Page 54 of Alien Desire
“And you?” she asks plainly.
I hesitate. “I loved my family and my crewmates. But this, this is the first time I’ve beeninlove.”
“Then you will both make mistakes while you are learning. Tor was not a proficient chess player when you first sat down to play with him. He made many mistakes while he was learning. But now he is highly skilled and a much better player than you.”
“Thanks a lot, Sheila.”
“You’re welcome.” She pauses. “Perhaps you should give this intelligent alien with the rather large appendage you seem to enjoy another chance?”
“There are some mistakes that cannot be rectified. He has broken my trust,” and my heart, “I do not want to be his pet.”
Sheila is silent after that and I don’t try to continue the conversation. What more is there to say?
Instead, I attempt to pack a bag with things I can scavenge from the bedroom that might be useful. There isn’t a lot but I do know how to survive in the wilderness. And I’ve been saving up the food Tor has delivered to the door, too sick to eat it. Plus I have the blaster — a weapon I hope I won’t have to use.
I am a little calmer when I’m done, although thoroughly exhausted.
I curl back on the bed. My eyelids are heavy and I’m woozy with the need to sleep, but my mind won’t let me. It plays out the scenarios of tomorrow. Every single one ends with me chained in a ship on its way to Astia or trekking over the ice alone. I can’t help sobbing into my pillow at the betrayal.
Chapter twenty two - Tor
The incoming message signalling the rescue ship’s imminent approach arrives half an hour before the ship will land. I’m ready to go. The trunk contains all the belongings I have and it is already packed up. I’m dressed in the one clean skin suit I’d left untouched for this day and my hair is freshly braided.
Emma remains barricaded in the sleeping bay. I take her breakfast and tell her she needs to be ready to go. As usual she ignores me. All I can hope is that the sight of the rescue ship will bring her to her senses and I won’t be forced to break down the door and haul her out.
The thirty minutes pass as if dragged through treacle. The whirr of the computer slows, the clouds crawl across the sky and even my heartbeat lengthens. I stare up at the white mass of cloud blocking my view of space, searching for any sign of the spaceship. A dot, a break in the cloud, a disturbance in the atmosphere. My eyes start to blank out and I blink and blink, determined not to miss it.
And then finally it comes. I hear the roar of engines high up in the sky, long before the clouds part rapidly and the silver dome of the ship’s bottom appears above me.
I stride out into the cold and tip back my head to watch. I expected to flood with relief at the sight of my brethren come to save me, joy at the familiar gleam of Astia metal and the unique sound of rushing wind that only our ships make.
Instead, a strong wave of foreboding hits me. I wonder if it was a mistake. If forcing Emma is irreparable and I have wrecked the most precious thing I’ve ever had.
But it’s too late now. What’s done is done. Fate has come to collect us both, drifting slowly and carefully through this planet’s atmosphere, the sphere of the ship dark against the white clouds and growing larger and larger. Wind blasts around me, and I brace myself in place, my braid whipping about my head.
And then it is here, hovering meters from the ice and halting. I stand tall and straight and wait as the great ramp lowers with an angry hiss, landing seamlessly on the frozen ground. I squint to make out the waiting figures within.
Immediately, I know something is wrong. Lord Bryn strides from the ship flanked by four guards — fourheavily armedguards. The scent of Alpha aggression rushes towards me and automatically I ball my hands into fists.
It seems my father has not sent a rescue mission after all.
The hostile group marches down the ramp. I don’t recognise the guards. There is no one I can appeal to or hope to win to my side.
I pretend not to notice their confrontational stance and step forward to greet Lord Bryn in the usual manner.
“Lord Bryn.” I dip my head, my right palm on my chest. “Thank you for coming.”
The old Gryton does not return the greeting as he should, nor does he bow his head in reverence to an Alpha Prince of Astia. Instead, he inclines his chin and two of the guards step forward, their long spears drawn.
I raise my hands, commanding them to stop, and glare at the lord. “What is the meaning of this Bryn?”
His guards continue their march towards me but I hold my ground.
“Halt!” I shout and they do, stopping right before me. My hunched shoulders relax just a fraction.
Then suddenly one guard swipes his spear, knocking me around the head. The blow is so hard, my brain ricochets against my skull. I stumble backwards.
Before I have time to challenge this assault, I’m struck a second time. This hit makes my ears ring and my vision swim. But I shake my head, determined to remain on my feet.
