Chapter Four Pixies
Chapter Four
Pixies
Selena
Of all the places she thought she’d eventually find herself when she applied for the transfer to the Gambier Bay, sitting on her ass in the middle of a town meeting of pixies was most definitely not on the list.
The twine they’d bound her in dug into her skin, more a warm itching than outright pain. Her legs were crossed, her ankles bound together with the same plant-based fibers.
Her ass was beginning to numb against the hard, cold earth.
The chattering and yelling of the pixies milling around her was deafening, the forest seemingly filled with them now, males and females both.
The gray tendrils of mist among the treetops and the opaque pale overcast seemed to absorb some of the crowd’s noise, taking the edge off the sound of their alien words, if not her fright at realizing she was now their prisoner.
It appeared to be the center of their village.
There were numerous tiny hamlets they’d observed from orbit, each little more than a collection of crude huts topped with thatch or sod roofs.
From her position, it was impossible to ascertain which one she’d been brought to—and whether or not she was any closer to the positions of any of her other crew members.
One of the most important aspects of survival training—every member of a UTCS survey crew was required to be proficient in it—was to pay as close attention as possible to your captors. There was always a leader, and identifying the leader could sometimes be the difference between life and death.
Or at least a chance at better treatment.
It wasn’t that the pixies had brutalized her, or even handled her particularly roughly.
You mean other than rendering you unconscious and binding you like a Christmas turkey.
But the possibility—even likelihood—was always there, especially in a captivity situation.
In this case, her task of determining who was really running the show wasn’t at all difficult.
In the center of the throng of pixies stood a tall, gray-haired warrior.
Prominent crags at his forehead, deep-set eyes, and the gnarled visage of one who’d seen many seasons of life’s trials set him apart from every other around him.
As did his remarkable calm.
Utterly still, clad in a thick bundle of furs that flowed from the great width of his shoulders, he never spoke. His only acknowledgment of the animated and excited vocalizations by the other pixies was an occasional slight nod, or incline of his head. He had to be the leader.
And he was the only hope Selena might have of getting out of this mess.
His dark, almost solemn gaze never left her as his compatriots chattered and gestured, their spears waving in the air, their feet pounding the flattened loam.
One of the pixies—the same one she’d encountered when she’d opened her lifeboat—was pointing to the sky with his spear, his hand sweeping upward. Then he dropped to a crouch, his palm striking the earth. A great hush spread through the throng.
“Agreh kah!” the leader finally said, his voice deep and booming. The gathered pixies erupted into cheers.
His arm extended from his robes, and he pointed toward the west, the trees there particularly towering. A single mountain peak could just be discerned in the thick mist, more a hint of a shape than anything else.
The sight of it filled her with a strange, subtle unease.
“Agreh kah. Ne!” the leader pronounced again, his gaze sweeping over her once more as he said it.
More cheers sounded all around her.
You need to stop worrying about some stupid mountain, and start worrying about keeping yourself from being on tonight’s menu.
It was ridiculous, of course; none of the intelligent species on HW14-3 exhibited the slightest inclination toward cannibalism. But as helpless as she was, even the most terrifying thoughts took on a whole new air of at least possibility, if not likelihood.
Another pixie stepped forward, one she hadn’t seen before.
A young male, younger even than the male who’d captured her.
Dressed in only a brief bit of fabric tied about his waist that showed most of his lean, wiry frame, he was tall and strong.
His skin, the palest she’d seen yet, was clear, almost translucent, his eyes big and bright, and almost… kind.
He gave her a smile, and it was only at that moment that she realized how terrible the tension in her body had been; that one glimpse of warmth was like the grateful desert savoring its first drop of rain.
The young male put the tips of his fingers to his lips, nodding to her as he did.
Food.
She nodded emphatically, her stomach practically snarling in sudden anticipation.
The gathered throng seemed to be moving on to other matters, several more males—all of whom appeared to be warriors like the taciturn male who’d captured her—crowded around the leader, several speaking in gruff, almost guttural tones, gesturing to one another.
As if to take advantage of the lull, the young male flashed an eager smile, holding up a finger, as if asking her to stay where she was.
I don’t think I’m going anywhere, am I? So, sure, I’ll just wait here.
Within less than a minute, he’d returned, a steaming bowl of a savory liquid that vaguely resembled a stew placed on the dirt before her.
He produced a knife, the shiny metal catching the muted gray light of the overcast afternoon. Her heart skipped a beat, but then she relaxed once she felt the blade slice through the bonds holding her hands at the small of her back.
“Thank… thank you,” she said, rubbing the chafed skin of her wrists.
He pointed at the bowl, bringing his fingers to his lips once more.
