Starport: Zeta Prime (Alt) (8 page)

She had to practically jog to keep up with the strides of
the aliens as they led her away from the main center of the
village. Twisting so that she could see the dwellings disappear
behind her, she saw many of the creatures stop what they were doing
and stare at her with great interest. The joy of being untied and
moved morphed into a mild alarm as
Jillian noticed that she was being led towards the red
growth of the forest. A small pathway took them into the
wilderness, and she strained to try and make out some words that
might give her a clue as to what to expect.

Before
she was able to decipher any though, everyone came to a standstill.
Jillian surveyed the scene before her. They had reached a small
clearing–in the middle of which lay a still, deep green body of
water, its surface glistening with dappled sunlight beaming through
the tendrils of the trees. It was so beautiful and
serene.

To her
shock, the females put down the bags they had been carrying, and
suddenly three pairs of hands were on her. In her surprise, she
lifted her arms to her head, and one of them took this opportunity
to peel her black top from her. The others removed her belt and
tugged at her trousers–unfamiliar with the clasps holding them
up.

“
How does this work?” One of them
puffed, confused at the zip mechanism.

“
Just pull on them, Shana. Come
on, we need to get her in the water, we haven’t got all
day.”

Jillian
surmised that
they intended to allow her to wash. She almost collapsed with the
relief of it–she was grimy and filthy, no further encouragement was
needed. She helped Shana, the one fumbling with her zip, by undoing
her boots and stepping out of the leather
herself.

The
three women stood back and ran their eyes across Jillian’s light
olive-tinted, naked flesh. Instead of feeling self-conscious, she
felt strangely empowered. She knew her body was different from
these others, and was happy to let them look at her curves–thinking
she would have done exactly the same had the situation been
reversed.

The
aliens rushed her, delighted. With gentle hands, she was guided
into the delicious coolness of the water. They splashed it up onto
her and Jillian started to rub the dirt of the last three days
away.

“
Let us.” Shana instructed, holding her arms still. The
three females soaked and washed her with such delicate
touches that Jillian felt tears
prick her eyes. She had missed contact, she missed being touched,
and so she relented submissively as she let herself be cleaned.
Even when they leant her back to wet her hair–she moved without
resistance, luxuriating in the contact, the soft water lapping
against her head.

Disappointingly soon, she was moved to the bank of the
pool, where one opened the bag to reveal a myriad of colored
bottles. Each took one, and tipped a liquid onto their palms, its
fragrance heady and pungent. With smooth strokes, six hands worked
the scented oil all over Jillian’s body, across her thighs, over
her breasts. They worked in silence, concentrating on the task.
Gooseflesh broke over her skin, this felt so intimate, almost
erotic. It had been a long time since she had been touched in such
a way and she had to admit, it was extremely
pleasurable.

“
Ouch,” s
he exclaimed,
grabbing the back of her head as something sharp attacked her. She
ducked away, noticing one of the aliens brandishing a bony
object.

“
Gentle, Cara,” o
ne of
them admonished.

Still
gripping her scalp, Jillian looked at Cara, who mimed brushing her
own hair to her with the object. That torture device was a comb?
Gritting her teeth, she turned her back to Cara, wanting to please
the women. Feeling as though her hair was being torn out, she
stifled her yelps as it was brushed smooth.

Shana
and the other female retrieved pieces of fur from the last bag, and
began fastening it around her. Jillian looked down at her body–her
breasts were barely covered by a small strip, her navel was on
show, the second strip a handkerchief shaped skirt, falling only to
the top of her thighs–she was pretty much naked, her exposed skin
shining from the oils.

The three aliens fussed around her for a while, and
then
Jillian sensed a
distinct change in atmosphere as she was surveyed. It became heavy
and serious–the joviality of their mood earlier now serious and
expectant.

The one they had called Cara took her wrist gently, and she
was marched back to the village in silenc
e. As they approached, Jillian could still hear the
drumming
—
and something else–more melodic, like several woodwind
instruments weaving notes together. The tone was jolly and upbeat,
but she felt her heart race ahead of the drums. What the heck was
going on?

The center of the village had been transformed. Ornate
posts had been erected in a walkway to the middle clearing. Off of
each, the red tendrils that normally swung from the trees were
draped like ribbons. It seemed the whole village had gathered
outside, and as they got closer, they erupted into song and parted
so that
Jillian and her
guardians had a clear path to the front, where Faron stood,
waiting.

She was shoved towards him, and kept her gaze
to the floor at first. Confused from the attention and the way her
heart had stuttered when she’d seen him. She soon looked up,
however, feeling his eyes on her and he placed his forearm
alongside hers and lifted them up. One of the older looking aliens
came forward and began to wrap one of the tree ribbons over them,
binding their arms together. As he did so, the villagers circled
them, moving as fluid as water around and around.

Jillian
could not
make out any of the words in this strange chant. The tone was too
different to what she had learnt, like song. Too quick and
changeable to understand. Frustratingly, she could but watch as the
ritual unfolded before her, odd and compelling.

Once the elder had finished their arms were completely
bound by the ribbon and a fire was lit in front of them. The elder
passed ea
ch tribe member a
handful of an ash-looking substance as they rotated around in the
circle. This was thrown, one by one onto the fire as they passed,
sending green sparks shooting from the flames. Jillian tried to
take it all in. The noise, the dancing. Then she looked to the male
beside her–he had not taken her eyes from her this whole
time.

