88. Chapter Eight
Chapter Eight
T arrex
I fight the wave of self-loathing sweeping over me. I know Savannah being in peril is not my responsibility. She’s a grown female who knows her own mind. She demanded to come along, and neither I nor her captain could dissuade her.
Still, she’s my female and right now she’s behind bars in a ship controlled by an insane female with a great deal of sadistic power.
I push those thoughts aside and breathe, using a centering technique I learned while studying for the priesthood. After flashing Savannah a request for no interruptions, I feel her bubble thicken around me as I go deeper into a meditative state.
I need to be quiet and alone to master this technique. I could seldom accomplish it in the barracks, and certainly not while on the sands of the arena. But even with the cellblock noises, I sink deeper into the blissful state of internal silence. Savannah’s nulling presence is a balm.
I float here for a while, just gathering my mental strength and abilities, letting all my worldly problems fade into the background—including the fact that my female and I are captives in this ship.
Only when I’ve replenished the well of abundance within me do I allow the tentacles of my mind to reach out toward the K’tar . I don’t press into his mind. That would never work. Most humanoid species aren’t aware of my intrusions. They’re too busy with the thousand thoughts flying through their minds at any given minima . But animals are different.
It’s a delicate business interacting with animals, especially if they’re wild, especially if they’re as angry and abused as this K’tar.
I allow my consciousness to rest next to his for long minimas . I lie on my bed, eyes closed, muscles as relaxed as I can make them, and breathe.
After a while, his interest is piqued and his natural curiosity makes him nudge his consciousness toward mine. I stay the course, not moving toward him, just keeping my thoughts steady.
After a while, I push my own inquisitiveness toward him. Animals don’t think in words, it’s more pictures and emotions. When he realizes I’m interested in him, he lets down some of his barriers.
His most powerful emotion spills out first. He’s furious! His thoughts are wild, feral, but it is immediately apparent how intelligent he is. That is a relief.
I see flashes of his initial capture on his home planet where he was stunned so brutally he almost died. He communicates his terror when he woke up alone in a cage barely larger than his body in the dark hold of a moving vessel with alien noises and smells assaulting his senses, confusing him.
His thoughts flick to being prodded with shocksticks, taunted by humanoids, and punished for no discernible reason. His hatred of humanoids leaps out at me, but I give him no response in return.
Why would he trust me? I’m a humanoid, and this communication in his mind is a new experience for him. I leave my thoughts a blank slate and simply allow him to vent. This whole time he continues to pace in his cell, his tail flicking in irritation, the blades clicking against each other.
His eyes stay focused on my recumbent form. He’s aware I’m the one connecting with him. Although this gives me even more hope, I quickly suppress my excitement.
This goes on for long minimas as he seems to feel a fraction of relief from unloading his pain. It’s only now he can reveal the next layer of his agony—his fear. Terror, really.
He’s been around humanoids enough to know all the implements that bring physical pain. His fear increases because of the metallic guns and shocksticks that are ever-present in his world. He may be covered in razor-like scales, but the creature is vulnerable. He’s not used to being treated badly.
I see snippets of him as a youngling with his family as they hunted in prides. It seems they hunted smaller animals similar to themselves—white, furry, vulnerable felines with beautiful shimmering coats.
I feel the affection he received from his family. He misses the emotions of acceptance and approval as much as I did when I was yanked out of my sequestered life and forced to do battle as a gladiator.
Only now do I push the tiniest bit of my own emotions at him. I allow a trickle of my sadness upon my abduction to pass through the bars toward him and am only a little surprised when he shares sympathy with me.
We sit in compassionate silence for a while. I don’t want to take liberties and probe for answers, nor do I want to share more than I already have with him. He stops pacing, faces me, and settles into the quiet. I feel his emotions swirl into soft relaxation.
The cellblock noises have faded away. Most of my worries about my situation have been left at the top of my consciousness. I’m simply in the here and now with the K’tar. He tests my interest by nudging the tiniest bit of his most vulnerable emotion at me.
The K’tar were not domesticated on his homeworld, but he shows me that they lived with mutual respect and harmony with the people of his planet, never hunting nor being attacked by the humanoid tribes.
