Page 16 of Bound to the Alien Orc (Alien Gambits #1)

Chapter 16

T he blast of frigid air hits me like a slap as the ship’s ramp lowers with a groan of metal. I wrap my arms around myself, shivering something fierce as the icy wind cuts through my black jumpsuit.

Squinting against the bright glare of... two suns, I take my first wobbly steps onto Morcrest, the frozen ground crunching under my flimsy shoes.

The pale arctic sun hangs low in the lavender sky, casting a weak silvery light over the stark landscape. Jagged icy peaks poke up sharply on the horizon, their snowy tips disappearing into wispy clouds. The bare gray rock faces are dotted with stubby little trees just clinging on as tight as they can.

Inhaling the crisp air, I’m struck by how clean it smells compared to the stale recycled stuff on the Corsairian Transporter. But every breath burns my lungs like knives with its bitter chill, too. The cold is already seeping into my bones, making my fingers and toes numb after just a few minutes out here.

Garrox stomps down the ramp behind me, his heavy boots sending vibrations through the frozen ground.

“Move it along, human,” he growls, giving me a rough shove toward the landcrawler.

My chains rattle and clank as I stumble forward, but Droilin is there to steady me. His warm hand on my arm sends a pleasant tingle down my spine despite the circumstances.

Garrox’s lip curls in a mean sneer, “Best learn to find your footing quick here, girl. Morcrest has no mercy for your weak kind.” His hot, rotten breath washes over me, making my stomach churn.

I bite my tongue, forcing back the sharp retort that bubbles up, and focus instead on the towering landcrawler. It looks like an armored tank, with a reinforced chassis and a plow mounted to the front.

Droilin helps me up into the vehicle, and I settle onto the cold, hard bench seat, squirming to find a comfortable position.

His eyes meet mine as he takes a seat next to me, his broad frame filling the space. My heart flutters, remembering how kindly he treated me on the trip here, bringing me to the med bay, into the hot shower. Modest comforts, but it means the entire galaxy to me. I’m not sure if I can fully trust Droilin yet, but something in his gentle manner gives me hope.

Garrox shoves me into the landcrawler, barking at the guards to get moving. As the engine rumbles to life, I hug myself tight as I can, trying to rub some warmth into my frozen fingers. Despair bubbles up in me, but I push it back down. Gotta stay strong somehow.

The crawler lurches forward, jostling me on the hard metal bench. I wince as my tailbone hits the unpadded seat again, the cold from the frozen ground seeping up through my thin pants.

Peering out the grimy window, I watch the ship disappear from view as we bounce across the icy terrain. The pale sun casts an otherworldly lavender glow over the harsh landscape rolling past. Everything looks hard as steel and twice as unforgiving.

We pass boulders as big as starforgers, their surfaces jagged and pitted, just like the ships. Scraggly little pines cling to cracks in the rock, swaying stiffly in the biting wind. In the distance, an ice-crusted mountain rears up, clouds swirling around its peak.

It doesn’t seem like anything can take root and grow in this harsh place. A far cry from the warm, comforting hum of the space station where I spent every day of the last few years. I can hardly believe I was to be executed. And now, I don’t know if this exile is much better.

I lean against the window, watching the barren landscape roll by as we make our way to my new home.

The crawler rocks and groans around me as we climb higher. Icy drafts cut through every crack and gap, making me shiver uncontrollably. Trying to warm my hands, I blow on them, watching my breath puff out in frosty clouds.

Droilin glances at me, concern in his eyes. He reaches for his thick fur cloak and drapes it over my shoulders.

The heat of his body still clings to the garment, and the warm scent of him fills my nose. The sensation is surprisingly comforting. I pull the fur close, grateful for his kindness.

The rocky terrain gradually gives way to rolling hills covered in powdery snow. Up ahead, the beginnings of a settlement come into view. Metal structures hunker on the icy slopes, set into the mountainside and around a large square in the center.

As we draw closer, I see they’re cobbled together from rough plates and scrap metal. Smoke rises from inside, mixed with steam venting from pipes and gaps in the patchwork walls.

This is nothing like the pristine, polished corridors of the space station, or even the cramped, rusty confines of the crawler.

Droilin leans close, his warm breath tickling my ear.

“This is the main settlement of my clan, Frosthok. There are two other clans across Morcrest, but this is where most of our people live.”

I nod, taking in the ramshackle buildings. “Are all the settlements like this?”

“No, just Frosthok. We are... less fortunate than the others.”

A pang of sympathy squeezes my heart. He and his clan have been dealt a rough hand, and here I am, a stranger, an outsider, thrown into the mix.

Swallowing down the lump in my throat, I rub my arms and try to get ready for whatever’s coming. I’m not about to give up, not now, not ever. I push down thoughts of where home might actually be now. One crisis at a time, Tasha.

