gear. But we don’t have the luxury of time. We need that Elerium and we need it fast. I don’t want to put Pebbles in any more danger by delaying here. I nod. There is no other choice. “We’ll do it. But we’ll need any intel you have on the Whores Orphans.”

Javik grins, clearly pleased with himself. “Excellent. I’ll have my people get you everything you need. Just remember, time is of the essence. The longer you wait, the more likely it is that the tech will be sold and lost to me.”

Chapter 13

Roxanne

Truth

Irush through thedark passageways of the ship, my mind ablaze with thoughts after my intense conversation with Carndor on the bridge. I’m determined to unravel the truth, so I make a beeline for Astraxius’ Lab. Despite his haughty demeanor, there is something about him which makes me believe he is a person I can confide in. But as I march towards his lab, doubts creep into my mind.What if all the Klendathians are heartless murderers, devoid of any empathy or compassion? Even Krogoth… am I wrong to trust him?Carndor’s words linger in my head, stoking the flames of my doubts. The Klendathians are fierce warriors, ready to kill and conquer at a moment’s notice, but the cold, ruthless demeanor Carndor displayed still shook me to the core. I need to find answers.

As I reach the lab, the door whooshes open, greeting me with a blinding burst of light. Panting heavily, I stumble into the room, my eyes scanning the bright laboratory for any sign of Astraxius. And there he is, sitting in his usual spot, hunched over his console with a steaming mug in his hand. Despite his drowsy appearance, the sight of the elderly white-haired Klendathian fills me with relief. His presence is like a beacon of familiarity in this sea of uncertainty, a balm for my frayed nerves.

Astraxius’ eyes widen in surprise as I burst into the lab. His expression quickly morphs into one of concern as he takes in my disheveled appearance. With a comforting gesture, he moves towards me, his arms outstretched to offer solace.

“Gods, Rocks, what’s happened? Is the ship under attack?” His voice is heavy with worry as he checks his wrist console for any signs of danger.

I pause for a moment, my breath ragged as I struggled to collect my thoughts. “No,” I gasp. “It’s Carndor. He said some…terrifying things to me. I needed to get away from him.”

Astraxius’ brow furrows in confusion. “What did he say, exactly?”

I recount the chilling words which had left me shaken to my core, feeling a shiver run down my spine as I relived the moment. “He said he has no memory of being a child, that he relishes the fear in the eyes of the helpless as he slaughtered them,” I murmur, my voice barely above a whisper. “The maniacal gleam in his eyes… It was like some kind of demon possessed him. I was afraid that in his madness he could attack me.”

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