Page 48 of My Alien Angel
I should be hoping that she took the UGC’s offer to return home. That she had her memories wiped, forgetting all about me and the mess I brought into her life, then was sent back to live her peaceful life with her friends. Her friends. Fuck, her friends who’d totally remember everything about me, along with the Earth military. I wonder if the UGC knows just how big of a breach of the Non-Interference Directive I caused, or how much was already known by humans prior to my arrival. Or about them possessing an alien ship for decades. That’s not something they can fix with a few memory wipes.
I should be hoping that Fin asked to go back to her life but, knowing her, she didn’t. She’ll stay off planet and try to rescue me which, while flattering, is as foolish as it is dangerous. She doesn’t know the first thing about living in space. She has no resources or contacts, and if she trusts the wrong people, she’ll get herself killed or captured. That’s what worries me. Not the fact that I’m getting shanked the minute the guards let us into the common area. My fists clench with helpless rage. I should be there to protect her and instead, I’m stuck in here with the worst filth of the galaxy.
“You’re so fucking dead, Quintran,” Garresh growls as he paces the breadth of his cell.
“Tell me something I don’t know,” I mutter under my breath, ignoring his taunts. Escape is impossible without outside help so, instead of wasting my remaining time trying to come up with an escape plan, I lose myself in memories of Fin.
Fin groaning as I rubbed her feet. Her indulgent smile whenever she corrected my botched English. Thanking me for making her coffee as if it wasn’t normal to take care of my mate. Fin laughing at me as I struggled to pick up the stupid spaghetti with that ridiculous utensil. Fin moaning while I licked her delicious pussy, then clamping her thighs around my head as she came all over my face. Fin sneaking on board the ship despite my best efforts to keep her home safe. Her promise to break me out of jail. Piece of cake, she’d said. Winds, I pray this is the one promise she breaks.
Two guards carrying shock sticks march down the corridor. “Dinner time,” the Syndoran announces. “No more room service for you bastards. Go get your own fucking meals. No fighting.”
Right.
The force fields protecting each cell disengage. The guards watch intently as we shuffle out into the corridor, not because our ankles are cuffed this time, but because there are just too many of us to move freely. Neither guard is worried or concerned for their own safety. They’re covered by special protective gear from head to toe and our shock collars are programmed to knock us out the second we touch them. We could still throw things at them from a distance, which is why there are no loose objects anywhere, but the moment our body connects with theirs, even if it’s indirectly through clothing or a weapon, it’s lights out. It’s brand new technology that’s still in the testing phase but from what I’ve seen in the demos, it’s damn effective.
Forming a makeshift line, we shuffle into a modestly sized multipurpose space with benches for eating on one side, each receiving a nutrition bar from an automated food dispenser. Well, so much for my last meal. I didn’t even get a tray to defend myself with, which, I assume is intentional as part of their security measures.
A handful of guards stand by the room’s entrance while we eat and I know there are more stationed elsewhere on the ship, monitoring things through cameras. I have no illusion that any of them will help me.
There’s a selection of battered workout equipment on the far side of the room, and a few males take advantage of it. In contrast, Garresh and his crew are leaning against a wall watching me with unveiled hatred. I barely have time to finish my oh-so-delicious meal bar before their group unanimously reaches the decision to saunter over.
Here we go.
There are ten of them, a mix of Okri and Ataxi. All deadly. The Okri closest to me cracks his knuckles, the sound similar to rocks breaking. Backing up to the nearest wall, I keep my eyes on as many of them as I can, but it’s not an ideal position for defending myself against so many enemies.
The rest of the prisoners in the room stop what they are doing to watch the show. A few of them look nervously between us and the guards, probably wondering why they aren’t reacting to an obvious takedown threat. What they don’t realize is that in the guards eyes, I’m not just a trafficking scumbag like Garresh. I’m worse. An ex-UGC member of the peacekeeping elite. A Voidstalker who climbed my way to the very top ranks only to throw it all away for corruption and greed. In the guards’ eyes, I’m the lowest of the low.
