Page 12 of Bound to the Alien Orc (Alien Gambits #1)

Chapter 12

T he cold iron chains dig into my wrists as I’m led towards the courtarium for my trial. I keep my head held high; my gaze focused ahead. I’m determined not to let the guards, the other prisoners, see me crack.

“Move,” Arm-ageddon growls, his voice harsh, a low snarl rumbling in his throat. My breath catches and my pulse is pounding in my ears.

I try to think of something other than my impending execution. The memory of Droilin’s kiss last night is bittersweet. I can’t get his scent out of my head. I hold on to the lingering feeling of his muscular arms wrapped around me, his firm body pressed against mine.

But he couldn’t help me. He doesn’t have enough evidence. No one has evidence. I’m doomed.

I’m about to be sentenced to execution, and there’s nothing I can do. Officer McCoy said to play the game, but I don’t even know the rules.

I swallow the lump in my throat, forcing the anxiety back.

“Keep moving, human,” the guard commands, his voice gruff.

“I am,” I mutter, the words like ash in my mouth.

The walk to the courtarium seems endless, each step dragging, the pressure mounting. The walls appear to press in, the air stifling, my breath coming in short, shallow gasps.

The doors to the courtarium loom in front of me, the dark metal gleaming in the harsh artificial light. The doors hiss open; the sound echoing through the corridor, a sharp contrast to the oppressive silence that has engulfed me until now.

I’m led into the room, and it’s like a punch to the gut, telling me of just how precarious a position I’m in.

The courtarium is a massive space, the ceiling vaulted, the walls adorned with ornate carvings, a marvel of metal and glass. Artificial starlight filters in through the towering windows, bathing the space in a warm, golden glow. The large room is shaped like a hexagon, the floor polished. In the center, a circular platform rises above the rest of the room, the elevated area giving the impression of a stage. In the heart of the stage, a podium looms, its large chains designed to bind the defendants, casting an ominous shadow over the courtarium.

Facing the podium are the judge’s box and the witness stands, the former situated to the left, and the latter to the right. Behind those in the rear of the room is the observation gallery. A seating area filled with spectators; the air charged with anticipation.

It’s a grand place, designed to impress and intimidate. And it’s doing an excellent job.

Arm-ageddon prods me forward, and I stumble, my footsteps heavy, the shackles clanking. I’m led up to the center, and the guards force my hands into the manacles. The cold metal bites into my skin, the weight of the chains heavy, much too heavy for someone like me.

He steps aside, and I’m left standing alone, exposed, and vulnerable.

I search the crowd for any sign of support, but I’m met with a sea of unsympathetic faces. I turn my attention to focus instead on the judge’s area.

At a table of polished metal are two judges, both dressed in flowing robes. Their faces are obscured by ornate, ceremonial masks, carved from what looks like pure, white crystal. I can pick out which is the Seraphim Jha’ril, as his large black feathered wings are impossible to hide. The other looks like an almost transparent being, with six arms. That must be the Rhilnar.

My heart sinks seeing them seated there. I’ve never been in trouble before, not like this. I have no clue about what to do. All I can do is test my chains, the metal digging into my skin, the weight-bearing down on me.

In a last desperate attempt to find some semblance of calm, I scan the courtroom again. My gaze lands on a familiar face. Droilin. He’s sitting with an empty chair for Garrox beside him, his expression unreadable.

Our eyes meet, and for a moment, it’s as if the entire courtroom falls away. There’s just me and him, the rest of the galaxy fading into the background. I remember his kiss, how he said he believed me, and despite everything, the thought gives me hope.

My heart leaps, a flicker of optimism sparking within me. I hold on to that feeling, grasping at it, drawing strength from it.

Droilin offers me a small nod, the barest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. The simple gesture, the understanding, the support, means more than he can imagine.

Then, the moment is broken. The doors hiss open, and the crowd falls silent as the room seems to hold its breath, anticipation crackling in the air, the tension mounting. Through the open doors of the courtarium, High Chieftain Garrox strides into the room.

His large, imposing frame fills the space, his presence commanding attention. Even from here, I can see his dark green skin is accented by his official clothing, the symbol of Morcrest on his chest, an image of a great black dragon. His ceremonial robes are a mix of red and gold fabric tight against his muscular form, his gold tusks glinting in the light.

He takes his seat beside Droilin, a look of utter disdain etched on his face. I can’t tell if it’s directed at the situation, or at me. Our eyes meet. There’s a flicker of something in his gaze, a cold, calculating look that sends goosebumps across my body.