A
male came forward from the circle and unraveled the ribbon holding
their arms, jabbering the whole time. Once freed, he pressed his
forehead to
Faron’s and bent
to do the same to Jillian. Before she could even begin to make
sense of it all, Shana tossed her up onto her back and swept her
away, followed by shrieks and cheers from the
others.

She was
set down inside one of the huts. Turning her body slowly in the new
surroundings, she was amazed at what she saw. Terracotta artwork
adorned the rock walls, lit by small balls of fire set inside tiny
pits along the edges of the room. In the middle, Jillian was
thrilled to see a bed, of sorts. On a raised platform, large sheets
of fur were laid, soft and inviting. The whole set up was
almost…romantic, and once again she felt ashamed at the assumption
that these people were more primitive than her own.

“
You will be very happy now,
” Shana said, clutching her shoulders and then touching her
forehead with her own before leaving, as the male had done
before.

Jillian
walked up to
the bed, running her fingers across the silky fur and mused over
the events. She had no fear left, after all that had happened. She
knew now there would be no ceremonious killing–which she had once
considered. It seemed she had made it out of the prison and
into…what? She wasn’t yet sure.

A
shadow crossed the floor, and
Jillian looked toward the doorway to see the male she had
been tied to. He was holding a jug and two glazed goblets. Stunned,
she saw that he was smiling as he crossed the room to her. Placing
the goblets down, he poured a creamy liquid from the jug and handed
one to her.

“
Now we
are together for always. Drink. We’ll celebrate our union,” he
said, gesturing for her to sit next to him on the bed.

Jillian
choked on the
air she had been inhaling. Had she just been
married?

Chapter
Nine

Careful not to blow her cover, she covered up
the cough of surprise by sipping the drink he had given her. It was
a delicate, spiced honey flavor and she took a few long draws of it
to buy herself time.

It
all seemed to add up
.
T
hat ceremony—it had been a
wedding. Her wedding. Was this what she had been taken for? She
almost laughed. This was the single most surreal experience of her
life. She’d thought that she was a hostage, that she would be made
an example of–maybe tied up like an animal for the rest of her
days. And now, here she was, married to an alien of a planet she
knew very little about.

Comforted as she was by this male’s return, and weirdly
secure as she felt in his presence, she wished he would leave her
alone to sort
through this
revelation quietly–to try and make some sense of it all. Her
immediate fears had gone and were, apparently irrelevant now, so
Jillian
brought
herself back out of her head with a reminder that she
was still a stranger here, and therefore needed to remain aware of
the fact that she still needed to be in survival
mode.

With this consideration in mind, she gingerly perched next
to him on the bed. Pretending not to know the language was one
thing, but she couldn’t ignore his gesture for her to sit with him.
She sank into the rich down of the material and held her goblet
with both hands
,
apprehensive of what would be expected of her now,
being fully aware of what this time would involve after a human
wedding.

In
no way did she feel obligated to uphold a ritual that essentially
meant nothing
to her–these
were not her people and their ways and rituals therefore
meaningless. But she weighed her options carefully. She took a
sideways glance at the male on the bed and had to own up to finding
him unusually attractive. His big eyes met hers and he placed his
drink down.

“
Faron,” he said slowly and clearly, one hand on
his chest.

“
Jillian,” she responded with the same
movement.

“
Jil
. Lee. Ah.
Jillian.” He tested the phonetics of her name with relish. The
sound of it being spoken in his musical accent caused a smile to
break across her face. He read into her look of happiness, and took
her cup, placing it down next to his own, and then maneuvered her
so that she was laying across the bed on her
back.

She stayed still, rigid. Unnerved by her positioning and
what it may mean
. He lay
beside her, leaning up onto one elbow. He looked at her face for a
long while, and she looked back at his, both of them exploring
their differences, their similarities. There was no mistaking it
this time–the intensity. It formed a resolution in Jillian. While
she was here, inexplicably bonded to this alien…she stopped herself
mid-thought. To Faron, she corrected herself. Then she was going to
try and enjoy it, as best she could.

It had been a long, long time since she had
felt any intimacy, and she missed it. Now, here it was, handed over
on a plate by, let’s face it, a finer specimen of a man than any of
the actual men she had encountered.

Faron
marveled as he
took her in, curious at the way her pupils dilated, spilling into
the grey of her eyes as he looked. The binding ceremony had gone
perfectly, and he was pleased to see that she appeared happy about
it.

Her body, only partially covered now, was
a delight to all his senses. The
females had doused her in oil that smelled familiar to him, but
underneath that was her own scent–foreign and exotic to his nose.
Her shining skin was totally hairless and smooth, and he held off
from touching it for just a few moments, wishing to feast on it
visually first. Unlike the females of his kind, her body waved in
at the waist and out again at the hips, and her breasts–covered now
underneath a scrap of fur
–were
intriguingly
full mounds that
heaved beneath the material. He licked his lips, tantalized by what
he saw.

“
I
don’t want you to be frightened. I know we are not the same, but
perhaps we are more
alike
than you think.” He spoke softly but knowingly. He had spent enough
time monitoring these people to know their differences were mainly
aesthetic. With that, he ran his fingertip down her cheek. She
closed her eyes against the tenderness of the touch, still
apprehensive but enjoying the delicate sensation. He traced the
outline of her cleavage, just dipping slightly underneath the fur
top, and then down to her navel where he swept circles across her
skin, as soft as a feather.