Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-One

Tallie

Tallie ~ More Questions Than Answers

They talked for hours. Mostly about slavery, and the plans all the women who'd been captives of the Siloth had for the slaves. They wanted to build dormitories to house everyone, and a school to teach anything the slaves needed to know. There was a plan to provide translators for those who didn't have them, and then to teach those who didn't know how to speak, like LeChar, how to communicate.

The ultimate goal was to help any slave they found. First, by freeing them, no matter what it took. That might mean arranging an escape or buying them. Then they would bring them to Megoth and heal them if they were hurt and teach the freed person any skills needed to become self-sufficient. At that point, the girls would try to take them home or find them a place where they wanted to live. That might be Megoth or another planet. But they promised to find a home for each one of them.

Tallie was cautiously optimistic when Zandhor grew more and more enthusiastic about the plans the longer they talked. He thought the ideas were great and had even suggested the women add self-defense and weapons classes. He suggested that if they did, the slaves would be prepared to protect themselves, no matter what happened.

She had smiled at that. Knowing that her Earth friends were so... fierce about knowing how to fight. Knowing not only how to use any available weapon, but how to live off the land if needed. The women called themselves survivalists. They would teach the slaves everything they needed to survive on Megoth—or anywhere. The knowledge might not be planet specific, but they would be taught how to find water, food, and shelter. And then go from there.

Talking meant she could listen to his voice. She loved his voice. Tallie asked questions about anything she could think of—usually something about the others in his group—because it was easier for him to talk about them. And when he talked, she'd let the words play over her body, and sometimes it would lull her to sleep.

But usually, if he was talking... she was awake. She wanted to listen, to hear everything he had to say. In every language, he knew to say it.

They discovered that they both had extremely complex translators. Tallie knew hers was expensive. It was updated automatically and continuously with all the known languages in the universe and typically was given out to leaders of countries or the diplomatic corps. Zandhor knew that his translator had been in place before he was kidnapped.

It was interesting his translator seemed to be of the same quality as hers. She would throw out a word from one of the least populated and most barbaric worlds... and he was able to understand what she said.

Tallie didn't comment or make suppositions. But in her heart, she knew it meant his parents had been important enough for their child to warrant the best. Just as she had been. When she realized that might be the case, Tallie sent the information to Makayla, so she could share it with her mate. Both Kayla and Falcon had seen all the men in their cages at the Zoo, so she just told them that Zandhor was one of the aliens who had blue skin and the big circular horns on his head.

As she sent the information to the Guardians, Tallie realized she had more questions than answers.

Zandhor

He liked it when Tallie laughed, and when she asked questions. He felt good when something he said caused laughter to bubble inside her and spill through the communications device. He looked around him. Most of the men were sitting in the hall. Waiting to hear that laughter.

They had all become very serious and thoughtful when she'd described the plans for a school and living facility for freed slaves. Every single one of them had looked at LeChar when Zandhor explained why the young gladiator was the way he was. When she explained how it made her feel... they all looked as horrified as Zandhor felt. And then they took turns speaking to LeChar.

Now, when the feline would grab his cock, one of the men would get up and lead him to a private room, explaining in words and gestures that he couldn't come out... until he was done tugging. Then they would close the door.

LeChar had gotten to the point that he would reach between his legs... then stand on his own and go into a room. Without anyone having to lead him.

Zandhor liked her questions, too. Because it meant she wanted to learn about him and the others on the ship. That soon she might forgive them. He hoped.

When she asked him to start with their names and tell her a little about each one, he'd been ashamed. He hadn't even told her their names when they boarded her ship. He had really messed up and done everything wrong. He didn't ask for privacy when he spoke to Tallie. He let all the gladiators sit in the hall with him. They would whisper more questions to him, or comments they wanted him to add.

He did it so they could hear her. Hear the plans for the slaves. Hear what things were scary to her—and all women. Hear what the universe expected of men—when they weren't gladiators and slaves. They all needed to learn how to react.

