Chapter 13

13

- Maeve -

Arelion has turned black, and his wings are tipped with intense red.

I'm climaxing hard on his cock, but I also notice the heat at my hip. At first it's barely there, though I distantly wonder why he's touching me there, which seems like it would be awkward for him. Then it heats up until there's a split second of a slight burn which fades to coolness immediately.

Arelion collapses on top of me, weighing me down. "My love…" he wheezes.

I'm still riding out the aftershocks, but I know something special has happened.

His skin slowly goes back to its usual blue, and his feathers are as brightly colorful as ever.

He slowly rolls off me and lies beside me, breathing hard.

I finally touch his chest. "Are you all right?"

"Yes," he slowly replies. "Are you?" He takes his hand off my hip, leaving it feeling strangely cold.

I look down at the spot. "I think so." There's something on the skin there, like a bruise.

"It will be blue, which is my color," he wheezes. "Hopefully it won't be too big."

I sit up and check the spot in the light. It's an intricate pattern of lines and figures, not unlike a fingerprint, but much more complicated. It looks most of all like a tattoo, except the blue is much more vivid and looks like it stands out from the skin. "What is it?"

"It's a Mark," Arelion rumbles. "I should have gotten your permission first. But it took me over. I couldn't stop. And in all honesty, I didn't want to stop."

I stretch the skin on my hip, trying to see if it looks like something. "Is it art?"

He sighs with satisfaction. "The Mark is how a male Eoan tells the world that he claims a female. He can only ever claim one. It's a once in a lifetime thing."

"And you claimed me? " I'm not sure what to think. I'm flattered, sure. And it is actually a really cool Mark. But what does it mean?

"I did. As determined by Fate. I was Fated to Mark you. As you were Fated to be Marked by me."

"What does it mean? Are we… I mean, I've never been Marked before."

He reaches over and touches the Mark. "It just means that I claim you. No other male may have you."

"Am I… can I leave, even so? Not that I want to! I don't want to leave. But I don't understand all of this. You don't own me, right?"

"Of course not!" he snorts. "That would be pointless. A Marked woman can of course leave if she wants. Eoan couples where the male has marked his female are always together ever after. But there is no force about it. It's a private thing that's only between us two. I understand that an alien woman will not have the same effect from the Mark as an Eoan female. You can look at it as proof of my love. If at some point you want to leave me, you are fully within your rights to do that."

"All right." I'm still confused, but I do like the Mark and I don't mind Arelion being possessive about me. I intend to be possessive about him, too.

"They say that a Marked female will know when the male is thinking about her, because the Mark will tingle," Arelion says. "And the more intensely he wants her, the more she will notice it."

"Oh. Are you thinking of me now?"

"Does it tingle?"

"It really does." I run my fingers lightly cross the Mark. "It's more like an itch, really."

"Good. Because I am thinking of you."

"I love it. Thank you." I lie back down and kiss him.

He puts a giant arm under my head. "And thank you for understanding. Many Eoans never experience the bliss of having Marked a woman. Now, I have."

I lie back and enjoy having him close. I guess a Mark was probably important to the Eoans at some point in their evolutionary history. Now, it may be more of a relic of old courting rituals. "When do we leave for Sprenk?"

He scratches his nose. "As soon as we can."

I glance up at the picture of Frida Kahlo. If she could see this, I think she would approve. She's said to have had a lot of lovers, but I don't think any of them were Eoan.

I sit up and straddle him, fully recovered and noticing that his cock is stiffening again. "I really enjoyed this ' fight '. Do we have time to ' fight ' more? Right here?"

He grins and reaches behind me to cup my butt. "I won last time. Maybe this time I'll let you win."

I slap his chest lightly. "Hey, you said we'd win together!"

" This time we will," he deadpans. "I promise."

- - -

" T hat's Sprenk?"

The planet takes up a quarter of the threesixty display on the Bululg ship that we have named Revenge . It's a barren place, with no oceans or lakes or forests that I can see. But it also doesn't look like the Earth's Moon or any of the rocky planets in our solar system. The whole surface of Sprenk just looks like an open strip mine.

"That should be it," Arelion says, standing up and snaking his arm around my waist. "All mined out, looks like."

"It's not," Cerak snaps. "It should be perfectly obvious that they simply moved their operations underground. Sprenk still has a lot to give the Bululg."

I give the robot a little glance. "You know a lot about them."

"Someone like me can't help but read everything we come across and to remember it all," the trash can-like robot says. "At some point in my existence, I read some reports about the Bululg. There's no need to stare at me like that, human female."

"Sorry." I look back at the display. "So you have to help the slaves here, is that it?"

Arelion shrugs. "I assume so. The Archmagus said ‘those who toil there'. I can't imagine he meant that we should help the Bululg."

"That makes sense," Bari agrees. "My guess is that there aren't any Bululg here at all, just Fresks and such." She spent most of the time in Gigori in the Bululg saucer, chatting with the computer systems and making them accept us as the new owners of the ship.

Cerak sets the saucer down among the rubble. There's a rainstorm outside, turning the ground into small rivers and streams. "This is the only place I can spot any structures. Looks like the main entrance to the underground mines."

