Nascent Decay (The Goddess of Decay Book 1) (3 page)

He began to cut the uniform from her body with it, tearing it away roughly with his other hand. He left scratches and abrasions on her with his sharp nails and rough, scaly skin, but she couldn’t feel them. He didn’t stop until she was completely nude, and covered from the shoulders down with welts and scrapes.

Rhylie wanted to cry and scream. She wanted to protest, to kick and fight against the thing. But her body was unresponsive, and she was trapped within it, an unwilling spectator.

Bands of a flexible white material slid from the table and bound her at the wrists, elbows, thighs, ankles, and neck. She stared at the alien in horror as it towered over her with its hulking form. She had never felt so vulnerable in her entire life.

His eyes were an intense gold, veined with black and had a slit pupil dividing them. The scales covering his face were blazing yellow with pitch-black horizontal streaks.

She tried to struggle against her bonds, but her body remained unresponsive. The alien kept his eyes locked on hers, emotionless yet threatening. The face was handsome otherwise, in a rugged sort of way. Two others stood in the room with them, but she could not take her eyes off of those burning golden pools that stared down intensely at her.

The door swirled open and a woman seemed to glide into the room. His golden, soulless eyes snapped away from Rhylie, over to her. She was dressed in flowing, opaque, white robes trimmed with a glittering golden piping. Around her waist was a transparent golden sash that seemed to sparkle with an internal luminosity. He inclined his head respectfully towards her and stepped back. Rhylie tore her eyes away from him to look at the figure in white.

She would have been a beautiful woman, if not for the scales, and her eyes. Her features were soft, almost girlish. Inviting in a way. Her lips were plump and pouting, though her mouth was uncannily wide. Her eyes were round and almost too large for her face. They were two pools of deep, mysterious blue streaked with silvery veins, divided by a narrow slit pupil, set amidst the lightly iridescent scales covering her face. Her skin tone was a soft, pale blue with hints of a shimmering orange peppered in when the light caught it at just the right angle. The opaqueness of her dress strangely accentuated the androgynous nature of her body. She only seemed to be more slender than the males, and she had no breasts.

She unclasped her hands and reached up to gently brush Rhylie’s hair from her face as she whispered something softly. She began caressing it between her fingers as she spoke, as though she were fascinated by it. The large male gave a command to the others, much more softly this time, and the two guards left the room together. He followed after them, and the door swirled shut after they had stepped through it. She couldn’t even see where it had been.

The woman looking down at Rhylie quirked her lips slightly. Rhylie couldn’t tell if it was a frown or a smile. The scales covering her lips were tiny, nearly invisible, giving them a shimmer, like a fine dusting of orange gloss over top of a blue that was so pale it was almost ivory. She let go of Rhylie’s hair and moved over to the side of the small round room.

A curved chair seemed to spring forth from the floor, forming in an instant and hovering above the floor. She sat down and clasped her hands in her lap, watching Rhylie in silence. She didn’t move or speak, and she never blinked. She just sat there, staring at Rhylie with those stone-cold eyes set in that strangely beautiful face.

Rhylie had no sense of time. The room they were in was boring other than the woman. It was a small chamber with soft lighting, the walls slightly rounded. It was a much smaller version of the room she had just been in. It felt like an egg, comforting in a strange way. Suspended against a wall was a small white table with a handful of translucent screens floating over it. One had her face on it, the rest seemed to be devoted to her vital signs. The language on them was strange, flowing and elegant, like nothing she had ever seen. Everything was silent, the only sound was her slow, rhythmic breathing.

When the door finally slid open again, a figure in crisp, tight, fitted clothing entered. He handed a small, white device to the woman sitting in the chair before turning his gaze to Rhylie for a moment, then left hurriedly, as though he were afraid of her. The woman placed the device inside of her ear, and a thin white line spread across her face from cheek to cheek, leaving a stripe across the bridge of her humped nose. From it a transparent, silvery veil grew, draping down to cover her mouth and nostrils, stopping just below her chin. Rhylie could see the woman’s lips working beneath the veil as she spoke.

