You have to see this, Captain, the message flashes across the corner of my screen.
“Answer message,” I say. My comms icon pings green, indicating that it’s ready for my response. “I’m busy. I’ll watch it later.”
The message is from Thakhat, a hulking Markhassian alien who works for me on the sly, feeding me information from the biggest slave running ship this side of Caprica. For one of the more bloodthirsty space races, he sure likes sending me stupid videos. The last one was of a baby kitcha, a creature that looks like a mix between a lion and a quokka, chasing its own tail.
My comms dashboard flashes with another message. Captain, you really need to see this.
I growl and push my navigation screen to the side. Why is it that whenever I’m charting a particularly tricky course through enemy territory, every alien I’ve ever met suddenly needs to get in touch with me? Fine. I’ll watch his stupid video, but I swear to God if it’s another kitcha, I’m cutting Thakhat from my payroll. He’s been stationed onboard the Sessah for over a decade, and so far, he hasn’t found me a single useful captive.
I swivel in my command chair, facing forward. Beyond the cabin windows, the velvety expanse of space stretches out in all directions. I see a flash of color out of the corner of my eye, and my gaze catches on a nearby nebula. From this distance, it looks like a cloud of neon blue dust particles gathered together into a butterfly pattern. It’s been twenty years since I last stepped foot on earth, twenty years of shuttling back and forth between galaxies, and the beauty of space still shocks me sometimes.
A ping comes over the speakers, reminding me I have an “adorable” video to watch. Fucking Thakhat and his obsession with baby aliens.
I sigh and flick my fingers over the vid screen, expanding the message attachment he sent. A large, circular white room flashes to life in front of my eyes. My lips twitch into a snarl, and I barely suppress the urge to growl. I know this room. I’ve been there before. Memories of blood and pain fill my head. Confusion and rage. It’s the testing chamber onboard the Sessah, and nothing good ever happens inside of it.
There’s a time stamp on the top right-hand corner of the video. As the alien numbers flash by, a door opens, and three creatures step through it. One, surprisingly, is Thakhat. I ignore him and the small lizard alien leading the way. Between them is a human. A female human. She’s tall for our species, at least six feet. Her dark hair is cut to her shoulders. She looks to be of mixed race, with bronze skin, light eyes, and sharp cheekbones. Her nose is arrow straight, lips large and pillowy soft. The shirt she wears is sleeveless, showing off muscular arms, and when she walks, I see her thighs flexing through the whisper-thin fabric covering her legs.
My dick stirs to life at the sight of her. It’s been far too long since I’ve been with a human woman, and I am sick to death of extraterrestrial pussy. Especially when half the time it isn’t even technically pussy. Sure, it was fun the first dozen times I stuck my dick in the cloaca of some hot female alien, but after all these years, the kink of it has worn off. The sight of this woman makes me think of slick, tight channels. Of bouncing, pliable tits. I bet those full lips of hers would feel incredible wrapped around my shaft.
As soon as the thoughts enter my head, I dismiss them. Human women are weak. Well, too weak for me at least. Mentally, they’re some of the strongest creatures in the universe, but physically, they’re just not on my level. As muscular as the woman on the screen is, she can’t match my strength. The scientists who bioengineered me are to blame for that. I’d probably end up fracturing her pelvis if I lost control while we fucked, which is why I’ve stayed away from my species for so long. Plus, she might not even be alive anymore. This video is a few days old, and I know what happens in the room she just stepped into.
They must have kept her in one of the prison-level cells because she shields her eyes like she’s been living in near darkness. Behind her, Thakhat and the lizard he’s with make use of her distraction and slip out of the door. I nearly hit the pause icon and stop watching there, but something about this woman seems… familiar.
She pulls her hand from her eyes and blinks, adjusting to the light. Her mouth opens like she’s going to say something, and that’s when she notices she’s alone. “Fuckers,” she mutters. “You could have at least told me what to expect in here.”
I like the sound of her voice. My dick likes it even more. That’s a bedroom voice if I ever heard one. Low, husky. She sounds like she’s one good thrust away from moaning aloud.
On screen, she strides to the center of the room. Smart woman. She’s in a strange space, and she’s learned that the walls of the Sessah aren’t as solid as they seem, so she’s putting distance between herself and them.
“Why am I in here?” she asks.
No one answers.
“What sort of tests are you going to give me?”
Again, no response.
Instead of getting angry, she sighs and mutters, “You couldn’t have left me with a book to read if I’m just going to wait here forever?”
My heart rate picks up. She has no idea what kind of shit is about to roll out of those walls at her. Adrenaline sluices through my veins, and memories tug at my mind, dragging me back through the years to the day I stood in her place. I flex my hands, feeling skin and muscle tug against the metal bonded into my right forearm. Typically, I don’t rank empathy high on my list of emotional responses, but right now, I feel a twang of it emanating from the forgotten part of my brain devoted to human decency. This is like watching an out-of-control train race straight toward a break in the tracks.
I glance down at my right arm, remembering how exhausted I was when I took the injury that nearly severed it. The test ended right after I sustained the wound. My memories after that are blurry, and I’ve always assumed I was drugged for a prolonged period of time. When I woke up, I was back in my cell, metal fused over half of my forearm like something out of a nightmare. I thought it was some sort of strange alien cast at first, until I realized it moved like muscle, that it was grafted to my radius bone, that it was now a permanent part of my body.
