Chapter 8

CHAPTER EIGHT

Waiting for the others to make their way back to the ship had been a little bit awkward, with the whole lack-of-proper-communication thing, but given the hospitality she was being shown by her handsome new friend, Margot was at least relatively comfortable, all things considered.

Rylinn had been an absolute gentleman, providing her with not only a comfortable place to sit, but also a refreshing beverage—though she had no idea what it was—as well as an assortment of fresh fruits. The produce was more familiar, akin to what she'd been foraging with Braxxos, only these were all washed, packaged, and pristine. Flavor-wise, however, it did lack a little of that something that came along with picking it yourself.

She'd snacked during her impromptu picnic not long ago, but she graciously accepted Rylinn's offerings all the same. She had no idea what was considered rude versus polite around these parts, and she certainly didn't want to go making a bad impression, especially not on the imposing, sharp-dressed man paying so much attention to her.

Now that they had some time together, she was better able to look at his attire. Where the others more resembled a cross between woodsmen and commando types, Rylinn's clothes fit as though they'd been tailored for him, and for a camouflage wilderness outfit, that was saying something. He was clean-shaven and even his fingernails were trimmed short and clean. A gentleman, it seemed, in the company of a far rougher crew. He did, however, have similar tattoos to the others, at least so far as she could see on the limited exposed parts of his body where his sleeves were crisply rolled up. Fine designs with interlinking lines connecting them, from what she could tell. And far fewer than his giant blue friend.

She was curious about this group, and she figured this was as good a chance as any to try to figure out how to communicate, but they were just beginning to get the hang of basic pantomime when the leader of the group stormed back onto the ship, his men following close behind, one carrying a mutilated snare in his hands. Margot recognized the trap but kept her expression neutral. Judging by how pissed off the huge man was, she did not want to say anything that might further upset him.

He growled something to Rylinn, his gruff words met with a calm reply, a shrug, and a glance at their guest. The man hovered a moment, radiating hostility, then shrugged and stormed off toward the front of the ship. The rest of the men all scattered, taking seats where they could as the ship lifted off.

It wasn't a terribly big craft, she realized once they were on board. Big enough to carry a dozen or so people comfortably, more if needed, though it would be tight. It looked more like a smaller transport ship of some sort rather than an actual spaceship, and when they came in to land, she realized just how accurate her assessment had been.

There were three more ships like this one, all parked near a much larger craft from which they seemed to be based. A mothership of sorts. Akin to an aircraft carrier in a way, but much smaller, and with these alien ships instead of airplanes, was how she likened it as she took in the sights.

She noted that there were tents set up outside, all of them large enough to house ten or more people by the look of them. Likely some sort of barracks for these men to enjoy some outdoor time when they were deployed. Out toward the perimeter were cages, but the ship dropped down and landed before she got a good look at what sort of animals these men had captured.

Rylinn rose when the hatch opened, holding up his hand and stopping the others from exiting before their guest. He gestured for Margot to step out first with a respectful little bow and wave of the hand. She did and was immediately struck by how different this camp was from Braxxos's dwelling. Where the loner's place had been neat and clean, this place was a chaotic mess. And where the former's home blended in with nature, this had been forced into existence, natural landscape be damned.

Stumps were still visible where they'd felled a large copse of trees to set up their base of operations, and several areas looked almost scorched, as if they'd performed a controlled burn to clear out any remaining signs of nature. It was not inviting. But it was civilization, at least. And that made this home.

Rylinn gently placed his hand on her back, urging her to follow him into the large ship.

Well, it can't be as bad as the Raxxians, right? she mused, following him inside.

The air was cooler but the smell of dirt and sweat still clung to it, the odors of outside easily wafting in through the open cargo hatch. He led her down a short set of wide hallways, finally stopping at an unassuming door. He opened it and motioned for her to step inside, following close behind.

Margot was surprised to find an old woman with violet skin and pale-yellow hair in a long braid sitting on the room's lone bunk, a table with assorted needles and inks spread out in front of her. Given the vast assortment of fine designs covering her body, it was quite fitting. She was a little taller than Margot, but she was quite thin, though not frail. Her face was elongated, her chin rather pointy, giving her whole look a feel kind of similar to a mantis, but minus the scary insect aspects. Her eyes were blue-gray and kind. A bit larger than human eyes, but not anything terrifying by a long shot.

The woman just quietly looked up at the new arrival, a curious look on her face. Rylinn quickly explained the situation to her, pointing at Margot's head. The woman nodded and rose, putting her hands up in an I won't hurt you gesture. The human nodded her understanding, the old woman motioning for her to sit on the bunk. Margot did as she was asked, the woman picking up a needle and small container of ink and sitting beside her. Once Margot was situated, Rylinn spoke a few words then stepped out, closing the door behind him, leaving the women quite alone.

"Ow!"

The woman said something in an apologetic tone but didn't stop the process.

"Fuck, that hurts!"

"Hush," she replied, moving with fast, practiced hands.

Margot was shocked. "Wait, you speak English?"

"No. But first, basic rune makes for understand. Please, no act up. This part done soon."

"Uh…" Margot found herself at a loss for words. This woman's little tattoo, incomplete as it was, had actually done what Alida had said it would. She could understand.

She sat there, quietly marveling at the implications of this marvelous technology while the woman did her work. Only a few short minutes later she announced her completion, and in full sentences, no less.

"There. That should do it. I must admit, I'm rather shocked a grown woman does not have the Dotharian runes. What world are you from?"

"I'm from Earth. And hang on. What are Dotharian runes?"

The woman's eyes widened. "You are unfamiliar with the Dotharian Conglomerate?"

