Raptor King (Alien Beast Kings 1)

I brace myself for what is basically a big, scaled truck full of teeth to come bursting through the undergrowth and consume us both in one big chompy-chomp. I’m okay with it. I mean, not actually okay, but I’ve lived more in the last few weeks with Rex than I ever lived in all the time I was alive before this. I know our time here is short. It could end at literally any time. I could scratch myself and it could turn septic.

The thundering stops and there’s a rustling high above us. We wait, barely breathing. Hoping that we somehow get away with this again.

Beeeeooooowooop!

That’s not the sound that is made, but it is the sound that should be made as a diplodocus, with a massive snake neck and a tiny little head that probably doesn’t even know where its tail ends, peers over the trees at us and drops little gooey bits of plants over us in a gross rain.

“Hah! We’re fine. We’re totally fine!” My celebration is not shared by Rex, who is scowling up at a dinosaur which is the size of a city block.

“That’s new.”

"What is?”

“I haven’t seen that kind of beast before. It’s new. They’re changing something.”

“I mean, they’re evolving all the time probably, but I think that takes thousands of years. Just because you haven’t seen one of them before…”

“Quiet,” he hisses, clapping his hand back over my mouth. “You have to be quiet.”

I don’t know why he’s being so paranoid. As massive dinosaurs go, the diplodocus is a pretty decent one. It has a tiny mouth and tree grinding teeth. I guess it could grind me, but it doesn’t seem inclined to.

“Quiet,” he repeats. “Or I gag you. There are predators on the loose out here. You must move in silence, and speak only when absolutely necessary as we work our way toward the…”

“Shiny thing.”

“Yes. Shiny thing.”

“Are you ever going to tell me what you’re not telling me?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Now hush.”

I hate the way he dismisses what I have to say as if there’s no way I could possibly understand the general concept of living in a dinosaur infested hellscape. He always talks to me as though I don't know what’s going on — which in turn, makes me wonder if I don’t know what’s going on.

“What the fuck… dude…”

He starts riffling through a pack on the side of Tyche. I wonder if he’s going for extra rations, or maybe some extra light. It is starting to get dark.

He’s not getting rations. He’s getting a thick strip of woven fabric from one of the many packs and satchels tied to her massive saddle.

I should know what’s going to happen, but I seem to exist in a state of constant surprise, especially when he takes hold of me once more and gags me firmly, winding the rope around my head until I can’t talk. He did warn me he’d do this, I guess, but I’m still not thrilled with it.

“I should just tie you to Tyche,” he says. “That would keep you where you should be, as well as keeping you safe. You’ll always be safe with her, if you aren’t with me.”

Technically true, but I don’t want to be tied to Tyche. When she relieves herself it smells like a thousand trees farted at once. I refrain from arguing through the gag, and content myself with making a rude gesture behind his back instead. While I still can. Because I don’t think he’s actually kidding about tying me to Tyche.

Rex loves me, but I am also basically a thing to him. I am a possession he owns. I am something he is trying to keep and protect, and my free will is basically incidental. Some people might think that makes him an asshole, but I think it’s just how he's made. Anybody who expects an alien king to share human values would have to be very stupid, to the point they couldn’t be trusted with uncovered PowerPoints. I pride myself on being really good with things like PowerPoints.

God, I miss PowerPoints. I never appreciated how cool it was to just be able to stick a floppy cable into a wall and have things work. It really spoiled me in a lot of ways. Also, water out of faucets, very cool. Maybe when we find the shiny thing it will have a faucet on it. I have a feeling it is significant in a special way.

He has to eventually un-gag me. Because of eating and stuff. It’s a technicality which he obviously didn’t think about when he thought he’d won last night as I fell asleep wrapped in his arms and also still gagged — which is probably a safety issue, but I guess he’s got different priorities.

“What’s the shiny thing?”