Ensnared Bride Page 2

  Javintore waited until his footfalls died down, then he placed the tr’sark next to the sink in the corner. “High Command doesn’t listen to blathering idiots.” He tipped his nose toward the tr’sark. “I don’t use these things. The Alliance was right to ban them.”

  Monica’s brow furrowed.

  “Let’s get some things clear.”

  She focused on his yellow eyes.

  “You tried to blow me up and you failed. That’s the end of it. Your people were conquered. A bunch of bombs aren’t going to change things. Get that through you head. It’s over.”

  She continued staring up at him. Painful emotion had built in her chest. But…I didn’t do anything.

  Javintore stepped next to her and leaned against the wall. He crossed his arms.

  “You’re a criminal. The Alliance treaty grants us the right to bring criminal slaves to justice.”

  Her heart rate had steadied. She absorbed every deep baritone word, despite not knowing anything about an Alliance treaty. All she knew about the Alliance was that they were supposed to send reinforcements when the Hax-Rah invaded ten years ago and never did.

  “Fortunately for you, I have more authority than your overlords. I’ve decided that you won’t be executed. You’re becoming my war concubine instead.”

  War…concu…?

  “Got it?”

  Monica hesitated. She was still ingrained with the fear that her words might get her shocked with a tr’sark. His searing yellow eyes demanded a response. She cleared her throat.

  “I…” She had to swallow. “I think that’s a prostitute—right?”

  “Comfort slave.”

  She began to feel dizzy. “Oh.”

  “Look, little bomber, you didn’t die, and now you have to live. You can’t go back to a slave camp. Be grateful I’m taking you. If I didn’t, you’d be in the hands of men like Hokkar.” He gestured in the direction the older man went. Then he grinned at her. It was a calculating grin. “I’ve been asking for a human female for months. Ever since the treaty was signed I can’t get one. Now you’ve been dumped in my lap.” He paused to make a soft laugh. “I’m taking you.”

  She stared blankly.

  Javintore extended his hand toward her. “Let’s go.”

  Monica looked at the purplish hand. This could be a good thing, right? No more tr’sarks. No more desperation to make her quotas. Still, she had difficultly forcing her body to unfurl.

  The Hax-Rah brought nothing but misery to her life. To expect any different was only setting herself up for disappointment.

  Chapter 4

  The shuttle ride to his ship was uneventful. There were no windows for her to see outside for her first trip into space. Javintore was engrossed in a console screen, typing alien words. There was a thump that made her stomach buoy at one point, then a loud clang. The shuttle’s hatch opened to a bay as large as a football field that was walled with giant metal tiles. Other ships, sleek black jets too small for a pilot to ride in and covered in bombs, filled most of the bay.

  A robot stood in front of hatch. Javintore proceeded to exit. Monica took a moment to follow. She’d never seen a robot before.

  It was as tall as Javintore with an oval silver mask molded with the shape of a human face. The eyes were red glowing almond shapes. The remainder of it’s head were gigantic cables that poured back like dreadlocks. It had enormous metal shoulders and the shape of pectorals, which reminded Monica of football gear. The rest of its body was all exposed wires and dark metal framing: metal skeletal arms with circular joints, and a tubular spine leading down to a pelvis box with skeletal metal legs. So much of its wires were hanging exposed that Monica felt it looked vulnerable.

  The robot made sounds that Monica realized were words in the alien language. There was a deep electronic cadence.

  “This is my war concubine…” He glanced at her. She was huddling back near the shuttle with her arms folded around herself. “What’s your name?”

  “Monica.”

  “My war concubine, Monica. Speak English around her.”

  “Yes, Mek-lord,” the robot said.

  “Take her to my quarters and get her a bath, food, drink…” Once again he looked at her. “What else do you need?”

  Monica pursed her lips. She glanced down at her stained gray cotton slave uniform. “Some clothes?”

