Page 24 of The Commander

“What do you mean I need to pack?” Cara asked, rubbing at her eyes. She’d fallen asleep at some point while Bastian was gone. Sleeping heavier than she had since she’d lost her dad, as if she could trust the alien next to her, as if she liked his bed and found comfort there.

Bastian stood over her with his hands on his hips and an impatient frown on his mouth. Dressed in his gray and black uniform, with black suspenders and some kind of utility devices strapped to them. He looked like a high powered Corporate District President getting ready for a very hostile takeover.

The clothing fit him perfectly. Gray smoothed over his shoulders, the shirt tucked into his pants at his narrow waist, the belt there holding his big knife in a scabbard that he had strapped down to a meaty thigh. Her mind flickered at the sight.

“What?” she asked again.

“We are going on a trip. What do you need to pack?” He pointed to a travel soft case.

“A trip?” What time was it? Where had he been? What the hell was he talking about?

“Clothing, blankets? You seem to like a lot of covering.” He mused, pulling away the blanket that she had wrapped around herself.

Had she fallen asleep and woken up a hundred years in the past? How were they going on a trip? Did he mean a vacation? Sitting up, she tried to shake the confusion from her head.

The last thing she remembered was going through his cupboards, hunting for signs of anything sweet. Since he was the boss of everything, he should have the really good stuff in his apartments. She had no hope of fresh sweet cake, but sometimes the high density protein bars satisfied in a pinch, or there might be a sleeve of cookies or a packet of honey.

He should. He could. But the sweetest thing she found were two more jars of apple juice and vitamin tablets.

“You know what you need to be comfortable better than I do, Kitten. I need you to get up and pack a travel case. Take whatever you require. Clothing. Hygiene. Warmth.” He took her arm and urged her up out of the bed.

“Where are we going?”

“I have readied what I thought necessary.” He led her to a second open clamshell soft case on the floor filled with equipment and alien weaponry. Where had he been hiding that?

“Can I have the pulse gun?” She wasn’t sure if she could carry the thing. It was half her size, with a thick barrel made of bluish alien metal— it didn’t hurt to ask.

“Later.”

“Really?” She looked at his face. Still no smile. Was he serious or just saying that to appease her?

“Do you want me to choose what you should take?”

No. She didn’t want that. “Okay. Pack. What do I need? Food?”

She looked around the room and down the short hall in the direction of his kitchen.

She did not want to go without again.

“I have taken care of the food supplies.”

“Good. I’ll pack, but will you tell me what is going on?” She grabbed the blanket off the bed to fold it. It was temperature controlled—too valuable and useful to leave behind.

“While you have been sleeping, I have readied our departure from the base,” he said, as if that explained everything.

“That’s very cryptic and not an explanation. Where are we going and what are we doing?”

“We shall go correct Mister Danov, and I wish to meet that Andy you told me about. We will take food to your Brenda, so that your obligation to her is finished and you’re assured of her safety. We are going to an underground shelter in the area known to you as Old Kentucky.”

Cara dropped the folded blanket. Keeping her word, she went to his drawers to get the clothing she thought she could wear. She was glad they were going to go to Dalewood together. Brenda must be starving. “Why are we going to Old Kentucky?”

“Because you will be safe there,” he answered crisply.

“Is Brenda going with us?”

“No.”

“It’s not safe for her here. For her baby. I can’t just leave them.” She pulled on the pants she’d found. They weren’t his, but they were still the wrong size.

“You are not them. I am taking you and leaving them.” He stepped around her and went over to the bed. Reaching beneath it, he pulled out a small, briefcase sized box.

Strapping it over his shoulder, he returned to the travel case with the pulse gun, without giving her another glance. Just flipped it closed, picked it up, and lifted it like it weighed as much as a paper box. His forearm hardly flexed.

She worked at the top of the pants, rolling them down, determined to talk to him. He really planned to leave?

“Hey. You aren’t listening to me. I can’t just walk away?”

“You will not walk away. You will be in a transport.” He took the things he held and headed for the front door, leaving her behind.

Damn male. She’d had a foreman like that in Springfield who thought questions were a disease he didn’t want to get near. She rushed to pack, grabbing everything she could. The luxury of traveling with everything she needed didn’t escape her notice. After going without, she couldn’t have too much.

Her soft case got too big to close and carry fast, so she made a pile next to it while the alien was still outside. Once that was done, she dressed in the clothes she had set aside and tied up her boots.

When Bastian returned, he had another soft case with him, as if he knew she planned to take everything. He packed the second case for her, transferring some from the first into it. “Outside, Kitten.”

She grabbed the last jar of apple juice sitting on the counter where she’d left it and trailed after him.

A humming truck sat with the engine running, muzzle heads unloading stamped tax crates into the back from a hovering mobile platform. The creatures didn’t look up from their task, but from the way their noses twitched, they knew she was there.

