Captured By the Scaled Outlaw (The Lizardfolk of Gaia 4, #1)

Chapter 1

As I drop a pinch of sand into a collection vial, the scorching heat from the sun draws moisture from my exposed hands. The glass threatens to slip out of my grasp when I grind the cork into place and toss it into my bag haphazardly among the dozen others.

I don’t want to be out here.

I shouldn’t be out here.

I’m supposed to be sitting on an uncomfortable stool in a frigid laboratory analyzing collection samples, not be the one taking them. Land surveillance and data collection is a job well-beneath a Nilsan Government Lead Scientist who has proven her worth time and time again.

Well, a former Lead Scientist.

My demotion eight months ago was jarring but not surprising in the least. Ever since starting work in the lab, I had been determined to steal the title of Director of Land Surveillance and Preservation away from its current owner, Director Kinsley.

His blatant disregard for proper protocol has led to arguments between us that have bordered on violence and left a stack of Human Resources paperwork up to the ceiling.

He has no desire to perform our duty to protect nature in the same way I do, and I’ve always hated him for it.

Our recent arguments have been over minor abnormalities I’ve found within a surveyor’s soil samples. Despite Kinsley’s job focusing on the assurance of viability in the land we intend to build on, he is averse to further investigations despite the clear guidelines and laws.

Leading up to my demotion, I petitioned the city of Nilsan’s Board of Ethics to allow me to continue my research into the abnormality, as per protocol, ignoring the tight deadline for completion. My petition was approved, and further research had shown no anomalies present.

When Kinsley had found out that I’d gone over his head, he’d exploded in front of the entire lab team, screaming that he had “finally had enough” of my “insubordination” and “constant requests for additional testing.”

The next day, I’d been demoted. Kinsley had immediately assigned me to a two-month surveying project located in the Sandpit Desert — a site known for its danger and inhospitable environment. His intent to punish me was clear.

Kinsley’s self-satisfied smirk when he handed me my assignment still boils my blood.

I sigh to relax.

No use in getting upset over it again.

I gaze over the vast desert, the snow-kissed peaks of Rime Mountain in the distance. A few cacti litter the expanse, but not nearly enough to make up for the empty mounds of sand devoid of life.

It’s as if every creature that used to live here suddenly vanished.

The sight pulls my lips into a frown. The nature I love and want to protect is withering away, despite my best efforts.

To be a Lead Scientist is to work to improve and repair ecosystems and propose new strategies on how to stop once thriving biomes from crumbling to dust. I’d had little success, but I was making progress steadily.

But that’s all in the past, for now.

I freeze when a Slip Scorpion dances across my boots, slow and groggy. Its pincers sag, metasoma and stinger swaying in a tired, exhausted motion.

“You thirsty?” I ask faintly, reaching for the canteen strapped to my satchel. Pouring a drip of water into the cap, I set it beside the dazed scorpion.

I allow the sun’s heat to scorch my back so that my shadow will help cool the poor creature. A small price to allow it a moment of rest.

The scorpion hovers over the cap, gratefully taking in the liquid.

“There isn’t a steady food source for you anymore, huh?

” I murmur, gawking at the iridescent shimmer of the scorpion’s exoskeleton.

They use the reflection of light to blind predators, “slipping” away once the attacker is disoriented.

Many people find them scary given their size, but I find them amazing.

They’re docile arachnids, their stingers and pincers only for show.

Once the Slip Scorpion drinks its fill, it scurries off into the endless desert, knocking the cap off my boot. I tighten the cap back onto my canteen, the metal light from dwindling resources.

As I stand from my crouched position, I turn towards my vehicle. The waves that appear in the air make the metal seem like it is on the verge of melting.

Me too, I think, sweat stinging my eyes.

I scratch vigorously at the fabric covering my arms, the thin layer of sweat softening my skin to the point of rawness, the dull pain pushing me to the edge of full-blown rage. I want to scream, but if I do, Kinsley wins.

My hair falls into my face as I lift myself into the vehicle, the deep-brown strands greedily soaking up the sun’s heat.

I’m careful not to shatter the cheap vials I’ve spent the past ten days collecting, since I was only given the exact amount needed.

Another subtle way of tormenting me, to prey on my desire for perfection.

If I return with even a single chip around the top of a vial, I’ll be reprimanded.

I turn the key and start the engine.

Fifteen more days left of this hell. Maybe when I get back, I’ll be allowed back into the lab again.

I find it better to think positively so as not to go completely insane in this barren hellscape.

