Chapter 8

CHAPTER EIGHT

The ship was pristine inside, as if there was a fleet of stealthy little Roombas cleaning every nook and cranny as soon as you looked away. Whatever the technology used actually was, Olivia wished she had it for her apartment back home. The dirt from the men’s boots seemed to vanish from the deck with every step, and even the smells of nature they’d brought in with them faded almost entirely as soon as the hatch sealed.

The shorter of the two leaders pointed to a large seat. This was to be her spot, apparently, but there were no seatbelts or restraints of any kind. Olivia carefully sat, sinking in slightly as the material adjusted for her shape and weight. Interestingly, though it didn’t wrap around her at all, she felt a gentle but firm force on her body. Apparently, these guys didn’t use anything so primitive as actual seatbelts.

Oh, damn , she marveled as the walls turned transparent as the ship lifted off. Not the entirety of them, but the top half had become like a giant seamless window. Whether it was truly transparent or just a projection of what was going on outside was irrelevant. This was an amazing view. Equally impressive was that there was not a sound, nary a vibration to be felt as they moved. It was almost like watching a video on a giant screen, only she knew they were actually flying. They accelerated fast, the scenery passing in a blur while the passengers in the interior felt nothing.

The muscular pair sat across from her, each of them studying her with their green and gold eyes, their interest plain as the bulges in their trousers. Bulges Olivia couldn’t help but glance at in spite of herself. Now she felt that she better understood why men’s eyes back home seemed to so often drift to her chest without them even knowing it. Sometimes you just couldn’t help it. In her case, it was not that their alien cocks were hanging out for all to see, but the impressive members were very clearly outlined pressing against the fabric covering their legs.

Naturally, they were sitting casually, legs wide, drawing the material even tighter over their manhood. It was such a guy thing to do, but in their case, she wasn’t going to complain about the view. And as these were the first aliens she’d ever really checked out like that, there was a question burning in her mind. The curiosity of wondering what exactly did their packages look like?

The taller one shifted in his seat, his girthy cock moving like a sentient beast within his trousers. Olivia looked up and saw he was watching her intently, an amused little grin on his lips and a smoldering look in his eyes. She felt her cheeks flush and looked away, only to lock eyes with his counterpart, equally open in his interest and just as distractingly built.

Olivia would have perhaps felt embarrassed if she hadn’t been distracted by the sudden deceleration of the ship, the scenery formerly whipping by abruptly coming into sharp focus. As with the entire trip, she didn’t feel so much as a shudder from the comfort of her seat.

“Oh,” was all she could manage to utter as the craft pulled a tight circle above a relatively small but utterly futuristic and alien looking city.

Delicate structures rose into the sky, walkways connecting what looked like enormous bubbles floating in the air with no visible means of support. Some were clear, showing the occupants inside, while others were opaque. The glimpse she got was enough, though. These were living areas, though unlike any she’d ever seen before.

Garden areas drifted lazily between them, a sort of communal nature spot elevated from the ground by the marvelous tech. Compared to this society the Raxxians, whom she had formerly thought were impressive space-faring aliens, seemed almost like cavemen. This was what she had always hoped alien culture would look like, and it was incredible. And now she was going to be the first human to set foot in this amazing realm.

The ship descended toward the ground, the lower structures equally elegant, built with flowing lines and exquisite architecture that looked as if it should fall apart from the slightest breeze. But as she had seen, this race possessed incredible marvels of technology, and she very much doubted anything short of a hurricane could so much as scratch their buildings.

Water features and park spaces that made the whole place feel a part of the landscape rather than a man-made intrusion on nature graced the city, which looked like it covered roughly the same area as modest ones back home. A populated area, but nothing like a dense capital city, from what she could tell. One thing did stand out in particular as they came in to land. Nearly all of the people walking the pathways below were male.

The ship set down and the hatch opened. She felt the restraining force on her seat release and rose to follow the men out into the fresh air. As soon as she stepped outside she saw that the ship’s exterior had, indeed, remained opaque. It was a fascinating trick of technology.

A feeling made the hair on her neck stand up, as if she was under intense scrutiny. Turning, she realized why.

Foot traffic had all but screeched to a halt, and every last male was staring at her. Olivia wasn’t one to shy away from occasionally being the center of attention, but this was getting a little uncomfortable. The few women in the crowd smiled at her and gave little nods, as if welcoming her with their understanding gaze. They’d experienced this as well. She was just the flavor of the moment, it seemed. Doing the quick math in her head, she figured the male to female ratio had to be nearly thirty to one. But what could that mean? And how did their society become this way?

