Alien Intent (Captured by Aliens Book 3) (2 page)

“Shit!”
Jasmine said, dropping her hands like she’d hit a livewire.  “Okay.  I’m
freaking out now.”

“I think
we’ve been asleep or something and got
transferred
in here—like they put people in stasis in sci-fi movies.  It’s the only
explanation that makes sense.  I just chopped my hair off and look—it’s to my
shoulders.  It takes my hair months to grow this much,” Cyndy said, fingering
her sleek black hair.

Jasmine
touched her own hair, but it seemed only slightly longer.  It was hard to tell
with her extreme curls anyway.  Six months could go by and she’d hardly notice
a change. She thought about her last conscious memory before waking up.  They’d
seen lights over Cyndy’s house.  Could something as insane as alien abduction
be real?  Cyndy and Samara had always been nuts about sci-fi movies and books. 
Jasmine preferred her entertainment more grounded in reality.  This situation
was a stretch for her to grasp.

“Has
anyone in here actually seen an alien?” Jasmine asked the crowd.

A few of
the women nodded.

“What
did they look like?” Samara asked.

A young
Korean woman stepped forward.  “I’m Mai, from San Diego.  I stopped at the
beach to watch the sunset.  No one was around, and then I heard this strange
whining sound and a light flashed.  I remember being on a table, needles, and
huge black eyes in a gray face looking down at me. Then I was somehow in here.”

“I—I
remember seeing a gray egghead with black eyes,” Samara whispered.

Jasmine
shuddered.

The
floor shuddered with her. Every woman in the room screamed, including Jasmine. 
Mass hysteria was a powerful thing. She’d never considered herself a coward by
a long shot, but she felt like she was going to piss her drawers if she’d had
any on. As it was, the hospital-looking gown made out of weird clingy fabric
was another nail in the coffin of ‘bad shit just happened’.

“I hate
to admit this, but I’m scared,” Samara muttered to her cousin.  Jasmine nodded,
feeling a quake building inside her body that made her teeth chatter.

The room
vibrated. Devoid of other stimulus, it was obvious to everyone that they were
inside something that was moving.  And whatever they were inside was stopping.

Where
were they being taken, and why?

Just as
the ‘craft’ seemed to settle, hisses drew the women’s attention to the
ceiling.  Jutting from the perimeter of the ceiling were small silver nozzles
emitting puffs of scentless gas.  Someone in the crowd screamed, igniting a
panic.

“They’re
poisoning us!” a woman screamed.

“I don’t
want to die,” someone else yelled.

Jasmine
didn’t want to believe they were being gassed to death.  Why would they be
taken from home and transported somewhere only to be killed? Unless they were
just being delivered to a meat market or for a science experiment. Women jostled
her, pushing past to pound on the walls of the enormous round room. They banged
on the walls, screaming for help that would never come.

The wall
flashed with a dizzying array of images as it was bombarded. Jasmine just stood
there beside her friends, knowing she had no choice but to accept her fate for
now. The cloud of gas continued to waft down to them, making her head suddenly
spin as her oxygen levels decreased.  The gas felt thick in her lungs, sticky.
She tried covering her mouth and holding her breath, but she had no choice but
to inhale the fumes. The wall continued flashing with scenes of Earth: desert,
night sky, apartments and more.  The sporadic lights, screams, and pounding
feet and fists made bile burn the back of her throat as the dizzy spell
increased until she couldn’t bear to keep her eyes open any longer.

“Jasmine.”
Samara grabbed her elbow and slumped to the floor. She tried to catch her, but
her arms felt too heavy to work. Jasmine’s vision narrowed to a pinpoint of
light and winked out.

Captain
Dar Tagnon shifted astride his vibrant green zhala as he watched the Nexus
Lamian ship descend in the landing area they’d cleared to the south of Anehtar,
the once capital city of Chalcydon now ruled over by Prince Dezec Zeta.  Much
had changed in the past few years since the former ruler, King Kore Anadaru,
had been killed by the rightful heir to the throne, King Fallon Anadaru.

The
spinning silver ship landed, whipping tall grasses like sea waves under the
humming engines. The feathers of his zhala ruffled under the intense wind,
making his beast tense for action. Dar patted the creature’s neck in a soothing
gesture, decreasing the zhala’s nervousness slightly. His own nerves echoed
that of his mount’s. The last time Dar had seen one of these ships, they’d brought
flight vessels for a secret rebellion. Though the rebellion was over, their
government was still experiencing a shaky recovery. Too often he heard the
grumblings of their people on the street and wondered how secure his future and
that of his king truly were.

A
loading door opened outward from the ship, unfolding and easing onto the ground
to form a ramp for exit and delivery of goods.  The first of the greys came down
the illuminated ramp, moving with quiet footsteps. All wore the same jumpsuits
of their space fleet, which nearly matched the same tone as their skin, giving
them the appearance, at first glance, of being naked. Had it not been clearly
instructed to him to hold his mirth in check, he might have laughed. The Nexus
Lamians did not understand humor and did not appreciate bearing the brunt of
any jokes.  Behind them they pulled hover-tables loaded with the sleeping forms
of dozens of women piled atop like slabs of meat.