The deep grooved tires were as tall as Cara. Some people called the alien designed cars “rovers.” Other people called them tanks because they could drive over and through anything. It had four wheels, a hood, and doors, so Cara just called it a truck.

Bastian tapped her chin. “Don’t be a codfish.”

She blinked. What was a codfish? She’d heard of catfish. What was he talking about?

“Who is that?” Cara pointed at the shadow outline of a human man in the rear passenger seat.

“He will be my knight,” the alien said as he carried the soft cases past her to load into the back of the truck.

“Your what?”

“Haven’t you ever played chess?” His lips kicked up on one side.

Cara felt her eyebrows climb to her forehead. “When and where would I learn to do that? That’s a game, right? I think I’ve seen it somewhere, and it doesn’t have anything to do with fishing. Can you just give me a straight answer without mixing it all up with old Earth culture? You are as bad as that talking thing in your fancy office.”

His expression flattened as if she’d poked a needle in him and drained all his good humor. “Take that back, Kitten.”

“Take what back, the truth?” She fluttered her hands as if batting back the obvious truth of his speaking habits in his direction. Did he not know he did it, too?

The soft cases in his hands landed with a thump. “Oh Kitten, are you sure you can handle the truth?”

“Are you doing it again? That odd gleam in your nightmare eyes makes me think you are doing it again.” Her fluttering turned to pointing.

“The P.I. is a barnacle of aggravation on my left ass cheek that should be blown up, melted, and de-atomized, erased from this life and the next.”

She would have laughed at the description, but he came around the truck, picked her up, and took her around the other side.

“You are not making any sense.” She kicked her legs, exasperated with him.

“You are not paying attention.” He sat her on her feet outside the truck. Opening the cab, he reached inside. Pressing something under the seat, a panel opened. He reached in and took out a tangle of belt sized black straps.

He held them up. Whatever they were made of, it glittered, reflecting the truck, the sky, and the world in tiny glittery scales. They looked a lot like his but lacked all the things attached to them. “You will wear this.”

Cara gave him a frown. Before she could ask what it was, he slipped the thing over her head, separating two of the straps over her shoulders. The ends dangled down her body on both sides. He fastened a belt at her waist—it was long and had to be looped twice—and another below her knees. It was much heavier than it appeared.

He lifted it and set it on her shoulders. Making sure it was seated to his liking, he tapped a strap and said something incomprehensible. Was that in his normal language? She gave him a confused look, but when he leaned down, he gripped her shoulders, lifted her to her toes, and gave her an unexpected kiss.

Cara blinked at him.

“I don’t have a good word for the harness in your language. Don’t try to take it off. It will protect you.”

Still stunned by his blatant affection, Cara didn’t have a chance to ask for more information before he was manhandling her again. Hands on her waist, he picked her up and sat her inside the truck, closing her in.

She watched him circle to the back, where the muzzle heads were. Her luggage was loaded with the other things as they exchanged words Cara couldn’t hear.

“Hello,” said a man from the back seat.

She turned to look. A thin, pale faced man wearing silver cuff restraints that pulled his arms behind his back regarded her with mild curiosity. Brackets had formed around his mouth, and his eyes had a bruised look. “So, you’re fucking one of them too.”

Twenty things ran through Cara’s head at the man’s accusation, not one of them was a good comeback. It wasn’t like Bastian was a good guy, like he’d changed into the world’s savior instead of a world invader after a few searing sessions of great sex. The human in the back seat looked like he’d been through hell and back again, tortured at the hands of aliens—tortured by Commander Bastian.

She snapped her head forward, trying to think of what to say back to him. Tomorrow, something snappy would pop into her head while she sat on the toilet. Right now, she had nothing.

Outside, the muzzle heads who loaded the truck were gone, returning to their daily work with surprising speed. The base looked abandoned. She could see the school, where she’d first been taken, and the closed doors of the other buildings and storage garages. It all looked unnaturally calm.

“Is it worth it? Giving up your humanity to whore yourself out to one of them?” the man asked.

“Speak respectfully to my mate. Our bargain does not give you familiarity,” Bastian said when he opened his door and slid into his seat.

“Is it the height thing? Is that it? My sister could never resist a tall guy. Didn’t matter how worthless he was,” the guy in the backseat said.

“Your sister?” Cara had to turn and look back at him.

The man shrugged his thin shoulders. His clothes didn’t fit, and it wasn’t just from sudden weight loss. They weren’t his. “You know, I still kinda wish your boyfriend had just killed me. This world has gone to hell. All the pretty girls are fucking aliens. Where’s the hope for a guy like me?”

“Do not talk to her. Talk to me. You should have answered my questions the first time.” Bastian started the truck, putting it into drive with the push of a button. It had a steering wheel, but the pads on the floor were flat, providing more leg room. Sleek and clean, it lacked the whole slapped together with whatever we could find look of other autos she’d ridden in.

“It’s hard to remember everything when your friend is dying,” the guy behind Bastian complained.

