Page 34 of Bound to the Alien Orc (Alien Gambits #1)

Chapter 34

I scream as Droilin collapses to the ground.

Claws’ grip bruises as he drags me from the arena. I struggle futilely, desperate to reach Droilin’s fallen form.

“Stop!” Yalrog’s commanding voice rings out. He strides forth, sword aloft. “Release her!”

Claws is a hulking shadow against the suns, his face obscured by the visor of his helmet. He scoffs, raising his plasma gun. “The Rite is finished. Droilin is dead. She’s mine now.”

Dead?

No. No, no, no, no. This can’t be happening.

It can’t end like this. Not when we finally found each other. Not after everything we went through.

Not now.

In a blur, Yalrog knocks the gun away. Claws roars and charges, but Yalrog sidesteps smoothly. He slams the hilt of his sword into Claws’ head.

Claws crumples with a groan. Yalrog kicks away the plasma gun and stands over his prone form.

“You dare lay hands on a female under my protection?” Yalrog’s tone brooks no argument.

“Get on your knees, wormling” he orders, and Claws complies, his face twisted in agony.

“Bring me chains. High Chieftain Droilin will decide what to do with you,” he said. Then he turns to me, “Go to him,” and gestures the guards to let me pass.

“Thank you,” I say, my eyes wet, and rush after Droilin, my heart pounding.

I race back to Droilin. The crowd parts silently before me.

He is surrounded by his clan. I watch as they carefully lift him, blood covering their armor, and put him on a stretcher, carrying him towards Nan’s. I know the old healer will do the best for him like she did for me.

Please let him be ok, please let him live.

The crowd parts as I follow the stretcher. The short journey to Nan’s seems to take forever. The old orc healer rushes out of her hut and inspects Droilin.

“Get him inside,” she orders, and the stretcher is carried into the hut, and set down in the back room, the other healers following.

I can’t breathe. My heart is pounding so hard, it feels like it’s about to explode.

“Please, you have to let me help, he’s my...”

“Your mate, I can see that,” she finishes, and nods to Droilin’s bite on my shoulder.

“Come on, I could use your help.”

The healer makes space for me, and I stand by Droilin’s side. His wounds are deep and his green face is paler than I’ve ever seen, the blood covering his leather armor.

“Here,” Nan says, and passes me a vial of green liquid, “he needs to drink this to help with the healing process.”

I take the bottle and carefully tip some of the green liquid into Droilin’s mouth, my fingers trembling as they brush against his tusks.

“That’s enough,” she says, her voice soft.

I step back and let Nan work, her hands moving deftly over Droilin’s body, her nimble fingers patching up the wounds, and injecting him with some kind of healing serum.

The room is quiet. The only sound is the rustling of fabric, as the healer works, the scent of blood and herbs heavy in the air.

I can’t take my eyes away from him. His face is so peaceful, and it kills me not to know how bad his injuries are. He risked so much for his clan, for me, and I have to be here for him. My heart aches, and my tears fall. We haven’t had a chance to be together yet. I pray to whoever is listening that he makes it, that he survives, even if I am exiled.

I blink back the tears and focus on helping the healer. Anything to distract me.

After what feels like an eternity, Nan finishes her work, her hands covered in blood.

“Will he live?” I ask, my voice breaking, barely above a whisper.

“His vitals are strong, and his wounds will heal.” Nan replies, her voice soft.

I nod, the tears falling freely.

Nan touches my shoulder and offers me a small smile. Her eyes are tired.

“He’s going to be okay, Tasha. Now let me patch you up as well.” She says, and I nod, my throat too thick to speak.

I don’t resist when she examines me and wraps the wounds, cleaning the cuts, and checking for broken bones.

“All done,” Nan says, her voice gentle, “now, there is nothing more we can do. It is up to Droilin now to heal fully.”

I want to protest, but the old healer is right, and I nod and kiss Droilin’s forehead, his skin soft beneath my lips. As I stand, the front door opens and Yalrog barges in.

“What news of Droilin?” he demands, his eyes blazing.

“He will survive, but not with all this commotion! I need him to rest. If you are going to stay, be silent. And if you are not, then leave. You are no use to me here,” Nan hisses, and Yalrog nods.

