Page 18 of Chieftain (The Outlander Book Club… in Space! #1)

"Why did you send our only means of escape away?" Emmy's voice was muffled, and I glanced down, noticing that she spoke with her hand resting over her nose and mouth.

The stench of the alley rested in my nostrils, a necessary evil.

"I am sorry for this little one. Kerzak possess an exceptional sense of smell.

It is said they can find a scent twenty of your Earth miles away.

I watched the one you bumped into committing your fragrance to memory, and we must cover your scent however we can. "

“Jesus!” Her whole body shuddered. “They are walking grizzles. He called me delicious; that was creepy as hell.”

My eyes ran over her pale face, her neck's creamy flesh, and her arms' exposed skin. "I have heard some Kerzak enjoy the taste of human flesh."

"Great!" Emmy snorted, her shoulder bumping against mine as she drew closer. "It's not enough that there are aliens who want to work me and fuck me. Now some want to eat me.”

The idea of licking over her creamy flesh shot a spasm of desire through me, and I squeezed her hand. “Do not fret, tiny human. I will not let them touch you.”

Green eyes flickered to my face, so deep and sparkling I would willingly drown in their depths, like the green seas of my planet. "I know." She said softly and, for a moment, let her head rest against my bicep. My cock twitched in gratitude.

"Why did you send the shuttle away?" Her tone was matter-of-fact, less fearful, but she kept her tight grip on my hand.

“I wanted Bartuk away to safety before the Kerzak discovered our shuttle.

“Would they hurt him?”

“Perhaps."

"You're a good Chieftain," Emmy's voice was breathless, and the glance cast at me was full of gratitude and something else.

Something like… was she proud of me? Humans did not know the Vaktaire way of sacrifice and honor.

Why did it matter so much for her to be proud of how I dealt with my crew?

The need for her approval was as necessary as breath to me now.

A low clacking creased the air, followed by the sound of grunting.

Emmy opened her mouth, curiosity on her features, but I stifled her question, laying a palm over her lips. Her eyes went wide—wider still when I slipped an arm around her waist and carried her the few feet to a small alcove made by piles of trash.

I could hear them moving past the alley's entrance—three, maybe four of them. While I could easily dispatch the creatures, they weren’t here for a fight.

“Elktonni," I whispered close to her ear. The noise from the nearby thoroughfare would hide our voices. Elktonni weren't known for their hearing.

“What’s that?”

“The Kerzak have few allies, but there are some. Elktonni are a scavenger species with a symbiotic relationship with the Kerzak.”

Emmy considered for a minute. “So, the Kerzak would eat me, and the Elktonni would gnaw my bones?”

“Yes. Something like that.” I liked the way my human caught on to things.

My human.

When had I started letting myself think of her like that?

She was mine to protect and defend just as the human condition belonged to every Vaktaire to improve.

Her petite body trembled, and I tightened the arm around her waist, wanting to offer comfort.

Her heavy sigh and how she relaxed against me, her head resting against my chest, said she trusted me to care for her safety, but…

I wanted something more.

I wanted her to look up at me like Dixa gazed at Siemba—with affection and pride.

I wanted her to see me not only as her protector but something else.

Something more. Something for which I only dared to hope.

Could Charick be correct about humans—the way the Garoot Healer transformed their bodies?

It wasn't just about making Emmy able to bear my young—it was about making her able to bear my heartbeat, something a Vaktaire could not mate without.

Emmy shifted against me, jerking my thoughts back to the present. The sound of the Elktonni faded, barely discernible in the mishmash of sounds clamoring from the mouth of the alley. Cautiously I stepped from the alcove and pulled Emmy to my side after a moment's inspection.

“Where are we going?" She asked, her small feet keeping pace with me rather well, although I slowed my gait in accommodation.

“A safe place. It is where Dixa and Siemba hide humans they rescue until we can transport them to Tau Ceti.”

I stopped beside a mound of broken electronics, the doorway leading to the level below barely visible. Like the trash bin, it was a decoy, and the pile of gears and metal slid aside easily.

"Jesus H. Rosevelt Christ, to quote Claire Fraser," Emmy sputtered and gagged as we stepped into the passage. "What is that smell?"

