Chapter 16

Chapter Sixteen

Nina

" Y ou can't deny the three of us looked ridiculously hot doing it!" I throw the line down before exiting the cockpit with Reke and Vennkor. Ney's muttering disgustedly under her breath, but I can't hear what she's saying, and then she activates the automatic door, closing herself in the cockpit and us out of it. "She's just jealous," I tell my beautiful alien men.

Before us stretches another corridor, with a super-smooth floor, ceiling and walls. I'm honestly beginning to loathe the color white, and I've no intention of ever painting any wall white for the rest of my life. Only bright, happy colors from now on, I promise myself.

The corridor runs down the ship's center. Several doors lead off to the right and the left, with the last door being at the far end directly opposite the cockpit entrance. Fortunately, none of these doors seem to lock; they open automatically when you draw near.

That means, despite Ney's best efforts, the door to the cockpit doesn't stay closed, not with Reke continually stepping into range.

"Fek off!" Ney presses the close button again, only for Reke to wave a hand over his head and for the door to reopen. "Do not make me regret saving you."

Reke mock laughs, his tail flicking faster and faster.

"You can't antagonize Ney just because she annoys you." I catch his arm, dragging him into the next room along. It's depressingly similar to every other Hov room, probably the sleeping quarters for the ship's usual crew, with multiple hammocks hanging three on top of each other. The far wall is empty, except for a screen that's showing highlights from our recent escape, both real and deep fake footage. I turn away from the sight of Reke beheading another gladiator only to find the real Reke standing right up close to me. If I leaned forward an inch or so, I'd be able to press the tip of my nose to his nose.

"I am not antagonizing her." He stares at me with enormous round eyes and the most innocent expression gracing his face, as if he believes what he's saying.

"I can't believe we're having this conversation but let me say one more time that you're not allowed to eat Ney. We need her." I look into each of the hammocks, searching for anything that might be useful, but they're all empty, and there aren't exactly any bedside tables or chest of drawers either. "Besides," I follow them from the room, moving to the next one along the corridor, "she did save you."

Before he can object, I move to the next room. It, and the following room, are identical sleeping quarters with bunk hammocks. The fourth room has a single hammock and its own toilet that pops out of the wall when you press a button. The third-to-last room has TV screens over most of the walls, a bench built into one wall, and hammock-chairs hanging from the ceiling on a pulley system that means whoever sits down can reach all corners of the room without ever having to stand.

They're the wheely chair's poor relation. I bet the Hov are going to be super embarrassed next time they visit Earth and catch a glimpse of a typical office set-up because even the crappiest Earth office is more comfortable than whatever this room is supposed to be.

Of course, the idea of the Hov visiting Earth again has my chest tightening, and I quickly sit in one of the hammock-chairs in an attempt to distract myself.

"Is this where they do all their paperwork?" Leaning forward, I rest my elbows on the counter. With no traction, my elbows go sliding along its perfectly smooth surface, and I catch myself just before I accidentally smash my chin into the bench and knock out my front teeth.

"I think," Venn sits in the hammock-chair next to me and touches an inbuilt screen I hadn't noticed, "this is a cafeteria." The screen lights up with several options, and Venn selects one with an unsteady hand.

I immediately want to insist he rest and resist only by remembering how adamant he was at not wanting to sleep yet. I think I would be the same, had I been forced into cryostasis.

A small door opens in the wall at the back of the bench, presenting Venn with a cup of water. The cup is identical to the ones we were given to use back at the Arena, like the Hov have absolute trust in conformity over individualism.

Venn hands me the cup and clicks the same button twice more for himself and Reke.

I suddenly remember how thirsty I am, my mouth all dry and furry, and my head thumping with a headache. Nevertheless, I take a hesitant sip. "How much water do you think a ship like this carries?" My brain presents me with a full list of symptoms of acute dehydration, and I risk taking another sip.

"Endless," Vennkor answers, downing his water in a few large gulps.

I open my mouth to ask what endless means, think about water recycling facilities back on Earth and how we can turn urine into drinking water, and close my mouth again. But not before I've drained my cup.

"Can you order us some food too?" I point at the screen, not quite daring to touch an option when I can't read them in case it delivers the equivalent of space escargot.

He selects a few, and we're presented with the usual mush, which I'd thought was just gladiator food but which I now suppose the Hov must eat too. This particular mush comes in a range of colors at least, instead of just the customary cardboard brown.

With our plastic cutlery, we each taste a bit of everything, except for Reke, who turns his nose up at it all and sticks with water. The different colors do taste different, though they never taste how I think they will, and in the end I pick the pink-ish one as my main meal just because it's the least offensive of the bunch.

