Feral Flaw Page 5

  "Crellons are extremely sexually-oriented beings. They thrive on sex with any humanoid. They sell anything, including themselves. Voldon has always found Crellon activities profitable and allowed the Crellons freedom to acquire what he wants."

  That was so not what I was asking about. There had to be more beyond this freaking TMI moment. "What about escape? Did a one-second window of opportunity hinge upon blasting out of here?"

  "There is no other means of escape."

  If I could just see what was going on outside this hairspray can I could hurl something at the hatch. Smash it open.

  "Sleeper gas is filling the docking bay," the computer announced.

  What in the name of God is sleeper gas? This world was way too foreign compared to The Seeker. Where is my soon-to-be-mate Goro when I need him? If he hadn't seen the Crellon ship funky jump, I am totally screwed. If he even cares. "I must assume sleeper gas knocks people unconscious?"

  "Correct, Darla."

  "Can you keep it out of the fighter pod?"

  "I-" the computer's words droned into the indecipherable sounds the kids of Peanuts comics heard when adults spoke.

  A need to yawn stretched my jaw wide.

  Crap. And what was the computer mumbling about? My future.

  So much for hearing Destiny without one's interpreter, Goro.

  * * * *

  Darla's eyes popped open in dim lighting where she laid on her side, arm tousled in the same direction, facing a dark metal wall. Where were the Crellon sex fiends? My clothes are on, she noted. A good sign given the computer's warning about these aliens. But where are the Crellons?

  My arms were stiff. And my legs. I kicked out, planted the sole of my boot against the wall, and shoved my stiff body backward, rolling against a soft flat surface.

  Overhead curved the same dark wall.

  My cell by the looks of the bar grid meeting the impenetrable solid metal. From Goro's mind games to imprisonment. So much for paradise beyond earth. Patience is definitely a virtue, universe. I need to work on mine. Okay, I get the message.

  Something moved in the corner of my eye.

  Beautiful men.

  A little more orange than tanned in general. Not too tall. Like Goro. But muscled. And nude. Their motto had to be why cover up what the universe created perfectly. Some Earth girls might like watching their penises lengthen and harden. But good Earth girls heeded computer warnings and operated on lessons learned in childhood like stories about tall dark strangers. Even those good Earth girls who snuck porn flicks to their friends' homes to learn about the birds and the bees because their psycho religious fathers wouldn't let them date until they were eighteen. See why I'm all messed up, universe?

  The Crellon's long dark black tightly kinked hair had to be a warning. Some kind of mark that indicated a girl should take heed and stay away.

  And this girl was listening now. Yoohoo. Did you hear me, universe?

  But something about my captors' overall appearance reminded me of Ancient Greeks in the artwork I often sold as prized urns-reproduction vases in my flower shop. That something almost made me want to communicate and possibly work with them to return to earth. Surely they traveled there often.

  An alien male studied me with glowing white irises where he stood gripping the bars of my cell.

  Those eyes were anything but dark and mysterious. Just freaky.

  The other male edged over behind him, running his palms across the other's muscled arms, down to his…

  That bastard was not wanking off while watching me like a two-page spread in a sex rag.

  A silver hatch slid open to the right.

  A nude female strode into the space. She wasn't hideous. Rather, she was pretty fascinating with the shiny chain that belted her waist. It was like she was captured. Maybe more like free.

  Just what was she doing veering straight for the wanking catastrophe at the metal bars? Joining in the kink ambiance!

  Popping a crash course in sex into the DVD player back on Earth was one thing. This equated to a killer bee invasion with a thin piece of tissue paper holding back the stinging horde of bees. The pigs just needed something rammed upside their skulls. A projectile. I scanned the area beyond the two male humanoids.

  Storage bins, two seats, a control panel…

  Just something that isn't bolted down. But finding the object on this side of the bars would be difficult without using my psychic power. Why hide a natural gift? Giving the disgusting Crellons a warning about self-control might hold back the horde. I focused on the straining toes of a male's bare foot.

  A breeze kicked up in the cell.

