Maid for the Alien General by Athena Storm
Janna
“What the hell is this?” Looking down at the foul-smelling soup in front of me, I frown. It looks like vomit. “Is this what you assholes eat for breakfast? No wonder you’re always in such a bad mood.”
“Eat it, or don’t eat it,” the Kraaj guard says. He’s standing right outside my cell, arms crossed over his chest, and he’s looking down at me as if I were a bug he’s about to squash with the heel of his boot. “It’s all the same to me.”
Dropping my spoon into the plate, I put it on the ground and push it toward the bars with the tip of my foot.
“You can take it,” I tell the guard. “I don’t want this crap stinking up my cell.”
“I’ve heard about you,” he suddenly laughs, a toothy grin on his face that just makes him look even uglier. “Queen Bitch. That’s what they call you, right? Everyone says you’ve got quite an attitude.”
“Yeah,” I say. “Just open this cell and I’ll show you.”
“Let’s see you keep that attitude once they flog you,” he barks at me, clearly not amused with the way I’m talking to him. For a bunch of aliens who strut around as if they were God’s gift to the galaxy, they sure as hell have thin skin. “Now pick up that plate. I want to see you eat every last bit of that soup. Go on, I’m waiting.”
“Worried about my well-being now?” Gritting my teeth, I pick up the plate, my eyes never leaving the guard’s. His grin widens as he watches me hold a spoonful of soup, but it quickly disappears once I flung the spoon at his face. Too stunned to say anything, he wipes the soup off his face with the back of his hand, and that’s when I throw the plate against him. He tries to duck under it, but he doesn’t do it in time—the plate hits him square in the chest, the soup dripping down his black cloak. Yeah, that’s gonna leave a stain. “What’s the matter? Don’t like how it tastes?”
I know, it probably isn’t that smart to antagonize these guys even more, especially when I’ve just been told I’m going to be flogged. But, what the hell, I’m already in a bad spot—it’s not like things will get any worse. Besides, the sight of a Kraaj covered in this vomit soup is probably worth a couple more lashes.
“You filthy animal,” he growls, stomping on the plate with his boot and shattering it. Looking at me with murder in his eyes, he reaches for his belt and grabs the keys to my cell. “I’m going to teach you some manners.”
Shit.
Backing away until I’m standing as far away from the door as possible, I look around to see if there’s anything I can use to keep this bastard away from me. There’s a dirty looking blanket, and an even dirtier mattress, but that’s all.
Now that I think of it, maybe I should’ve kept that spoon.
“Hold it right there,” I hear someone shout. The guard freezes, the cell key halfway into the lock. “Step away from the cell, soldier.”
“And why the fuck would I—” Turning on his heels, he clamps his mouth shut as he sees the Kraaj standing behind him.
The newcomer is shorter and thinner than most other Kraaj I’ve seen, and he isn’t wearing a soldier’s uniform. Instead of heavy combat boots, he has comfortable padded shoes, and there doesn’t seem to be a tactical vest hiding underneath his blue cloak. With a narrow face, sharp eyes and an angular nose, he reminds me of an accountant. If accountants were silver aliens from outer space, that is.
“Adjunct Chief Talik.” Straightening his back, the guard presses the fingers of his closed fist against his heart in a warrior’s salute. “The prisoner hasn’t been exactly cooperative, sir. I was just going to teach her some manners, so that—”
“Save it,” Talik cuts him short. “No one’s to touch the woman. Chief Kavan has nominated her as kavor.”
I stand there, looking from the guard to the Kraaj in a blue cloak, having no idea what they’re talking about. Kavor? Is that some kind of condiment? I sure hope whoever runs the district hasn’t decided to grind me into some kind of spice. Knowing the Kraaj, it wouldn’t surprise me.
“But she’s a prisoner,” the guard continues, clearly confused with the turn of events. “She should be punished.”
“Are you second-guessing Chief Kavan?”
“No, of course not, sir.” Bowing his head, the guard finally moves to the side, allowing Talik to step closer to the cell. Wrapping his fingers around the bars, he lays his eyes on me for the first time since walking in, and his eyebrows arch up almost immediately. I don’t know what he was expecting to find, but he’s clearly surprised with me.
“I didn’t think you’d be this pretty,” he whispers, his tone smooth and sweet. He sounds more like a polished conversationalist than a rough soldier. Whoever this guy is, he isn’t your run-of-the-mill Kraaj. “Seems like Kavan was right to nominate you as kavor.”
“Care to explain what the hell that is?” I don’t trust any of the Kraaj, but this guy takes the cake. There’s just an odd aura about him. Besides, if he’s happy about this kavor thing, then that can’t be good for me.
“You’re a tribute now,” he smiles. “Our District Chief has granted you kavor status, which means that you’ve been chosen as someone who’s exquisite, if not exceptional, among those of your species. It’s a great honor.”
“Does that mean I’m free to go?” I mean, let me get this straight—I knock out a couple of soldiers and I’m to be commended? Am I reading the situation right? God, could the Kraaj be any more batshit insane?
“In a sense,” Talik smiles. “You’re free to walk out of here, but you’ll have to accompany me.” Alright, I don’t like the sound of that. I have the feeling I’m about to jump from the fire and straight into the frying pan.