"Do the Hov not have teeth?" I complain. This food is worse than what they serve at my work to the elderly, and most of them have dentures and can't chew.

Reke bares his teeth, as if I might have forgotten how sharp his are. He's standing closer to me than Venn, and when I look between them I get the distinct impression Reke isn't quite meeting Venn's eyes.

"The food is nutritionally balanced," is Vennkor's more helpful answer.

"Balanced just for the Hov or for everyone?"

"Doubtless, just for the Hov," he admits. "They probably do not expect the rest of us to survive long enough for our food to matter."

Except for Reke, of course. The disgusted look he's giving our meal suggests he's never suffered through a bowl of mush in his life. Probably because the Hov wanted him to hunt for his own food as a way of ensuring he remained eager when in the Arena—and because watching Reke eat a dead gladiator probably makes for better TV.

Finished, we snap our cutlery and break our bowls, so the plastic disintegrates. I take some water and food to Ney, and then we head into the second-to-last room, the one at the furthest end of the corridor, opposite the cockpit.

I should have known what to expect.

It's a narrow room but as wide as the ship, and in here, the hum of the engine at its loudest, the sound reminding me of an overworked air conditioner. I step forward and take hold of two bars. The cells are just how I remember them being.

They're empty, but it's like I can see the shadow of the women who were abducted on the same night I was. I'd only seen a glimpse of them, all unconscious, all lying on the floor, two in one cell and three in the other. One, I think, had had green hair, and there'd been a patch near the back of her head where her hair had been shaved, probably by our Hov captors.

I tell Venn and Reke about that day, hating the way my voice seems to echo around the cold room. "I was so sure they'd died. The alarm was ringing so loud, and the Hov wouldn't go back for them." There's only been four hammock-chairs in the escape pod, but surely the other women still would've fit. "Do you remember when we were at that fancy dinner and I climbed onto the Ambassador's lap, trying to persuade him to help us?"

They nod.

"Well, he told me that the women didn't die." I stand a little taller. "He said they crashed landed on a planet in deep space"—whatever that means—"and that the Hov had tried but failed to recapture them. Do you think … " I lick my suddenly dry lips. "Do you think we'll be able to find them? Maybe their location is saved on the ship's computer, and we can go there now."

Reke and Venn exchange a look, one that Reke quickly breaks by turning away. His ears are flat against his head, and he wraps his tail around one of my thighs.

"What?" I look between them. Is something going on with them? Venn is acting normal, so maybe it's only Reke's who's got a problem.

"If the planet's location is in the ship's database, finding them should not be difficult." Venn takes a half step toward me. The room seems so much smaller with the three of us in here, especially Venn.

"But?" I can feel the oncoming but.

"But if we do find them, what then?" he asks.

"Well, then we can take them back to Earth … " My voice dies as I remember the conversation Venn and I had about how it wasn't safe to return to our home planets. He'd said the Hov could track us, and the risk of the Hov hurting our families was too high. "Oh." I sound too much like a child, lost and confused and heartbroken. I guess I hadn't thought much about what we'd do after we escaped; I was too focused on trying to escape in the first place.

Now, faced with the very real possibility of never returning to Earth, I realize there was a part of me that had always thought, even during the crappiest of days in the space station, that I'd see Grandma again. I want so much to tell her about everything that's happened to me, even if she wouldn't remember it a few minutes later. Even if she can't remember me.

We used to tell each other everything—my first boyfriend, the time I'd tried smoking and almost vomited, how I felt like the world was taking control of my life when really I wanted to be in control.

"Nina." Reke sounds more hesitant than I think I've ever heard him.

"Reke." I let out a shaky breath and force a smile. "I'm okay."

Neither looks like they believe me. I wrap my arms around myself.

"Just because we cannot take the women home does not mean we cannot find them." Venn steps into my personal space.

I sink against him, telling myself that it's just for a moment. That in another minute or two I'll be able to stand on my own two feet, that I'll be able to face the world knowing I'll probably never see my grandma again.

"If the Hov tried yet failed to recapture them," he says, and I can feel the rumble of his voice in his chest, "maybe their planet in deep space is where we will also be safe."

"What does deep space even mean?" Venn's bare chest muffles my voice. He's warm now, like how he used to be before cryostasis. And I press closer, relishing his warmth sinking into me. Underneath us, the floor vibrates with the engines.

"It is far beyond civilization, where planets are rare and intelligent life forms are rarer still."

"So, like the middle of nowhere?"

"The middle of nowhere," Venn repeats slowly, as if trying to wait for his translator to make sense of the words. "That is an impossibility, to be in the middle of nowhere ."

