Chapter 28 Jean
Above ground, the sky is still overcast, but the light is almost blinding after the darkness of the mine. It is several long seconds before my vision is clear enough for me to take a look around.
It doesn’t help that I’m crying.
It also doesn’t help that I’m currently being carried on an alien’s shoulder, caveman style. A bad alien. Venim. He said his name is Venim.
It doesn’t matter that he saved my life. I’m pretty sure it would have been better if he hadn’t. A few seconds of pain getting ripped apart by bugs probably would have been preferable to whatever’s waiting for me at Mount Bogus, or wherever it is Venim said he’s taking us.
God, I wonder if that’s where Mel is now.
I blink the tears from my eyes and twist on his shoulder in an attempt to survey the scene.
The first thing I notice are the bugs crouching around the perimeter of the campsite.
What is it with this planet and bugs? These look like gigantic horse-sized wasps with a bit of dragonfly DNA sprinkled in, and they’re all equipped with saddles and riding tack.
As I watch, one of them briefly flutters its membranous wings, emitting a deep thrumming sound.
These are obviously the thrumwings Scythro and Ghorak mentioned.
Which means the aliens milling around the campsite are the bad guys, in case that wasn’t already obvious from everything that just happened down in the mine. They are armed with primitive weapons. Swords and spears and spiked clubs. A few have crossbows.
Scythro is being led along beside me. His hands are bound behind his back with a pair of rusty handcuffs that look like something straight out of a medieval dungeon.
A matching chain is hooked to a collar around his neck.
He’s got a lump on his head where Venim kicked him, and his jaw is swollen where the other alien punched him.
That sight ignites something within me.
Scythro and I may have gotten off to a rocky start, but he’s already saved my life more than once—not to mention the nocturnal assistance he’s given me. There’s a bond forming between us that’s impossible to ignore. I’m not going to sit by idly while these assholes abuse him.
But what can I do? I’m just a weak little human. There’s no way I can stand up to a gang of hardened alien criminals.
Something bumps my shoulder, almost like it’s trying to get my attention.
Venim’s sword.
At the moment, both my hands are occupied with carrying Gerber. I quickly transfer the android’s body entirely into my left hand. Then I use my right to grip the handle of the sword.
Venim grunts beneath me.
His body shifts, and the next thing I know, I’m sailing through the air.
My butt is the first part to touch down, which is probably a good thing, considering it’s the most cushioned part of me.
My back isn’t quite so lucky. It slams against some kind of boulder, jolting most of the air from my lungs.
When I recover a moment later, I realize there’s something hard and heavy in my hand.
The sword!
It must have slid out of the sheath when Venim tossed me. The Znthian makes no attempt to take it back. Instead, the corner of his mouth turns up in the faintest possible smile. Now, in the daylight, I can see that he doesn’t really look like the portrait of the Emperor.
He looks a whole lot scarier.
“Maybe I was wrong about you,” he says. “Maybe you’re not just another spoiled brat for the Emperor’s harem. Well, what are you waiting for? Go ahead and give me your best shot.”
For a moment, I’m too stunned to move.
Then, with my heart pounding, I set Gerber down on the ground beside me and grip the sword with both hands.
I rise.
Scythro is standing a few steps away, watching. If his hands weren’t bound behind his back, I would give the sword to him. By the time I remember his prehensile tail, it’s already too late. The alien holding the other end of Scythro’s leash jerks him back, pulling him out of range.
I’m going to have to do this on my own.
The sword is surprisingly light in my hands, and though I’m hardly an expert in such matters, it feels as though it is perfectly balanced. As I raise the weapon above my head, the translucent blade catches the light and gleams a milky blue.
Venim doesn’t move. He just stands his ground. The curvature of his not-quite-a-smile increases by perhaps one micron.
“Jean,” Scythro says.
“Boss,” says the alien holding his leash.
Both of their utterances go unheeded. Venim and I just stand there for a moment, staring each other down, him unarmed, me wielding an alien sword I have no business wielding. My pulse is a hammer inside me. It thumps at the base of my throat.
I swing with all my might.
Venim’s expression remains unfazed. He doesn’t even flinch.
CLAP!
The palms of the alien’s hands come together in front of him, catching the blade mere inches from his face. The sudden stop sends a painful jolt racing up my arms, as if I had just slammed the weapon into a brick wall.
I cry out in shock. An embarrassing sound.
Still clutching the blade between his palms, Venim plants a foot against my stomach and shoves. My fingers slip off the handle of the sword, and I sit down hard, losing my breath a second time.
“An admirable effort,” Venim says, sliding the sword back into its sheath. He doesn’t sound the least bit angry. If anything, he sounds… proud?
He gestures to the alien holding Scythro’s leash-chain.
“Lock that one to the other.”
At first, I think I’m the “other” he’s referring to. Then a sound causes me to turn, and I realize the truth of the matter. A gasp bursts from my lips.
“Ghorak!”
Earlier, when Venim tossed me on the ground, I thought it was a boulder behind me. Now I see it was actually Ghorak. The horned alien is lying curled up on the ground, his arms and legs wrapped in heavy chains.
After a moment, Scythro’s leash-chain is connected to the chains encircling Ghorak’s body. A primitive-looking padlock is used to secure it in place.
“What about this one?” Venim says, pointing at me. “Do we have a chain for her?”
The underling shakes his head.
“We used up all our chains on this one.” He gives Ghorak a kick.
Venim frowns. “Go check the supplies,” he says. “There must be something we can use.”
“Aye, boss.”
The underling flashes me a brief, lustful look. Then he scurries off toward the thrumwings to do his master’s bidding.
“Now then…”
Before Venim has a chance to go on, a commotion from the other side of the camp steals his attention.
About fifty yards away, a small group of aliens are fighting over some long, narrow object.
After a moment, I realize it’s Ghorak’s homemade energy rifle.
One of them is holding it by the stock. Another is holding it by the barrel.
The two aliens are doing a little tug of war for the weapon while the others around them chatter and cheer them on.
VVVWHMPF!
All of a sudden, the weapon goes off, and the alien who was tugging on the business end of it vanishes in a swirl of pink sparks. The other aliens cheer even louder than before. A few of them laugh.
“Blessed Monad,” Venim grumbles under his breath.
I guess that’s his version of God or something.
He starts to march over in the direction of the raucous aliens, but he only makes it a few strides before coming to a halt.
He turns and looks at me, then Scythro, then Ghorak, and finally back to me again.
He steps closer and crouches, so his face is right in front of mine.
“Stay put,” he growls. “If you move from this spot, even by one snik, it won’t be you I punish—it will be your two friends here, the weed-monger and the whore. Do you understand?”
It is clear he isn’t bluffing. I nod.
“Good,” he says, his growl a little softer this time. “I’ll be back in a kethar. Remember: don’t move.”