Page 2

Place: Entering Earth’s atmosphere

Zoriss

I thought I’d learned how to turn off my mind when I was in mandatory sniper training in the Draalian planetary army.

I routinely had to bide my time for hours, once for over a day, while waiting for my target.

It was hard at first, my mind tends to race, but I thought I’d mastered the ability to tolerate hours with nothing floating through my mind but my own thoughts.

Nothing prepared me for this.

I’ve been in stasis for, by my count, three months. Ninety days of lying here in a stasis pod without the ability to move. I can’t even scratch my nose.

As a captain in the Draalian military, I’ve been in stasis while being transported all over the sector.

You take off your clothes, climb into your pod, strap in, and a needle jabs you, putting you to sleep until the journey is complete.

During that time, your nails grow, you’re fed intravenously, your bodily fluids are excreted through tubing, and you awaken rested and ready for duty.

Not only was I knocked out and thrown onto this pirate vessel within hours of returning to my home planet after a five-year tour of duty, but their stasis protocol malfunctioned. Instead of putting me to sleep, I’ve been paralyzed but awake for this endless voyage.

My body can’t move, my eyelids can’t open, and I can’t swallow. But it’s not the physical discomfort that’s been the worst part of the last ninety days, it’s the mental anguish. Granted, I’ve forced myself to sleep longer each day, but the waking hours are still interminable.

I’ve played and replayed every major event of my life just to give my mind something to do.

After watching those things a thousand times, I cast my mind to smaller events, trying to recall even the most mundane moments, like listening to a lecture or even walking to the refresher in the middle of the night.

After I exhausted that, I began to watch replays of the halchuck games I used to be addicted to. I tried to recreate every game I’ve ever watched, viewing them quarter by quarter, trying to remember where I was sitting when I watched them as well as who was with me and what they talked about.

By day thirty, I’d exhausted all those memories as well. For the last sixty days, I’ve played and replayed it all a hundred times. If I were an author, I’d have plotted a dozen books. But I’m not. The mind-numbing boredom has convinced me I’ve completely lost my mind.

We’re evidently on our way to a planet called Earth.

The assholes who abducted me have thoughtfully provided an intensive course on their customs. Not that I give a shit, but I’ve listened well and learned everything they taught me.

I didn’t need it repeated on an endless loop.

I got it the first time. At least it gave my mind something to pay attention to.

There’s only one thing that keeps me going. Revenge. I want to kill every fucking male on this pirate ship. This mind-torture is far worse than anything they could have inflicted upon my body. I vow with every fiber of my being that I will kill them all when they release me from stasis.

This Earth that we’re bound for, I wonder what type of culture would authorize this?

I’ve asked myself this question endlessly.

If I somehow don’t manage to escape, don’t manage to kill my captors, if I end up on this forsaken planet, I vow I will take my wrath out on anyone who blocks my path from returning home to Draal and to my brother, my clutchmate, Zorn.

Zorn. All clutchmates are close and share a psychic link, but he and I are especially bonded, even by Draalian standards. It’s like losing a limb to not feel his thoughts, his presence.

He’s calmer than me, not as quick to anger. He’s the strategist, I’m the one who jumps into the fray. We make a great team. If one of us had to be abducted, I’m glad it’s me. Over the last three months it’s given me comfort that I’m the one enduring this torture.

“Wake up, assholes,” this announcement comes over the tinny speaker in my pod.

I try to open my eyes for what must be the ten millionth time since I boarded this vessel. This time my muscles respond!

Looking from side to side, I see pods on either side of me. I wonder if we’ve all been tortured for the last three months, or if it was just me who was the lucky one whose sleeping medication didn’t work.

If they were properly drugged, the minds of the males in the pods will be slowly coming back online.

Not me. My thoughts are clear. The moment after I feel the tubes retract from my body and I hear the quiet, almost imperceptible click of the pod’s clear top unlatching, I’m going to break free, grab a gun from the male closest to me, and kill every motherfucking pirate on board.

I’m toward the end of a row. Looking to my left, I see an escape capsule. Although I’ve been planning my revenge all this time, the possibility of escape is even more appealing. I don’t know how to pilot an escape capsule, but by their very nature, they have to be easy to maneuver, right?