The depths of his sadness touch me when he shows me how he was forced to kill a humanoid. I can’t understand the timeframe, because he’s incapable of knowing time, but it was here on this ship. He was starved for a long time, then what I understand through his emotions as simply a “bad man” was thrown into his cell.
He held out for as long as he could. Eventually, his hunger and the prodding by his captors combined with his prodigious anger couldn’t be denied and he killed and ate the bad man.
His anguish is palpable and poignant. I shove compassion at him, and we sit in silence.
He hates his captors, that’s a fact.
As much as I don’t want to be yet another in a long line of humanoids to use him, I need this animal if we’re going to break out. I allow him to feel my own sadness and fear, then give him snippets of my concerns.
I show him pictures of Theos and Doctoré and he shares the moment when the two males were brought before him in his cage in the hold before he was transferred to this cell. He blasts a gust of relief at me when the two males, who he sensed were not “bad,” were led away and he was not forced to kill them. He shows me pictures of hunting on his native planet and communicates that his kind never hunt for sport, only for meat or protection.
Finally, I share my love for Savannah with him. I feel him move, then I pull myself from my deep meditation by opening my eyes. Sitting at the bars, his feline nose is pressed between them as he inspects my female.
Neutral at first as he does a visual sweep, he takes in her stance more than her features. He’s assessing her. It seems he has two boxes he places humanoids in: neutral and bad.
It’s odd how I feel his consciousness expand as he creates a third category for humanoids—good.
He makes a show of placing me in the good box even as he continues to assess my Savannah.
I flash him a picture of me and Savannah walking hand in hand, as I try to project the idea of “mate” to him. I know when he understands because his interest increases.
Glancing toward her, I see her watching him. She’s sitting on her bed, her legs dangling off the side, her gaze fixed on the K’tar . Her posture is cautious but calm as she assesses the animal. It would be easy to step into her mind right now, but I don’t. I want to stay alert to the K’tar’s thoughts and emotions.
Savannah’s lips turn upward into the smallest smile. She gently nudges the K’tar with an emotional caress and I feel the animal’s musculature change. He stands down and shows me as he puts her into the ‘good’ box along with me. I send him my gratitude.
That seems to be as much as either of us can tolerate, because he breaks the connection and pads to the far side of his cage.
When I turn my attention to Savannah, she’s immediately aware I’m not in communication with the feline anymore.
I want to touch you, Tarrex, possibly more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life. If I could but hold your hand, it would ease me.
Here . I push all my affection toward her at the same time as I shove her pictures of non-sexual touch. This is the best I can do right now. We both know we’re being watched.
We’ve known each other less than a week, but I’m certain I love this female. I worry it will scare her if I tell her my feelings, but we might die at any moment. What would be the harm in expressing how much I care about her?
I’m still in a dreamy state after meditating and being in deep communication with the K’tar . I’ve always loved communicating with animals. It’s elemental and primitive and clean. Animals don’t dissemble—their thoughts are honest.I have never communicated with an animal as intelligent as the K’tar. It was beyond my expectations. I’m feeling a sliver of hope.
It’s in this spirit that I lie on my bed, one palm under my head, so I have the best angle to see Savannah.
Sweetness, there are things I want to say .
Fear spikes into her like a living thing when I say this. I immediately reassure her, The K’tar is a friend. It’s not about that. Her dread dissolves immediately.
If our lives were different, I would find the perfect time to tell you this. I pause for a moment, wondering what the perfect time might be in a perfect world.
In a perfect world, we’d be on my home planet, walking hand in hand in the public park near the seminary where I lived. I’ve spent hundreds of hoaras there and could tell you the species of every tree and flower. Here. I send her pictures of the peaceful park.
Some of the trees have leaves the color between maroon and blood red. They look beautiful next to the trees with leaves the color of the sea at night. I show her closeups of the cupped little yellow flowers and the huge violet blooms of the carticanth tree.
I look up in my imagination, allowing her to see the clouds scudding across the yellow-green sky, then I gust toward her the calm I always experienced in that magical place.
Do you like it? I’m eager to hear her answer, wanting her to love this place as much as I do.