  Head thrown back, groaning at the bounty ship's stark ceiling, knuckles whitened in a death grip on the bars of my cell, the male getting pumped didn't seem to notice the unnatural wind inside the spacecraft.

  Disgusting jerk. How dare he think I'm here to stroke his ego! My gaze slid up to lock on the straining male's chest.

  Perfect he may have been in all his natural Grecian glory, but using me as a nasty sex poster was one blink shy of stupid.

  A small metal crate lifted off the control panel.

  Now to knock some shit out of the horny idiots. I focused the energy in my mind to hurl the box at the Crellons' heads.

  The box smashed into one's temple, bounced off, and knocked into the other's skull.

  The groaning man never flinched. His comrade's free hand flew to rub his head as he shot a cutting glance at me.

  And who's threatening me? Oh yeah, the guy milking his buddy. Thick alien skulls were obviously a genetic plus for them. That's so not in my favor, universe.

  The loud alien screamed, arching his body forward, ejaculating into the cell.

  Jesus, that's just beyond nasty. No more flying germs, Goro. I need you. This was his fault. Damn him for the insults. If he wants to make amends, he'd better get his butt over here to save me. But where was I better off? With Goro facing termination for traitorous behavior or here?

  * * * *

  "Commander, you're receiving a low energy encrypted message encoded with official voice signature from The Meditator," the pod-fighter computer announced while coursing through deep space in search of Darla's captors.

  Communication from The Cause's command starship? Not surprising. I haven't shaved in weeks. I've abandoned my command to chase an Earth woman deemed volatile by every other crew member who has crossed her path. And command actually waited weeks to contact me? How illuminating can this message be? "Translate."

  "Commander Goro, it is with great regret I send this message. In regards to Voldon's latest endeavor to recover the Bramyllion Crystal Skulls hidden on earth, your command has been filled by a worthy member who can participate in operations to save free thinkers on that sacred planet. But your problems are much greater with Voldon's announcement of his child. Find Darla. If she proves guilty of espionage, terminate her. When your mission returns you to us, I will vouch for your worthiness and attempt to reinstate your command. Yours is a determination The Cause rarely finds. Love and light, my friend. Commander Arken."

  Not the head of the Free World Council sending me a highly questionable message. There was a reason nobody communicated with pod fighters for fear of revealing a were-assassin's location. Whatever was behind Arken's judgement had to be serious. And Voldon's sudden focus on finding the last three crystal skulls indicated he thought free-thinking defenses guarding earth lacking. Because I abandoned my post. Because the woman I chose to mate might be an infiltrator.

  My gut twisted.

  Luring me away from my ship was probably Voldon's plan all along. Did the Council label me as incompetent now? Has Destiny woven this failure along my path to teach me a lesson?

  I've failed.

  At least they hadn't ordered me to return the pod fighter. My rank had secured me the machine. And the pod fighter was the only means by which Darla could be located. Arken would have known that much. Given the Council had allowed me to keep my trans
portation, they must be allowing me some leniency. Therein, some type of duty rang strong.

  Duty was duty.

  And exceptions lie in the definition of duty. Like saving the woman of my choice might be the Council's way to ensure I mate soon.

  However, my reputation was tarnished as black as the leather clothes on my back and the hair I don't have time to shave because I man a pod fighter instead of shave and watch over my crew. Every accursed thing about my choices reeks that I shirked my duty.

  So, I lose my crew.

  Have I lost my mate?

  Now I will reclaim what's salvageable of my honor. One way or the other.

  * * * *

  Days blurred into unending wake cycles for Darla in her state of containment inside the boring empty Crellon ship without time cycles in the ship's lighting. Time had abandoned me to this Destiny of captivity far from Goro, she concluded. So out of his reach. But not the aliens. Oh no. I was never left unobserved.

  I'm so screwed. It's only a matter of time.

  The Crellons seemed more cautious of me after the flying-crate incident. However, they had no inhibitions about who was in the room when they felt like fucking. And my cell was part of their open room concept centered around their bridge-one big central room for fornicating.