So, he told her about Zahvid and Zahn. Both humanoid men had dusty blue skin and features that were similar to Zandhor. They had curved horns on the sides of their head, although both men had horns that were smaller and had fewer curls than his. Both had small ears and brown eyes. They were both tall, yet Zandhor was taller. He also had more muscles and was stronger than the two.

Zahvid and Zahn were close to Zandhor's age. They'd been taken about the same time he had been. Although they didn't remember knowing each other from before. Both men stayed close to him and always had. Or as close as they could when they were out of their cages at the same time. He told Tallie that both men were amazing gladiators. Like him, winning all their matches. For the most part, they were quiet.

Tallie asked if their translators worked as well as Zandhor's. He knew they didn't. He told her that it was something their trainers had tested early on. Of all the men, Zandhor was the only one who had a translator that handled more languages than universal. Some of the gladiators knew or had picked up other dialects, but their translators only worked with the universal language. Which meant if he and Tallie conversed in the language of her planet, no one else understood.

He paused for a moment. Just a little tired of speaking. He imagined Tallie on the other side of the door. Her pale gray eyes partially closed as she concentrated on his voice or was too tired to keep them open. He wanted to see her lift her hand, to run her long fingers through her short tufts of pink hair. It looked so soft. He'd love to run his fingers through her hair. To trace her small lips.

He sighed and went on talking about the men.

Tallie knew who Andra was, and when she called him a giant, Andra beamed. The dark blue and scaly man had been careful of her. Turning his back whenever Tallie was near, so he didn't expose himself to her. She appreciated the action and wanted to know why he did it? Why he was the only one who hadn't laughed at her, or tried to touch her?

Zandhor frowned at Andra and signed for him to give Zandhor the answer. The big man shrugged and whispered back, "Women on my planet are rare. Precious. We were not allowed to touch unless we were touched first. Not allowed to look upon them or show ourselves to them. Unless a request was made. It is the way of my people."

He repeated the words to Tallie, and she told Zandhor to relay her thanks to Andra. "His actions helped me. Let me breathe sometimes when you were all so close. I would focus on Andra's back."

Zandhor felt worse, but the look on Andra's face was so very proud. Tallie didn't know it, but she had gifted the man with a tremendous prize.

The rest of them looked at each other and then motioned to Andra. They wanted him to teach the rest of them how to show the same respect. Zandhor thought that what they needed to learn wouldn't be as drastic as Andra's manners, but he didn't stop the men from asking. Better to err on the side of caution.

Tallie knew who LeChar was, so the only one left was Zeft.

He looked across the hall at the light purple man. Short of stature, his body and head were hairless. Zeft had webbing between his fingers and toes.

Before he could decide what to say, Tallie spoke up, "He was the only other male that would walk away when he saw me. He didn't touch me, he'd just laugh and clap in a quick rhythm, and then turn on his heels."

Zeft bent his head down, then looked up at Zandhor and whispered. "I laughed, happy to be free. I would clap in thanks and then leave. Because the way I am made frightens women."

He must have said the words loud enough for Tallie to hear because she spoke up clearly, "Thank you, Zeft. I am happy you are all free. You are made the way you should be made. But having two... cocks... should be a private thing. It could be scary for anyone until they get to know you better. I suggest you stay dressed. Once you get to know someone and they let you know they want to be with you, then you need to explain about your anatomy and go slowly with her. Okay? Just keep your clothes on until you get to know her really well," she advised. "That is actually what you all need to do. Not just you, Zeft."

Zandhor watched the faces of his men. They all nodded and grinned. Even LeChar. But Zandhor knew the young feline was parroting the actions without understanding the words and meaning. But the gladiators had made progress. Understanding Tallie's actions helped them all mature just a little. In a few days, they'd land on Megoth.

Maybe they had learned enough about how the world worked outside a cage and the gladiator fights to keep them alive. He understood they needed time to learn more.

But for now, he hoped it was enough. He didn't want to upset the men on Megoth—as he felt they might shoot before they bothered to ask questions.