It’s different from anything on Earth, and yes, I love it. I feel my hand engulfed by yours, Tarrex. It gives me strength.
Good. I love knowing I give you strength. There are so many other things I want to give you, Savannah. I want to give you peace. And safety. If things were different…
I stop myself here. I want to make things better for her, not worse.
So, the perfect time to tell you this would be after a perfect day, perhaps after a picnic, in a perfect place near at least one of our families. I’ve heard you insist you can’t go back to Earth, but my family would love you, Savannah, because you bring me not only peace, but happiness. They were proud of me but sad that I would never know the love of a mate.
She’s lying on her side on her cot, facing me with her back to the other males. She’s calm, with the smallest smile playing on her lips. I’m so glad I can give this to her because without our connection, we’d both be terrified right now, even though we’re both strong warriors. Being a good fighter, willing to go into battle, doesn’t mean you’re never scared. It just means you rein it in and take control of it. You feel the fear and walk into danger anyway.
So, in that perfect place and time, I would look into your eyes and tell you how much I love you, Savannah.
Her eyes flare as her cheeks flush and her chest heaves. Her gaze finds mine and connects with a sincere intensity.
I wish things were different. I wish we had all the time in the world and could be around our supportive family and friends. But we don’t, so I’ll have to say the most romantic and unexpected thing right here in this cellblock.
I love you with all my heart, Savannah. I’ve discovered I don’t need to know a person for a long time to know their heart. Everything I need to know, I’ve already learned about you. I see the goodness of your heart, and your loyalty and bravery. You’d walk into hell for a comrade and ask for nothing in return. And I know that there’s nothing you could do—NOTHING—that would shake this conviction from me.
I don’t expect you to vow your love for me. I imagine sane people need more time to develop these feelings. I just want you to know my emotions are as real as the metal bars that are holding us in and will last until the mountains crumble into dust.
Two small trails of tears glide down her pinkened cheeks. They look silvery in the dim light. I put up every mental barrier I possess to prevent myself from intruding into her mind. I have no right to her thoughts and feelings. I don’t need a response. I told her my truth. I need nothing else.
My eyes widen in surprise when she gusts a wave of love so deep and powerful it blasts through my barrier as it threatens to propel me off the mattress. It’s strong, just like her, and proclaims her love for me. For a moment I wonder what our jailors are seeing from their not-so-hidden cameras: frail Earther crying sad little tears, unfeeling male from Coronis trying to catch a little sleep while he pretends not to worry about his impending doom.
Poor them. They’ll never be privy to the depths of love experienced by Savannah and me.
I love you too, Tarrex. I didn’t know if I should tell you, if it would be a burden at a time like this. But time seems irrelevant, doesn’t it? What is important is that drawing one more breath without feeling your love and showing mine to you would be a tragedy.
She lies on her mattress and locks gazes with me, the tiniest smile playing at the corners of her mouth.
Whether we live or die, Tarrex, we had this. No one can take that from us.
Aye.
Savannah
We both must have dozed after our admissions of our feelings. The situation is surreal: the speed of our courtship, the depth of our feelings, the virtual certainty of our impending doom. I try to hold onto the sweetness of our love and let all the worry and anxiety slip as far into the background as possible.
Tarrex and I hear boots echoing outside the doorway to the cellblock. Six well-armed guards burst through the doorway and pound down the hallway until they stand in front of my cell.
I didn’t think we’d get much of a respite , I tell Tarrex.
Nor I, he replies. Carnivorous animals often like to play with their food. I think Khour is a predator who likes to play with her prey. I wonder what—or who—is on the menu?
There are two Frains among the six males. They, along with the Xelkets of Khour’s race, are some of her favorite henchmen.
Frains are a bipedal species who are so cockroach-like they never fail to give me the skeeves. Their brittle brown exoskeletons, along with their weird vertical mouths, make me shiver. They have two sets of spindly arms and walk on two legs. What’s worse, though, is the fact that their spit is so acidic it can dissolve flesh.
It’s a lucky happenstance that Rygel’s father, the infamous and psychopathic Daneur Khour, received a nice acid bath on his face before his ultimate demise. When I heard the news of his death, my imagination supplied a soundtrack of people all over the known galaxy cheering in a thousand different tongues.