“I supposed what just happened was avoidable on our part. We should have been more careful when waking you,” she said. Her voice was soft and lilting, musical. Rhylie tried to respond, but her lips were numb. She barely managed to produce some spittle and a couple of grunts. She closed her eyes in frustration.

“I had been informed that humans were violent and unpredictable, barely more than wild beasts. But you seemed so peaceful and harmless sleeping in your pod,” the woman said. She sounded disappointed. Rhylie opened her eyes and looked over at her. She was standing now.

“I should have made sure we had the human language programmed into the veil before we woke you. We had to push it up to high priority to get it done so quickly. I should have known better, and I accept my part of the responsibility for what happened. This was partially my fault, and I sincerely apologize for that,” she said, moving towards her. “And now I have lost one of my best researchers.” She reached out and put her scaled hand on Rhylie’s arm. The fingers were tipped with manicured, ivory claws. The scales on her hand were the same texture as those on her face. Those on her arms were more rugged and pronounced, yet still feminine.

“I am Vorcia, Empress of the Siiroc, Masters of the Siirocian arm of the Galaxy. And you are my guest,” she said, smiling behind the veil. But the eyes did not smile. They remained frozen, unblinking. Dead. “You’ll be able to talk soon, and we shall have a chat. I promise, no more harm will come to you. But I ask that you please refrain from your violent outbursts in the future, no matter how much you may have to fight your savage nature,” she said in a matronly, yet patronizing tone. “After all you are very precious, dear. Very, very precious. The survival of your entire race depends upon you.”

Vorcia spoke subtly with her hands as well as her words. Her movements were delicate and sweeping, when they occurred, as if they had been practiced until they looked natural. She may have been the most elegant woman Rhylie had ever met. If she was a even a woman. Rhylie really couldn’t tell.

Rhylie struggled to speak, but she could only choke out garbled, gagging noises as Vorcia frowned. Her shoulders heaved in a sigh.

“It does seem as though your emotions rule you, just as I was told. Please, do not make me regret this,” Vorcia said in a soft, pleading tone. She stared at Rhylie for a long moment with her huge eyes before turning and leaving the room. The door swirled shut behind her, its outline disappearing.

Tears began rolling uncontrollably down Rhylie’s cheeks as she lay there, naked, bound to the table.

It seemed as though several hours had passed before the door in the wall swirled open again, well after the tears had dried upon her cheeks. Two large guards came through the portal, each holding one of the slender black rods that they had used to stun her. One of them spoke a command. His dialect was a more guttural form of their language, sharp and harsh with a staccato flow. The table tilted forward and began to glide towards the door. Out into the hall it carried her, with the guards flanking her on either side.

She had been struggling against her restraints after regaining control of her body, and while they were comfortable enough, they held her tight. She was going nowhere. Resistance was obviously futile.

She drifted through a series of tubular white corridors that grew expansively larger with each turn, until she was brought out into a grand hall that was filled with movement and bustle. There were strange smells, a mingling of an ocean of aromas, from body odor to what was probably some sort of food. Shops lined the sides of the grand hall, and signs hanging above them were covered with languages and symbols she didn’t recognize. Every color imaginable was on display, glowing or glimmering or shimmering, anything they could do to draw your attention. Holograms danced and flashed above them, advertising products and services. She would have been embarrassed by the strong sexual themes some of them had, under more normal circumstances.

Alien races of all shapes and sizes, far too many to count, passed by her as she drifted through the crowd. Some were feathered and some were furry. Some were smooth-skinned with tentacles. They were short and tall, muscular and frail. There was a myriad of colors and sizes, from scrawny to fat. Some even seemed to have wings, but it was hard to tell as the crowd jostled around her. A few were insectile as well, with a hard carapace covering their skin. Several even had mandibles, whereas others had tusks or even a short trunk similar to an elephant’s.

Most of them seemed to halt what they were doing in order to stare as she was paraded, still naked, through the teeming throng. Mouths hung open in shock and widened eyes stared at her in amazement. The din and clamor of dozens of languages, as well as the murmur of daily life, all came grinding to a halt as she was carried down the long, open hallway. Silence grew in the great hall with her passing.