“Thank the ancestors,” he breathes, his voice filled with relief. “The Planetary Police are waiting. They say it’s urgent and they must see the High Chieftain.”

“Tell them the High Chieftain is unconscious and cannot receive guests,” Nan growls, and Yalrog nods sheepishly. It’s strange but amusing to see the usually direct Chieftain taking orders from someone else.

But as they talk, fear creeps over me. This has to be about my false confession... but how did they get here so fast? Then I remember how fast the Planetary Police nebula cruisers are compared to any of the Morcrestian ships. The thought of leaving Morcrest and Droilin is painful, and my heart aches.

I move closer to Droilin and take the seat beside him, taking his large, warm green hand in mine. I’m not ready to say goodbye to Droilin. Leave his side when he is in this condition.

They can wait.

“We need a delegation to greet them, as protocol dictates.” Yalrog argues with Nan.

“Drexan and I will go also,” Keklor says as he squeezes into Nan’s shack, his voice weary. He steps forward and looks down at Droilin.

“How is he?”

“The High Chieftain has survived far worse,” Nan replies, her eyes unreadable, but irritation rolls off her, clearly annoyed that her place of healing has been taken over by large warriors and now there is barely any room to move.

“You are welcome to stay with Droilin, Tasha,” Yalrog says, and gives me a small smile. “Now, let’s go greet these damn Planetary Police, shall we?” Yalrog leaves the shack, and Keklor and Drexan follow, their faces grim.

“Come,” Nan says, and places her hand on my shoulder, her voice soft, “You need rest. I’ll set up a cot for you so you can stay by his side.”

I nod, not trusting myself to speak, and let the old healer organize our sleeping arrangements. Nan helps me onto it. The mattress is lumpy, but I don’t care.

“Rest now, Tasha. All will be well.”

Nan leaves, and I curl up on the bed, my eyes wet with tears. The pain is overwhelming, the exhaustion and stress taking their toll, and soon I am drifting off into a dreamless sleep.

Hours later, I wake to the sounds of raised voices outside the shack. I sit up and wipe my face, my head pounding. I look towards a sleeping Droilin. His wounds are bandaged, and his breathing is steady, his chest rising and falling evenly.

My heart aches, but I know he will recover, and the relief I feel is indescribable. I grab his hand, and kiss his palm, the feeling of his skin against my lips grounding me.

“We’ll get through this, Droilin,” I whisper, my voice breaking. I don’t know how, but... we wi ll.

“Tasha?” a familiar voice calls, and I look up.

Keklor stands in the doorway, his face concerned. “Tasha, the Planetary Police are here, and they wish to speak to you directly. We cannot delay them any longer.”

I nod and stand up, my body protesting.

I don’t reply, instead I turn back to Droilin, my heart aching and not wanting to be separated from him for any length of time. But Keklor places his hand on my shoulder. His touch is gentle, and his eyes are filled with compassion.

“Please, Tasha, let us hear what they have to say. Yalrog and I will act in Droilin’s place. Drexan and Nan will stay here with Droilin. He is in safe hands.”

I know he is right, and I nod, my throat too thick to speak.

“All will be well,” Keklor says, and gives my shoulder a squeeze, his eyes gentle. “Come, they are at the High Chieftain’s Residence, awaiting us there.”

The last place I want to go is back to Garrox’s home, where I was beaten and held against my will. But the sooner I do this, the sooner I can return to my love. I kiss Droilin’s forehead, hoping it’s not for the last time. “I love you,” I whisper, and follow Keklor out of the shack.

Outside, I’m surprised to see a crowd gathered, quietly. There are offerings of food and flowers placed near the door.

Keklor leads me through the crowd, the people parting as we pass, their faces full of gratitude.

“The High Chieftain is strong and will heal, and for that we are grateful,” he says to the crowd, his voice rough.

We walk in silence, the night air cold, and soon we reach the High Chieftain’s Residence. The door is open in expectation of our arrival. My stomach clenches, and I try to push down the panic rising in my chest.

“It will be okay, Tasha. Yalrog and I will be with you,” Keklor says, his voice low, and gives me a reassuring smile.

I nod and swallow the lump in my throat.

“Let’s get this over with,” I say, and follow him inside.

