Page 8 of Chieftain
My fingertips went to my temples. There was no pain, no hint of breeched skin, only a slight puffiness on my left side. I glanced over to find Willa probing her own head.
"Where are our friends?" I pressed, dropping my hands into fists at my side. Find the girls, get the hell out of here. Stick to the plan.
"They have already been procured." The cat said offhandedly, her attention on her screen.
"Procured?" Willa snapped, stepping toward the alien. My friend was an athlete in her youth and had done a stint in the Navy herself. Her tales of participating in triathlons withher husband accompanied many glasses of wine and pieces of cheesecake. The muscles in her forearms rippled as she glared at the cat. Willa was a fighter as much as the men she loved.
"They are being shipped to the new owners."
"Owners,' I sputtered, my stomach lurching. "You sold them?"
As she regarded us, the alien cocked her head, the black slits growing wider. "Of course."
"What gives you the right to just take us and sell us like cattle?" Willa yelled.
A huff rippled the alien's cheeks. "You are a primitive, unintelligent species. You have no worth other than labor…." The way her eyes flickered over my body made my skin crawl. "Or sex work."
"We may be primitive, but we're intelligent enough to realize that slavery of any kind is barbaric." I shot back.
The cat was unimpressed. She tapped on her screen several times, then her lips twitched upward. "You are the most beautiful of our recent procurements. You both will be sold to royalty."
"Oh, goodie," I flung my hands up. "We get royal bastards instead of just plain bastards."
The cat alien made a sound between a purr and a growl and turned away.
Willa leaned close, her breath ticklish as she whispered in my ear. "I don't know about you, but I'm not about to let myself get shipped off to be the sex toy of some perverted alien king that looks like a blob of jelly."
I met Willa's blue eyes, nodding at the silent question. My friend was tall, only a few inches shy of six feet. I was considerably shorter. But I was a fighter, always had been. I fought a mother who thought my being an attorney instead of some rich man's wife was a waste of my life. I fought people who thought being a prosecutor instead of a mouthpiece for some high-priced firm was a waste of my career. I fought the shame of a husband who preferred chasing young ass instead of staying faithful and wasted an almost thirty-year marriage. I would stand by my friend and fight however I could; if I died, at least it would not be a waste.
Our only chance was to knock this cat-bitch out before she could get at us with her claws or teeth. In unison, we took a step forward, preparing to pounce when the door appeared whooshing open to admit two more cat-aliens. They looked like the female sans’ boobs. Instead, their chests were roped with muscle and covered by the drape of thick gold chains. The males wore loose-fitting pants in the same fabric as the female's robes with strange gun-looking things hanging from their belts.
Willa caught my eye, and our gaze was long, saying everything that couldn't be verbalized. Gratitude for the memories, the laughter, the affection, the friendship… and perhaps goodbye.
When the larger of the two male aliens stepped forward, Willa moved quick as lighting and planted her foot in his crotch. The way he moaned and doubled over, it was a safe bet that alien balls occupied the same spot on the anatomy as human balls.
"Tulloch Ard!" She screamed the battle cry of the Mackenzie, gleaned from the Outlander novels.
The second male moved, swinging at Willa's head, she ducked, and when the alien's swing went wide, it put him in the perfect position for me to drive my foot into his crotch from behind, catching his tail in the process. It gave a satisfying crunch and hung with a kink in the aftermath.
Too late, I saw the thin silver rod the female held in her hand. The tip glowed, eerily reminiscent of the white light that took us. She barely touched Willa's elbow with the rod, and I watched my friend's bright blue eyes roll back in her head. Willa went board stiff and toppled over. I dove for her, barely registering the touch of the rod at my shoulder until lightning razed through my body, sending me screaming into the darkness.
Chapter 4
Khaion
The electromagnet pulse left the Trogvyk ship floating dead in space between Jupiter and Saturn. A blast from our laser cannon created a fissure in the hull large enough for us to pilot a shuttle onto their landing dock. The rent in the hull appeared oddly reminiscent of a gaping wound with sharp, ragged edges, billowing a flow of thick gray smoke instead of blood.
It took only minutes for the shuttle to land, and my navigator engaged the secondary dock door, stabilizing the pressure and gravity. We filed into the docking bay. It was deserted save a small vessel needing too much repair to be used for escape and the bodies of several Trogvyk killed by the blast wind from the laser cannon.
I paced restlessly as Jutuk patched a wire into the access panel, giving us access to the Trogvyk ship systems to stabilize the pressure and oxygen. From behind, the tell-tale clang of metal echoed as my warriors readied for battle, sending a spark of heat through my blood.
Vaktaire were bred for battle.
The longsword, earned from defeating a Romvesian general, was sheathed by my right hip, ready to be drawn when needed. A laser gun was holstered at my other hip, a concessionto Tarook, my weapons master. I preferred using blades, the true test of a warrior's skill, strength, and courage.
A low metallic groan signaled the shift’s control changing to the portable navigation unit. Jutuk's work, as always, was precise and timely.
“Report,” I demanded.