"The whatchama-what, now?"

"Dotharian. Dotharian Conglomerate. The governing oversight body that controls thousands of worlds across countless systems."

"Uh, not mine. Never heard of them. But then, my people haven't even been past our own moon, so we're not really a big space-faring race."

"Then how did you wind up here?"

"Some big green assholes abducted me. Me and a bunch of other people."

That clearly rang a bell, judging by the look of distaste it elicited. "Raxxians."

"Yeah, that's what I heard them called."

"But you are not with them. You are here. They do not let people go free."

"Their ship crashed, and I wound up here, on my own and wandering around in the woods. I did see some of them, though, but your buddies out there fought them and bought me time to run away. They saved me."

The woman let out a bitter laugh. "My buddies ? You think they saved you? From the Raxxians, perhaps, but don't have any false hopes. These men are terrible people."

"But you're living with them," Margot noted, confused.

"Living? We're prisoners, girl. There were bounties placed on all our heads, and Gromm and his men have been hunting us down ever since."

"Bounties? But why? What did you do?"

She sighed. "Most of us weren't doing anything . But there was a coup, and everyone, even those merely going about their lives, doing their daily duties, wound up with a price on our heads simply for holding positions in the deposed government, regardless of our actions. And Gromm found us, so now we're all prisoners here, ready to be served up for the bounty."

"But I'm not from here."

"Clearly. You don't have your runes. Runes I've been directed to give you, by the way."

"I'm sorry, but what do you mean?"

The woman sighed, realizing she would have to explain as if to a child. "I am what is known as a Skrizzit. A master in the application of the living pigments that adorn all Dotharian citizens. The runes are placed on us at a young age, providing varying degrees of strength and other skills depending on the individual as well as the power of the pigment they receive."

"Magical ink?"

"No. Living, symbiotic pigment, refined from many species of plants selected for their ability to absorb the natural power flowing throughout the galaxy. It is that pigment, in combination with the specific runes, that will give you more strength, stronger senses, and, of course, the ability to understand foreign tongues. And there is the Infala, naturally."

"The what?"

The woman lifted her top, revealing an ornate design in the middle of her chest. "The Infala. The rune that binds us with our mates."

"I don't get it."

"It is quite simple. The Infala lies dormant, waiting, until one day it meets its match, at which time it will begin to grow. To morph into something new. A whole new design shared only by the bonded pair."

"A tattoo does all that?"

"A remarkably oversimplified description, I suppose, but yes."

Margot was talking to an alien, and unlike before, she could understand her, proving without a doubt that this pigment-tech somehow did what the woman was saying. But making you stronger? And binding you to a mate? It all sounded so unlikely. Impossible. But then, aliens didn't exist either until she found out quite unexpectedly that they most certainly did. Why should this be any different?

"Hey, what's your name," she asked, regaining her composure.

"Floxxia. And you?"

"Margot. It's a really weird circumstance, but it's nice to meet you, Floxxia."

"I suppose it's nice meeting you as well, Margot," she replied, rearranging the pigments on the table, drawing out a tiny, ornate vial from the others and cracking its seal. "Well, shall we begin?"

Margot swallowed hard. "I've never gotten any tattoos, and I really don't want any."

"I'm sorry, but that's not an option, I'm afraid. Please, undress and we'll start. I promise, I'll make it as painless as possible."

Margot took a deep breath and began slowly shedding her clothes. "We're really doing this?"

"Oh, yes. It's the law. And if they've decided to give you the runes rather than turning you over to the Dotharian overseer for the sector, be grateful. The Dotharians can be quite unforgiving. Now, lay down here and we'll begin."

The human did as she was told, lying flat, struggling to prepare herself mentally for what was about to happen. Suddenly, an odd thought intruded into her mind.

"Floxxia?"

"Yes?"

"What does fraghazi mean?" she asked, hearing herself say the alien word but knowing the woman was hearing something quite different.

"Clueless? What do you mean?"

"It means clueless?"

"Yes. As in, unknowing. Not dumb, exactly, but lacking insight or knowledge. Why?"

A laugh rippled through Margot's body. "Oh, that sneaky son of a bitch."

"Who?"

"Never mind. But tell me, how bad is this going to be? Be honest."

Floxxia flashed a rather amused smile for a captive about to be sold back to those who wanted her dead. But imminent death was freeing in many ways, and with that fear now lifted from her shoulders, she could do whatever she wanted without care or worry. After all, how much worse could it get? And in this case, she had something quite special in mind.

"It won't be bad," she said, dipping her needle into the little vial. "It won't be bad at all. Do you want to know why?"

"Why?"

"Because this pigment right here is very, very special. Very special, and extremely powerful. It's hard to come by and costs a fortune. This sort of pigment is only used on elites. Leader-class individuals. Gromm must have gone to great lengths to acquire it, though I have no idea how he managed it."

"Gromm. The guy with all the tattoos everywhere."

"That's the one. Their leader, and a brute at that. And you've seen his runes. Far more than even the most highly trained of soldiers, yet he keeps getting more, like an addict. And this pigment was to be used for his next set. He's quite excited about it."

"Then why are you using it on me? Won't he be mad?"

"Of that I have no doubt. But I'm a dead woman, regardless. What do I care? What more can he possibly do to me? But beside that, he only recently received an additional set of runes, so he will have to wait a little while for his next application, by which time you will be fully healed. Now, take a deep breath and try to relax. I must begin."

Margot did as she asked, her mind reeling with all the new information dumped upon her.

"Is it going to hurt?" she asked as the woman leaned in close, needle in hand.

Floxxia smiled and shrugged. "I don't know your species, dear, so I guess we're about to find out."