Droilin and Garrox exchange a few words. Then the High Chieftain leans back, a smug smirk pulling at the corners of his mouth. He glances in my direction, his gaze piercing.

The nauseating sound of my Advocate, Trexton Humbrage, pulls my attention back.

“Not long to go now, Tasha.” His tone is slick, the words smooth. As I meet his gaze, the smug, self-satisfied smirk on his face is a knife in the gut. He knows I can’t fight back. He walks towards his desk on one side of the judge’s box and takes out his datapad.

A tall and imposing Arborean, takes the desk at the other side. He must be the Garrox’s Advocate. His skin, a blend of green and brown hues, glistens under the artificial starlight. His eyes, a deep shade of crimson, burn as they look towards me.

Please let this start. I can’t take anymore. I want this over with.

My fate decided.

Finally, the room straightens, a hush falling over the crowd.

“All rise for Judge Jha’ril, and Judge Klix,” an electronic voice announces.

Everyone stands, and an eerie silence descends over the room. The only sounds are the rustle of fabric, the nervous shuffling of feet. The courtarium seems to hold their breath, anticipation hanging thick in the air.

I struggle to contain the mixture of fear and frustration. The wait is killing me. I need to know what’s going to happen to me.

In one swift motion, the judges rise, their faces obscured behind shimmering, crystalline masks. White robes swirl around their bodies, the fabric billowing beside them. The oily feathered Seraphim and six armed Rhilnar would stand out in any crowd without the formal costume.

Ambassador, or is it Judge Jha’ril now, steps forward. The Seraphim bangs a large gavel, the sound echoing throughout the courtarium.

“We will now begin the trial of Tasha Williams.” His voice is clear.

“The Orion Court recognizes the defendant, human Tasha Williams, as an Orion Outpost resident and their charge: the attempted assassination of the High Chieftain Garrox of Morcrest.”

I clench my fists, trying to ground myself in the moment. But the cold metal chains binding my wrists feel heavier, the room more oppressive. I take a deep breath, fighting the panic brewing inside me.

Jha’ril pauses, his gaze sweeping the room. The tension mounts, a sense of anticipation building.

“This trial will now proceed. Prosecution, you may begin.”

The Arborean stands, his shoulders straight, his chin jutting forward. He is dressed in a finely tailored suit. His voice is smooth, his tone confident, a note of authority lacing his words.

“Esteemed Judges, respected members of the court,” the Arborean begins, his voice filling the courtroom.

“I am Argo, the representative of the Orion Outpost Prosecution. As the prosecution, I will demonstrate, beyond a reasonable doubt, that the defendant, Tasha Williams, is guilty of the charges against her. The evidence will prove that the defendant planned, executed, and nearly succeeded in assassinating the High Chieftain.”

He pauses, allowing the weight of his words to settle.

The crowd murmurs, and I can’t help but shudder. My mind racing, desperately looking for a way out, but I come up short.

I swallow, the words sinking in. What evidence? He is confident. Too confident. His gaze meets mine, his expression hard, his jaw clenched.

“Thank you, Argo. Next, the court will hear from Defense Advocate Trexton Humbrage. Please take the stand,” the Seraphim’s voice rings out.

I watch in horror as Trexton, his smug grin firmly in place, saunters over to the witness stand.

His thin blue frame is hunched, and he wears a perpetually bored expression on his face, as if the proceedings are little more than an inconvenient obligation.

“Esteemed Judges, esteemed... everyone,” he begins, his voice devoid of the vigor that marked Argo’s speech. “I’m Trexton Humbrage, appointed defense for... uh,” he glances down at a piece of paper in his hand, “Tasha Williams here.”

His sharp eyes glance at me, and I see his act for what it is. He doesn’t pause to establish rapport with the court or the crowd, doesn’t attempt to sell me as a law-abiding person. Instead, he simply takes his seat.

I’m a dead woman.

“Prosecutor Argo,” Judge Klix addresses the Arborean, “Present your argument. Be reminded that every word holds weight in the scales of justice. Speak truthfully and clearly, for the court and the galaxy are listening.”

Tension in the courtarium builds as Argo begins his opening gambit.

“Your Lawfulness’s, the facts of this case are indisputable. Tasha Williams is a member of a terrorist organization. The explosion was triggered by her. She is a terrorist, and a dangerous one at that.” Argo pauses for dramatic effect, his words hanging in the air, a bitter taste in the room.

He adjusts a holo-projector and I recognize the image. It shows the schematics of the orc ship marked with damage locations. Positions matching my repair work...

