Wrecked - A Dark Sci-Fi Romance

We are the wrecked. And we strike fear into the organized universe. “Let’s go. Do you think they have the fires set?”

We set fires to keep warm. Again, these destroy the worlds on which we land, but our survival is paramount. There are so few of us, and so very much that is not us.

I look over the horizon and see the red-hot glow of foliage being taken by pure combustion. It makes me warm, though I know it spells the end of one form of life.

The universe is a harsh place, and I have learned to be harsh with it.

“We have incoming, Isu,” Ziril interrupts my thoughts, pointing skyward.

The first time we invaded a planet, nobody noticed. The second time, it drew attention. I was expecting some kind of response this time. There are interplanetary meddlers who think nothing of enforcing their rules on every planet they can.

Sure enough, a bright speck in the sky becomes a ship hanging over our fires. It descends lower and lower until the speakers on the bottom of it make a voice audible.

“Strewth!” a voice exclaims. “Whadda bloody mess ya’ve made down there!”

It pauses, as if expecting a response, but we have no means of responding. We have not built communication devices. They would serve no purpose. We have no desire to discuss our plans. We will take what we need and the universe will give it to us, or pay the price.

“This planet is undah human protection!” The voice comes through speakers distorted by thousands of miles of space between us. I’ve heard a voice like it before in the very distant past, but I don’t have time to reminisce, or to be sentimental.

“Now, be a decent bloke and put the bloody fiah out before we come down there with a whole lot of water and whipass!”

That’s a threat, I gather, and a weak one. The ship appears to be alone, and even if it weren’t, humans are fleshy and weak, reliant on weapons. I intend to deprive this one of theirs before they get any ideas about doing battle.

“Shoot it down.” I give the order without concern or care. We need more parts. The shuttle will make for good scavenging, and the human inside, if it survives, may be a good source of intelligence. At any rate, there is no possibility of letting whoever is in that ship leave. The fewer report back, the longer we have to do what we need to do to survive.

“Blooodddy hellll!” The ship broadcasts a curse as a bolt emanates from our weapons array and slices through the space between us and it. The ship dodges in midair, side slipping to avoid the first volley, but a second is already on the way.

“Chroist on a cracka! Settle down, ya flaming assholes!”

Booom! A bright shower indicates a direct hit. There’s an eerie silence as the ship falls. Either we disabled the speakers, or the pilot themselves. It tumbles to the ground like a rock, and would be completely smashed if not for the impact afterburners that ignite just in time to let the ship land lightly enough to stop it from breaking apart completely.

“The human is mine!” I declare, moving toward the downed vessel. These human craft are always useful to us. They have all sorts of excess contained inside their hulls.

Today, there is more excess than usual. I yank the cockpit open; the smooth bubble of composite fiber is fogged with condensation. It takes several hard yanks to break free, but it comes off in one piece, revealing the soft center.

They’ve sent a woman. One with fine blonde hair. One who looks into my face and speaks my name at the same time I speak hers.

“Aspel…”

“Isu!”

“Holy hell, Isu!” An expression of pure joy passes over her face. She reaches her arms toward me. I take her by the wrists and pull her from the shuttle. I know she wants to be cuddled, but my men are watching and I cannot embrace a human in front of them. Not any human. Not even this one. Instead, I throw her over my shoulder, take possession of her.

“Isu! Isu, it’s me!”

“I know it’s you,” I growl. “Stop talking.”

“Aren’t you happy to see me?”

The plaintive question would make my heart break, if I had one. If we were alone, I would embrace her, kiss her, I would tell her how I have missed her every moment of every day, how the memory of her kept me alive when I wanted to die.

Instead, I grip her tighter and lift my hand to swat her across both buttocks. Her yowl is music to my ears, a sound I have heard before and yearned to hear again.

“They sent a woman to us?” Ziril seems offended. Nothing less than a battalion would do for him.