“You were holding illegal information on contraband power cells. Once I have all the information I need, I will kill you if you ask nicely,” Bastian said.

“Batteries. Old car batteries, not power cells. Not like that Corporation shit they made us use. I don’t suppose it matters now. If I had known you were offering a great deal like this, I might have said something sooner. You didn’t need to kill Jensen.”

“Jensen, your companion, was the other rebel. Yes, I did. He broke the law.” The commander announced the infraction as if it were the worst thing he could do. Since all his laws carried death sentences, perhaps it was.

They were together now. She wasn’t sure she could escape him, or that she wanted to escape him. But what if he had a law she didn’t know about, and she broke it? What was her future going to be like with such a dogmatic creature?

“You didn’t need to kill him like that . And I don’t even think the other batteries are any good,” the prisoner was saying.

“Some of them had better be good, since the others have already been properly disposed of,” Bastian said.

“That wasn’t me.” Mackie shook his head in denial.

“No, I saw it done, but I won’t have any trouble punishing you for it, since you neglected to tell me the other information.” Bastian’s voice went low and dark when he spoke, causing a shiver down Cara’s spine. He was such a large male; his voice could hold a level of menace no human could match.

The man in back was trying to hold on to some of his own careless bravado, but Cara saw him flinch.

“What other information? You asked us where the rest were. You asked us why we wanted them. Jensen told you that. Screamed all of that with his last dying breath.”

Cara could imagine it. Though she hadn’t seen the commander kill anyone yet, she knew that he could. He was made for killing.

“You said if I came along with you, helped you now, that we had a deal. Right? Do we have a deal or not?” the guy wanted to know.

“What deal?” Cara asked on top of his question. “Bastian, who is this guy? What are we doing?”

“Call me Mackie, sugar tits.” He stuck his chin in the commander’s direction. “Are you sure you want to do this? Go with him?”

His question wasn’t an offer of help. Mackie didn’t look like the noble, savior type. There was a snide little twist in there that made her feel small and stupid for sitting next to Bastian. She wanted to say she was a captive too, but she wasn’t. Not anymore.

“Don’t talk to him, Kitten,” Bastian said fiercely, reaching over and tapping her knee.

“All right. Fine, Dude. But what does he know that I don’t know? Why is he here? Will you fill me in, please?” She patted his hand back.

“I’m here, bitch, because your boyfriend needs me. We traded some shit for Danov’s pussy stable, got a good deal. Your guy wants it.” He sounded pleased with himself. “Too bad it all came back to bite me in the ass. You know, I don’t think there are any trustworthy humans left,” Mackie jeered.

Before Cara knew what was happening, Bastian’s arm was in front of her, and the truck had jerked to a hard, fast stop. Everything in the back thumped forward with a crash of momentum at the same time she heard a hammering crack inside the cab.

The stop had rammed the other passenger’s head into the back of Bastian’s seat.

“Shit.” Because his hands were bound and there were no seatbelts, the man had flown forward. Blood welled on the bridge of his nose, spreading rapidly over his mouth and down his chin.

“You will only speak when you are asked a question. That question was for me,” Bastian said, looking at Cara.

“Shit,” Mackie repeated from the back.

“This prisoner was caught transporting power cells, which are a known illegal contraband. Our conversations have revealed that this same contraband, plus the name day blade of a missing Prime Commander, was discovered by your friend, the Brenda,” Bastian explained, with his eyes on the road.

“Old car batteries? Under Andy’s bed?” Cara tried to fill in the blanks. She still wasn’t sure what was happening.

“Power cells. In exchange for not dying a painful, slow death as well as access to the base and my P.I.s, this man will show me how to deactivate my own name day blade and other equipment connected to Control,” Bastian replied.

“Goes to show how good stuff was in the way back when, ya’know? One EMP pulse from an old American made car battery and a couple of late century microwaves is all it takes to deactivate all that fancy futuristic alien shit.”

“You said there are six of them with Mister Danov?”

“Yes.”

“And they all work?”

“One of them was good, at least. That fat mayor tested one out before we got paid in pussy. Now, that was nice. Do you think that blonde will be happy to see me again? Even if I’m a plain, boring human? One of her own fucking species?” Mackie asked, dripping disgusting word after disgusting word.

How could a man look and smell like half of the pig’s men and still think he was a god’s gift to women? It remained a total mystery to Cara. Mackie operated under a serious case of self-delusion.

If it were between him and Bastian, she’d pick Bastian.

Cara had a comeback for that question right on the tip of her tongue, but Bastian reached over again, with another squeeze to her leg. She grabbed at his hand to pull it away, but it didn’t budge.

“I’m sure she was very noisy,” Bastian insinuated.

“Oh, she fucking was. You’re not the only one with a big dick.”

“That’s how you tell when they are faking it,” Bastian finished, without missing a beat. Cara giggled and clapped her hand over his.