I gaze at the display. It's a big concrete cube that looks like it could house machinery and maybe a big elevator going down. "That looks nasty. What's the plan?"

"We make our way inside," Arelion says. "We defeat the guards and take the slaves with us in our ship. We have room for hundreds in here. We'll take them to Gigori, I suppose."

I pull his arm to me. "I hope there aren't thousands. That would mean more guards than we can probably deal with. And more slaves than we can transport away."

"Do you have your stick?" Arelion asks.

I show him. "Wouldn't want to face hundreds of Fresk guards without my stick. And of course I have this, too." I slap the side holster, where I carry an alien ray gun from Arelion's army stores on Gigori. I'm wearing plates of light but strong armor over my jumpsuit, as well as a hi-tech helmet that gives me both a view of everything around me and a display that I'm sure would be helpful if I could read its alien symbols.

Virlu is wearing a full suit of armor, but no helmet would contain his head. He carries a fearsome-looking space age halberd that I think is much more deadly than that medieval weapon ever was on Earth. Sponz is his usual spectral self, holding a staff that looks a little like mine.

Arelion, wearing no armor at all, pulls me closer to him. "I still think you should stay behind here. As someone said to me recently, this isn't your fight."

"Any fight against the Bululg is my fight," I tell him firmly. "But I promise not to take unnecessary chances."

We've determined that the guards will be surprised by our attack, and that they will be set up for stopping the captives from breaking out and not from well-armed enemies trying to break in . We'll count on the slaves turning on the guards the moment they get a chance, and we'll give them weapons that are easy to use.

I'm painfully aware there's only four of us. Bari obviously wouldn't be much good in a fight, and Cerak also claims he was never made for what he calls ‘hopeless struggles'. Arelion seems to think that any little thing we do for the captives here in the mine should count as helping them, and so the archmagus might be satisfied.

"No reason to wait," Arelion says. "Everyone stays behind me. Got that, Maeve? If anyone's going to be shot here, it's me."

"Just don't seek out trouble for its own sake," I tell him. "Got that, Arelion?"

He gives me a little smirk. "Message received. Ready, Virlu?"

"Guerrilla warfare," Virlu begins while he checks his weapon, "is a type of unconventional warfare where small groups of irregular forces take on much larger enemy forces. It often takes place inside enemy territory, and the groups often use tactics such as ambushes, sabotage, and hit-and-run attacks."

"We will use some of those tactics," Arelion promises. "Cerak, be ready to take off at short notice. Bari, keep sweet-talking the computer so that the ship won't object when we bring aboard the captives."

"It's not like there will be anyone else to talk to here," Bari says and looks straight at Cerak.

"Just keep your mindless chatter silent," Cerak counters. "Or you can try to sweet-talk the ship from outside."

Arelion checks the readout. "There should be enough oxygen, but the air is thin. Close your helmet, Maeve. It will give you the air you need until we get inside the mine."

We're out on the gravelly surface before I know it. The rain pummels my helmet and my armor, falling hard. The water is up to my ankles, running down a mild slope from the big cube. Arelion leads us to it, and we meet the first obstacle. There's a big portal, but it's closed.

He takes a black device out of his pants pocket and presses it to the door. "Cerak has prepared some door-opening tricks for us."

"How would he know how to open a Bululg door?" I ask, having to raise my voice over the hiss from the rain falling.

Arelion shrugs. "He's been inside a Bululg ship for a while, flying it. I suppose he knows the Bululg logic by now."

"Uh-huh." I have my own thoughts about that.

The portal slowly slides up on creaky iron wheels, like something out of the nineteenth century on Earth. The Resistance prepared me for alien civilizations in space to sometimes be shockingly primitive and sometimes breathtakingly advanced, and this is clearly the former. It could be a good sign — perhaps the Bululg don't use much electronic surveillance here. At any rate, no alarm seems to have been triggered.

Inside the cube, there's a weak light from occasional points on the walls. Apart from that, the only thing in here is a rat's nest of pipes and old machinery and a giant lift mechanism, also looking like an eighteen-hundreds contraption. I half expect to see a steam engine to power it.

My helmet gives off a soft hiss as I open the visor.

"Looks robust," Arelion says and shakes the colossal steel frame that surrounds the lift. "The Bululg must have taken it over from someone else. Let's see if it works." He finds the levers and uses Cerak's black device to unlock them. Then he works the control until he figures out the system. "Simple enough. There's one platform up here and one down in the mine. I suspect the one that's down there will go up when this goes down. If the guards are watching it, they will know someone is on the way. Maeve, someone has to stay up here and work the controls."

"There are levers right there, on the elevator itself," I point out. "Nice try, Arelion. But I'm going down with you."

He gives me a lopsided smile, and even in this tense situation, it makes my heart flutter. "All right. You know I had to try."

"No need to try again," I tell him as we step onto the elevator platform. It's too large and heavy to do more than shake a little when Arelion puts his weight on it. "They should work, too." I point to the levers.

Arelion goes over and pulls one of them. The platform starts to descend.