  Oh how Crellons felt like pumping and grinding.

  And that activity occurred on average fourteen times a day. There was little else to do but wait while the dolts operated in a world of mindspeak as I sat on the periphery like a caged rat. So torturing them with projectiles really was the only pastime for a prisoner.

  Let's call it justice served, universe. Why do I even bother talking to you, universe? You never answer. I'm so pathetic. I talk to something that can't be personified because it's impossible for it to reply or react. I so need to get out of here. Here is another cool subject. Why am I here? I'm being punished. Yep. That's it. I get Hell in space for defying my parents with the porn flicks. I shifted a leg, watching the scuffed toe of my black boot rock a bit before stilling where it thrust off the only piece of furniture, my immobile cot.

  The Crellon boys had wizened up a bit and removed anything that wasn't anchored to something or bolted down those things that could be anchored. Now, life was merely a thought process.

  My days were lost to thoughts of escape and leverage. Since the Crellon sex fiends realized I was psychokinetic, they had to wonder how they'd snuff my power and trade me for the goods. Or they were stuck with me. By the looks of their predicament with wrenches and a welding torch, they'd have to find someone who could manage my lesser-evolved skill. Only one name came to mind. Voldon. The man behind my bounty.

  What would Voldon do to me when I fell into his clutches?

  Tweedle Big Nuts swung his family jewels with each of his footsteps toward my cell and stopped a smidge shy of the bars.

  Not the most treasured penthouse view. But where could a prisoner hide? This containment area wasn't anything like the ones on The Seeker. The bars didn't glow. Nor did they sizzle when a person touched them. Crellon cells were inexpensive yet fully functional. But why would psychics need low maintenance equipment? These jerk offs probably only had a two-man crew of which neither member could be in meditative state at any given time to run their ship. So, these boys needed fuel. I slid my gaze up from the alien's tanned washboard abs to his white gaze.

  Fuel could blow up things. Hmm. What a girl could do with explosives.

  He stood there staring me down as if he'd had enough of my telekinetic antics.

  Or wanted to ram right into me.

  Ugh. We are so not on the same page.

  Go find Do-Me Daisy. But certainly that point was a given.

  "You redirect the pod fighter by handing over me command of ship," he managed in butchered English as if speaking with his mouth and English were absolutely foreign to him.

  Oh, very funny first point to utter when he finally lowers himself to speaking with his mouth. My only means of escape was mine-amazingly unique pod fighter. No deal. "Go fuck your friends." Good thing I had a lot of time practicing to be Crazy Bitch Darla. Selling flowers truly didn't prepare a girl for space life.

  His eyes pinched with thought. "Cooperate or suffer."

  Let me tell you, universe, I'm not scared of this jerk off. "So who's going to make me? You and your handy man? Where's Voldon? I'd love to see his face when I arrive with all the tales of what you tried to do to me. After all, I am his mate."

  Those pinched white eyes widened slightly. The alien's gaze slid to his partner. Their suddenly suspicious gazes locked as if they spoke in mindspeak.

  Apparently, they hadn't heard the rumor about the baby. What played out in those minds? Would they decide to have their way with me somehow and kill me afterward? Or was the pod fighter too great of a treasure to worry about killing Voldon's mate? Destiny sure had a way of shafting a girl. Just snatch away my love-sworn mate's trust and throw me into a sex pit. I was a fool for believing somewhere in the universe there was a place for me. A place I could live happily.

  Tweedle Big Penis swung his elephant trunk over to claim a spot beside Tweedle Big Nuts and locked a poker-face stare on me. "Hand over pod fighter, and I let go wherever you say."

  What kind of deal was that from the lusty duo? Voldon's bounty had to be sweet. Throw in the exchange rate of a pod fighter and certainly these guys were headed for first class retirement. I'd be a fool to lose my wild card. After all, they obviously wanted the spacecraft more than Voldon's reward. And the only way I could get back to Earth was with the pod fighter. "The pod fighter is mine. And, you touch one hair on my head, I promise Voldon will make your life a nightmare."

  The Crellons glanced between each other and turned away.