There was no ceiling overhead, offering an expansive view of a grand nebula; great winged clouds of orange gossamer curled across the blackness of space like flames spreading through the darkness. All of it was framed by tall, slender, spiral buildings that seemed to curl up to bracket the nebula, as though supporting it and framing it. It seemed as though the entirety of the grand city worshiped it. Behind the buildings framing the view were larger buildings still, reaching into the blackness of space. They all had a strange sort of sheen to them, seeming to cascade subtle shades of various color, glistening as though they were wet. It were as if everything around her had been designed to capture the view of the nebula above.

There were scattered windows in the sides of the slender buildings that towered around her, enormous skyscrapers that twisted their way into the sky. They were bridged with an uncountable number of spans, forming a web of delicate architecture and style throughout the buildings. More and more windows began to swirl open in them as she was paraded before the city, thousands of vacant eyes awakening to stare down at her curiously.

The hallway opened up into an even larger rotunda that was also without a ceiling. Amazed at the unobstructed view above her, it took a moment for her to realize they were in open space, with a self-contained atmosphere, and probably artificial gravity. It was the most breathtaking and awesome thing she had ever experienced in her life. When the table came to a halt, she was finally able to tear her eyes away from the brilliant spectacle above her.

Towering before her were five white cylindrical podiums, each adorned with a unique symbol that shimmered and shone with its own soft, rippling light. Behind each podium sat a different race of alien. They all wore the same silvery veil over their faces, with Vorcia sitting in the middle. The men all wore different colors of the same uniform, though some wore it better than the others. It was a crisp, clean style that was well cut. On their lapel was the same symbol as was on their podium.

On the far left was a fat, hairless, chubby humanoid with a pasty complexion and smooth skin that seemed to be overly moisturized. His uniform was garish, bright orange and red and green. It gave him the appearance of a rotund clown. His girth was substantial and he was by far the fattest of the five seated behind the podiums. He had two sets of arms, a longer, thicker set underneath a stubbier pair that sat where his shoulders should be. Both sets were pudgy beyond belief. He had four fat, flabby legs that didn’t look like they were of use at all. His solid black eyes regarded her coolly from behind lazily narrowed eyelids.

“Is this the great threat that so much of a deal has been made about?” he said in a thick, lethargic voice. His tongue flickered out to lick his pale, fat lips. The speed of the movement surprised her. “I could break her in no time.”

“We don’t need any of your filthy innuendo, Sothu. This is not one of your flesh auctions,” Vorcia said with disdain. She was wearing pale, golden robes that shimmered, trimmed with thick blue borders. Her lips twisted downward. “This is a very serious matter.” She turned her attention back to Rhylie. Sothu snorted and waved his hand dismissively.

“What do I care? The galaxy has hundreds of races,” he said as he cocked a disinterested smirk.

“Then please feel free to remove yourself from these proceedings,” Vorcia snapped. “We do not need you here to decide this matter.” Sothu grunted.

“You’d like that wouldn’t you, Vorcia? Why not just have me and my people removed from The Masters entirely?” he said sourly, his lips twisting into a grimace. “No, I think I’ll remain here and help preside over these proceedings. It is my duty. Besides…I rather enjoy the view.” He turned his eyes back to Rhylie. “She does look…delectable.” His tongue flickered again, like a hungry animal searching outside its burrow for some crumbs to stave off starvation.

“She is not your property, and never will be,” Vorcia said in a steely voice, her jaws clenched. Rhylie felt relieved. She stared up at Vorcia with wide, pleading eyes.

“What are we to do with her then, Vorcia?” the one between Sothu and Vorcia inquired.

This one was covered with a series of thin, shiny plates that gave him an insectile appearance. The plates were bright yellow, ringed with black, and his uniform mirrored that.
He almost looks like a warning sign,
she thought. He had no teeth, and within his mouth was another mouth, inset with razor-sharp mandibles that opened and closed as he spoke. His lips were the only human thing about him. His eyes were solid black, and he had no eyelids or hair covering him other than some fine, rigid bristles. Atop his head were two short antennae that quivered and swayed independently, as though they were seeking something. She stared at him in amazed horror; she could not take her eyes off of him for a long moment.