Virlu changes his grip on the big sacks full of weapons he's carrying. "Nervosity is a state of being anxious or agitated," he informs us, looking up at the shrinking square of light above us. "It is often characterized by physical symptoms, such as sweating, trembling, or a rapid heartbeat."

Arelion puts a big, blue hand on his furry shoulder. "We're all nervous, Virlu. It's a healthy thing to be before going into deadly danger. The tension makes you react faster and more correctly. I was always nervous when I was flying in space with my squadron."

"Leadership is the ability to guide and influence others to achieve a common goal," Virlu responds in his peculiar way. "It involves inspiring and motivating individuals to reach their full potential."

Yeah, I'm obviously not the only one who sees Arelion's qualities. Imagine him leading a whole planet full of peacock-like aliens! I'd love to see it. Up close, if possible.

I take a deep breath. Maybe one day. First, I have other things to do.

The platform descends fast, and to my relief it doesn't make much noise. We sometimes pass light points on the shaft wall or tunnels leading away from it, but there's nobody around.

I start to feel more optimistic about this whole thing. There's obviously nothing of value to steal here. There would be no reason for practically anyone to break into this mine. It's a place you'd want to do your best to stay the hell away from.

"How many guards can we take on?" I ask, keeping my voice down.

"If they are Fresks, and if we surprise them, we can take on dozens," Arelion says. "There's bound to be more workers than guards."

After a long descent, the platform slows down, then abruptly stops with a scream of metal rubbing against metal.

"I think we're here," I whisper and tighten my grip on the ray gun. "No one in sight."

Arelion holds his own gun ready as he steps off the platform and down to the ground. "Close your helmet, Maeve," he orders. "The bottoms of mines are known for being the places where dangerous gasses end up if they're heavier than air."

I do as he says, not protesting that I'm the only one wearing a helmet.

All four of us get off the platform. Or so I assume — Sponz is hard to see at the best of times. Many tunnels lead away from this central chamber, reminding me of both Maranar Labs and Gigori. Except those tunnels didn't have steel tracks.

We stand there for a minute, listening. There's a distant screech of a drill going into rock. There are hoarse commands being yelled and the sounds of many pickaxes and shovels being used on rock, hard and loose. After a while there's the rumble of explosive charges going off, miles away.

"A fully working mine," Arelion mutters. "Here's what they've mined so far." He points.

Behind the elevator there are hundreds of low wagons, filled to the brim with ore.

As I think about what that says about the number of workers here, there's movement in one of the tunnels.

A full wagon comes rolling on the tracks, pushed by four workers in yellow overalls.

I freeze when I see them. They look a lot like Earthlings.

They're keeping their heads down, and it takes a while for them to see us. When they do, all they see is a big, blue angel-like apparition with wings spread out, holding a gun that shines in silver.

"Fuck! What the hell is that thing?" they exclaim as they draw back to the wall of the mine. In English, I notice.

"Greetings," Arelion booms. "We are here to help you get out."

I run over to him, pushing the visor of my helmet back up. "They're from Earth!"

There's four of them, all men. They stare at us, understandably shocked by what's going on.

"We're here to get you out," I repeat, going towards them. "This is Arelion. I'm Maeve. That one over there is Virlu."

The men look at each other, still apprehensive.

"Where will you take us?" one of them asks. I detect a little bit of an accent, but I can't place it.

"First to a base he owns." I point to Arelion. "Then anywhere you want. I'm guessing you don't want to go back to Earth."

They're still not convinced. "What happens at his base?"

"You can rest and enjoy your freedom," I tell them, looking around, nervous about guards. "We'll break you out. Those guys look scary, but they're our friends. I'm with the Resistance!"

The four captives come closer. "We can hear you're American. But we're not sure about the other ones."

"Virlu, give them some weapons!" I call over to the furry alien. "They're not sure if we have good intentions!"

"Ask them about the guards," Arelion says. "We have to know."

"Are there guards here?" I ask. "Who are they? What kind of weapons do they have?"

"There's about twenty," another Earthling says. His accent is different again, and he looks Asian. "They have guns."

Virlu hands them each a weapon like mine. "A ray gun shoots beams of energy. It is highly destructive and lethal and must be considered loaded at all times. Only point a ray gun at objects that you truly want to destroy."

"Be careful with those," I translate. "One press of the trigger, and they'll kill anything. How many workers are there?"

"About three hundred," they tell us as they handle their weapons. "About a third are asleep."

"Why so few guards for hundreds of workers?" I ask, getting more and more nervous. The stakes were just raised when I discovered Earthlings here. This is a more important mission than I ever thought.

"They don't need more," says the first one. "That elevator won't work without a Bululg to unlock it. And when the Bululg come to get the ore, they won't unlock the elevator without knowing for a fact that we're all inside our cells. They use cameras and sensors. Even if we defeat the guards, we can't get out and we'd starve to death. I wonder how you were able to use the elevator without a Bululg to unlock it."

I wonder about that, too. "Do you speak Interspeech?"

"Some," the first says. "Enough to deal with the guards."

"Then let's stick to that for now, so Virlu and Arelion can follow this. Can we defeat the guards and rescue everyone?"