“Wake the fuck up, you’ve slept long enough,” assaults my ears over the speaker.

While I wait for my pod hood to open, I blissfully scratch the thousand spots I’ve wanted to itch for ninety days. Before the ship automatically unhooks me, I yank the hose from my primary cock, and the one that has been feeding me from my arm, ready to bolt the moment I can.

“We brought you to a planet called Earth courtesy of our little pirate operation. Earth can’t produce males anymore and the women there are desperate for your cocks and your sperm.

We brought you here on a little off-the-books expedition.

We get paid. You get mates. They call it pussy.

You get all the pussy you want.” He laughs coarsely as if this wasn’t a disgusting commentary on both him and the low-class females who inhabit this planet.

“While in stasis, your translator was updated with the Earth language and you’ve received lessons in their customs. Earth females have also wear translators. We’ve already held auctions. You’re all bought and paid for.”

Bought and paid for? What, are we now sex slaves?

How do they intend to control us? The insane rage and resentment I’ve been harboring toward the pirates just shifted to these Earth females.

They have no honor. I have no intention of ever meeting my owner.

Lucky for her, because if I do, I believe she’ll have a terrible, tragic accident.

The faint click of the hatch release indicates I can flee. Perfect timing. There are no guards between me and the escape capsule. I push up the clear hood of my stasis pod and leap out on feet that lost feeling months ago.

I stumble to the capsule, my muscles feeling weak as a babe’s. It’s hard to walk in a straight line like it always is after a long stint in stasis, but at this point, my life depends on my ability to get to that capsule.

I half walk, half lurch my way there, then pound my palm on the red button. The hiss of air accompanies the release door opening. I slide into the seat, press the red button on the dash, and the door slams shut behind me just as every guard on the vessel runs in my direction.

The whine of metal grinding on metal pierces my ears, the capsule separates from the pirate vessel, and I’m hurtling toward the green and blue ball beneath me. Earth.

If I’d just escaped a Draalian army vessel, this capsule would be programmed to home in on the safest place to touch down, then coast to a soft landing. The way this vessel is plummeting through the atmosphere, I don’t think the words ‘soft landing’ are in my future.

Although I’m not trained in maneuvering this thing, when I try the manual controls, I realize the wires go nowhere. This capsule has been sabotaged or cannibalized for parts. Either way, I’m at the mercy of this little metal ball which is rushing to meet landfall.

My heart is thumping wildly in my chest. Even though I can finally swallow, my mouth is now too dry from fear to do so.

It’s an optical illusion that makes me feel the planet is rising up to meet me.

I know it’s just the opposite. I’m plunging, hurtling toward it at an insane rate of speed.

I try to reach out to Zorn, knowing there’s no way we could connect with each other over the vastness of space all the way to Draal.

“I swear by all that’s holy,” I bite out through gritted teeth, “if I live, I will exact vengeance.”

Lumina

I normally love the steep hike down into the River of No Return Wilderness. This particular trail is so long and challenging I like to take my time. But I’m hurrying today—for good reason.

It’s interesting being a vet out in the hinterlands of what used to be called Idaho. Had I followed in the footsteps of most of the other women in my veterinary class, I’d be sitting in a nicely furnished office, practicing in a large city. I’ve never been like most other women.

Yes, I treat dogs and cats, sometimes birds, and the occasional reptile, but I also go on house calls to treat horses and cows. All in a day’s work. Today, though, I’m on my way to a rescue.

Marybeth Elkin’s daughter was playing with her drone and spied a moose calf floundering in the river.

When she sent me the footage via comms, it looked like the poor thing had gotten tangled in some antique barbed wire.

The pictures were grainy, but it looked like it had struggled its forelegs into a tight, possibly deadly binding, then couldn’t gain traction to climb up the steep sides of the canyon.

To traverse this inhospitable wilderness, I’m wearing sturdy gloves and knee-high leather gaiters over my jeans. If I hadn’t been smart enough to come prepared, my palms and legs would be sliced to bits by the sharp brambles by now.

I work my way down the craggy hill on the lookout for the calf. I’m trying to get as many miles under my belt as possible before nightfall.