Page 13 of Chieftain
You are safe little human.
He’d spoken before, just before he grabbed me. Just before he'd slung us both into the pod, seconds before everything turned to fire and darkness.
Pulling my head back a few inches, I raised my gaze and found him watching me. All the air left my lungs… the pod… the entire universe.
His face was humanoid, just more. More handsome, more confident, more male, more strength, more... everything. Onlyhis eyes and the suede-like texture of his tanned skin gave away that the face wasn’t human. Especially his eyes. The sclera of his almond-shaped eyes wasn't white but a rich blue—cobalt blue—that made the gold of his irises dance and shimmer.
I didn't feel the undercurrent of fear pulsing just under my skin like when encountering the cat-aliens. My curiosity was in overdrive, thoroughly stifling any idea of panic. This alien saved me by getting us into the pod. The way he held me wasn't lascivious. He meant to offer comfort and protection. In my career, I'd come across many evil men—evil men who would stab you as soon as look at you. Evil men who killed the ones they were supposed to protect. Over time I developed a sixth sense, a gut feeling that told me whether a person was simply a victim of circumstance or genuinely evil. Despite the knowledge that he was an alien, he wasn't bad. He wouldn't hurt me.
"Who are you?" It wasn't fear that made me ask, but something else, something inside that overrode panic and defeat. A sense of perseverance and fortitude in my DNA gleaned from my ancestors.Move forward, my father always said.Don't wallow in your circumstances. You can't help where you landed, but you can always figure out a way forward.It was the advice that got me through life's challenges. It would get me through this.
Golden eyes regarded me curiously for a moment before he spoke.
“I am Khaion, Chieftain of the Vaktaire.”
Chieftain? Didn't highlanders’ clans call their rulers chieftains? Maybe my scattered mind was making the translator shoot out idioms from the Outlander-verse. "Vaktaire, is yourfamily?” I asked. Vaktaire sounded like something other than a Scottish name, but what did I know.
“My people, yes.” Khaion, Chieftain of the Vaktaire, shifted, lifting me slightly and bringing my face level with his own.
Good Lord, he was pretty.
“What is your name, little human?"
I was so busy gawking; I nearly missed his question. "Emmy, my name is Emmy. You- pushed me into the pod, didn’t you?” The memories in my brain were like ragged shards of mirrors floating in a haze. Occasionally, one would be clear enough for me to see a reflection of the past.
The full lips pressed together, and he nodded, eyes growing cloudy. "I apologize for our rough introduction, little human, but there was no time. The Trogvyk ship was set to self-destruct.”
“I’m alive?” I needed corroboration.
Full lips curved upward and parted slightly to reveal straight white teeth with elongated, dagger-sharp canines. The alien's smile was so dazzling I felt it all the way to my toes. His lips pursed slightly before forming the words. “Most assuredly so.”
Holy shit!
In my line of work, I pay close attention to people's lips. How a person holds and moves their lips can signify a range of emotions, including dishonesty, which comes in handy when you have someone on the witness stand. The fact that Khaion's lips matched his words was both startling and comforting.
“You’re …you’re not….” I tapped my temple. "You aren't using a translator thingie. You’re actually speaking English.”
“Yes.” There was a hint of amusement in the golden eyes. “I have no need of a translatorthingie. I speak all 6492 of Earth languages.”
"Why?" It was the only question that seeped from my flummoxed brain.
Khaion grinned, proving my earlier assessment of his amusement was correct. "We Vaktaire fulfill a directive to protect the Earth and its inhabitants.” He raised his shoulders just enough to peruse the dials and buttons near our feet. “You will meet my crew soon. I have set the homing beacon on the pod, and they will find us shortly. Everyone on my ship speaks your language. Our practice is to learn as much as we can about those we protect, so the Vaktaire learn Earth language and study your culture and customs.”
“How?” My mind reeled, unable to grasp the enormity of the task. 6492 languages! I barely knew two and spoke Italianverybadly.
“We learn much from intercepting your radio and television wavelengths and the golden disc you sent us in greeting....”
“Golden disk? Wait?” I interrupted, a hazy memory coming into focus. In high school, my science class curriculum was the launch and travels of the Voyager 1 deep space probe on a mission to explore Jupiter and Saturn. I recalled that the probe carrieda 12-inch gold-plated disk containing sounds and images portraying life and culture on Earth. “You mean the gold record sent up with Voyager in 1977.”
Khaion frowned—and was still gorgeous. "I do not know where it came from. It had many images and sounds. The golden disk taught us much about your world.”
“Shit,” I breathed, sending a mental high-five to NASA.
“I know that word.” Khaion lips twitched upward. “My Sage is fond of your Earth curses. One in particular.”
They even knew how we cursed. "Fuck!"
"Yes, he particularly likes that one," Khaion said excitedly.
