Wild Beast: A Rough Sci-Fi Romance

“What use do you have for me?” What aching part of me do you wish to fill again? That’s the real question. Every time I look at him, I feel my inner animal prepare for carnal conquest. I am already wet.

He kills the mood with three sentences. “I am going to deposit you on the planet. It will be your responsibility to make contact with the humans and lure them to an enclosed area where they can all be exterminated. I suggest the bunker of their own construction.”

“You want me to lead the humans below to their deaths at your hands.”

“Yes.”

He doesn’t seem to have any concept as to why that might be a problem for me. Or maybe he does, but this is a sick test designed to gauge my loyalty. It is easy to submit to him sexually, but I do not think I can betray my people for him. Even Bilbo bleats unhappily at the prospect of seeing me become a Judas goat.

Do I refuse? No. Outright refusing would only lead to punishment. I’ll pretend to do what he wants and then do what I want. That is obviously the smartest course of action almost literally all the time. I highly recommend it, if I highly recommend anything.

“Alright.” It’s not an effusive agreement, but that’s on brand for me.

“You’ll need clothing,” he says. “It will be a pity to cover you up, but I do not want human males being tempted to claim you for their own.”

“Heavens forbid,” I deadpan.

“That’s really enough attitude, Penelope,” he warns me.

It’s the exact right amount of attitude. The amount of attitude that distracts him from the likelihood that I’m not going to turn the people down there over to him. They’re fucking the planet up, and they’re going to have to be stopped, but I’m not going to have slaughter on my conscience. I’ll play Volt like a fiddle.

* * *

I am provided with a jumpsuit that fits me quite snugly but not too snugly, and magicked down to the surface of the planet, right into the midst of construction. The last time I was on the wild planet I heard insects, birds, and the wind through the trees. Now I hear the steady hum of motors and the hammering pounding of construction.

Someone touches me on the shoulder. I turn around to see a man with the most magnificent moustache standing there, looking at me with more than a little annoyance.

“Who are you?”

I don’t answer. I’m too busy looking around. From the ship you couldn’t really pick out smaller details on the ground. Now that I’m down here, I’m not just seeing the first humans I’ve seen in many months, and being overwhelmed with a sense of relief and belonging and sheer joy at being around people again, I’m also noticing the logo on the uniforms and banners associated with the construction work.

MEEP.

That’s Kurt and Steve’s incorporated space company. How could anybody be using their branding? Maybe it was reassigned. Maybe someone bought the company.

“I’m here to speak to the boss,” I say finally. “Doing an inspection.”

He looks me up and down. My pristine white jumpsuit might make me look official, I don’t know. I hope so, because that will make this much easier.

“They’re in the office,” he says, jerking his thumb toward a series of temporary buildings along the side of the construction site.

“Thank you. I’ll let you get back to work.”

I don’t let on that this is the first proper human conversation I’ve had in a very long time, or that I am on the verge of tears because I truly never thought I’d speak to anybody ever again. There’s a part of me that wants to grab this man with the moustache and beg him to save me from my captor. But I know better than anybody that there is no man who can save me from Volt. There is no point begging for help. If I am to be saved, I will have to save myself.

I think these thoughts as I walk over to the temporary offices. I reach the door, knock on it, and poke my head inside.

“Steve?”

Steve looks at me as though he is looking at a ghost. I look at him exactly the same way. Seconds go by, one, two, three… and he comes bursting out of his chair, grabs me up in his arms, and holds me close in a hug I never thought I’d ever have again. It’s so fucking tight. It’s so fucking human. It feels so fucking good.

“Holy shit,” he curses. “Is it really you?”

“For the moment, yes. Is it really you? I thought you were dead.”

“Kurt!” Steve bellows.

Kurt walks in from the adjoining office. He stops dead and looks at me, jaw dropped. “Where the hell have you been?”

“That’s a long story. And a question I could ask you too. I saw you both being exploded!”