Chapter 4 #2
“The Nexas is brute-force hacking our door, so you'll see him soon enough. Despite his looks and command of your version of the trade standard tongue, they're actually very intelligent.”
“Nexas?” Nic-coal’s dark eyes are fixed on the door. She’s more than an arm's length away from me, keeping a wary distance. “What's that?”
“Another alien species entirely. Olorian and Nexas relations are… strained. Nexan females were wiped out by a virus, so they scour the universe capturing suitable mates. As you can imagine, Olorian women aren't impressed with how they handled the first batch, so they keep Nexans at bay.”
Something in what I've said unsettles her. Probably the fact another alien is attempting to kidnap her. That, or the ominous clang of boots right outside our flickering door.
“Can he see in the dark? Should we turn the lights off in here?” She points to the central column throwing warm golden light over the room.
“Good idea.” I run out and shut it off, plunging us into dim emergency light. “I didn't realize humans can see in the dark.”
She swallows hard. “No, but I thought you might be able to.”
“Why's that?”
“Your… eye. Isn't it robotic or something? Can it use infrared?”
“Why would my eye use infrared frequencies?”
“I, er… they do in movies.”
Despite not being able to see her very well anymore, I can smell her heated skin, as if she's coloring with embarrassment. Quickly, I go round and tap the column back up to mood lighting, likely in the system to simulate a campfire, and get myself into a vantage point around the counter.
“How long do we have?” Nic-coal stays with her back against the kitchen island.
“I'd say… a handful of human minutes.”
She quickly pulls her hair braid apart, brushing it into silky loose strands with shaking fingers.
“What's that for?” I whisper. Her hair slides like black silk between her fingers.
“Tying my hair back, out of the way.” Fingers flickering with speed, she separates it into three thick ropes and weaves them together. The neater, tighter braid pulls her tresses back from her face, and she finishes by tying it off with a thin band.
I wrench my attention back to the door as, with a final guttering spark, it fails, shattering into a heap of betrillium-carbore crystals with the rattle of a thousand rolling dice.
In a thud of heavy boots, the Nexas thumps into our ship.
Bright light pours in from his ship interior, now connected to ours, so he's an outline.
His shoulders scrape the edges of the doorway as he steps forward, his thick arms wrapped with muscle upon muscle, his legs like twin trunks of Milagrove trees from my homeworld.
His silhouette alone is enough to make even the most committed Parthiastock enforcer pause.
And I'm no Parthiastock. I'm a bag of super sensitive neurons by comparison.
As he stalks into the ship toward the dimly lit column, details emerge.
Under a thick fur cloak from some kind of huge beast, his orange skin gleams with black and blue crystal deposits, rough and jagged, growing like natural armor across his forearms and shoulders.
He's holding his family hatchet in front of his body, the blade's edge studded with more crystal shards.
His eyes gleam with eagerness. “Female. I come.”
Nic-coal flinches behind the workbench, but says nothing.
Upset at no welcome, the Nexas crashes toward the sleeping quarters with surprising speed for something so large.
I grab a bottle of sedative, but Nic-coal tears it out of my grasp.
“Hey. Not that much, you'll kill him,” she hisses.
“Have you seen him? He's enormous. You need to let me handle this. You do not want to get captured by a Nexas.”
Her face is so pale and her eyes so desperate they stand out like black holes, sucking me into their orbit. She shuffles next to me, leaning past me as the Nexas thuds back into view.
He roars, “Come out, kidnappers! Greharm will liberate your female and make her his bride.”
“Oh, shit,” Nic-coal mutters, shoving herself back.
“Right?” I glare at his hips. “You'd never straddle that.”
She shoots me a glare, but hands me the bottle of sedative all the same.
Weighing it, I plot the trajectories to the target. I need to stand if I'm going to land this throw and, while it'll give away my position, that won't matter once he's down.
Springing to my feet, I draw back my arm and fire, yelling, “This is my human, go get your own!”
The bottle flies in the air, fast. But unfortunately, not on the correct trajectory. It smashes on the floor a good few steps from the Nexas.
The male glares at the fumes wisping up from the puddle of broken plasglass, then at me.
I sigh and murmur to Nic-coal, “When I distract him, run to your room and barricade yourself in.”
She opens her mouth to protest, but I leave cover and back away from the island to the kitchen counter, leading him away from Nic-coal's hiding spot.
The Nexas grips his hatchet and heads toward me with purpose. “Olorian clone. You again.”
“I've never met you before, so you must be referring to my batch brothers. Just because you've met one clone doesn't mean you've met them all.”
The Nexas stops just the other side of the kitchen work surface, fingering his ax blade as his hard gaze rakes me. “Green scales. Healer type. Not a hard fight. Surrender, healer.”
“Ah, the Selthiastock reputation proceeds them.” Shit. “I would be a better clone for hand-to-hand combat, but no other type has a fast enough metabolism to get rid of the sedative someone gave me.”
He frowns, and I don't waste the opening. With a swift push of my legs, I launch over the kitchen island at the intruder, claws on my metal arm extending as I reach for his neck, aiming to cut deep and fast.
