Page 13 of The Commander

“Home is a bunch of people escaping the harassment from the pig, and there’s no food or game there.”

“Give me a timeline of your trap making and collecting.” Her eyes moved in her head as if she were thinking, counting.

“We were kicked out of Dalewood,” she began.

“Who is we?”

“Brenda and me.”

“Who is this ‘Brenda’?” He closed his hand over her throat, watching her lips move as she said the word Brenda, with a slight, soft pucker. He really wanted to lick the plush curves.

Trembling under his hand, the pulse in her neck beat seductively against the heat of his skin, and her eyes rolled to the side, trying not to see him when he was right there, taking up all her view.

“My friend. We came from Springfield to Dalewood, but the pig.” She stopped talking when his thumb stroked over the tender skin of her ear.

Bastian pulled his hand away. Was he petting her? Her fear was turned up nicely, but so were other things, her body confused with his intentions. What were his intentions? Why couldn’t he stop touching her?

This wasn’t his usual interrogation method. She wasn’t bleeding yet.

“Go on. I want a timeline. This is rather confusing. You are stupid, aren’t you? Start from the beginning,” he snapped at her as he took a step back.

“We moved to Dalewood from Springfield. The work was supposed to be better here, but it isn’t. That man, the pig—Danov and his men, they forced us out of town. There was a whole fake court and everything a week after we arrived. He accused us of spying. I know it was stupid; it’s all stupid.”

“Forced you out and then?” He redirected her from cloying self-pity. There was no time for that.

“We found the other people hiding in a camp by the river. They didn’t have anything. Boiled water. They were trying to eat dried weeds and bark. There was nothing, anywhere; it’s like it died or was scared away. There are not even dandelions. Wherethe hell did the dandelions go? I saw that and started the first basket—a trap to catch meat.”

Bastian held back a deep disapproval. This was not how the towns were supposed to be run. There was an allotment of food for everyone, including the elderly, the young, and the disabled. As long as each human settlement met the tax quota, they were provided with the necessary supplies.

“Brenda and I had a little food. I shared, but she, she’s pregnant. Everyone was hungry. I draw the line at eating grasshoppers. My dad said they were good in a pinch, but I can’t do it.”

Bastian searched his mind for a reference. There were several food stores that matched a grasshopper on his home planet. She was silly to ignore nutrition, but humans had many sensibilities he didn’t understand.

“I was only trying to find something to eat.”

“Did you see any rebels outside the town?” he asked. All of this sounded plausible, a little too noble to be believed, but plausible.

“Rebels? That wanker scum? I think they were waiting for me.”

“Waiting for you?”

“Why else would they be there? Why did they take my damn traps? I thought I saw some of them in Dalewood, but I don’t know. Everything there happened so fast. We weren’t there very long. Why would they be there?” She swallowed noisily, uncertain with her answers.

Bastian guessed she was hungry and thirsty. Tired and worn out from all this running around saving the world from human tyrants. “You wanted to go out early again?”

“Andy showed up before I could get going.”

“Andy—the pig?” Bastian did not know any of these names.

“No, not him; he’s one of the pig’s men. Andy works for Danov; he collects women for Dalewood’s brothel.”

“Brothel?” That was an old fashioned word and not one he expected to hear. He had to reach far back into his knowledge base to pull out a dusty, thousand-year-old meaning.

“Women who have sex for favors like food, water, and clothing. I don’t know what else to call it.” He watched her close her eyes and make a face at the idea.

“I see.” He examined her layers of clothes, all her interesting parts covered up. She wore traditionally male clothing: pants, jackets, the light protective armor, but none of it hid her essential female core—the part that would be given away for favors. A core he could smell, like a poison flower, too tempting to stay away from. The longer he spent in this room with her, the sweeter the poison became.

“I wouldn’t do it. He tricked us, and I wasn’t going to be one of them. So, the pig kicked us out. And then, the first time in my life, aliens get their hands on me. My dad is probably disgusted with me.” Her voice had turned watery again at the mention of her dad.

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