“Here is where she planted the explosive device, a powerful detonator that is commonly used by the Orion Defense Forces. She had access to the ship as a technician. This is undeniable proof of her guilt.”

There is a collective gasp in the crowd. A few whispers are heard, but they are quickly hushed.

But Argo isn’t done. He switches the holographic display. This time, a video feed is playing. It’s security footage from the hangar. I’m walking to the ship, my tool kit slung over my shoulder. I climb onto the ship. And the recording goes on for a while.

“This is the footage of her planting the device, which she carried in her toolkit. This is not the work of a random criminal, it’s the work of a terrorist and a skilled engineer.”

“No, this isn’t —”

I gasp as a sharp pain lances through my abdomen. A guard has stabbed me with a shock baton. I look up to see Arm-ageddon, his cybernetic arm, readying another strike. I grit my teeth against the pain, refusing to cry out.

Judge Jha’ril raises a hand and Arm-ageddon stands down.

“I am not finished human,” the Arborean protests, his voice a low growl.

I can’t believe what I’m hearing. This is all utter madness! My heart pounds in my chest, the blood roaring in my ears. I look at Droilin, silently pleading for his help. But he is not there, his seat empty.

My heart sinks, the pain in my abdomen burns.

I’m so totally fucked.

“Enough!” Judge Klix’s voice thunders through the courtroom, his eyes hard as he glares at me. “This is your first warning, Tasha Williams. Any further outbursts will be held against you. We are here to uphold law and order. Respect the court or face the consequences,” the Rhilnar, booms, his voice echoing ominously through the courtroom.

I stare in shock at this alien judge. Rhilnars are notoriously merciless in their adherence to the law. Fear creeps through me, but I cling to my innocence.

With a nod, Judge Jha’ril signals for Argo to proceed.

I want to scream, to tell him it’s all lies, but my voice catches in my throat, no words coming out.

Argo turns to me, a sneer playing on his lips.

“So, Tasha Williams, did you or did you not accept a job to fix the ship?”

“Yes, I did. But —”

“Did you not carry out the job?” he presses

“Yes, but —” I stammer

“The defendant was caught on security footage moments before she remotely detonated the device,” Argo interrupts, his tone firm.

The images on the holo-projector change. I see footage from the canteen, where I sit with Kyor, smiling and joking.

I barely recognize myself.

The court murmurs and I can see the crowd is starting to believe him. Panic bubbles in my chest. I clench my jaw, the pain in my stomach flaring.

“This is Tasha Williams, in the Orion Canteen. She sits with the Chief Engineer. We can clearly see the detonator, hidden in her jacket, ready to be used.”

There are more whispers. The room charged with a buzz of electricity. I peer at the footage, and I’ve no idea what he’s talking about. I have nothing but my favorite plasma conduit in my pocket.

“That’s a plasma conduit. It’s a tool we use in the workshop. We all have one! It’s not a detonator!” I exclaim, the words tumbling from my lips.

Argo ignores my outburst. He has the floor, and the crowd is enthralled by his narrative.

“And finally, the moment when she activated the device, destroying most of the ship. Her ineptitude is the only saving grace for the High Chieftain and the outpost.”

I look towards the judges, their faces unreadable behind their crystal masks. They say nothing, letting Argo continue his performance.

“Tasha Williams is a master terrorist and a master engineer. She knew how to sabotage the ship. She had the motive and the means to do it. Her goal was simple: kill the High Chieftain, and escape justice.”

“What?!”

The words slip out, my emotions getting the better of me.

“Objection, your Lawfulness. This not proof Tasha Williams caused the explosion.” Trexton interrupts, his words a verbal dagger. I can’t hide my shock at his interjection. Is he going to defend me, after all?

I look towards Trexton to continue, but he remains silent. His gaze returns to his datapad.

Dick.

“This is a setup! Someone is trying to frame me!” I exclaim, my voice cracking with emotion.

“Enough,” Jha’ril growls, his tone edged with anger. “Your time for speaking is up.”

Jha’ril looks to the Arborean, the crystals on his mask glittering, a flash of light.

“Prosecutor Argo, please continue.” With a nod, he signals for Argo to proceed.

The Arborean nods, a grim smile twisting his lips. “Thank you, honorable Judges. Now, let me continue. To demonstrate that the defendant is indeed guilty, I will now call my first witness to the stand. Chief Engineer Kyor Drakonforge, please come forward.”

I turn, desperate to catch a glimpse of the familiar figure, and there he is, walking towards the stand. I watch as he is sworn in, my eyes never leaving him.

