“They segregate the different parts of the ship? Why?”
He assessed her a long moment, his violet eyes quietly sizing her up. “Security,” he finally replied.
“Security? What, they’re afraid we’ll all fight with each other?”
“No,” he said with what she could have sworn was a little wink. “Against them.”
CHAPTER FIVE
After that little eye-opening conversation with the hunky but kind of dickishly aloof alien, Darla made a point to walk the compartment and check every last bunk space to see if there were any other unexpected companions lurking in their shadows. One alien surprise was enough for today.
It turned out there weren’t any more of them, but she did manage to annoy a handful of additional human captives who were lamenting their situation in as much privacy as they could find in the otherwise wide-open holding area.
Livestock, Darla couldn’t help but think as she introduced herself to everyone in turn. We’re just animals to them.
This in turn made her wonder about the Raxxians’ feed ball thingies. If they were all destined to be food, it only made sense that whatever they were being provided would be high in nutrition, designed to plump up the herd.
Herd.
The thought of the word made her shudder with disgust. These were people, and all but one her fellow humans. At final count there were thirteen women, herself included, and five men. And the alien, of course.
Under any other circumstances she would have questioned how such a diverse group of people had wound up together, but seeing as they were on a spaceship and all understanding one another despite being from all across the globe, she just took it in stride. In any case, this was a survival situation, and it was important to get to know her fellow prisoners.
“I’m Darla,” she said to a woman with warm ebony skin that looked flawless in the ship’s unusual light.
“Nyota,” she replied. “That’s Angela, Sabine, and Carolina,” she added, nodding to a redhead with an impressive case of resting bitch face, a brunette with long, curly hair that looked like it hadn’t seen a brush or conditioner in weeks, and a dirty blonde with a bright smile and cheeks and eyebrows that could only be called mountainous.
Darla couldn’t help but imagine that Carolina would be ridiculously photogenic with her features. Unfortunately, high cheekbones wouldn’t keep her off the Raxxians’ menu.
The gruff alien was back in his bunk, staring up at nothing so far as she could tell.
“What’s the deal with that one?” she asked.
“Oh, him? He’s not exactly what you’d call much of a talker. In fact, today’s probably the most I’ve heard him say at one time. You clearly got his attention.”
“Gee, lucky me.”
“You are lucky. You got more information out of him than any of us have managed. Usually he just tattoos that weird translation thing behind the newcomer’s ear while they’re still unconscious then climbs back into his bunk. Not much for socializing.”
“What do you expect? He’s an alien.”
“We’re all aliens here,” Nyota pointed out.”
Darla digested that little factoid in a flash. She was surrounded by almost entirely humans, but this was an alien ship. An alien ship flying off to who knows where in deep space. For all she knew, they were the only humans on the entire ship, and that made them a minority.
Shit, she’s right, Darla grudgingly admitted. And I have questions.
She walked closer to the alien’s bunk but stopped well short of it. He may have been relatively civil, but he was still a beast of a man, and one she didn’t want to wind up on the bad side of.
“Hey, big dude,” she called out.
A long silence hung between them.
“I have a name,” he finally replied.
“Well, that’s what I’m here for. I figure Nyota’s right. We’re all aliens here, and I can’t very well keep calling you the alien or hey you.”
He leaned out from the shadows of his bunk, his gold-rimmed violet eyes sparkling with amusement. “My name is High Aldwin Heydaricus Afflantia Matzur.”
“All that, huh? Quite a mouthful, there.”
“You may call me Heydar.”
“Darla.”
“Yes, I heard,” he said, then slid back onto his bunk.
“Okay. Good talk, there,” she said, walking away.
Mei seemed to snap out of her daze when she witnessed the exchange, hurrying over to Darla with a fierce look in her eyes. For a damn near vegetative prisoner, she was certainly anything but that at the moment.
“What are you doing?” Mei hissed. “Do not converse with them.”
“By them, you mean aliens?”
“They are beasts, all of them.”
“I don’t know, he seems more or less all right to me. And besides, he’s locked in here just like we are.”
“And do you know why?” the woman growled.
“Uh, no. Just got here, remember? Probably his tattoo skills.”
“So he claims, but I heard the guards talking. He is some sort of great warrior. Now he’s going to be a trophy for their leaders when we arrive at our destination.”
“A trophy?”
“Yes. Quite a catch for the Raxxians. And the way they talk about him, even they appear scared of him.”
Darla glanced over at the man on his bunk, the gold in his eyes, glinting for just a moment as the light caught them just right. She felt a little rumble in her belly, and not the kind brought on by hunger. At least, not hunger for food. Mei saw the look and shook her head.
“Do not think it,” she snapped. “He may be pleasing to look at, but that is an alien species.”
“Relax, a girl can admire, can’t she?”
Mei shook her head in either frustration or disgust. Either way, she was not amused. “You are not the first to have such ideas, you know. But he is not interested in our kind. Something about the Infala deciding his fate, not the meat between his legs.”
“He said that?”
“Yes. He was very rude about it as well.”
“Wait, what’s an Infala, anyway?”
“I’m not entirely sure. All I can tell is that it seems to have something to do with his tattoos. You saw that he’s covered in them, right?”
“I noticed.”
“They all have different meanings, from what I’ve gleaned. The symbols and pigments create some kind of energy, and apparently that all has something to dictate important aspects of his life.”
“Like what?”
“Like who he can mate with. And as none of us are inked up like that, humans aren’t even a possibility in his mind. It’s why he pretty much treats us like we’re barely even here. We’re lesser beings so far as he’s concerned. Or, at least unimportant in his grand scheme of things.”
“What a dickish way to live. Letting some silly ink dictate who you can and cannot be with? It’s ridiculous.”
“And how his kind operate. As you say in your country, it is what it is.”
“I hate that expression.”