Chapter 6

Sylvie sat in her cell, watching the shadows walking past the walls. Thankfully the bindings on her wrists and neck had been removed. She attempted to chew her thumbnails, but both were already down to the quick. She started chewing the nail on her left index finger instead, a nervous habit of sorts.

What kind of tests are they going to do?

As an astrobiologist, she'd done her fair share of tests on so-called "lower" life forms. Although she hadn't been able to experiment on any extraterrestrial organisms, she'd done plenty of work on terrestrial ones to hone her skills. At the moment she regretted every nick, cut, and slice in the name of science.

Especially if she was about to experience the same.

Don't think about it, she told herself, and rummaged through her thoughts for a distraction.

An image of the being who'd cut off her escape popped into her head and she allowed it to linger. He might be considered handsome by some, even though he was an alien. He'd been wearing a sarong of woven seaweed that left his muscular chest exposed. He had no nipples, but for some reason, it almost seemed fitting not to disrupt the swell of his pectoris.

Perhaps the dominant species on this planet hadn't evolved from mammals as had happened on Earth. Her scientific mind tried to conjure the reasoning behind his anatomy, but she couldn’t seem to access it. A buzzing sound had started in her ears, and she felt increasingly lightheaded. Something about the atmosphere might be affecting her system.

Or she was going into shock. Maybe she'd hit her head during the crash.

She breathed deeply, hoping to clear her mind of anxious thoughts.

Don't worry about that now. Concentrate on the hot alien.

"Supreme One," her captor had called him. He must be in charge of something. The way he had looked at her had been different from the others. She thought she'd seen compassion in his expression. Maybe she could convince him to help her?

She had to do something. She couldn't take the suspense of just sitting there anymore.

"Hey!" she started to yell, standing up and walking to the wall of her cell. "Let me out of here!"

She tried to bang her fist against the walls but couldn't quite hit them because they weren't exactly solid. No one responded, which was less than surprising.

"Go get your Supreme One! I want to talk to him!"

Still nothing.

Sylvie continued to shout, even as her head grew fuzzier. Panic climbed high in her chest, wrapping around her like a cloak as she continued to vie for attention. At any second the wall could split open and her captor could come back, ready to complete his tests.

The irony of her situation caused her to giggle again. The sound was silly and far more feminine than she was comfortable with.

"Take me to your leader!" she shouted, then collapsed back on the cushion, surrendering to a fit of laughter. She laughed until tears blurred her eyes. She laughed even as a seam appeared in her cell wall. It's time, she thought, and laughed harder.

Her eyes were filled with tears by the time she lifted her head to see who had come for her. All she could make out was a tall form with light green skin through the blurriness of her vision.

"Little green men," she muttered to herself, then laughed even harder.

"Little?"

She recognized the voice immediately. "Supreme Ruler! Please, Your Majesty, or was it Majestic One? Whatever it is, don't let them experiment on me."

"You're shaking," he said, reaching down to lift her face up to meet his gaze as she sat up as best she could. The room was growing darker as her eyes drooped. The glow of his eyes brought her back to reality as a jolt of awareness went through her. Was it fear that made her heart beat faster, or simply him?

Sylvie couldn't puzzle out her own reaction. She was a respected academic, an accomplished woman, and here she was, laughing like a schoolgirl and willing to get on her knees to save her life if she had to. How undignified.

The thought made her laugh again, and once she started, she couldn't stop. She laughed until her face was red, until tears soaked the top of her flight suit.

"Something's wrong with you." The alien cupped her face with one huge hand. His thumb brushed over her cheek as his black eyes bore into her. "The laughing sickness."

He turned to face the wall and spoke hurriedly, “Bring a tincture of four parts marine grass and three parts serpens bacteria. Now!"

"Laughing sickness?" More giggles. "What an appropriate name."

He smiled and shook his head. It was a nice smile with even white teeth. At least they didn't look razor-sharp from what she could tell. Another alien entered the cell and handed the Supreme Leader a small device with two prongs on the end, and then left.

The handsome alien looked stern. "Now hold still."

Sylvie's eyes widened as the hand cupping her face tightened. Panic shot through her like wildfire.

"Let me go!" she shouted, attempting to shake loose from his grip.

"Stop!" His voice was commanding, and for a second she froze. It was all the time he needed to place the device into her nostrils and activate it.

A cold mist shot up her nose and into her sinuses. She reeled backward, but he grabbed her before she could hit the cushion.

"Calm yourself," he said, pulling her into his arms. "You have the laughing sickness. Too much nitrous oxide in the atmosphere for you. It's becoming toxic."

Too much nitrous oxide. Laughing gas. No wonder.

"Th... thank you," she muttered, her head beginning to clear for the first time since she'd crashed on this crazy planet. "I wasn't myself for a moment."

"Indeed." The Supreme Ruler gave a subtle grin.

Before she could stop herself, she smiled back. Glancing down, she realized that he was still holding her. It felt good and almost comforting. Heat rushed up her throat and covered her cheeks as she glanced away from him, hoping like hell that he wouldn’t understand her reaction.

"I'm feeling better. You can let me go now."