The residence is dark; the windows covered with thick curtains, and a lone figure looms by the fireplace. Officer Neve McCoy, from the Planetary Police, stands with her arms crossed, her red hair glinting in the firelight, her uniform a pristine dark green, and her boots shining.

“Miss Williams, are you alright?” She asks, her voice smooth.

“I’m fine,” I say, my voice shaking with emotion.

“And Droilin, how is he?”

“He’s taken terrible wounds, but I think he will be ok,” I reply, looking over my shoulder to the door.

“That’s good to hear,” Officer McCoy says. “I’m sorry to take you away from him, but there is the matter of your confession, and your exile,” she says, as her eyes become serious.

My heart stops. This is it.

Officer McCoy continues, her eyes narrow, and her jaw set, but there is no anger in her expression, only concern.

It doesn’t stop the panic and shame from rushing over me. “Garrox is responsible for everything that happened. He made me make a false statement in front of the STI leaders! He beat me. He was going to kill me. If not for Droilin winning the Rite....” Emotion wells up in me and I stop, and fight the urge to cry, not wanting to make matters worse.

“I believe you,” Officer McCoy says, and gestures to a seat by the fire. “Please, take a seat. We have much to discuss.”

“Thank you,” I say, and sit down, the flames crackling and the fire warm, the scent of the wood reminding me of Droilin.

“Firstly, I have good news. You are no longer exiled; your record has been expunged.” Officer McCoy says and smiles. “I’ve been in contact with the Intergalactic Federation and the STI, and they are willing to give you amnesty and protection.”

I blink, the words not registering.

“Wait... what? How?”

“I never filed the charges Garrox made. I knew they were false,” Officer McCoy says, her voice calm. “Droilin... High Chieftain Droilin, sent me documentation and video evidence proving your innocence and Garrox’s other crimes. I still need to speak with him, gather some more but, it looks like Garrox had a lot to answer for,” she says, her face serious.

“Droilin did all that for me, even though he was preparing to fight for his life?” I say, shocked. My love for him blossoms in my chest. My brave, brave orc, thinking of me when he had his fate and the fate of his clan at stake!

“He did, Miss Williams. Before the Rite, he sent me everything he knew about Garrox’s crimes. Now with Garrox dead, I will do everything in my power to ensure injustices like this don’t happen again,” she says, her voice strong.

“I can show you the plans Garrox showed me in his office. He wanted to build some kind of super luminore mine,” I say, trying to recall what he boasted about. “He said he wanted to abolish the clans and have a monopoly on the luminore trade.”

Keklor growls, his eyes dark, and Yalrog’s face twists in anger.

“The bastard,” Yalrog hisses, and shakes his head.

Officer McCoy turns to the Chieftains. “I require access to any documentation related to this situation, as well as witness statements and any other pertinent information you may have.”

Keklor nods, and his expression softens.

“Of course, officer, and we will do our utmost to help you bring justice.”

I barely listen as the Chieftains and Officer McCoy discuss the logistics of her investigation, my heart hammering and my mind reeling, trying to process what I’ve McCoy just tells me.

I’m free.

The crushing weight of exile and shame lifts from my shoulders. I’m free — free to return home or forge a fresh path anywhere in Orion. A fresh start, a clean slate...it’s almost too much to believe. Tears of joy and relief spill down my cheeks.

My pulse thrums with gratitude and excitement at what my future will bring. Garrox’s defeat has given me back not just my freedom, but my dignity.

And through it all, a single truth rings clear — my place is here, on Morcrest, with the male who risked everything for me. With Droilin, my love, my life begins anew.

The conversation winds down, and Keklor and Yalrog ask me to show Officer McCoy Garrox’s office. As she follows me through the High Chieftain’s residence, her eyes roaming around the interior.

“It’s quite the place,” she says, her voice low.

“It’s obvious Garrox didn’t share any of the wealth he was getting with his clan,” I say, my voice bitter.

“And now, it’s Droilin’s.”

“I guess,” I reply, not sure how to feel about the situation. On the one hand, it’s good for the people, but on the other, it’s an immense responsibility for him.

We arrive at the office, the door slightly ajar.

“Here we are,” I say, and push open the door, the sight making me sick.

“What the hell,” Officer McCoy says, and rushes inside.

She looks around the room, her mouth agape.

The room is a mess, the bookshelves torn apart, and datapads, ledgers and broken furniture are scattered across the floor.