"It's just a saying. I guess it means the same to me as deep space means to you." I slip a hand in-between Venn and me so I can wipe my eyes.

Hesitantly, Reke steps up behind me. I feel rather than see or hear him move, until I'm sandwiched between my two alien men. We stand like that for a long time. Venn only moves a little so he can press a hand to the ceiling, covering the closest camera. And we don't speak, as if we've silently agreed that for a little while we'll pretend the three of us are completely and utterly alone.

Nothing can stay the same forever though, no matter how much I wish we could freeze this moment in time. Nor can I continue putting off the inevitable, and so I eventually step into the last room, the last one to be searched.

Again, it's exactly how I remember it, with the operating table in the center and the workbench off to one side and a single hammock-chair. I step up to the table. The restraints are hanging loose down its sides, ropes with thick buckles that I know from personal experience keep their prisoner held still, unable to break free.

For a second, it's like I'm looking at myself, strapped to the operating table, glaring at my Hov guard and flatly refusing to break eye contact for fear that giving in would mean I'd lose control of everything else. And then I blink, and I'm back in the present.

Venn is standing, stooped, in the doorway, seemingly unable to make himself enter. Reke is searching through the contents of the workbench drawers. I hadn't even noticed them, and the fact that Reke knew exactly where to look is evidence he's been in a room similar to this.

I'm guessing we've all been tied down to such a table, at one time or another. Reke, probably, more than anyone. And I'm left wondering what the laboratory in which he was made looks like. Similar to this one? But with more test tubes and DNA samples?

"I want to fuck all our bad memories away," I announce, right as Reke says, "This?" and holds up what looks to be a roll of strapping tape, the kind athletes use to wrap their ankles.

"Akh. What?" Venn blinks.

"Yes!" Reke jumps onto the table and sticks tape over the cameras. Then he throws the rest of the roll onto the ground and slips his tail between his legs, already rubbing at his slit. He looks decadent, like a striper performing on a stage.

"I think we should have sex in every room in the ship," I clarify, "until the entire ship smells of us and not chemical disinfectant." I mean, professionally speaking, disinfectant is never a terrible smell. Especially when you're preparing to get down and dirty on all available surfaces. But I still love the idea of us desecrating the rooms designed purely to dehumanize (de-alien-ize?) and enslave Hov victims.

Venn steps into the room, head bowed to keep from clipping the ceiling with his horns. I love how massive he is, even though he must be uncomfortable at the moment, not being able to stand to his full height. His gaze is on me as he stalks forward, and I get the absurd feeling that if I tried to run away, I wouldn't get far before he and Reke caught me.

Nevertheless, there's a hesitancy about Venn that betrays his nervousness, for all that there's not a shadow of his feelings displayed in the harsh features of his face. It's almost like he's trying to hide the fact that he's still surprised I want to have sex with him when Reke's here. Or maybe he's more surprised that Reke is still willing to share, now that we're so close to being free.

Free . It honestly feels unreal, like I can't process what's happened.

"Here." I lead Venn to the hammock-seat, but Reke jumps down, tugging one of the support ropes from my hands.

"Vennkor, sit," he orders, pointing to the operating table, while Reke steps around the hammock-chair, so it's hanging between him and the table. "Nina."

"Yes, Reke." I pause, awaiting further instructions. I've come to realize Reke's got a strategic mind, his actions guided by his instincts and long practice hunting in the Arena. My heart races, and I can suddenly hear my own breaths, even over the low hum of the engines.

He places me so I'm standing closer to him than to Venn, with the hammock-chair between Venn and I. Then he turns me around so that I'm facing Venn, who's seated at the edge of the table, his legs spread wide and a large bulge pushing at the seam of his breeches.

Immediately intrigued, I unhook the buttons, and Venn wiggles out of them, his movements uncoordinated and fumbling in his haste.

Something falls from his pocket, dropping to the floor.

"What is this?" He picks up my panties, a furrow on his brow.

Reke snickers, reminding me of a hyena—feral and deadly. "How do you think we found you when you were in stasis?"

"You … " Venn's eyes darken, even as he struggles to find words.

"Yes?" I arch an eyebrow, but I probably ruin my attempt at looking seductively questioning because I can't stop grinning. That we used my underwear to help us escape the Hov is probably the best achievement of my entire life. Were there a printer on board, I'd print myself a certificate for panty-related ingenuity.

Instead, I tug them out of Venn's hold and toss them across the room. I think they land on the perfectly clean, perfectly smooth workbench and slide off the other side.