  Mindspeak sure could leave an Earth girl wondering what in the Hell was going on. But that same frustration is what got me trapped by bounty hunters. Time to think differently. I have to hang on and find a way to escape. Just how much longer will this damned flight back to Voldon take? Goro obviously isn't in pursuit to save me. Nobody was. I'm here, somewhere, heading deeper into nowhere faster than the speed of light.

  Sadly, this is my fault.

  I jumped the gun, universe. I shouldn't have gotten so angry with Goro. I should have had more faith in him. God, to turn back the clock and just sit and wait for him to think of something. To believe him. But how could I know he would do anything other than throw me in detention? He hadn't seemed anxious to shackle me though. I should have been more patient. If only should haves could pop the lock on this door.

  Unfortunately, this reality was about space travel. Not time travel.

  * * * *

  Hair itched Goro's neck where he laid in the dark cockpit of his pod fighter, still trying to catch up with his love-sworn mate. He strained his neck to pull back his long hair and tie it into a queue in the faint orange lighting while he waited for his computer to report.

  Three months had passed. Three extremely long months full of last-ditch efforts to trace the Crellon's chaotic hopping from planet to solar system and beyond through wormholes. What they were doing was a mystery. Nobody really understood slavers. They were like parasites. Perhaps they were on the path of better rewards, collecting as many as possible as they followed some unpredictable route to Voldon.

  Shuttling Darla farther and farther away.

  What if she really was a sex spy? Planted in my lap. What if I have been led through space on this sexual espionage hunt for nothing more than Voldon wanted to get me away from earth?

  "Commander, the Crellon ship has stopped moving."

  A chill tickled gooseflesh along my arms.

  We're that close? "How long will it take you to reach the spacecraft?"

  "Approximately, twelve earth minutes."

  The distance between Darla's captors and my pod fighter had shrunk from days to minutes. Blessed Devros, give me the upper hand. Would I find Darla a traitor? She was more than a weapon of revenge. She was extreme
ly intelligent and wielded extraordinary psychic powers. Just the kind of war slave Voldon might find useful. Throw in her beauty and the thirteen crystal skulls, the free-thinking universe didn't stand a chance.

  Time to find out if her allegiance lay with Voldon. I'll end her life if it does. Finding her, testing her, those were the things that will prove these truths above all else. I yanked the tie out of my hair.

  Xquine warriors preferred being unencumbered during combat.

  But how do I test her without losing my life in handing over my blood to Voldon? Mating is the only way. The truth of her allegiance lay in my blood libation. And if she proved a traitor, I'd sacrifice myself for The Cause. Unfortunately if she were innocent, I'd have to lie about my purpose until I had proof.

  * * * *

  A blast jolted the Crellon vessel's wall behind Darla's back, sending her to her feet. What was that, she wondered. An explosion?

  The Tweedles scrambled, opening locked compartments.

  Damn. Looking for handy projectiles undoubtedly. Maybe I can work up some wind to relieve them of those lovely telekinetic harpoons. I smiled, drew my thoughts inward, and conjured up some motion.

  "Stop," Tweedle Big Nuts shouted my direction.

  Like I would given I was safely tucked behind metal bars. So much for Crellons thinking outside the box.

  A long metallic object flew out of Tweedle Big Penis' hand.

  Since he wasn't masturbating before the explosion, one could safely say the object was as metallic as the sound it made when it hit the far wall.

  Potentially germ free.

  The long object shot toward me.

  I held out a hand and grabbed the hard metal.

  Another blast thundered.

  Shrapnel shot across the room.

  Bits flew between the bars of my cell like a dust cloud mushrooming to choke oxygen from the space. The billowing debris spat out a dark male humanoid with long flowing black hair.

  In the way he clubbed the Crellons, nobody needed to guess whether he was a Crellon himself. Unless he was a jilted lover. Now, that was a possibility. Who else would enter this sexually-transmitted-disease-coated tub without disinfectant? This disgusting spacecraft had to be tagged with some sort of marking that warned normal extraterrestrials to stay away or risk infection.