“I do not know,” I lied, slipping an arm about her shoulders to turn her away from the boated body of a dead human lying just inside the stairwell.

It was dark, so her human eyes would not see the mask of horror twisting the woman’s visage.

Whoever she was, the poor woman died in fear.

I wanted to die in battle, surrounded by my comrades—or at least I had until meeting Emmy.

Now the want of a good death was waning…

replaced by something else, something more .

This passage was not as narrow as the last one.

Rough stairs led downward, swaying and groaning with every step.

I kept Emmy close to my side, lifting her as I took the stairs two at a time.

She linked her hands around my neck, pressing her nose against the hair falling over my shoulder.

A low, happy hum accompanied her deep inhale.

She liked my scent, at least more than that of the dead human.

Both my heart and cock gave a twitch in reply.

Like the other doorways, the passage onto the alley was hidden behind a pile of discarded wood that creaked and rattled from my effort to move it. The odor on this level was different. Not so much decay and death as a reek of unwashed bodies—many bodies.

Small, huddled masses that appeared poverty-stricken and starved lines the alley's walls. I did not scent the metallic essence of weapons, only the brine of hunger and suffering. I motioned for Emmy to join me, pulling her cloak around her face when she reached my side.

Most of the alley's inhabitants stayed away, trying to mesh themselves into shadow.

One small fire up ahead showed the figures of a mother and two small younglings.

She was a Romvesian, still holding on to her people's penchant for beauty despite a layer of dirt.

Her wide round deep blue eyes regarded me warily, holding her younglings tightly against her chest. The youngest was barely more than a babe, gaunt little face screwed up in a furious cry that went unheard over the sounds of music and laughter from the taverns off the alley.

“I guess humans aren’t the only species that look away while others suffer," Emmy muttered, slowing as we neared the mother.

“No, they are not.” Of species in the known universe, on the cruelty scale, humans didn’t even place.

Emmy stopped, the orange glow from the small fire making the few strands of hair that escaped her cloak appear as living fire.

Her hand pulled from mine, going to the bag Larte gave us, slung over her shoulder.

Her eyes darted to me, widening in question.

I nodded my consent, unable to deny her anything.

"Here." Emmy held out the bag of food to the mother. "Food you and your babies."

Wide frightened, silver, and blue eyes darted between Emmy and me. Romvesians were proud. Most would take the charity offer with great insult. Then again, most didn't have two younglings crying with hunger.

Long, slender, pale-lavender fingers took the satchel from Emmy’s grip as the mother’s head dipped and held in a show of gratitude.

Emmy's eyes found mine, and in their green depths, I saw her heartbreak for the small family, the wish to do more to help them, and the knowing sadness she could not. Her hand found mine again, her fingers holding surprising strength as they twined around mine.

I managed only one step forward before a hand shot out, blocking our departure.

“Not that way.” The mother’s voice was soft, almost frightened. “The Kerzak search for you. By now, they will have the entrances to all levels guarded.”

What is that word Charick likes so much? Oh right.

Fuck!

We were on the fifth level. Abodes for the lower caste of aliens were found here, explaining why the alley was filled with homeless people. The seventh and lowest level promised escape, but if the Kerzak had all the stairways blocked….

"Come," the mother said, rising to her feet. "I will show you another way.”

Should we trust her? Emmy's glance asked as we waited for the mother to sequester her two younglings within a makeshift shelter of weathered wood and canvas. She slung the satchel of food over her shoulder, holding it tight against her breast. It would not be safe to leave it unattended.

We do not have a choice , my gaze said back, holding tighter to her tiny hand.

The mother returned the way we'd come, holding close to the shadows and admonishing us with gestures that we should do the same. She cast a cursory at our previous entrance but kept pressing forward.

She veered at what looked like a dead end, bringing us face to face with a ramshackle refrigeration unit partially obstructed by debris.

“Sometimes the station masters decide to inspect the lower levels," the mother said as she pulled away a batch of rotting wood. "Those of us who have nowhere else to go must make our own way to travel and hide."

I lifted the remains of a crate away as she lifted a panel of the refrigeration unit, exposing a tunnel beyond.