How can he do this to me? After everything we have been through, the countless hours working side-by-side. He knows I didn’t do this. I want to scream, yell at him, but the words are lodged in my throat.

Chief Engineer Kyor takes the stand, and a hush falls over the crowd.

“Kyor Drakonforge,” Argo addresses him, his voice a low rumble. “Tell us, what happened when Tasha Williams completed her assignment on the ship?”

Kyor takes a deep breath, a frown creasing his brow. He clenches his fists, the tension mounting in the room. Finally, he speaks, his voice measured, a hint of hesitation edging his words.

“Tasha Williams was given a simple task. She was to perform the necessary repairs to the ship, nothing more. She had full access to the ship’s systems and the opportunity to plant the explosives. She was trusted, and had the perfect opportunity.”

I shake my head, denial surging through me, a mix of frustration and anger building.

“I repaired the ship. It was a drone. A drone caused the explosion, not me!” I cry out, desperation clawing at my chest.

Another baton strike, this time to the back. My vision swims, stars bursting in my eyes, a sharp pain lancing through me.

Judge Klix glares at me, his expression harsh.

I bite my lip, the taste of copper flooding my mouth as I try to resist the pain.

Jha’ril leans forward, his feathered wings rustling, the sound echoing in the court.

“Silence!” he roars, the sound reverberating through the courtarium, a thunderous boom. “This is your final warning, Tasha Williams. One more outburst, and you will be sent for execution.”

Trexton doesn’t move, doesn’t react. His eyes are on the witness stand, focused on Kyor.

I glare at the Corsairian, hatred seething within me.

Trexton shakes his head, a smirk pulling at his lips, his voice dripping with disdain. “That’s enough, Tasha. You’ve dug yourself into a hole, and I suggest you stop digging.”

Arm-ageddon raises his shock baton, the crackling electricity a warning.

I clench my jaw, gritting my teeth, biting back a retort.

I will not give them the satisfaction.

“So, the ship was repaired, and Tasha Williams informed you she was finished?” Argo asks, his eyes boring into Kyor.

“That’s correct,” he responds, his voice steady.

“And then what happened?”

“Then she went to the canteen for mealtime. While in the canteen with me, the explosion occurred.”

“So, the ship was repaired, and the defendant left the dock. Is that correct?”

“Yes.”

“She has the skills to cause a remote detonation?”

“That’s right.”

Argo nods, a satisfied look on his face. He turns to the judges, his voice ringing out in the courtroom.

“Your Lawfulness, we have proven the defendant’s ability and means to commit the crime. Furthermore, the security footage shows her at the scene of the crime, right before the explosion. The facts speak for themselves: Tasha Williams is a dangerous terrorist. There are no further questions. Your Lawfulness’s may call on me again if needed. I yield the witness stand to Defense Advocate Trexton Humbrage. Please take the stand.”

Trexton nods and saunters over to Kyor, his demeanor confident. I notice the smirk that plays on his thin lips, the way he holds himself with an air of superiority.

He’s enjoying this.

The sick bastard.

“Chief Drakonforge, tell the court, what is your opinion of the human engineer Tasha Williams?”

“She is keen to learn, always in the workshop, fixing the next project. She’s very dedicated to engineering.”

“No further questions, your Lawfulness’s,” Trexton announces, a smirk playing on his lips. He looks toward the judges and gives a dismissive wave to me.

A sense of hopelessness washes over me. I watch, numb, as Trexton slinks back to his table.

Judge Klix looks to Trexton, his gaze piercing. “Is that all you have for the defense?”

Trexton nods, a look of resignation on his face.

Judge Klix raises two of his six arms, a sign for silence. The murmuring crowd complies, the room falling into a tense hush.

The two judges lock into a gaze and after a moment, they both nod, a silent understanding passing between them.

My heart pounds, the blood roaring in my ears.

No. This can’t be happening.

I’m innocent.

I look to the judges, silently pleading with them, my gaze boring into the Rhilnar’s impassive facade.

But he’s unreadable, his face an expressionless mask.

Ambassador Jha’ril stands, his wings spreading out behind him, the feathers glistening in the light.

He addresses the crowd, his voice booming, the sound echoing in the courtroom.

“Members of the Court, it is with great sadness that I must announce the verdict for Tasha Williams. She is hereby found guilty of the crimes of an attempted assassination on the High Chieftain and terrorism.”

Judge Klix continues, “Tasha Williams, you will be executed by air lock in one standard day.”