Now it was his turn to laugh. It was a pleasant sound. He set her on her feet, and Sylvie craned her neck to meet his gaze. His dark pupils were surrounded by a bright glow, giving his eyes a certain hunger. Her eyes flicked away as if scalded, landing on his muscular chest. His skin had taken on a faint hint of mauve. Interesting.

She was distracted by the subtle hills and valleys of his musculature. He was lean but still extremely toned. Her gaze traveled from his defined pectorals, down the ripped abdomen and the little trail of dark tendrils thin as human hair but seeming somehow softer. And lower...

His body was truly magnificent. Maybe it was safer to focus on his face again.

Sylvie moved her gaze upward and focused at a point between his eyebrows, one of them lifted as if questioning her intent. She cleared her throat and tried hard to respond with her most studious tone.

"How did you know I had the laughing sickness? What exactly did you give me as a remedy?" The questions tumbled out. Her rational mind had been restored. "How did you know it would help? My physiology could be vastly different from yours. It could have killed me. And how are you even able to understand me? And--"

The Supreme Being held up a hand. "Silence. I'm the one who's going to ask the questions and you're going to answer them."

"But... Your Holiness... if you could just tell me how--"

He covered her mouth with his gigantic hand. Without thinking about it, she bit his palm.

He yanked his hand back and studied it, the corner of his mouth turning up.

"Apologies, Exalted One, but--" she started to apologize, but he cut her off.

"Enough with the names. I am Xivthar Rasveen, Supreme Regent of Zanthar. You are an Earthling female. Your ship somehow disabled the shield that protects our planet. You're going to tell me what you know."

Sylvie frowned. "Okay, Ximbar Ratsleen, Supreme Leader of Zindar, listen here--"

He put his hand around her neck, pressing his thumb against her lips to hold them together. "Xivthar Rasveen. And the planet is called Zanthar. We've had faster-than-light travel for centuries, and we've run across primitive civilizations like the one on Earth many times. While I admit you Earthlings may have a few rustic charms," his eyes slid down the front of her and back up again, "you pose no threat to us. Unless you've joined forces with our enemies."

Sylvie's cheeks grew red. "Primitive civilizations? Rustic charms? I expected better from a supreme leader."

"Regent," he growled, pressing a little harder into her neck. "I'm beginning to believe my scientists when they say you're not intelligent enough to converse meaningfully with."

Sylvie scowled. "Are these the same scientists who refused to act diplomatically when making first contact? The scientists who shot at my companion and gave me these burns?"

Sylvie held up her palms.

The regent let go of his grip on her neck to grab them and pull them up to his face. "What burns?"

"These burns," she said, turning her palms back to look at them. "Well, there were burns here. They must have healed already."

"The way I heard it," the regent said, hands on hips, "was that your companion shot first, then refused to back down. Then you attacked one of my scientists while he was attempting to disable your out-of-control automaton."

"I tried to reason with them!"

The regent glared down at her. "You were acting like a threat, so they treated you like one."

"Me? A threat? I'm almost half your size, and apparently a member of a 'primitive civilization,' remember?"

"Oh, I remember," he grumbled. "You're not letting me forget."

"This is ridiculous. My ship is at the bottom of your ocean, your loyal subjects are scrapping my companion as we speak, and I've got no weapons. How could I hurt you?"

Her stomach picked that second to growl.

"What was that?" he asked, cocking an eyebrow. "No weapons, huh? What have you got hidden on you?"

Sylvie inhaled in confusion. "What?"

His hands were on her all of a sudden, pulling at her flight suit before she could blink.

"Hey! What do you think you're doing?"

The regent had discovered the zipper and was pulling it down, exposing her bra.

"Stop that!" she said, slapping at his hands. He managed to unzip the front of the suit and had begun thrusting his hands inside of it.

"What have you got?" His hands slid over her stomach and around her back, then went lower to cup her bottom. The sensation sent chills racing over her.

"Nothing!"

His hands raced up her back, sliding over her shoulders, then down to cup her breasts. "I heard it. You've got something in here."

"It was my stomach!" she shouted. "I'm hungry! Get your damn hands off me!"

"Your stomach?" His look was disbelief mixed with amusement.

Sylvie turned away from him, embarrassment suffocating her. "Yes! When we humans get hungry, our stomachs growl. I swear to you that I have no weapons on me. Besides, wouldn't your lackeys have detected them long before they allowed their Supreme Reject to get close to me?"

His color was building to a vibrant yellow. What did it signify? Sylvie had worked out that their skin changed in response to something, but not yet what stimulus set it off.

Emotion, perhaps?

"I've studied Earth. It's a particular hobby of mine. And I have learned to appreciate Earthling females. They have an exotic composition that pleases me." He stared down his nose at her. "I didn't, however, expect them to have such barbaric tongues, or growling stomachs."

His arrogant manner only made her angrier.

"Insults aren't going to get you anywhere, Mister." She poked a finger into his solid chest, jamming the joint painfully. "I'm not going to answer any questions unless you start answering some of mine."

The yellow of his skin was becoming darker, shades of purple beginning to dominate. The regent gave a short nod. "Deal."