Page 4 of The Commander

He washed and changed his uniform, then walked back to Correction from his apartment. He could still smell the girl. An invisible curl of feminine capsaicin hung in the air, sizzling on the flat of his primary tongue, creating urges in his belly. Her fear drew him closer, a bright heartbeat blood smear across a dark gray landscape of monotony.

Would she taste as good as she smelled?

He refused such self-indulgences. At least, until he killed her.

He would question her, yes. Push her, make her fear. Observe how quickly he could make her heart pound and watch the sweat gather at the base of her throat. He imagined her yielding her delicious fear scent just for him. And there it must stop.

There would be no indulgence in physical urges. He was not a male easily overtaken by his instincts. Should he give in, he imagined all the arrogant badges on deck lighting up with the news that Commander Bastian had gone weak. His own P.I. would be delighted to transmit the message to Control.

And oh, how the darling bloody bastards wanted something that could make him kneel. They’d looked for cracks in his armor to manage him since his naming ceremony.

A sweet smelling female, human or otherwise, was not going to weaken him. He wouldn’t allow it. Nor would he leave any others of her kind running around to make other prime battlers weak. He knew his duty. He had to protect his brothers from the cute, curvy little population-boosting hybrid who crossed his path.

The Compound now knew a woman had been taken to Correction. The red hats wouldn’t expect Base Commander Bastian to waste his time with her, despite his order to set her aside, since he rarely bothered with minor infractions like curfew breaking.

Inside the Corrections main foyer, unwashed, off duty grunts clustered together in the lobby of the old human built school, smoking human made tobacco sticks.

“Get back to your bunks,” he ordered irritably, noting every slack mouthed, dribbling face. Too mundane and useless to take time to remember their differences, they all looked the same to him except for the code marks on their cheeks. He memorized those with a glance.

More waited just outside the room where he’d instructed the curfew breaker to be taken. They wanted their turn. Hairy, long armed bodies blocked his way before they noticed him coming down the hall.

“Don’t you have some place to be?”

Their ribbed and pointed ears tipped down, and their chins tucked to their chests.

“Sir. Do you need help? This one looks suspicious,” 56983 asked, its pink tongue thick over the alien words. Red hats naturally communicated in grunts and barks. Wiring in their brains gave them basic soldier abilities and the power to talk, but it wasn’t a clean transfer.

“What do you think you are doing? Those other rebels should be cataloged; dead or not. Isn’t that how we do things here? I thought I set this one aside for interrogation?” Grabbing the grunt by the nape of its neck, Bastian lifted and gave it a shake. These creatures were as cowardly as they came. Direct confrontation turned them mush kneed, but the instant Bastian turned his back, they would attack.

Veiny eyes bulged, and its tongue lolled out of the slack, submissive mouth.

Bastian turned his head to avoid inhaling the scent of its rotting breath and slammed it against the solid cinder block wall. A twist of his wrist resulted in a satisfying snap and pop. The red hat only had time to kick once before going limp. He tossed it at the others, sending them tripping to their knees. “Leave and take out the trash.”

He wasn’t going to share this human with them. They hadn’t earned a treat at all. They’d already had more of her than they deserved. What was his stayed his, in both life and death. They were too stupid to learn the lesson.

Doors creaked and slammed as the building emptied of non-regulation personnel. All the off duty staff ran out of the building back to their bunks to escape his irritation, trailing the pungent vinegar smell of their piss and shit. Their stink had fouled the woman’s fear perfume. Damn them. He’d much rather breathe her spice than their crap.

After the old doors closed, a satisfying silence fell. Nice.

The rebel hauling illegal contraband was the only other human left in the building. A minder stood outside his door on the off chance a buddy came to try and rescue him. The rest stayed in the office, watching monitors and playing fetch games to pass the time. Bastian’s base had no Control badge officers between him and the dull minded grunts. He’d killed them all and hung them out on the road after he arrived. For some reason, Control hadn’t bothered to send more competent ones when he requested them.

Bastian wasn’t alone with her, but this felt close enough to please his outer senses.

No one would disturb them on this side of the building’s square.

Built early in the planets twentieth century from good materials, it originated from a time when longevity meant something to its makers. Coming from the same manufactured stone they cut their penitentiaries from, its thick walls dulled the full range of distress calls humans could emit.

He stopped at the classroom door and waited, enjoying the moment. Was this what humans meant when they ‘ savored a moment? ’ Was this ‘the best part of wakin’ up?’