“What if I refuse?”
“Then you can stay.” Shrugging, he points to the soldier next to him. “I bet your friend here will be happy to look after you for a few days more, at least until we manage to schedule your public execution.” Public execution? I thought I was going to get whipped, not beheaded or whatever gives these guys an hard-on. Shit, shit, shit. “Does that surprise you? You assaulted good Kraaj soldiers. Surely, you weren’t expecting for that to go unpunished.”
“Fine,” I sigh, running one hand through my hair as I take a deep breath. I have to keep my head over my shoulders. Literally. “What do I have to do?”
“Just walk with me.”
Nodding at the guard to open the cell, he steps to the side as I walk out. Without saying a word, he turns around and walks out of the block, his blue cloak flapping behind him. He leads me through a maze of dimly-lit corridors until we finally step out into the prison’s deserted courtyard.
There’s a small transport shuttle at the center of it, two mean-looking guards standing beside the open ramp on the rear. All Kraaj look dangerous, but these two have a real edge to them— I doubt I’d be able to mess with them in the way I did with the camp guards.
“After you.” Talik waves me on, waiting beside the ramp with his creepy little smile. Hesitantly, I climb aboard. There’s already a Kraaj pilot sitting at the front and, after Talik and the guards join me, he starts going through his pre-flight checks and revs up the engines.
Once the engines push us off the ground, we quickly climb up into the open skies, the prison becoming as small as a pebble. Zooming away from the outskirts, the shuttle traces a straight line toward Hela’s city center, the pilot deftly navigating through the tall skyscrapers. Not that it’s hard—a few months ago the air traffic in the centre was absolutely crazy, but there are only a few ships around now, most of them on some kind of Kraaj-sanctioned errand.
“Where are we going?” I finally find the courage to ask.
“The District Chief’s residence,” Talik replies, pointing toward the tallest building in sight. A concrete monolith that towers above the city’s residential district, it has a sharp contour that cuts an imposing figure in the skyline.
“That’s the Davos Tower,” I whisper, momentarily confused. Home to the CEO and founder of Davos Corp, the tower was his main residence, one of the most luxurious residential buildings on the entire planet.
“It was the Davos Tower,” Talik explains with a self-satisfied smile. “We call it the Chief’s Residence now. We needed an administrative headquarters, and a suitable residence for the District Chief and his staff, and so we requested the building.”
“You seized it, that’s what you mean.” Again, maybe I shouldn’t be pissing this guy off. But what I’m supposed to do? Nod my pretty head and eat up his sugar-coated lies? No chance in hell. “I doubt Davos agreed to any of it.”
“He did.” His smile widens. “It was either that or jump out of the balcony.”
Lovely.
Leaning back on my seat, I keep on looking out the window as we finally start making our descent. We head straight toward a landing pad that juts out the side of the Davos Tower — or, rather, the newly christened Chief’s Residence — and the pilot carefully stabilizes the ship before finally touching down.
Following Talik’s lead, I climb down the shuttle ramp as it opens. I do my best to keep my eyes away from the edge of the landing pad, as heights have never really agreed with me, and my stomach clenches once I join Talik inside an elevator tube. It runs up and down the side of the building, its walls made of glass, and vertigo rears its ugly head once more.
“Afraid of heights?” Talik laughs, clearly amused. I resist the urge to give him the finger, and merely take a deep breath. Soon enough, the elevator stops and its door slide back to reveal a long hallway, expensive paintings adorning the walls. Red carpets cover the floor and, at regular intervals, there are sculptures of a better time. I’m actually surprised the Kraaj haven’t gutted the building.
“Now I must part with you.” Stopping all of a sudden, Talik clasps his hands behind his back and looks at me. “See that door at the end of the hallway? Wait inside that room, and someone will be with you in short order.”
Not knowing what else to do, I follow his instructions and head toward the door. I run my tongue over my lips, hesitant, and wait a couple of heartbeats before I turn the handle.
What the hell?
Instead of stepping into something as sinister as a torture chamber, I find myself inside a vast lounge. Small leather couches are strewn across the floor, all of them positioned so that they’re surrounding the marble fountain at the center of the room. To the back, there’s a fully-stocked bar with a counter that runs from one side of the wall to the other.
“Look, someone’s coming,” I hear a fearful little voice whisper, and only then do I realize I’m not alone here. There are at least half a dozen women inside the room, all of them wearing flimsy dresses and elegant layers of make-up. They all seem to be around my age, their figures slender and captivating. Despite that, their faces are a mask of terror.
Whatever’s going on inside this room, it isn’t good.
Decided to do something, I walk toward the nearest woman, a petite blonde with her silky hair braided in a circle.
“I’m sorry, what the hell is going on?” I ask her, and her eyes shine with more than just fear. They shine with pity.
“You don’t know?” She whispers, her lower lip trembling. “We’re going to be auctioned.” Biting on the corner of her lip, she takes my hand in hers and squeezes it so tightly that her knuckles turn white.
Shit, I was right.
From the fire into the frying pan.
To Be Continued.To read more please click Warlord’s Property by Athena Storm and Tara Starr.