Hunger easily won out over her dignity, and she dove in, not caring a whit that she dribbled some of the meal—a surprisingly filling and delightful meat-based concoction—down her chin. Without utensils she could do little more than slurp the hot and savory food from the rim of the wooden bowl.
The man patted her shoulder, an unexpected tenderness to his touch that she noted but took pains not to react to. Perhaps this one, his kindness, could be an asset in figuring out how to extricate herself from her situation.
The young male stood then, hooking two fingers toward the crowd behind him. A truly lovely woman, appearing even younger than the male, stepped from the throng.
Selena stopped chewing the instant she laid eyes on her, tendrils of dread coiling deep in her belly.
It was a girl… wearing the flimsiest of garments made entirely of brilliant, multi-hued flowers. Her hips were almost entirely bare, the tips of her breasts just concealed by silky petals, the ends of her midnight hair tangling prettily in the primitive but dazzling floral garment.
She was slender, almost to the point of delicate. Her body was the envy of any woman, slim yet shapely in the perfect way of a female in the prime of her youth.
Selena could never have hoped for such a physique. No, hers was a body blessed more with curves and solid strength than that of the delicate ingénue.
It had been a point of irritation, when Selena had been a UTCS pilot trainee. The instructor, a stern master chief named Langley, had been known to give female recruits favorable reviews, but for Selena the very idea chafed at her sense of right and wrong.
Not to mention her competitiveness. She knew she was every bit as good as any of the male jocks in the school, so she resolved she’d come out at the top of her class on her merits and skills, rather than the plumbing she was born with.
Taking a cue from a historical novel she’d loved as a child, Selena had taken to strapping down her breasts in an effort to deemphasize her figure—which even the trainee jumpsuit still at least hinted at.
And she had passed at the top of her class. Ironically, that same master chief had been someone young recruit Selena had found irresistible.
The way a junkie was unable to fight the siren song of the addiction that slowly consumed them.
Their illicit relationship had lasted all two years of her specialist school, and she’d found out that while Master Chief Langley may have taken it easy on female recruits, he did anything but for the woman he considered his.
Controlling, possessive, and arrogant, once he’d learned of Selena’s little ruse, strapping down breasts full and generous in order to fool him, he’d taken great delight in making her continue her ritual. In fact, he’d ordered her to strap them down even more tightly, so that it hurt, every time.
So that he had the pleasure of watching his possession slowly reveal her femininity to him, and only him, every night in his officer’s quarters, before taking her hard and rough.
Degrading sex, pain and pleasure, and forcing her to bend her will to his were the hallmarks of their twisted dynamic. The older, more experienced authority figure taking advantage—and reveling in it—of the ostensibly vulnerable subordinate.
But both of them knew she was anything but the innocent. They just liked to play at it, the wrong adding that much more spice to something that threatened to burn them both with the power of their dark passion.
Their affair was one that could have ruined him had they ever been discovered, prison and disgrace the price to be paid for an instructor daring to fraternize with a recruit.
It was an affair that she’d feared had ruined her.
But she’d broken it off in the end, taking her first commission as a newly minted warrant officer, and leaving her stern, sadistic Master Chief Langley in the past.
Where arrogant, poisonous—but all too tempting—males belonged.
Now, sitting there in that dirt, wiping the salty, delicious mixture from her chin, Selena wondered why that memory had come flooding back, that dark, but bittersweet recollection of impetuous—and twisted—indulgence in a part of her psyche she’d tried ever since to lock away.
Where it could never be used to hurt her again.
Though hers were perhaps a shade lighter, the girl had the same large, inquisitive eyes as the male who’d cut Selena’s bonds,. Her skin held that identical flawless clarity. Even the facial structure, while less prominent and rugged, was similar.
Sister.
The male, as if to confirm Selena’s suspicions, hugged the girl to his side, kissing the top of her dark hair. It was a gesture not of romantic love or sexual possessiveness.
It was brotherly.
The male and female conversed in muted tones for a moment, the girl’s gaze going wide as her counterpart tipped his head toward Selena.
Then Selena realized what had filled her with such unease.
That flower get-up is the same one the sacrificed pixies wore.
“Oh, no,” Selena said, dropping the bowl to the earth as the two gray-haired matrons stepped forth, flanking the young man and woman. The older women, clad in the same voluminous robes, were all too familiar, terror blooming hot and sickening in Selena’s belly as they looked upon her.
One of them took the arm of the girl clad in flowers. But the girl’s brother stopped her, tucking his sister behind him protectively.
His gaze turned to Selena then, and cold calculation had replaced the warmth she thought she’d seen in his eyes before.
“Ne,” the young man said, pointing at Selena.
It was at that moment that she saw what one of the matrons held in her hands.
A length of twine… and a garland of flowers.