But he’s faster than he looks. His hatchet swings up, blocking my strike, the clash of his crystal-studded weapon and my claws send sparks skittering through the air.
He shoves me back, throwing me into the edge of the kitchen counter. Pain radiates up my spine, but I grit my teeth, ignoring the sting. My scales shift, darkening as I focus, and I spit a layer of acid onto my claws. It sizzles.
He grins at the sight. “This clone has tricks.”
“Lots of tricks, yes.” I lunge at him again, ducking low, feinting toward his legs then twisting mid-lunge to swipe up toward his chest.
He raises the hatchet, but I’m faster, scoring a shallow hit across his side. Acid hisses on his skin, and he winces, stepping back as he’s momentarily thrown off balance.
I go in again, but he recovers and brings his knee up, catching me square in the gut. Air rushes out of my lungs, and I stumble, gasping. His hatchet swings down aiming for my shoulder, and I barely twist in time, the edge grazing my scales and leaving a burning line down my arm.
Fuck.
I back off, nanites surging to the wound site, but he presses forward, forcing me to retreat step by step, cornering me up against the kitchen wall.
Time for a new tactic. I spit a glob of acid straight at his face but he jerks back. It splashes across his arm, sizzling amongst the crystal deposits.
He grunts, grimacing, his grip tightening on the hatchet. His eyes gleam but he doesn't press forward. Why is that?
“He's losing confidence,” Nic-coal says. She's standing, moving toward us, not running like I told her.
The Nexas spins in place to face her. “Ah, female.”
Seething at her, I nonetheless take advantage of the opening she gave me, darting close.
He sees and swings but, with a burst of speed, I duck under it, lashing out with my claws and slicing across his thigh.
Blood wells up, dark and thick, and his leg buckles.
He drops down, catching himself on one knee.
I bare my teeth. If he is losing confidence, I need to capitalize on that. “You’ll die here, Nexas. Leave.”
But his grin returns, fierce and unsettling. “Not before I liberate your female and take her for my bride.”
Nic-coal says, “But I don't want—”
With a roar, he lunges, hatchet raised high. I duck low, ready to dart either side, but then he leaps toward me. The hatchet was a ruse, his real attack is his stone head, slamming into mine.
Stars flash in my vision like we're entering hyperspace. His crystal-studded fist crashes into my jaw, and I stumble back, dazed. The Nexas’ hatchet swings up, the sparkling edge aimed at my neck.
I dodge, barely avoiding the lethal strike, but he slams his bulging shoulders into me, sending us both stumbling to the kitchen island.
Fuck. I might actually lose. But Samarastocks can't lose.
I struggle beneath his weight, the crystal shards on his body shearing dangerously close to my face.
He grabs fistfuls of my scales and slams me back against the counter, then his knee rams into my chest. A final shove and I go sprawling on the floor, coughing and tasting blood.
He looms over me, hatchet raised. I can’t let him win.
I can't fail my mission, but I can't move.
I've suffered multiple broken ribs along with a ruptured spleen and perforations all over the fucking place, my Selthiastock brain diagnoses.
Code red, nanites need to be overclocked and the violence stopped.
But he isn't going to stop. His eyes never lose the fierce, deadly fire of the fight.
I glare back. Let him see my own fire burning for Samara. Death is a fitting outcome for failing her.
“You fought well,” he rasps with a sardonic smile, bringing the hatchet down.
“Stop.” Nic-coal darts above me, hands outstretched as if to catch that awful hatchet.
Shit. My hearts accelerate and I try to sweep her to one side, ending up grabbing onto her calf. She doesn't even afford me a single glance.
Fortunately, the Nexas drops his weapon behind him. It dents the floor of the ship with a ringing boom.
“Female. You're hurt. Who did this to you?” He turns those gimlet eyes back to me and snarls, “Did you hurt helpless female?”
“No, I'd never,” I spit back, offended. “We look after our women, unlike some species.”
The Nexas’ eyes flash with pain, and he bends down over me, wrapping his crystal fists around my throat. I'm too weak to stop him, but I have to try, tugging at his rock-hard fingers.
“Stop.” Nic-coal’s trembling, as I'd expect in a battle like this, but she's standing as tall as she can while facing off against a huge warrior alien. Even though he'd die before he hurt her, she doesn't know that. Why is she stopping him?
“I'm Nicole. I'm a healer, I… Don't kill him.”
His eyes positively glow. “A healer. Praise be to the goddess. Greharm gets into many fights, a healer is perfect match. Now, let me dispose of your foul captor and we shall begin preparation for our buggazah.”
I swear I hear a crunch in my neck as his thick, studded fingers tighten. Pain explodes in my temples and jaw.
“Wait.” Nic-coal gets to her knees beside me and puts her hands over his. Does she want to get a final squeeze in herself? Her voice is dim in my ears. “Don't hurt him, please. I'll… I'll come with you and be your healer, just don't kill him.”
I can't help but stare at Nic-coal. Did she really just say that?
Greharm’s fists loosen a fraction. “I cannot deny my bugrath anything. You have a kind and gentle nature, healer. I keep him alive as my buggazah gift to you.”
He raises one hand, giving me a last gasp of air, and slaps me so hard it all goes black.