“Put these on,” the Frain sets a pain/kill collar on the floor in front of each of our cells, then kicks them between the bars.
Ah, the slave collar. I haven’t worn one since we gained our freedom. I’d hoped to never have to wear one again. I place it around my neck, but don’t press it together hard enough to activate it. Perhaps my long hair will hide that it’s not fastened properly.
“Place your back to the bars in front of me,” he orders in his clicking language that sends shivers up my spine. “Lift your hair.”
He reaches in and roughly snaps the collar in place, then performs the same check on Tarrex. I saw him reach to his nape as the Frain approached him. We both must have had the same idea.
“You’re being held by the MarZan cartel, one of the most powerful forces in the galaxy. Do you think we are na?ve? Stupid? Do you still have delusions that you will somehow escape our control? Just take a look at the males who share this cellblock. Do you not think they’ve tried to escape? They’re more powerful than you, little Earth female. Don’t try my patience again. I’ll have no reservations about using the pain/kill collar in the future.”
We’re forced down the hallway, out of the cellblock, and through the ship. Although my heart is pounding at twice its normal rate, I doubt we’re being taken to our death. If they’d wanted to kill us, we’d already be dead and they certainly wouldn’t have bothered slapping slave collars on our necks.
Because I lived on the sister ship to this for several months, I think we’re headed toward the living quarters. When we arrive at a cabin door, the males on either side of me stand straighter and the one on my right clears his throat. They’re nervous. We must be at Khour’s cabin.
I almost smile when I realize neither of these males has the balls to knock on this bitch’s door, even though she must have ordered them to deliver Tarrex and me.
“Knock, Drix,” one says to the other.
“I believe it’s your turn, Brixxa,” the other responds.
The two perform some hand ritual that I soon realize must be similar to the Earth game of rock, paper, scissors.
“ Drack , I lost again,” Drix says as he raps once with a single disgusting chitinous knuckle.
“Come.”
Their shoulders relax as they enter, pulling us into the room with them.
When we’re barely over the threshold, Khour asks imperiously, “Did any of you idiots test the collars before you brought these slaves to my private rooms?”
More throat clearing, “No, Commander.”
“Must I do everything myself?” She fiddles with her wrist-comm, probably making sure she’s connected to the correct collars, although I doubt she’d care if she accidentally kills every slave on board.
Bracing myself for the pain, I’m reminded of the first time I was shocked onboard the Warbird One shortly after I woke up from being abducted. They wanted us to feel the bite of the collars, so they set them to a one out of ten. That was enough to make an indelible impression on me. The weakest setting hurt so badly it felt like my synapses were sizzling for hours.
Khour’s yellow gaze rests on me as she presses her wrist-comm. I feel the electric jolt as all my muscles spasm. She zaps Tarrex at the same time. It was horrific, but not as horrific as I remember. She must have pulsed it for less than a second, and even though we amplified each other’s pain, it could have been much worse.
I’m reminded of Tarrex’s comment, that Khour wants to play with us in other more insidious ways. Why ruin her fun by damaging her toys so early in the game?
My nerves feel fried, but I’m still standing. Now that I realize I tolerated the quick jolt and have lived to tell the tale, I glance around the room.
At one time or another, I was in almost every cabin on the Warbird One . None of them were as spacious as this. When I look more closely, it appears Tarrex’s intel was correct. She’s had walls removed and combined three cabins for her personal use.
We’ve entered into her private dining area, which appears to be set for dinner for three. How cozy.
A large, round bed is lodged at the farthest end of the open area. My blood runs cold when I see what’s housed between where I stand and the bed—a cage, maybe six by eight feet. Inside it are my two friends, Theos and Doctoré. They have a death grip on the bars of their cage and rage on their faces. Seeing me here, getting shocked while they’re helpless to come to my aid, must be torture for them.
I flick my gaze to Khour, not wanting her to get a whiff of the emotions swirling in my gut. I keep my chin up and my face frozen in what I hope is the picture of nonchalance. Inside, I’m using every ounce of self-control I possess not to cry or scream or step the five feet between her and me and choke the living shit out of her.
