Page 9 of The Commander

He’d find out if she was one of them before he finished.

CHAPTER 4 - BASTIAN

He washed and changed his uniform, then walked back to Correction from his apartment. He could still smell the girl. An invisible curl of feminine capsaicin hung in the air, sizzling on the flat of his primary tongue, creatingurgesin his belly. Her fear drew him closer, a bright heartbeat blood smear across a dark gray landscape of monotony.

Would she taste as good as she smelled?

He refused such self-indulgences. At least, until he killed her.

He would question her, yes. Push her, make her fear. Observe how quickly he could make her heart pound and watch the sweat gather at the base of her throat. He imagined her yielding her delicious fear scent just for him. And there it must stop.

There would be no indulgence in physical urges. He was not a male easily overtaken by his instincts. Should he give in, he imagined all the arrogant badges on deck lighting up with the news that Commander Bastian had gone weak. His own P.I. would be delighted to transmit the message to Control.

And oh, how the darling bloody bastards wanted something that could make him kneel. They’d looked for cracks in his armor to manage him since his naming ceremony.

A sweet smelling female, human or otherwise, was not going to weaken him. He wouldn’t allow it. Nor would he leaveany others of her kind running around to make other prime battlers weak. He knew his duty. He had to protect his brothers from the cute, curvy little population-boosting hybrid who crossed his path.

The Compound now knew a woman had been taken to Correction. The red hats wouldn’t expect Base Commander Bastian to waste his time with her, despite his order to set her aside, since he rarely bothered with minor infractions like curfew breaking.

Inside the Corrections main foyer, unwashed, off duty grunts clustered together in the lobby of the old human built school, smoking human made tobacco sticks.

“Get back to your bunks,” he ordered irritably, noting every slack mouthed, dribbling face. Too mundane and useless to take time to remember their differences, they all looked the same to him except for the code marks on their cheeks. He memorized those with a glance.

More waited just outside the room where he’d instructed the curfew breaker to be taken. They wanted their turn. Hairy, long armed bodies blocked his way before they noticed him coming down the hall.

“Don’t you have some place to be?”

Their ribbed and pointed ears tipped down, and their chins tucked to their chests.

“Sir. Do you need help? This one looks suspicious,” 56983 asked, its pink tongue thick over the alien words. Red hats naturally communicated in grunts and barks. Wiring in their brains gave them basic soldier abilities and the power to talk, but it wasn’t a clean transfer.

“What do you think you are doing? Those other rebels should be cataloged; dead or not. Isn’t that how we do things here? I thought I set this one aside for interrogation?” Grabbing the grunt by the nape of its neck, Bastian lifted and gave it ashake. These creatures were as cowardly as they came. Direct confrontation turned them mush kneed, but the instant Bastian turned his back, they would attack.

Veiny eyes bulged, and its tongue lolled out of the slack, submissive mouth.

Bastian turned his head to avoid inhaling the scent of its rotting breath and slammed it against the solid cinder block wall. A twist of his wrist resulted in a satisfying snap and pop. The red hat only had time to kick once before going limp. He tossed it at the others, sending them tripping to their knees. “Leave and take out the trash.”

He wasn’t going to share this human with them. They hadn’t earned a treat at all. They’d already had more of her than they deserved. What was his stayed his, in both life and death. They were too stupid to learn the lesson.

Doors creaked and slammed as the building emptied of non-regulation personnel. All the off duty staff ran out of the building back to their bunks to escape his irritation, trailing the pungent vinegar smell of their piss and shit. Their stink had fouled the woman’s fear perfume. Damn them. He’d much rather breathe her spice than their crap.

After the old doors closed, a satisfying silence fell.Nice.

The rebel hauling illegal contraband was the only other human left in the building. A minder stood outside his door on the off chance a buddy came to try and rescue him. The rest stayed in the office, watching monitors and playing fetch games to pass the time. Bastian’s base had no Control badge officers between him and the dull minded grunts. He’d killed them all and hung them out on the road after he arrived. For some reason, Control hadn’t bothered to send more competent ones when he requested them.

Bastian wasn’t alone with her, but this felt close enough to please his outer senses.

No one would disturb them on this side of the building’s square.

Built early in the planets twentieth century from good materials, it originated from a time when longevity meant something to its makers. Coming from the same manufactured stone they cut their penitentiaries from, its thick walls dulled the full range of distress calls humans could emit.

He stopped at the classroom door and waited, enjoying the moment. Was this what humans meant when they ‘savored a moment?’ Was this ‘the best part of wakin’ up?’

Behind the door, the girl’s lizard brain must sense the danger he exuded. Predator and prey. Research on this species noted females were highly intuitive, with a well developed amygdala coupled with a sweet little prefrontal cortex. That meant imaginations with a vast capacity to be afraid. The two together would tell her that he was a thing worse than death.

What could make a better first impression?

No doubt she looked amazing, struggling with her fear, hands bound behind her back, coils of rope wrapping her elbows and wrists. Her legs were tied at the upper thighs, knees, and ankles. What could the little human do but quiver in anticipation of his arrival?Bonus points.

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