  “Mm.” He turned back to the robot. “And clothes. Female Earthling clothes, not Hax-Rah.”

  “Yes, Mek-lord.” The robot began to lead her away. She followed it.

  “Monica.”

  She turned back. Javintore had a touch of a smile on his lips.

  “I won’t mistreat you.”

  She nodded as the words soaked in. Any consolation was as precious as diamonds.

  The robot took her to a capsular elevator that seemed to move side to side as well as up and down. The rapid movement made her tumble against the tiled wall several times. It opened into what she presumed was Javintore’s quarters. The robot led her out while her eyes scanned the expansive room.

  She’d already determined the ship had to be gigantic due to the size of the bay they’d entered. Now she saw a room the size of a large Earth home. The elevator opened to a round platform with three steps leading to the main floor. It was carpeted in areas, tiled in others. The walls were a smooth metallic blue, not unlike some car paint she’d seen. They curved smoothly to make a giant circle. Against the far wall was an ample bed with rounded corners and tightly made linens. Furniture was attached to the floor in the middle of the room, making a seating area. There was a console embedded into the wall with an attached seat, and then what looked like exercise equipment on another round platform. Monica realized that everything was bolted down or attached to floors or walls.

  The robot led her to a curved door at the edge of the circular room which led into a similarly expansive bathroom. No tub, but something that looked like a large shower in one corner. The robot went to it. He showed her how to tap the wall to start the water from pinholes in the ceiling. Gliding her hand up the wall would make it hotter, down for colder. He took out towels and a robe for her from a compartment above the sink.

  In moments she was alone and basking in her first hot shower in years. The water streaming over her feet was black with soot. She’d been expected to wash herself with her water ration in the slave camps. Thirst took priority over cleanliness. Whenever she spared a handful of water to clean her groin she always regretted having less to drink.

  There were receptacles attached to the wall that produced soap. Monica scrubbed layers of dead skin and filth from every inch of her. She took her time; she couldn’t help herself. The shower was pure heaven.

  When she emerged she realized the mirror above the sink hadn’t fogged. She looked at an unfamiliar face. Her cheeks had hollowed. There were sunken pits below her eyes. Beyond that she realized she’d grown. Her face was longer than that of the sixteen-year-old girl who’d been enslaved ten years ago.

  Emotion welled up in her chest, spilling out into tears. Yet she couldn’t give a reason for why she cried. It was perhaps because she’d been too busy surviving before to ever let her tears flow freely.

  Once dried, her hair was crispy and thin. Grime had been the only thing giving it body. Still, she was clean, completely clean, for the first time in years. She donned the robe and exited the bathroom.

  The robot stood by a table that held a steaming bowl of soup, a hunk of green bread, and a four inch cube of dark meat marbled with rendered fat. The scent that hit her made her mouth water, but still, it was less food than she’d expected, perhaps only twice her ration.

  As though it had read her mind, the robot said, “You must regain your weight through frequent small meals. Gorging yourself will cause you to become sick.”

  She sat at the table and chomped half the hunk of meat in one bite. The robot’s metal hand with skeletal black fingers snatched the remainder from her.

  “Eat slowly, ple
ase.”

  She looked at its metal face while chewing. Fuck you, I’m starving. She was glad the robot was getting to see the stray dog side of her instead of Javintore. Yes, she knew its mothering was valid—but she still wanted to stuff her face.

  She was allowed to drink as much as she desired of green punch that tasted like a Flintstone vitamin. Monica had her tall glass refilled seven times. Her belly gurgled with fluid. She didn’t care. For once she was going to completely slake her thirst.

  Another football-gear-shouldered robot arrived with a sunflower dress, slippers, and a set of underclothes for her. Monica blinked at it. Her eyes weren’t used to the bright yellow color. She also realized she no longer knew how to tell if the dress was pretty or not. She had no idea what colors suited her.

  Once dressed, she marveled at how comfortable clean clothes felt on clean skin. She hadn’t realized the intensity of her discomfort prior to this. It struck her now.