The landcrawler shudders to a stop at one of the metal buildings. The doors of the crawler swing open, and Garrox’s imposing figure fills the frame. “Get out,” he barks, his eyes narrowing as they land on me.

I rise on shaky legs, the fur cloak slipping from my shoulders. Droilin is quick to steady me, his hand a warm, reassuring presence on my arm as he guides me out of the vehicle.

The building we’ve entered is a vast, cavernous space, with a high, arched ceiling and walls lined with shelves and workbenches. The air is thick with the smell of oil and metal, and the clang of tools echoes off the walls.

Garrox leads us across the room, his heavy footsteps ringing on the metal floor. We stop in front of a small, windowless room, little more than a cell. He gestures for me to enter.

“This is where you’ll be staying,” he growls, his eyes glinting with malice. “Don’t get too comfortable. You’ll be working off your debt soon enough.”

I step inside, my heart sinking as I take in the bare, cramped space. A narrow cot is pushed against one wall, a thin blanket folded at the foot. A small table and chair occupy the opposite corner, and a toilet and sink are tucked behind a flimsy partition.

I sit down on the cot, its metal frame creaking under my weight. The cold bites into my hands as I run them over the blanket, its coarse fabric rough against my fingertips.

My thoughts drift to my comfortable room on the space station, my cozy quarters, my soft bed. I blink back tears as I look around the dreary cell. What have I gotten myself into?

Droilin follows me in, his expression apologetic. “I’m sorry, Tasha. This is the best I can do for now.”

I nod, trying to muster a smile. “It’s okay. I understand.”

Garrox pushes past Droilin, his gold tusks glittering in the light.

“Listen closely, human,” he says, his voice dripping with disdain. “You’ll be staying in this safe house, a glorified prison, for your own ‘protection.’ Don’t let the fancy security systems fool you; you’re nothing more than a caged bird here.”

He gestures towards Droilin. “And here’s your warden. He’ll be watching your every move, following you like a shadow wherever you go. You might think he’s here for your safety, but his actual job is to make sure you don’t step out of line.”

Garrox leans in closer, his eyes narrowing. “You’re completely at my mercy now. I control when you eat, when you sleep, and who you see. And if you even think about trying to leave or contact someone without permission, well” He lets the threat hang in the air, a cruel smile creeps on his lips.

“Now that you’re settled in, it’s time to get to work. The luminore survey starts tomorrow. I expect you to be ready, human.” He turns to Droilin. “Make sure she is.”

With that, he spins around and strides away, leaving us alone. We watch him retreating until he passes through the doorway at the far end of the room.

After Garrox’s departure, I turn to Droilin, my eyes filled with a mixture of confusion and frustration.

“I know it doesn’t seem fair, but the Orion court’s decision is final. It’s for the best that you remain under my supervision. Humans aren’t... welcome in Morcrest. At least, not in the way you may expect. Not after the Orion Wars.”

“The war ended generations ago. How could humans be so hated?”

He sighs, his gaze dropping to the floor. “It’s a long story. But the short version is that the war left its mark. On all of us.”

I study him, but don’t press any further.

“Droilin... why was my sentence changed? I was at the airlock, ready to die. I can’t help but wonder, is it because you saved me? Because of what we,” I pause, unsure how to phrase it. “What happened between us?”

Droilin shifts uncomfortably, a hint of green rising to his cheeks. “I couldn’t stand by and watch you die. Even if it meant risking my life.”

“But why? Why would you do that for me?”

His eyes meet mine, full of warmth and concern. “I have my own reasons, but I want to help you. To prove your innocence and restore your name.”

A smile tugs at the corners of my mouth, his words bringing a spark of hope to my heart.

“You believe me? After everything?”

“I believe you are being framed for the explosion, yes. And I’m going to help uncover the truth.”

“Thank you,” I whisper, blinking back tears.

“Don’t thank me yet,” he murmurs, a wry smile beginning on his lips. “There’s still a lot of work to be done.”

“Speaking of work... what does Garrox want me to do tomorrow?”

“Survey duty. The clans each have their own luminore. It’s the only source of wealth on Morcrest. The STI has increased our quota, and I need to establish our current supply and capacity before... assistance arrives.”

I wonder what he’s not telling me. Is that really the job of a Personal Guard? For now, I’m just grateful not to be a lifeless husk drifting through the endless void of space.

He gives me a half-hearted smile, but his eyes are distant. “Try to get some rest, Tasha. Tomorrow will be a long day.”

Droilin leaves, his footsteps echoing down the hall. He stops at the door and looks back at me, running a hand through his white hair. “I’ll bring you some warmer clothes and a proper meal later. Try to get some rest.”

He hesitates, as if he wants to say more, but thinks better of it. With a nod, he steps out of the room, the door clanging shut behind him.