A hand pressed firmly on her lower back. It was her teenage guide urging her forward. She was to follow the two men, who were heading into a small but ornately decorated building. Prisoner or guest, she didn’t know. Whatever the situation, she didn’t seem to have much of an option in the matter.

Olivia followed, stepping inside. An old man with even more tattoos than the others in the city stood beside a simple reclining chair. The pair she’d been ogling stood on either side, watching as the teen assistant guided her into the seat.

“Okay, so what exactly is this? I mean?—”

The restraining force locked around her hard, immobilizing her in an instant.

“Hey! What the hell? Let me go!”

The old man chuckled and chattered at her in his strange tongue, the two men silently nodding their agreement with whatever it was he was saying.

“I said let me go!”

He shook his head, then carefully inspected the scabbed area behind her ear.

“Ow! Stop it!”

The old man patted her on the shoulder and said something that, by the tone of it, at least, seemed to be intended to be comforting. Or he could have just informed her she was on tonight’s menu for all she knew. He moved to her other side, a small implement in his hand, though she couldn’t see exactly what it was. The sharp pain as the man quickly worked behind her ear quickly clarified that for her. She’d had enough tattoos in her life to know that sensation.

“Sonofa—”

“Hold still,” the man said, his voice dry and deep, like something from an old cowboy movie.

“Wait, what did you say?”

“I said hold still. It will take a moment to finish.”

“I can understand you.”

“Because I am using simple words. Once the rune is complete, you will be ready for complex conversation. Now hush and let me work.”

Olivia was justifiably floored. She’d wondered how the marking behind her other ear had worked, but she’d been unconscious when it was put there and had doubts as to the veracity of the whole “special pigment” line the alien women had shared with her. Speaking with Harper, as well as not understanding the Raxxians, had proven it was the real deal. But now? Experiencing its application and function like this in real time, this was the final confirmation that they’d been telling the truth. She just wished she’d paid more attention to the other things they’d said and hadn’t dismissed it as mystical mumbo jumbo at the time.

“How comes it, Nijello?” a new voice asked. An older and decidedly female voice.

“Almost done, Your Excellence.”

“Good.” The voice’s owner stepped in front of the seat, the two men flanking on either side giving slight bows.

“Excellence,” they said in unison.

“Arkness. Rykker. I see you brought a new female into our midst.”

“We found her in the southern wilds,” the taller one replied. “Her translation rune was damaged.”

“She tripped a game trap, but that didn’t cause the injury,” the shorter one added. “We discovered her together at the same time.”

The woman’s left eyebrow raised slightly. “Is that so, Rykker? Well, that is most interesting.”

“Um, excuse me? Can someone tell me what’s going on here?”

The woman leaned forward, kindness but also firm control in her gaze. She was a leader of some sort, clearly, and one who expected to be shown respect.

“Sorry for my tone,” Olivia quickly added. “It’s just, after the whole Raxxian thing, I’m a little on edge.”

The way everyone in the room reacted at that word was telling. The carnivorous aliens were apparently very much disliked around these parts.

“Raxxians, you say?” the woman asked, her expression softening to one of pity more than anything. “That would explain your lack of the other runes. Though I do see some markings I am unfamiliar with. They do make a habit of taking from the outer worlds.”

“Runes?”

“As required by the Dotharian Conglomerate. The translation rune with which we are speaking being the most basic of them all, and typically the first a person receives.” She reached out and grasped her by the chin, turning her head to look behind each ear. “Nice work, Nijello.”

“Thank you, Excellence. May I apply the salve?”

“You may.”

The woman released her grip and shifted her gaze back to meet Olivia’s while the old man smeared something sticky behind both of her ears, covering both the old and new tattoo.

“It is very unusual for one to possess two translation runes. But as your old one was damaged, it was decided the rules would be bent for your situation.”

“Uh, thank you?”

“As for the rest of your runes, the Skrizzit will apply them once you have rested.”

“What’s a Skrizzit?”

The woman chuckled. “Nijello here is our Skrizzit. The one trained in the application of the runes and keeper of the pigments for the process.”

“What process?” Olivia asked, her head suddenly becoming a bit foggy as wooziness started creeping over her tired body.

“Ah, I see the medicated healing salve is kicking in.”

“The what?”

“It is a topical ointment that will mend your flesh and allow the rune to properly set in. Normally we would just use a healing pod and be done with it in a few minutes, but as your species is novel to us, we dare not use it until we understand your genetics fully. We wouldn’t want you accidentally growing an additional arm, now, would we?” she said with an amused grin.