The males have been here about a month, and by the swift glance I got of them, they haven’t been fed much in the intervening weeks. They’ve lost a lot of weight.
Stay strong, Savannah, Tarrex says. Try to keep your gaze away from them. Don’t let Khour see how upset you are. I’ve stolen a few glances. They look rough. That’s all you need to know. I’m keeping their thoughts at a distance, but they’re not doing well. And trust me, they are not happy you came to rescue them. They feel responsible for your capture.
While keeping my gaze on Khour, I reply, I got the message from their flared nostrils and white knuckles. Tarrex, I'll hold it together. I’m a soldier.
“I hope my little test of the collars wasn’t too painful,” Khour says as if she read the stage directions in a play that told her to sound sympathetic. “I wouldn’t want to spoil any of the upcoming festivities.”
I’m convinced one of the four of us prisoners is going to die tonight. She’s brought Tarrex and me to watch something heinous.
“Come. Have a seat. I’ve had the chef prepare delicacies. You’ve got a long, interesting night ahead of you.” Her smile is feral, as fake as a TV villain straining to look concerned. I nurture my visions of choking her so hard her eyes bug out of her head.
One of Khour’s Xelket henchmen seats her at one of the three chairs, and Tarrex subtly steps in front of me as I make my way to one of the two available seats. I sit at the only remaining seat and realize he forced me into the seat with its back to Theos and Doctoré. He wants to shield me from watching them.
Khour claps her hands, and her staff brings tray after tray of what appears to be gourmet food. I doubt she’s trying to impress us. Is this how she eats every night? Six different dishes?
I recall the ancient Romans used to eat peacock tongues and throw away the birds. It was an ostentatious statement about the host’s wealth. I have no doubt what I’m watching is the intergalactic version of that.
Khour makes precision cuts of her food, then chews in quick, purposeful bites. Although I must admit the food is delicious, Khour doesn’t appear to be enjoying it. I imagine there are few things in the galaxy that thrill her, and two of them are sitting at her table while the other two are locked in a cage a few feet away.
I feel guilty eating while those males are starving, but since I assume the time for my torture is coming, I eat heartily. I may be Khour’s prisoner, but I will keep trying to escape until I succeed—or die.
“It’s good to see a female with a hearty appetite. More?”
“You’re being such a gracious host,” I say in my most insincere voice, “to what do we owe this pleasure?”
Savannah! Watch your step! This female is an apex predator and although you’re a soldier, you couldn’t in your wildest dreams match her scheming nature.
Sorry. You’re right, I reply. Couldn’t help it.
“I don’t receive much company out here doing good works all over the galaxy in the name of the MarZan cartel. I so love to entertain. Just wait until you see what I have in store for you tonight.”
Shit. I wish I could float out of my body and not have to watch whatever tortures she has planned for after dinner. Or perhaps Tarrex and I have been poisoned and she’s going to watch us writhe in pain as we expire right here at her table.
“Dessert?” she asks as she nods to the servers, who arrive with plates of sweets for each of us.
Since these plates were individually delivered, her food could be edible, while Tarrex and I could have tainted food.
“I’ll pass, although it looks delicious.” I press my palm to my chest as if I’m rejecting a calorie-dense dessert at a luncheon with my high-society friends.
Khour takes enjoyment from her dessert, and I realize her delight doesn’t come from the pleasure of the food itself, but from the fact that her evil machinations made me forego the sweet treat and I now have to watch her enjoy hers. She even closes her eyes and moans at one point, rubbing my nose in the deliciousness I’m missing.
She’s not just a bitch, but a petty bitch.
Finally, she finishes swooning over her food and the dishes are cleared.
“What I have in mind for the remainder of this evening is of a… private nature. I’m going to dismiss all my staff except for Drix and Brixxa. Must I remind you of the pain the slave collar can administer?”
“I have a good memory,” I assure her.
“And you, gladiator? Must I remind you?”
“I’m well aware of the pain/kill collar’s capabilities.”
“Good. Now the fun will begin in earnest.” She rubs her hands together with as much relish as Ming the Merciless. “Drix, keep your attention focused on my guests, while Brixxa extends the cage.”