The
sight of women with their arms and legs dangling from unconsciousness disturbed
him. Dar dropped off his zhala, quickly striding to the lead Lamian.  “What is
this?  Why have you brought more Earth women?” he demanded.

Your
king ordered a greater variety of women to be brought for breeding purposes. 
His will dictated a broader…palette.
  The voice of the small grey
alien spoke inside his mind.

Dar had
never quite gotten used to the strangeness of a voice not his own buzzing
around in his head.  “It’s been over a year since King Kore was usurped.  We
have standing orders for weapons, spacecraft, and technology.  Not women.”

The
grey’s forehead wrinkled in as close to a frown as the expressionless alien
could muster. 
The order was placed more than two years your time.  It took
us months to find appropriate candidates for Chalcydon mates.  Women unwed and
unmated, without dependents, children, or parents to miss them.  It was not an
easy task to procure so many mates for your kind.  Are we to believe you would
refuse the order after the expense and time we have invested?

“How
many have you collected?” he asked, watching as pallet after pallet of women
were unloaded from the spaceship.  Around them, a half dozen men awaited
orders, watching the proceedings.  They’d come with three heavy vessels to
transport weapons and armor, vital supplies for their city should they suffer
an attack from outside forces.  They had not expected to meet and find women. Not
that they didn’t appreciate the ‘wares’. They needed women. Too many men had
resorted to finding pleasure amongst themselves, and while he had no problem
with their actions, two sticks poking each other wasn’t going to make any
babies for the next generation.

We have
three hundred
. 
We acknowledge the number is smaller than
previously agreed upon.

“And
they’re all healthy, capable of bearing children?  Vaccinated?” He tried to
think of anything that would allow him to refuse the delivery.

The
alien seemed to be losing patience, though it was difficult to tell with his
soulless, unblinking black eyes staring at Dar.

Yes
.

“What of
the language barrier?  The last batch had trouble assimilating,” Dar said,
trying to find some wiggle room to get out of the exchange.  Much as he hated
to admit it, he was stuck in a hard place. They couldn’t risk angering their
one connection to goods they couldn’t produce on their planet.  Without a trade
agreement, their planet would be indefensible against aggressive outsiders. 
Then again, if he spent their credits on women instead of weapons…

A
translation chip has been installed behind their ears—the latest in technology
which allows them not only to understand nearly every recorded language in the
universe, but to slowly speak alien languages as they are heard for easier
assimilation within cultures. The process is seamless and unnoticeable. The
same technology can be provided to your people should you require it upon
traveling. It can also be used for tracking purposes should any choose to
leave.  We attempted to make them feel more at home on the trip after stasis,
but I am afraid some may have damaged themselves in spite of our attempts at
sedation
.

Dar
rubbed his bristled chin, feeling the day’s growth under his thumb.  “That’s no
good.  How would you feel about discounting, since you’ve brought less than we
requested and some are damaged?”

The grey
turned to one of his companions.  They seemed to be talking between themselves
and then finally returned attention to him. 
This is permissible.  We will
take two loads of ore instead of three.

“Agreed,”
Dar said, holding his hand out to seal the deal.  The Nexus Lamian offered his
limp hand and locked forearms in a weak shake that made Dar’s lip want to curl
with distaste.

“Make
the exchange,” he told his awaiting men.  “We’ll take the women to Prince Zeta
to determine what to do with them.  Load as many as you can into the transports
and be careful with them.  We’ll probably have to make several trips to get
them all.”  Dar sighed, deflated and annoyed at the events of the day. They’d
purchased abducted and unwilling women.  The princess of the city would be more
than irate.  He hoped he would not garner her ire when he met with Prince Zeta.

***

The
warmth of flesh squeezed against her, rousing her into slow consciousness.  For
a moment Jasmine thought she’d fallen asleep on the couch next to Samara.  As
she opened her eyes, she realized she was in a crush of female bodies, jostling
inside a moving vehicle.  She struggled for breath, laying half on top of another
woman dead to the world.  A furtive glance around told her it was closer to a
tank than a car. Women were stacked on top of each other like garbage.  Outrage
filled her.  Did they think they were trash?  To do whatever they pleased with
them?

The dim interior
of the lumbering vehicle revealed nothing of what their captors intended to do
with them or where they were going.  A shaft of thin light slivered through a
center door at the back, just over her head.  She glanced around, searching for
Samara in the rubble of females and panicked when she didn’t see her or Cyndy.

At the
front of the vehicle she could see tinted glass and the shape of what looked
like two men sitting in the front. Human men, at least from what she could see
in her position.  She couldn’t be sure since she didn’t want to sit up, take a
gander, and give herself away. What the hell were humans doing with them? Maybe
they hadn’t been abducted by aliens? The thought that she’d believed something
so ridiculous almost made her want to laugh. This they could handle.