I sink onto the cot, the thin mattress doing little to cushion my aching body. The events of the past few days swirl through my mind — the trial, the journey to Morcrest, the kindness Droilin has shown me despite everything. I feel like I’m caught in a whirlwind, and there’s no way out.

The weight of the past few days on my chest, and I feel tears pricking at the corners of my eyes. I try to fight them back, but the dam breaks, and I’m sobbing uncontrollably, my body shaking with each ragged breath.

I cry until I’m drained, my face flushed and hot, my eyes stinging. Exhaustion finally takes hold, and I fall into a fitful sleep, my dreams filled with images of Garrox, Droilin, and an ominous shadow lurking in the background.

I awake in the middle of the night to the sound of heavy footfall approaching from outside. My pulse kicks up, wondering who’s coming. I scan the dark tiny room, searching for anything I could use to defend myself. But the cramped space is devoid of tools or makeshift weapons. No hammers, no scrap metal — just four close walls and a lumpy cot.

The footsteps grow louder, accompanied by the groaning creak of the door. No time left — I grab the thin blanket, my only option, and clutch it tight in my fists.

I’ll be damned if I go down without a fight.

The metal door swings open with an ear-splitting screech. I make out a hulking silhouette backlit in the doorway, then a flash of dark eyes.

Before I can think, instinct takes over — I whip the blanket up and over the figure’s head with all my strength.

My heart pounds against my ribs as I watch him stagger to his knees. A moment later, the blanket slips off his face.

It’s Droilin!

Horror floods me as he presses one hand to his head. “Droilin! I’m so sorry!” I cry, dropping the blanket. I rush to his side, heart pounding.

What have I done?

“ Are you alright?” I ask frantically, hands fluttering helplessly over him.

Droilin looks up, blinking hard. “I’ll live,” he rumbles. Blood trickles from his brow where he hit the wall.

Guilt twists in my gut.

He gives a slight, reassuring smile. “You’ve got some spirit in you.”

I shake my head.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know it was you.”

Droilin straightens, wincing as he touches his forehead.

“Here, let me help,” I say anxiously. I grab a clean rag and press it gingerly to his wound.

“Forgive me,” I whisper, dabbing the blood from his skin. “I thought you were one of the guards.”

My face burns hot with shame. Some way to repay his kindness so far.

“No need to apologize. That was quite a throw. And the old head can take a beating.”

My lips quirk up into a half-smile.

He meets my gaze, eyes shadowed with unspoken thoughts. I feel my pulse quicken being so close to him.

His eyes flicker down to my lips. I swallow, my mouth suddenly dry. The moment stretches between us, fraught with tension.

Then, Droilin takes a step back, shaking his head.

“You are a sneaky one,” he says, his voice rough.

The loss of his warmth and closeness is like a physical ache. But I push it down, burying it deep inside.

Get it together, Tasha! I scold myself again. I just attacked the one ally you’ve got. Focus on making things right, not... whatever this is.

“Here, I brought you some new clothes,” Droilin says, pulling a bundle from a sack. “They’ll help keep you warm. And here’s a meal. It’s not much, just dried meats and bread, but it’ll help keep your strength up.”

I nod, taking the offered bundle.

“Thank you,” I say, my voice a little hoarse. “At least let me bandage it properly,” I say, turning to find something, anything, to help.

Droilin rubs his neck, looking conflicted. His muscular frame is tense, coiled.

He shakes his head.

“No, I’ll be fine. Get some rest, Tasha. The next few days ahead will be long and hard. You’ll need your strength.” His tone is not unkind.

I nod mutely, sensing something unspoken passing between us. As I gather the fallen blanket, my hand accidentally brushes against Droilin’s. A tingle races up my arm at the contact. I quickly pull back, cheeks flaming.

“I... I’m glad you’re not badly injured,” I mumble. I can’t bring myself to meet his piercing gaze.

“Don’t worry about me, Tasha. I’ve been through much worse,” he says with a wry grin.

He turns to leave, pausing in the doorway.

“Night, Tasha,” he says, his eyes searching mine.

“Good night, Droilin,” I reply.

He slips out the door, the lock clicking behind him. I sigh, leaning against the cold metal.

As his footsteps fade down the hallway, I turn and sit on the cot. Pulling the new clothes into my lap, I unfold them to reveal a thick pair of pants and a wool sweater. The garments are coarse, but warm.

I pull the sweater over my head, its rough fabric rubbing against my skin. The heat and the scent of him still cling to the fabric. I breathe in deeply, a shiver of pleasure running through me.

I slide the pants on, then reach for the plate of food. It’s a simple meal, thick slices of cold meat, cheese and a chunk of dense bread.

I wolf down the food, savoring each bite. I have eaten nothing since we arrived.

As I chew the last of the bread, I lie down, my mind swirling with thoughts of Droilin. I don’t know how he does it, but his presence soothes my worries, just a bit. And that smile, those eyes... I drift off, his image dancing behind my eyelids.