Brixxa stalks to the six-by-eight barred cage where my friends are being held, and by pressing a lever, the cage extends farther into the room until it’s maybe twelve by eight. The Frain tosses in a small cube that, when it hits the floor, pops open and fills with air, making a platform about as big as a double bed. In fact, I think it is a double bed.
I have a feeling I’m going to be vomiting the gourmet meal I just ate.
Tarrex? Does that mean what I think it does?
I half expected him to feign ignorance or try to lie to me. It’s actually a relief when he simply answers, Yes.
For the first time, I understand the term “out-of-body experience.” I feel as if I’m floating above the scene for a moment. It’s a respite from being present.
“Drix, set my two guests’ chairs…” She pauses, then points. “Here and here.”
About four feet from the cage, front and center.
“This should be the perfect viewing distance. Brixxa, I want you to stand near the males and watch my two guests, your collar controller at the ready. If either of them takes so much as a long blink much less closes their eyes, I want you to administer a shock at level one. As the level of difficulty increases, the pain level will rise as well.”
She has a perky smile, looking very pleased with herself at the inventiveness of her torture.
“Drix, you’ll keep your attention on the males in the cage. If they fail to comply, give them a shock as well. Although,” she looks at me directly with a conspiratorial wink, “they probably won’t be earning any shocks. They gave up resisting my little entertainments ages ago.” Her dark purple lips purse into what I assume she thinks is a coquettish moue, then she adds, “Although maybe they’ll show off for their friends. That might be fun.”
Although, as demonstrated, the cage could have been expanded, she kept the two large males in a small enclosure, just to punish them. I hate her more every second and am finding it harder to school my features with each successive heinous act she displays.
Reminding myself I’ve stood in parade formations in the Syrian heat when dignitaries arrived three hours late to inspect the troops, I try to act as if I’m as unaffected as a free bird.
“What I like most about these two is the play of their skin. Beautiful, don’t you think? Slave One’s black skin against the other of such a pale white. There’s something fascinating about when they join. But don’t let me spoil it for you. Here. I’ll show you.”
She orders them to engage in a very specific sex act, which I’m sure is just the beginning of an evening full of demonstrations of how powerful she is and how powerless the four of us are.
Savannah, love. You heard the rules, right? You can’t close your eyes or you’ll receive a jolt from the collar. Can you do it? Tarrex’s tone is worried.
Theos and I are best friends. We were lovers. Doctoré is a fine male who should have been a scholar, not a fighter. Watching them forced to engage in unspeakable acts? This is going to kill my soul as much as it’s killing theirs.
I have an idea, he says.
Theos, Doctoré, I hear Tarrex tell the males, don’t fight her on our account. Save your strength. We’re going to get you out of here.
Their gazes flash to him and then back to the floor. They have no hope. Their eyes are dead and their spirits are broken.
They refuse Khour’s order and receive an immediate punishment.
“The next one will be a number three. How dare you embarrass me in front of my guests? I thought I’d trained you better than that,” she says as if she’s the aggrieved party.
She pauses and taps her finger against her chin a couple of times, then, as if a light bulb went on in her brain, she exclaims, “Wait, on second thought, let’s reverse those orders. If the males fail to perform, shock our guests. If the guests fail to watch, shock the males. Oh, but let’s start at level four.” She beams a fiendish smile at all of us like she should receive a reward for her brilliance.
Through telepathy, Tarrex shares something with the males, and for the first time since we entered the room, the raw pain of their emotions dulls.
You and I are going to dance, Savannah, Tarrex says, his voice soft and compelling inside my head. The only thing I ask is for you to keep those beautiful green eyes open. Promise me that.
Yes. Eyes open , I say as the males take a moment to recover from the shock they just received.
I’ve told our males what we’re going to do. They are profoundly grateful we’re trying to do everything we can to watch without seeing them. See the red sparkle of light in the top of the metal at the back of the cage? It’s a reflection from the exit sign over the door.
Yes.
You’re going to watch that. Your gaze will not lower from that. Hold onto it as you and I dance for the first time. We’re going to be so good together.