“Looks like someone was looking for something,” she mutters, her eyes narrowed as her eyes scan the room.

Officer McCoy stoops and picks up a broken datapad, the screen cracked and the casing missing. She presses the power button, but the screen remains black.

“I wonder if they found what they were looking for?” I say, my voice shaking.

“Let’s hope not,” she replies, her voice tense.

“We’ll need to have the area swept for fingerprints and any other DNA samples,” she says, her voice soft.

“Have your men do that, Officer. We will place security here.” Yalrog says from the door, his eyes narrowed.

“That’s good to hear,” Officer McCoy says, her voice strained as she opens her bag and takes out a small tablet.

“I’m going to need your help, Tasha,” she says, her eyes meeting mine.

“I can help you, Officer, but I really must get back to Droilin’s side after.”

“Of course,” Officer McCoy says, and touches my shoulder, her eyes warm. “Now, let’s find those plans.”

It doesn’t take long to search through Garrox’s office, looking for the plans Garrox had shown me on the holoprojection, and anything else that might help with the investigation. The plans, poorly hidden in a secret file on his system.

“Bingo,” Officer McCoy says, and grins, the holographic projection flickering to life, the blue light illuminating her face.

“So, this is the luminore mine he wanted to build?” she says, her eyes narrowing.

“Yes, and that’s the location he wanted to build it at,” I say, and point to the red spot on the map.

“And how far away is this from Frosthok and the other cities?” she asks, her voice strained.

Keklor steps forward, his eyes dark.

“Too big for my liking. It’s more than a day’s journey from Jrosk and Degok. We would have to send out teams of miners every day, and the logistics would be immense.”

“And the cost in lives,” Yalrog adds, his voice tight.

“So, this is what Garrox was after. More power and more wealth,” Keklor muses, his eyes flashing.

“Yes, but the real question is, who was he working with?” Yalrog says, his voice low.

“We’ll keep investigating,” Officer McCoy says, her voice firm, “and once we’ve gathered the evidence, we’ll come to you.”

“Thank you, Officer,” Yalrog says, his voice gruff, “the clans of Morcrest will assist you in any way we can. We need to end this corruption and bring peace and stability back to our people.”

“That is our hope too,” Officer McCoy says, her expression serious. “And we will do everything in our power to see it happen.”

I exhale, my relief unmistakable. The clans will have help from the Planetary Police, and hopefully, this nightmare will be over soon. But my mind goes back to Droilin, and my heart aches. I have to see him.

“Can I please get back to Nan’s shack? I need to check on Droilin,” I say, my voice thick with emotion.

“Of course, Tasha, I will be in touch with any updates. Now, go and be with your mate.”

I thank her and leave the office, the stress of the past few hours finally taking its toll. My body feels heavy, and my head aches, but all I can think of is getting back to Droilin.

I race out of the High Chieftains residence, barely feeling the cold air anymore. My heart races as I think of Droilin, and I push myself faster, not wanting to waste any more time.

The journey back to Nan’s is a blur, the adrenaline leaving my body, and the exhaustion kicking in. My mind is filled with everything that has happened, and I can’t wait to tell Droilin about the good news.

The thought of seeing him again makes my heart swell, and a smile tugs at my lips. I can’t wait to tell him everything and be by his side.

Nan’s shack is quiet. The only sound is the crackling of the fire, and the faint rasps of Droilin’s breathing. Drexan is slumped in a chair, his eyes closed, and Nan is asleep, curled up in a chair.

“Droilin is okay,” I say, and move towards him, my hands trembling.

“He’s still resting, nothing to be concerned about,” Nan replies, her voice soft.

“Good,” I breathe, and take a seat next to him, my hand reaching for his. His skin is warm, and I squeeze his large hand gently, a lump forming in my throat.

“The Planetary Police are going to help the clans and investigate Garrox’s crimes,” I say, my voice wavering.

“That’s good to hear,” Drexan replies, his eyes flashing.

“Yes, now we can focus on healing and rebuilding,” Nan says, her voice filled with hope.

We just need Droilin to wake up. I want to talk to him, to tell him everything that has happened. But for now, I’m glad he is alive. I settle in, making myself comfortable, my fingers laced through his.

Droilin will recover, and we will get through this together.