“I feel stoned.”

“Stoned?” the woman asked, her gaze sharpening as she turned her attention to the two men standing at attention.

“We did not harm her, Excellence,” Arkness said.

“No stones were thrown, I swear,” Rykker added.

Olivia’s head felt like it was full of cotton candy. She let out a laugh. “No, not like that. It’s slang. Like, for when you feel drugged.”

The woman’s expression softened, and the tension in the men’s shoulders seemed to lessen slightly.

“Ah, I see. Even with the runes, some things simply do not translate well. But do not worry, this is no more than a compound that eases discomfort while it stimulates the natural healing factors. It can, however, affect each race differently, and some can find it a bit much. Do not worry. A good night’s sleep and you will feel much better. Now, you need rest. You will be given quarters and food for now. We will continue this discussion tomorrow. Given your state, as well as the fact that you come to us via Raxxian imprisonment, we will delay the application of the remainder of the runes a few days to allow you to get your bearings and properly rest to aid the process.”

Olivia, dazed as she felt, was not terribly keen on that idea. “I don’t need any new ink.”

“Oh, make no mistake, you will have the runes. To lack them, well, it is simply not allowed. Not within the Dotharian Conglomerate. But all will be made clear tomorrow after you have rested. Now, what is your name?”

“Olivia.”

“Olivia, I am Overseer Zoldana. Welcome to my city.” She turned to the taller man. “Arkness, show our guest to the quarters in the dignitary array. I believe she will be most comfortable there. And have food delivered. I am sure she must be hungry.”

“It will be done, Excellence.”

“Good. I will see you tomorrow, Olivia. We have much to discuss.”

With that, the woman strode out, tall and confident, leaving a very confused and rather high human in her wake.

“Come with me,” Arkness said, stepping close, taking her by the arm to help her to her feet.

Rykker hurried to her other side, grasping her other arm to assist.

She may have been stoned, but there was no way Olivia could miss the tension between the two men crackling like a violent electrical storm brewing. They were both big, and they were both strong, with bulging muscles and thick veins visible on their meaty forearms. She chuckled to herself, wondering what else might be veiny on them.

Arkness flashed a little sneer. “You heard the Overseer. I am to take her to her quarters.

“And nothing more,” Rykker noted. “You know the rules.”

“Perfectly well, as do you.”

“Are you steady?” Rykker asked, shifting his attention to Olivia.

“Yeah, I’m good.”

He released his grip, staring at her with a strange look in his eyes. “Rest and heal.”

Arkness ushered Olivia toward the door. “I’ll be seeing her to her quarters now, Rykker. You may go.”

His rival scowled but said no more.

Olivia followed her guide as he ushered her through the walkways that, under a non-drugged circumstance, she would have found enthralling. As it stood, she was just happy to arrive at her lodgings still on her feet.

“No one ever said where we were,” she noted as they stepped into the lobby of a marvelously decorated lobby space.

“Dignitary suite access,” Arkness said to the air. “Overseer Zoldana’s command.”

The system running the building apparently processed that information in a nanosecond, the floor illuminating a line leading them to their destination.

“You are in Balaviora, the main city of the Maldonians on this planet.”

“You’re called Maldonians?”

“Yes. And you are our most welcome guest,” he replied, stopping before a section of wall.

There was, however, a small symbol on the wall. He took her hand and pressed it to the surface. A door appeared, sliding open, the room inside illuminating automatically.

“This is your room, keyed to your genetic code. If you get lost, the system will direct you here. There is food and beverage inside, and more will be delivered in the morning. I would stay longer if I could, we have much to discuss, but for now, please, rest. You will have a full day ahead of you.”

With that, he moved to leave, his gaze lingering a long moment before he finally turned and walked away. Olivia shambled into her suite and looked at the utterly alien design.

“Uh, where’s the bed?”

A barely illuminated rectangle appeared, but there appeared to be nothing tangible there. She reached out carefully, shocked to find another type of force field pressing back against her hand. Gingerly, she climbed atop the seeming nothingness, cradled in its soothing power.

“Oh, this is nice,” she mused, kicking off her shoes, marveling at the way the mysterious system somehow adjusted itself to always be just the right amount of support and perfect temperature no matter how she moved.

She looked once at the food on the nearby table, the thought of eating flashing through her mind for a moment before her exhaustion won out. She was sound asleep just seconds later.