  The slave camp had turned her into an animal.

  She emerged from the bathroom to a new plate of food on the table. Thin sheaves of meat were piled on similarly thin pieces of bread. It was a sandwich of ten skinny tiers. Monica devoured it more slowly than she had her first bite of meat.

  “The Mek-lord will be away for several more hours,” the robot told her. “I advise that you rest now.”

  It led her to an alcove in the wall that had a padded bench long enough to be a twin bed. The robot got her a blanket and pillow from storage beneath it. She wasn’t sure why she wasn’t just going to the big bed in the room. That aside, she was grateful to see a pillow again after so many years.

  Once reclining on the bed she sank into exquisite comfort. Gratitude for all she’d been given made her throat tight with emotion.

  She felt like the luckiest slave alive.

  Chapter 5

  Monica was woken by Javintore’s footfalls in the room. She sat up and watched him. He probably was going to have sex with her now. Would it really be so awful? After how she’d been cared for she felt like she had to cooperate with whatever he wanted.

  He caught sight of her. Monica slid her legs off the bed to stand up. He lifted his hand to stop her.

  “Stay there.”

  Her lips parted, but she was unsure of what to say.

  “You don’t get to sleep in my bed until I’m sure you’re not going to try to kill me.”

  Oh. The accusation made her stomach feel like it dropped a few inches.

  He took off his shoulder mantle. “I had to prepare for this mission we’re headed to.” He took off his pants. Beneath it were tight black underpants. The silk sheened over his buttocks. “I’ve done all I can until we get there. I’ll be able to pay more attention to you tomorrow.” He climbed onto his bed.

  Once reclining back with his muscular arms propped behind his head, he looked at her. Monica was still sitting up on the bench facing him. She wondered if she was supposed to avert her eyes from his chiseled red/purple body. At least she was able to make eye-contact.

  “Are you managing?” he said.

  She nodded.

  He looked away. “Don’t talk much, is that it?”

  “Thank you.”

  He eyed her.

  “For getting me out of there. For letting me…” She paused to wet her lips.

  No, she didn’t talk much. Talking was a zap of the tr’sark. Even if she believed he wasn’t going to shock her she still didn’t trust him.

  Monica cleared her throat. “Thank you for everything.”

  The smile that formed on his face now was less sinister than before. He bowed his head in acknowledgment. Then he rolled so his muscular back was to her.

  “Gee-shoo.”

  His Hax-Rah command caused the lights in the room to dull to a faint bluish glow.

  Monica went back to sleep.

  In the morning she lolled between sleep and wakefulness a few moments. She thought she was back on her cot at the slave bunker. Her blanket was flung off her with a jolt. She had to get to her workstation. If she didn’t make her quota she was going to be—

  The large shouldered robot loomed beside her bed in perfect silence. It might have been something from her nightmares once, but in her current circumstances it calmed her.

  Of course—she was no longer in that living hell. She wanted to be happy, but dread still twisted in her insides. She couldn’t shake this.

  She sat up and saw that Javintore’s bed was empty.

  “The Mek-lord felt it best that you sleep in, since he knows of the exhaustion you are recovering from.”

  “Oh.”

  “It’s time for you to take food again.”

  Now a tendril of bliss managed to sweep through her chest. Yes, food. Wonderful food.

  The breakfast was more ample than her previous two meals. Monica was no longer inclined to gorge herself. She tried to eat the way she had before the invasion, using the pronged utensil provided and chewing leisurely before swallowing.

  That’s what I need to do. Try and find the old Monica.

  “More garments are being created for you. I will provide them when they are ready.”

  “Thank you.” That’s right…the old Monica used to change her clothes every day.

  Javintore came out of the elevator. He was wearing a more Earth-like ensemble than before: a close-fitting gray shirt that stretched over his large pectorals and long black pants.