Explaining the facts to them would be a waste of breath. They’ve made up their minds and, judging by their relaxed stance as Garresh and his posse close in on me, they’ve collectively decided to let “justice” run its course.
Fuck me, right?
I dodge the first strike. The massive Okri, carried by his own momentum, slams into the wall behind with a crack so loud that I wouldn’t be surprised if the wall now has an Okrishaped indent. There’s no time to capitalize on his temporary impairment as two eager Ataxi lunge at me. They’re more dextrous than the boulder-like Okri and, while I manage to block one with my wing, the other one clips my shoulder, knocking me off balance. Silently thanking the UGC doctors who fully healed me before sending me off to die on this transporter, I flap my wings to stabilize myself, then land a kick into someone’s face.
Pain shoots through me as someone yanks on a wing. Shaking them off, I retaliate, my fist landing nicely in his gut. I’m barely keeping it together as more take his place, also targeting my wings. This is why I’m a fucking sniper and leave hand-to-hand brawling to nutjobs like Faelin. Wings are an asset when escaping dangerous situations or perching somewhere to take out enemies from a distance, but they quickly become a vulnerability in close-quarter combat. They’re meant for flying, not fighting.
An Okri’s fist connects with my ribs, knocking the wind out of me. Cheering reaches my ears, not just from the other inmates, but from the guards, too. I don’t hold it against them. If I was in their place, I would hate me, too.
The ceiling is too low to fly away, but I lunge up then forward, pouncing on one of my attackers. It works well to incapacitate him, but it also means I’m now standing in the middle of the group, surrounded. A fist connects brutally with my face, my vision blurring as I stumble back. I’m on the floor before I can shake it off, boots laying into my stomach, back, and wings as I cover my head. I can’t do anything but curl up in a fetal position to protect my vital organs.
“Enough!” orders Garresh. The kicking stops. “Hold him, face down,” he commands his men as he crouches behind me. Several pairs of hands grip my limbs and I feel a hand sliding over my wing all the way up to the joint. Unlike when Fin touches me there, his touch doesn’t fill me with arousal but with dreadinstead. Dread which proves justified as Garresh grunts, “I’m going to tear these wings from your body, asshole.”
I’m struggling to escape with all my might, but his men don’t give an inch. Just as Garresh starts twisting my left wing into an unnaturally painful angle, the ship shudders. Then, like a miracle sent from above, white lights switch to orange as loud alarms start blaring. “All prisoners return to their cells,” a computerized voice announces. “Any prisoner not present in their designated cell will be terminated in fifty, forty-nine, forty-eight……”
“Blood and bones!” Garresh curses. With a couple of goodbye kicks, he and his men race back to their cells, along with the rest of the inmates.
I try to get up, but a jolt from the shock collar sends me back to the floor. Looking up, I see two guards smirking at me. “I guess it will be the automated lockdown protocol that kills you instead of yourfriends,” he sneers, activating my collar again. The countdown is at thirty seconds now and even if I run, I won’t make it back to my cell in time, so I stop trying.
The other guard shrugs. “Less paperwork this way. As long as this disgusting traitor is dead, I’m fine with it. I thought it was a decoy, you know?” he tells me casually, as if there’s not a countdown to my death sounding through the room. “When they announced that the famous Nova squad went rogue, I thought maybe you guys were going undercover or something. But you’re just a guilty fucker like the rest of these bastards. This is a faster death than you deserve, but dead is dead.”
It’s hard to argue with that. Truth be told, I prefer being instantly killed by the collar instead of torn apart by Garresh and his goons, so, yeah. Whatever is happening actually works in my favor. I’m curious as to what caused the shudder and sent the ship into lockdown mode in the first place but, as the countdown gets to single-digit numbers, I resort to remembering Fin again.Fin’s soft hands on my wings. Her hot, wet mouth on my cock. That’s a good memory to die on.
“Three, two—” The room suddenly plunges into darkness.
Chapter 36
Omni
“Whatthefuck?”Inthe sudden darkness, all smugness evaporates from the guard’s voice. “Control, report! We’ve lost power in—”