How does he think his little mind trick is going to be powerful enough to keep my thoughts—and my eyes—from the debasement about to be acted out four feet in front of me?
Hold my hand. Just like we did when I showed you the beautiful park on Coronis.
I take a deep breath, pin my gaze on the gleam of red light, and mentally slip my hand into his.
Notice how warm my hand is. Describe it to me.
I fight his suggestion for a moment, then slip into the experience.
Your hand is so large. I’m fairly tall for an Earth girl, and I’m built sturdy, but when I’m in your arms, I feel dainty and feminine. I like it.
Feel the heat of your flesh on mine? He asks.
I have to remind myself not to nod. I just answer. Yes.
Good. Now we’re going to hold each other like this. He flashes me a picture of me in his arms, ballroom style, and a moment later, I feel it.
Tell me what you notice.
How tall you are, how straight you carry yourself, your muscles against my chest and under my fingertips.
I’ve never tried this before, but can you hear the music?
Funny, I do. He’s playing some tune that flickers in and out of both of our minds, but it’s enough to pay attention to, to hold onto so we can dance. Then I realize he is also sending the music to Doctoré and Theos to give our two males a modicum of solace as they are forced to perform in front of an audience an act they would never dream of doing in private.
We dance together to the basic drum music Tarrex provides as he surrounds us with a breathtaking visual.
Do you see the stars? he asks.
I sure do. Can you throw in a pink and purple nebula?
I’m ever at your service.
We’re going to do this, Tarrex. We’re going to thwart that bitch.
My strong emotions make the entire fantasy blink out for a moment. I don’t know if it’s because I couldn’t hold on to what he was sending me, or if the power of my emotions made it hard for him to maintain the light and sound show he was providing.
Sorry, Tarrex. I’m going to stay in the moment from here on out. Let me help you. I can feel your thoughts are in multiple places. I’ll feed you my love to keep you strong. I’ll strengthen your protection bubble.
Somehow, miraculously, I do stay in the moment. I lay my head on his chest and feel his heartbeat. His body heat bleeds into my skin as if he were a furnace. I flare my nostrils to catch a whiff of the scent that will always remind me of him. It’s an intoxicating blend of pine and sandalwood. I open my heart and synchronize my pulse with his and feel them both grow stronger.
And we dance. I should have known he’d be a wonderful dancer. The male trained his body all day, every day, for years. Between that and his deep spirituality, he knows how to not only move his body, but to be comfortable in it.
Don’t worry, he whispers mentally as we dance, if you need to know what’s going on in that room far, far away, I will tell you. All you need to pay attention to is how well our bodies fit together and how much I love you.
You’re a good male.
Time to return to your seat , Tarrex eventually says. I don’t know how long we danced together.
“Well,” Khour says in a tone that reminds me of one of those mean girl movies. “I must admit that wasn’t as exciting as I’d hoped it would be. You all did exactly what you were told, so I can’t punish you.” Her mouth is pursed in disappointment and disapproval.
As I glance at Khour, I catch Theos and Doctoré in a naked heap on the inflatable bed in the cage. I say a prayer of thankfulness that I didn’t have to watch any of it, and send my affection their way.
“I’d thought the males would protest more,” she huffs. “And I’d hoped you, my dear,” she looks pointedly at me, “would be far more scandalized.”
I bite back my urge to say, “Sorry to disappoint.”
“Oh well,” she says cheerfully, “Tomorrow is another day. I’ve got plans.”
We’re escorted back to the cellblock by a contingent of six guards, then pushed into our cells. I’m certain my friends back on the Fool’s Errand have given up on us. They know we’ve been compromised. As soon as the comm bands left our wrists, they knew the rescue mission had failed. If things had gone well, we would have retrieved the two males and returned by now.
Zar was clear he wouldn’t send anyone to rescue us. He was right. It would be a losing battle to have his crew whittled away, two by two. Now that I need to be rescued, I don’t want any of my friends on the Fool’s Errand to risk their lives on my account. I understand why Theos and Doctoré are furious we’re here. We aren’t dead yet, though. There is still a tiny flame of hope.
I wonder what little show Khour has in mind for tomorrow. My pulse races in terror.