  “Good. You’re awake.” He stepped down the short stairs. “I had to see to a few things.”

  He came to the table and looked her over. “Does the food suit you?”

  Monica fidgeted with the utensil. “It’s amazing.”

  Javintore took the seat across from her. “Hunger is the greatest seasoning. It makes no sense to me. How can you be productive if they don’t feed you enough?”

  She pursed her lips.

  “I’d want to kill us too, if I were you.”

  “If…you feel bad for us, then why do you treat us like that?”

  “I’m not the typical Hax-Rah.”

  She looked.

  “You’ll come to understand that.”

  Tell me. She realized he’d drawn her out of her life’s drama. For a moment she stopped being a woman recovering from a slave bunker. Curiosity shifted her focus to him.

  He stood. “Come. I’ll show you some of the ship.”

  Monica shoveled the last heaping bite of food in her mouth, and then washed it down with her punch. She hopped up to follow him.

  She was still unable to keep her footing in the elevator as it careened them through the ship. Monica braced her body against the wall. Javintore, like the robot, had no trouble standing.

  “You tried to blow yourself up yesterday,” Javintore said. “Do you still want to die?”

  No, I fricking didn’t! She held her tongue. Javintore thought she was someone different right now, someone with the courage to destroy herself just to kill two Hax-Rah in the process. Would he respect her as much if he new she was just a cowardly slave struggling to get by without getting tr’sark zaps?

  “I don’t want to die,” she said.

  Javintore glanced at her.

  “I mean…” She paused to clear her throat. “Everything has been great so far, but, I just don’t think it’s going to stay that way.”

  “Why not? Tell me the truth—always tell me the truth. That’s my first rule for you. If you can’t tell the truth, then just be quiet instead of lying.”

  She hesitated. “You don’t expect me to trust you this soon into it.”

  He tipped up his head in realization. “No. I don’t.” Then he gave an rancorous laugh.

  Monica looked at him.

  “I don’t trust you either.”

  Her shoulders rose and fell with a sigh.

  “You’re going to prove yourself to me.”

  Her eyes lifted toward him.

  “I’m not interested in a war concubine who considers me a target. I need someone I can trust.�
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  The second bit caused a pang deep in her middle. There was a tremor in his lush baritone voice. Something compelling.

  The elevator opened to a metal grate bridge. Javintore led her onto it. They were in a room with as much floor space as the bay they’d first landed in, but with a tiled ceiling only a few inches higher than Javintore’s head. Below the bridge, and filling every foot of the floor, were the big-shouldered robots. Thousands of them were lined up too tightly to be able to move. Their red eyes weren’t glowing.

  Javintore gestured to the silent metal crowd. “What you see here is almost fifty percent of the ship. Not this floor, but floors like it. There’s eighteen stories exactly like this one, filled to bursting with war-bots.”

  “Oh,” Monica said softly. She continued staring, but there really wasn’t much to see. It was a massive robot storage room.

  “The other ten floors you’ve basically already seen. They’re filled with the drones that were in the landing bay.”

  Monica looked at him while recalling the bomb covered ships in the bay.

  “That’s it. That’s my ship.” He shrugged. “Of course, there’s a control room, too. Repair chutes. An energy chamber. A few other things. But this is what I’m all about as Mek-lord. I rule the robots and the drones.”

  “What about a crew?”

  He tipped his nose at the robots. “My crew is made of robots. We’re the only people on this ship.”

  Monica’s eyes widened. “You were all by yourself?”

  He bowed his head in affirmation.

  She tried to wrap her mind around this.

  Javintore headed back toward the elevator. “Most Hax-Rah live for the joy of destroying an enemy.” He pressed a panel to open the elevator door. “I was more interested in what our slaves were doing. The ones who built our ships and weapons. Circuits, wires, transistors, microchips—that’s what fascinated me.”

  He entered the elevator. Monica braced herself against the wall again.

  “But I won’t bore you with my history.”