Page 3 of Fighting Gravity
I didn’t have time to bounce between the ideas. I was in a crisis.
I was hauled over the alien’s shoulder down narrow, metal hallways lit with yellow light. I kicked and screamed and punched and pinched, but the big tree made of muscle didn’t even flinch at my efforts… which was really frustrating. I wasn’t a small girl. I trained hard. I was tall. I didn’t take shit.
But it didn’t matter to this guy. I hated the way he carried me through his ship, his hands on my thighs. His hands felt big. Firm. Too strong to pull free from. His shoulders were broad. I couldn’t find hair to pull so that wasn’t going to do me any good. He just had odd extensions of fleshy tendrils that trailed down just past his shoulders. I didn’t know what color they were. I couldn’t care less.
His hips jingled with metal trinkets that hung off his thick, leathery belt. He had black pants on and some kind of sarong made of thin hide or some other strange fabric. That much I saw when I was staring down at his ass the whole way. But the weirdest part was his feet. He was digitigrade and on his feet were wraps of leathery material that left his toes exposed. Toes with talons.
Fuuuuccckkkkk me…
Then I was tossed in a cell, my Buddy ripped off my wrist so hard it took some skin with it. Without my Buddy, I had no connection to the Nexus, no way to communicate with anyone, and no window to the outside world. Masculine voices shouted demands in a weird language that was a million miles from the few words I knew in the valerian tongue. The door closed on me with a swift hiss and I was alone. Sounds from outside were blocked by the barrier and I felt like I’d been locked underwater. Barely any light. No bed. No windows. Nothing but me, myself, and I. And some hole in the floor that I assumed was for waste. If it wasn’t, someone was going to be real pissed at the receiving end. Literally.
I yelled and kicked at those damn walls for hours until my voice had been rubbed raw and my toes ached. Every once in a while, a little light beam in the corner would manifest a canteen of water and I’d chug it down desperately. It was never enough. It always felt like just the right amount to keep me alive but not sated. Same with food. They sent over little squares of something that tasted like chalk and I assumed it was protein of some kind. It didn’t fill me up, either.
It felt like it had been days before I heard footsteps marching up the hallway outside. A little spark of hope flashed inside me and I thought maybe someone would show their ugly face so I could punch it. But the footsteps just walked right on by. It felt like another day before footsteps came back… but they didn’t stop either.
Finally, on what I wanted to say was day one hundred, another pair of footsteps came to my door. That time, they stopped. I sat in a corner, uncomfortably leaning up against the wall with my knees raised for my arms to rest on. I stared lazily at the door, which was an almost seamless barrier across from me, not expecting anyone to come through it. At that point, if they did, I didn’t have the strength to beat the shit out of them, so what would be the point?
Then the door slid open.
I slapped my hands against the wall and stumbled to my feet, muscles tensed for a fight I knew I would lose. I’d lose even if I was at full strength, but the bastards had starved me out. They made me frail. Now, there was no chance.
I glared daggers as a tall figure ducked into the chamber. It was the first good look I’d gotten of one of the gek that wasn’t from an inverted view over one’s shoulder. He was broad up top with a thin waist and hips. His digitigrade legs were long and muscular, the talons of his toes tapping on the metal with each step. And unlike the valerians, his clothing looked almost primitive. Leathery pants. A sarong of sorts. Trinkets on his belt. His shirt was a fitted, thin material that hugged every contour of his muscular form. On his forearms were bracers made of a thicker version of the material with some tech sprinkled in sparse amounts.
Definitely not what I expected the gek’tal to look like. I imagined big-headed, gray, annoying freaks with tentacles and laser guns. I didn’t know why.
I panned up my visitor’s body as he stepped into the light. Those weird tendrils coming off his scalp were decorated with cuffs and jewelry. His almond-shaped eyes were slanted with faint hues of gold inside a black void and his skin was green with subtle patterns accentuating his features.
The guy wasn’t as horrifying as I’d expected after hearing all the rumors, but he was scary. Although humanoid, his face was still alien. His cheekbones were high and sharp. His jaw was square and his neck was thick. Pointed, elf-like ears had small layers inside like they were used for more than just hearing and his nose was less prominent than a human’s but still familiar in a way.
I knew I smelled like shit. Literally. Days in my sweaty uniform with nothing to wipe my ass hadn’t done me any favors.
Yeah, get a lungful, buddy,I thought.
My smell, however, didn’t seem to bother him. He took another step forward and I tried to sink into the wall behind me. There would be no probing. I would die first.
The gek’s eyes regarded me closely, moving down my body and slowly back up. He cocked his head and took another step. I grimaced, shaking my head in an empty warning. A warning he disregarded.
“You stay the fuck away from me, you green fuck,” I ground out, my throat raw and dry.
He moved closer and I slid sideways against the wall, trying to escape his reach.
“I said, stay away from me!” I darted for the open door, but the gek didn’t even try to grab me.
At the threshold, the door whipped closed and I slammed right into it, busting my forehead. Stumbling back with my palm pressed to my scalp, I growled.
“Fuck!”
I spun around and looked up at my captor. As my vision cleared, I saw his thin lips lifting on one side into a cocky smirk.
What a bastard.
“Don’t suppose you speak English, you puddle of puke,” I said.
He just stared at me. What a dense beast.
“What?” I asked, wiping a little smear of blood on my pants from my busted forehead. “What?” I emphasized when he didn’t answer. I raised my hands out to my sides. “What!? Why the hell am I here? What do you want?”
Finally, he reached behind him, eyes still on me, and took a little silver object from the back of his belt. I noticed he only had three fingers and a thumb when he held it up in front of him. Pressing a button on the side, the object expanded into a flat, silver chain of sorts.