Behind the door, the girl’s lizard brain must sense the danger he exuded. Predator and prey. Research on this species noted females were highly intuitive, with a well developed amygdala coupled with a sweet little prefrontal cortex. That meant imaginations with a vast capacity to be afraid. The two together would tell her that he was a thing worse than death.

What could make a better first impression?

No doubt she looked amazing, struggling with her fear, hands bound behind her back, coils of rope wrapping her elbows and wrists. Her legs were tied at the upper thighs, knees, and ankles. What could the little human do but quiver in anticipation of his arrival? Bonus points.

He laid a hand on the metal of the closed door and allowed the hunting awareness connected to his inner senses to open and perceive his prey. It felt like a deep, relaxing inhale. Many believed that the goddess breathed prime battlers into being with wings.

Allowing his true self freedom felt like taking flight.

Behind its seam, his cock pulsed. The outermost layer of his skin itched with unwelcome stretching, and the exoskeleton guarding his pelvis ached with ancient, instinctual memories—exactly the type of memories in which he would never indulge.

Inside, the captive talked to herself, wrestling with her restraints. “Have to do it. Have to break the bones. Can’t let that thing come in here and just…”

Hurting herself might get her out of the ropes, but not the building. The idea showed marked resourcefulness—one most humans could not manage, the brutality of it beyond their drive for self-preservation.

Her voice again: “One step at a time. Gotta do it. One step at a time. Harder. Faster. Hurry.”

If bone cracking were going to happen, he would be the one to do it. He didn’t want to spoil the marrow. Pushing the door open, the female sucked in her breath.

“Welcome to my home.” He let his voice boom into the small chamber.

She reacted to his greeting with one of those unintelligible noises. Instead of moving where he wanted her, her struggle pressed her into a corner across the room. Using the speed gifted by the gravity of this planet, he lunged forward, dragging her to the center of the room before she could scream again in surprise. Too fast for her to see—a simple lift—and he ruthlessly dropped her on an old flat table before her slow human perceptions caught up.

Her jagged scream of pain hit every wince inducing pitch as she spiraled instantly into noisy terror. He forced himself not to react as the vibrations in his tympanic membranes rang through his head and down his bones.

“Stop that!” He slapped her sharply on her thigh. That was some defensive cry she had there.

The sound didn’t trail off fast enough. That pitch! He gave her five more openhanded swats until she couldn’t breathe, and only jagged cries came out.

“No! You will not make that noise if you want to keep your vocal cords.”

The remains of her clothes dulled his blow, but she understood, mouth clamping shut.

“Better. None of that now unless I give you a real reason for it, little human. Nod your head if you can understand me.”

She nodded. Her eyes had gone big and glassy, and her face drained of most of the color. With tiny spots across her nose and those big, helpless eyes, other humans must consider her pretty.

His immersion study helped him adjust to this world, fitting all the information the Sarrians had collected into his head. Humans aided the process with their incessant need to be noticed. They had been broadcasting into space like noisy, ill bred children for longer than Bastian had lived.

His tenure on the base and hundreds of data downloads aligned his words with his intentions. He assumed.

She watched him. Blinked. Gulped down whatever she was feeling.

Humans had hundreds of languages. He smiled in satisfaction, knowing that this small human and he spoke the same one.

His smile made her cringe. He assumed his sharp teeth were to blame, their presence accentuating his cheekbones and jaw, making them sharper and more pronounced than those of human men. A few creatures resembled him, though none of them had a comparable exoskeleton.

Unsure of where to look, the girl kept her eyes averted from his face.

His size, shape, appearance, and scent screamed alien predator encouraging her to panic. She should panic. He was bigger, stronger, older, better trained, and held all the power.

“Look at me.”

“What are you? Who are you?” Her muscles popped in her neck and shoulders as she tried to pull back as far as possible. There was nowhere for her to go.

“I get to ask the questions.” He stooped over her to give her a better view of his face.

He wanted her to see him while his hunting senses fed him information. Blood rushed through her delicate veins due to an elevated heartbeat. Her eyes dilated. Sweat on her brow supplied him with peppered notes of hot adrenaline and tangy sweet cortisol.

This close to her full aroma, he couldn’t stop himself from taking it in. She smelled so good.

The muscles in his belly constricted, a sudden punch of want in his gut fighting his self-control. He wanted to growl, to release his primal hunter. He craved more of this essence, wanted to find the source, to lap it all up.

Unfortunately, he also wanted answers.

Then he would leave her here to rot and allow the red hats to lap that scent up with their tongues before they disposed of her body.