I stomp the gas pedal and the engine purrs to life. Grimacing at the sound, plumes of sand kick out from behind the vehicle.

Strangely, the vehicle doesn’t move when I press the gas pedal deeper.

I quirk an eyebrow.

Why aren’t I moving? I must be stuck.

I groan.

Cutting the engine, I throw the door open and trudge angrily through the sand to inspect the tires well-past their prime, the treads nearly bald. I wouldn’t be surprised if the rubber gave out on me completely, but I know they still have some life left. Or at least that’s what the mechanic told me.

When I round the corner to the trunk, I freeze.

Two arrows with cable leads are lodged into my bumper. The cords are pulled taut and span up and over a dune, disappearing out of sight.

Backing away slowly, I trace my hand along the outside of the vehicle as I search for the door handle, not taking my eyes off the location where the cords are leading.

If I can get to the back seat, I can grab Grandma’s crossbow.

The sound of engines firing up startles me, and my full attention turns to getting my hands on the only weapon standing between me and the unknown.

The sputtering of multiple vehicles fills my ears as anxiety takes hold. I can feel every blood cell pump throughout my body, cell-by-cell, my heart beating erratically in my chest.

Crawling into the backseat, I snatch the crossbow with fists so tight they turn white around the grip.

An arrow flies past my face, lodging itself into the vehicle’s frame.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” a voice calls from behind. I swallow, turning around slowly with my hand and crossbow made visible. I’m not stupid enough to retaliate with my back turned.

As I turn around, a Lizardfolk stands with an arrow drawn in their bow. Behind them are two humans and another Lizardfolk, all perched atop their sandcycles, helmets covering their faces.

I clear my throat, my voice dry and pitchy from not speaking to anyone other than myself for over half a month.

“C-can I help you?”

“Yeah, you can,” the Lizardfolk at the front says, nodding to one of the humans.

The human grabs a black bag and tosses it at my feet.

The Lizardfolk nods at me. “Drop the weapon and put that over your head. Or I’ll drive this arrow between your eyes.”

I tense visibly.

Well, shit. I can’t talk my way out of this one.

I am in no position to fight them and am severely outnumbered.

Judging by the Lizardfolk’s previous aim, I don’t doubt they’ll hit me right between my eyes, as promised. Ignoring their commands would be a bad idea.

I don’t know what they want with me. They could kill me. Hold me for ransom…

My thumb strokes the handle of my bow. It’s still loaded.

It may be possible for me to get a shot off, but it will be fatal to whoever I hit. I don’t have a habit of missing.

Kill one of them.

My finger twitches over the trigger.

“Hey! I said drop the weapon!” they shout again, lurching at me.

Pull it. Kill them. Just one.

My jaw tenses at the thought, excitement tipping the corners of my mouth. Hairs on my arms lift as goosebumps flood my skin, the imagery of one of these bandits crumpling to the ground a satisfying thought.

I blink rapidly, opening my mouth to relieve the strain on my jaw muscles.

You’re not an animal, I reprimand myself, dropping the crossbow into the sand. You’re better than that.

My heart rate plummets, disappointment filling the space left by the fleeting adrenaline.

I huff.

Cautiously reaching for the black bag, my gaze falls to the bandit’s tattered clothing.

While I normally don’t care about the attire of criminals, I notice a familiar patch sewn to their jackets: the planet earth with four moons orbiting.

It’s a clear and recognizable symbol of the eco-terrorist organization Gaia 4.

Double shit.

Known for their coordinated attacks on railroad and pipeline expansions, government buildings, and anything they generally don’t like, Gaia 4 is the city of Nilsan’s public enemy number one.

I have no clue what they want with me. They’ve never attacked a surveyor in the past, since they rank too low to provide any useful information. And what could they possibly steal from me, vials of sand?

I slip the bag over my head, beads of light streaming in between the threads of fabric. It quickly becomes hard to catch my breath, but my struggles go unnoticed.

The assailants stride closer, their hushed voices unintelligible over the roaring engines. I resist every urge in my body to struggle as they take my arms, leading me towards the sounds of machinery.

I could be walking to my death, given the group’s penchant for violence, but running away now would only guarantee it. At the very least, I can feign ignorance; diplomacy has always been my strong suit.

I wheeze out a strangled gasp as I’m dragged.

“I’m just a land surveyor, you know,” I say, tripping over my own feet. Sand slips into the tops of my shoes as I stumble. “I’m just doing my job.”

I hear a laugh.

“So are we.”

Something hits me in the back of the head, and everything goes dark.