“This will take you to the next level. From there, follow the alley until you see a purple door. That is the entrance to the tunnel that will take you to level seven.” The mother bent at the waist, bowing deeply.

Emmy laid a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Thank you.”

The Romvesian jerked slightly as though kindness and gratitude were foreign to her. Clutching the bag of food to her chest, her blue eyes shimmered. Romvesian, like humans, had the capacity to make tears. "Thank you, human, for helping me feed my younglings.”

The satchel was small, only meant to tide Emmy and me through the time it would take for rescue, hours at best. The mother gripped the faded leather bag as though it had all the food she and her younglings needed.

Emmy’s gaze flickered to me, tears of compassion hovering on the dark lashes. My human was kind as well as brave.

“Do you know the place called Dixa’s on the third level?” I asked.

The Romvesian jerked but nodded. "Yes.”

“Take your younglings and go there. Ask for Dixa or Siemba. Tell them Khaion and Emmy sent you and to please see you and your children safe and fed. Do not be afraid. They will find a better place for you and your younglings.”

Blue eyes went wide, darting from me to Emmy and back.

"Why do you do this?” It was a valid question.

Romvesian and Vaktaire had been at war on and off for hundreds of years.

Though victorious, my people were not unkind, although most aid offers fell on the prideful ears of Romvesian leaders.

After the war, a third of the Romvesian population starved because their leaders were too opposed to taking what they considered charity from the Alliance.

Emmy’s hand perched on the female’s shoulder, and I watched her fingers contract in a gentle squeeze. “Khaion is one of the good guys.”

"Good guys," the mother repeated in a faint whisper, not understanding the term. Her gaze flickered to me and widened slightly. Then she bowed again and slipped into the shadows.

“Do you think she’ll go to the tavern?” Emmy whispered, a tremble of worry in her voice.

"I hope so," I said, and I meant it.

Smoke, scents of burning rubber and motor oil so thick it lay on my tongue like syrup, permeated the tunnel.

Emmy made small gagging sounds even though she held a section of her cloak over her mouth and nose.

This tunnel was smaller, an escape route for the disenfranchised.

I had to crouch to maneuver even though Emmy stood at full height.

“We are just above the engines," I explained, drawing her close.

“Orzon told me people lived on this level.” Her voice was faint above the hiss and hum of machinery below.

I ground my teeth together before adding. "They do.”

The haze thickened as we pushed into the alley—as did the stench.

Despite the acuity of my eyes, only vague shapes manifested in the dark gray gloam.

Beside me, Emmy's breath seemed to spasm in her chest, erupting in a coughing-gagging paroxysm that had her jerking from my grasp to stumble away and vomit.

Wave after wave of sickness spilled from her lips, soft gasps and moans interspersed with retching sounds. I'd never felt so helpless. With one hand, I held the curls back from her face while offering her first the water bottle, then a clean cloth from my pack.

“I’m sorry.” Emmy groaned, gazing at me with red-rimmed eyes as she held the cloth weakly to her forehead.

It wasn't much, just a scrap of lightweight fabric Orzon saw the need to place in my pack.

The water in my metallic bottle was icy—it would remain so thanks to Vaktarian technology. I slid the cloth from her hand, wetting it and bringing the coolness back to wipe her face and neck. She slumped against me, breath coming in quick, short pants.

“I didn’t think it would be this hard to breathe,” Her voice was thick and gruff as the smoke wound around her vocal cords.

I rinsed the cloth again, folding it before pressing it into her hand.

“I am sorry little human. Hold this over your nose and mouth. It should help.” Emmy complied immediately, eyes widening as she drew shallow breaths.

“Better?”

She nodded.

“It is not far now.” I nodded to the din before us, wrapping my arm around her waist. The urge to swing her up in my arms was painful to deny, but I didn’t think Emmy would not like that.

She liked to stand on her own two feet. Still, it would make travel easier for her.

I tightened my grip, intending to lift her and deal with the consequences when the fog before us shifted in such a way that sent a shiver of foreboding climbing up my spine.

My hands went immediately to the blades at my back, and I moved to shield Emmy just as the Kerzak sprang from the darkness.