Page 21 of Hooded

This can’t be happening!

“What if they’re not compatible?” Narlix asks the air.

“We’ll find out soon enough. If not, I’ll impregnate her myself,” the voice snarls. “Tormelek are compatible with all mammalian species.”

There is a click as presumably the comm connection terminates.

“You mean you’ll hump anything with a pulse,” Narlix mutters under her breath as she looks down at me. “And hope it sticks.”

Bile rises in my throat as it’s only my external areas which are frozen. A shriek rends the air, and Narlix disappears from my sight. The light holding me winks off, and I’m able to sit up, clutching at my stomach, not knowing if I’m going to throw up or not.

Because this has to be the absolute worst situation I’ve found myself in yet.

FERN

“Here.” Narlix shoves a bowl onto my lap.

“I’m okay,” I gasp, shoving it to one side, ready to leap off the slab and make my escape.

“I wouldn’t bother.” Narlix sighs. “The meathead who brought you here is right outside. And as far as the Tormelek are concerned, you don’t need all your limbs to mate.”

“I don’t…” The bile is coming up again, and this time, I can’t stop myself from being sick, gasping as my stomach empties.

“Have some water,” Narlix says, handing me a water pouch.

I shake my head.

“Fine”, she says, turning her back on me and opening the door.

The massive Tormelek from earlier fills the opening.

“She’s to go back to the Gryn. Protocol red-thirty.”

What little I can see of his face under the metal helmet is a huge, broken smile.

“What’s protocol red-thirty?” I ask as he takes hold of my arm, in a grip strong enough to break the bone if he wanted to, and pulls me towards him.

“You’ll find out,” Narlix says. “And my advice is don’t resist.”

I’m pulled out of the door.

“Fuck your advice,” I yell back as I’m dragged away by the Tormelek.

Because the eagle creature might not have been able to stop any of this happening, but it doesn’t mean it had to make it so easy.

As we go through an airlock, the more rarified atmosphere thickens. The sweat of a thousand bodies in an enclosed space, or at least what remains. I catch the occasional glimpse of other cells, the occupants a blur behind the forcefields. Whatever faction of piracy these particular Tormelek are into, it’s not for goods.

It’s for flesh.

There’s a roaring, rending sound which gets louder ahead of us. Behind me, the Tormelek guard chuckles nastily.

“He’ll be in the mood for mating when you return. I enjoy seeing females split into two.”

If I hadn’t already thrown up, I can guarantee I would be again. It’s like somehow I’ve been shielded from the horrors of this galaxy up until this moment and now they’re being shown to me in technicolor.

How could I have been so blind?

Our cell is at the end of the row. The forcefield shimmers violently as we reach it.

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