Some of
the other women began to awaken, and with unspoken agreement, everyone kept
still, silent and watchful. Maybe it was fear of the unknown holding them
enthralled, but she liked to think in spite of the panic on the ship—or
whatever they’d been on before—they weren’t mindless morons incapable of
controlling themselves or
weighing out the pros
and cons of waiting to see just how deep in shit they actually were.

The
vehicle pulled to a gentle stop. Jasmine listened as the two figures in the front
exited and shut the doors. Masculine voices laughed and talked, muffled beyond
the walls of the vehicle, but she could trace their path as they moved to the
back. Her ears strained, listening for their movement outside as her pulse thundered
behind her eardrums. A lock disengaged loudly at the back door, inches from
her. She tensed and closed her eyes, feigning sleep as the brilliance of
daylight flooded the dark interior and fresh air swept through in a rush. The
moment a hand locked around her arm to pull her out, her fight-flight adrenaline
kicked into overdrive. Eyes flying open, she looked up into a male face that
looked every inch human.

Jasmine shrieked
and rolled out of his startled grip, hitting the ground before he could react. 
Her legs wobbled unsteadily as she jumped to her feet.  Air currents caught the
flimsy gown like a billowing sail. She ran for her life, trying her best not to
trip over her own bare feet.  Before she’d made it more than twenty feet from
her start point, a whooshing noise sounded above her.  Something blocked out
the sun, casting a shadow around her on the ground. Daring a look up, she
gasped as an enormous feathery lizard swooped straight for her.  She fell
backwards, hitting the ground and expelling the breath from her lungs as her
rump connected with unforgiving earth.

On top
of what looked for all the world like a dragon sat a man in a black uniform
with a high, strange collar and startling blue eyes.  He yanked the reins,
commanding the dragon low over her, so close she could feel and smell its citrusy
breath. Her eyes watered. She choked back a scream, frozen in place. The beast
dropped to the ground, flapping its wings and stirring puffs of dust into the
air to sting her eyes.  Jasmine surreptitiously dug one hand in the dirt,
palming a handful of sand.

The
rider dropped to the ground to stand over her, shading her from the sun. “Are
you done fighting?” he asked in a gruff voice that rumbled in his chest.

Jasmine’s
ears vibrated with the sound of his voice, detecting a finite second of garbled
sound before her brain comprehended what he was saying.  She shook her head as
if a fly buzzed around in her ears. He offered her his hand, watching her like
a cat on a mouse. “Do you understand?  Are you going to run?”

Again,
something behind her ears translated a garbled sound a split second before she
understood him.  The more he spoke, the less she noticed it. She cast a quick
glance around, noting that other enormous men in military-style uniforms similar
to his were there, taking the women as they awakened and herding them through a
door that pierced a building with sky-high spires.  She still didn’t see Samara
or Cyndy in the crowded lines.

Gingerly
she took his hand, girding her nerves.  As he lifted her to her feet, she cast
the handful of dirt at his eyes.  He yelled in surprise and attempted to block with
his free hand.  His grip relaxed, allowing her to shake free and run.

“Sedate
her!” the man yelled to his men.

They
weren’t as quick or prepared as she was.  Seconds passed like minutes—an
eternity in her fogged mind.  She willed her body to move faster, to escape and
go anywhere else, even knowing the chances of getting away were next to nil.
She still had to try. A sting pierced her shoulder, injecting a dose of some
fluid into her veins.  Time seemed to roar back in a flash.  Her blood pumped
with a fury.  Behind her, the voices of the men and women mingled in a strange
warbling sound like heavy bass in her mind. Her body grew heavy and clumsy. She
couldn’t feel her feet touching the ground as a warmth spread through her veins
and closed over her like a blanket. Sighing, Jasmine pitched forward, blacking
out as the ground rushed towards her face.

Dar
caught the troublesome woman before she could hit her head on the ground.  His
reflexes were fast as ever, now that the shock of having the diminutive female
attack him had worn off. He still had sand in his eyes however, he thought with
annoyance. The urge to pinch her head off warred with amusement at her belief
she could escape.

Dar
hefted her in his arms. She was solid, but his strength training made her feel
light in his arms.  “Take the women inside the harem quarters to clean up and
change.”  He looked down at the woman’s dark-skinned face.  Her eyelids
fluttered and her wide, full lips twitched.  Tangled, black, curly hair caught
on the corner of her mouth, begging to be brushed aside. Her face was
exquisite—dangerous to behold. He ignored the impulse to soften towards her. “I’m
not sure I should take my eyes off this one.”

One of
the guards, Drake Onous, smirked.

Dar
looked up at Drake.  His silver hair glinted in the sunlight like molten metal
and his toothy grin beseeched a fist in the middle.  “Wipe that grin off your
face unless you want to muck the zhala stables by yourself,” Dar told the
soldier, who immediately obeyed and went back to work.

More of
the women were waking up and able to walk inside on their own. Their stumbling
and dragging feet made it apparent they didn’t want to, but faced with his big
brooding soldiers, they made no attempt at resistance. This dark shapely one he
held didn’t have good sense—that or too much spirit. Either way, she was going
to be troublesome for anyone taking her on and would need to be broken before
assimilation. He was glad he wouldn’t be in charge of such matters.