Venn blinks a few times, as if trying to reactivate his brain, but I don't need him to do a lot of thinking. Actually, the less thinking he does the better, and I tug his pants the rest of the way off his legs, accidentally brushing my hair down one of his giant thighs. They're at least the width of my body, probably thicker, and I've every intention of one day riding one of his thighs, rubbing my clit against his deliciously blue skin until I fall apart in his lap.

Now, though, my attention is thoroughly caught by his cock, long and thick and pointing straight up at his stomach, with a bead of moisture leaking from the bulbous head. I swirl a finger through that moisture. It's warmer than I remember, and it makes my fingertip fizz pleasantly, like I'm touching a dissolving bath bomb.

His entire body stiffens, and I can tell he's trying not to grab me. I've got to lean right over the hammock-chair to kiss the wide expanse of his chest, and then I lick my fingertip clean so that my tongue tingles too.

"Akh, Nina." Venn's voice is hoarse. "Please— Please?—"

"Shh." Another kiss, this time lower, to one of his defined abdominal muscles, filled with tension and heat. "Let me—" I glance at Reke over my shoulder—"let us take care of you." I want to drive all thoughts from Venn's mind. He's always so serious and worried. I want to remind him that there's more to living than struggling to stay alive.

Reke is watching the two of us with narrowed eyes, one hand around his own fully exposed cock, slowly stroking himself. Maybe I'd imaged Reke acting strange toward Venn, because he's acting like his usual confident self.

I step out of my jeans and toss my sweater onto the ground. But before I can take off my bra, Venn has pulled the cups down, exposing my breasts. With the bra underneath, it's pushing my tits up, making them look larger and fuller, even from my perspective.

Venn's hands are shaking, but he's looking more animated now than in the entire time since waking from cryostasis.

"I'd have you look at me like that every day for the rest of our lives," I tell Venn, as his gaze rakes my body, from my toes to my fingertips and then lingering on my breasts. I unclip my bra and arch my spine, granting him access, and he pulls me closer to him, licking, nipping and sucking on a nipple.

"Oh God." My moan fills the sterile laboratory, bouncing off the walls and painting them in the colors of my lust.

And that's when I get an inkling of what Reke was thinking when he positioned us where he did. With the seat of the hammock-chair trapped against my stomach, Vennkor hauls me even closer to him, transferring his attention from one breast to the other. My feet leave the floor, with most of my weight supported by the hammock-chair.

I shudder as Reke slips his tail along the back of my knees. At first he strokes nothing more erotic than my thighs, but with each sweep, his tail ascends an inch or two, until he's stroking at the oh-so-sensitive spot between my legs. His touch is so light that he might have been using a feather duster, and it's sending tiny little shivers racing up my spine.

Reke lifts my legs, and I wrap them around his waist, locking my ankles together at the small of his back. I'm virtually lying horizontal, facing downwards. A strong wind would probably be enough to unseat me, but when I reach clumsily forward to wrap a hand around Venn's leaking cock, the look he gives me makes all the effort more than worth it.

I stroke him, my rhythm uneven as the hammock-chair swings gently, rocking me between Reke and Venn, like I'm lying on a swing.

A sex swing.

Reke grabs my hips, resettling me, and I feel his cock pressing at my entrance. I'm so wet that he slides right inside, the perfect size for me. I try thrusting back. The swing jerks, and I almost slide right off and onto the ground.

Venn's hold tightens, pulling me toward him, pulling me almost completely off Reke's cock. Reke growls, low and deep, yanking my hips back toward him. The hammock-chair rocks back and forth. I'm the rope in a game of tug a war, but in this version there won't be only one winner.

"Oh, Jesus Christ!" I've got a hand around Venn, but he's so large my fingers can barely touch, and as Reke jerks me backwards, I pump Venn's cock, my hand almost slides off the end, it's so slick with his pre-cum.

"Nina," Venn breathes, and my name sounds like a whispered prayer, something holy and treasured. His fingers are digging into my arms, and I hope he's leaving bruises, because I want the evidence of this moment imprinted onto my skin, like a tattoo—something that can't be erased or forgotten.

Increasingly roughly, I'm pulled forward and back. Despite the fact, I have little leverage of my own and am relying almost solely on Venn and Reke, I feel more in control of what's happening to me than I've felt in weeks. It's as though I've settled more securely into my body, acutely conscious of every single inch of myself as a collection of pleasure and wanting, so close to the precipice.

And then, as Venn drags me toward him once again, I slide forward on the hammock-chair, and the fabric rubs against my sensitive and touch-starved clit. Pleasure washes up through me, stiffening my spine and forcing my eyes tightly closed.

Reke yells his release, his cock pulsing hot inside me, and then Venn is silently spilling onto my hand, sending fizzing tingles up my arm. Everything about this moment is perfect.