A sound like sliding fabric comes from the screen, pulling me from my memories. I glance back up. The woman in the video is stretching, working her body through a series of exercises meant to warm up her limbs, like she can sense that a fight is coming. I go still at the sight. I know these stretches. I did them every morning and night for twenty years straight. I did them before every training exercise. Hell, I still have to battle the urge to do them before boarding enemy ships – that’s how ingrained they were. If I’m right, her next move will be a series of leg swings to loosen up her hips.
Right on cue, she stops twirling her wrists and starts kicking one leg out and to the side, as high as it will go. Holy fucking shit, is she a shock troop? I shake my head against the thought. No. No fucking way. Shock troops are all men.
A frown tugs at my lips as I consider that statement. At least they were before I left earth. But that was twenty years ago, and a lot could have changed since then.
The woman lifts a hand high into the air and kicks her leg straight up, hitting it several times in a row, performing a series of standing splits. She really is big for our species, but that could just be regular genetics. She’s mixed-race after all. Maybe someone in her line came from Viking stock. There’ll be no way to know for sure until I see her move. Until I see her fight.
She’s angled a little toward the camera as she stretches, and over her shoulder, I see a small panel near the floor open. Behind you, I want to warn her. Maybe Thakhat really is as bloodthirsty as the rest of his species, and he sent me a snuff film to get under my skin.
The woman slows a little in her movements, head tilting to the side like she’s listening. There’s no way she heard that door open; they’re too quiet even for my heightened senses to detect. But the air in the room would be slightly displaced, and if she actually is a shock troop, she might have heard it rush into that chamber.
I don’t get to contemplate this possibility for long because out of the darkness rolls a small, round robot. It looks like BB-8 from Star Wars only without the rust stains or orange paint job. I’ve never seen it before, so I have no idea what its capabilities are.
The woman turns toward it the second it appears, and I catch a wary look on her face before her back is to me and her expression is hidden. This time, she doesn’t speak. She doesn’t ask the robot questions. Her instincts have kicked in, and she knows something is wrong. I see it in the way her limbs go loose, the way she rises on her toes in anticipation. She’s ready to move. Ready to dodge to the side or spring forward.
To her right, another panel opens, and a second robot rolls out. Then another behind her and another to her left. She’s surrounded, and I don’t fucking like this. The blood rage I fight on a daily basis rises to the surface, burning like acid in the pit of my stomach. I want to roar. I want to rip the vid screen off the wall. I want to teleport myself into that room beside this unnamed woman and destroy everything in sight. I haven’t been in a fight in far too long, and the thought of ripping those robots in half has me salivating in hunger. I’d mow them down and then break free from the room and turn my rage toward the lizards manning the Sessah. Vengeance tastes delicious. Almost as good as human pussy.
“Move,” I snap at the screen.
The woman ignores my unheard command, remaining perfectly still in the center of the room. If not for the fact that she’s on her toes, I’d say she looks relaxed. She either has the patience of a saint, or she wants to draw them out first. It’s so different than when I took my turn in there. I’d been held captive for over a month by then, long enough for my meds to wear off, and I was ready to kill or fuck everything I laid my eyes on. They had to use grav cuffs to subdue me before dumping me into the test chamber.
I’m dragged out of my memories when a small panel opens in the robot to the woman’s left. That’s all the warning I have before the first shot is fired. A streak of blue flashes across the screen, the telltale round of a ray gun. I have just enough time to think, “Well, that was over fast,” before the woman moves. She doesn’t turn her head toward the robot, she doesn’t drop to the floor, she just shifts the barest amount necessary for the laser round to miss her, her shoulder dropping forward a scant few inches.
I sit back in my seat, stunned. She’s a fucking shock troop. No human can move like that. No human could have heard the panel open or the ray gun prime to fire. No human could have fucking dodged it without even looking.
I smile and lean forward again. This is going to be good. This is what I’ve been waiting for since I first bribed Thakhat into working for me. Another of my kind. And this one is a goddamn woman. Halle-fucking-lujah.
A shot rips from the robot behind her. She barely shifts again as she dodges it. Then the room lights up like the Fourth of July, the blue of ray guns mixing with the purple of plasma rounds. The test chamber walls are made of a permeable material that absorbs each shot instead of bouncing them back into the room. After all, the purpose of this test is to see how skilled a warrior she is, not accidentally kill her with a rogue ricochet.
She remains in the center of the chamber, dodging round after round for a full five seconds before she decides she’s had enough. The robot in front of her is the first one destined for the scrap heap. She lunges for it, impossibly fast, barely more than a blur on the screen. It fires point-blank up at her face, a kill shot for a normal human, and she slides to the left, dodges another round that comes from behind, and scissor-kicks the fucking thing into the wall. It hits so hard that it lodges halfway into it, suspended ten feet off the ground, where it lets out a shower of sparks before catching fire.
Then she’s ripping her way through the rest of them, bathed in the red glow of firelight, moving so fast that the second one is taken out by its two friends as she gets it between her and the others. The third she tears in half, and the fourth she stomps on, pounding it into the floor. Her attack lasts all of two seconds. She’s nearly as fast as I am. Might even be my match.
A low chuckle slips through my lips. She’s not even breathing hard. This is fucking glorious.
Kill them. Kill them all, I encourage her.
More panels slide open and bigger, sturdier robots stream into the room. She rolls her shoulders and tilts her head side to side, keeping that luscious body limber.
A feral smile splits her lips. “Let’s fucking do this.”
She’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
I have to have her.
Copyright © 2021 by Navessa Allen
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.