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Turin
I am nothing like the humans. I am an alien, a creature unique to myself and one other. I have been betrayed, but they did not win their cruel war.
Let’s leave it at that.
I can feel Zakar’s presence behind me. The elusive brute lights a match, illuminating the starship’s dingy interior.
Moss has grown along the walls. The metal has rusted. But for now, it’s a better home than their sleeping quarters.
Besides, the smell of human males makes me sick to my stomach.
Zakar kneels beside me. I cock my head and warn him. “Don’t mess with the new recruits. Let them find their own demise,” I say.
“I’ve led them on a little chase,” he says, laughing to himself.
I don’t share in his joy. Life isn’t a game to me. It’s torment.
Humans get to love. They get to connect with one another.
Humanity handed our kind a life of torment, so I understand Zakar’s resentment. But killing them won’t get him what he craves. It won’t find him a mate, and it sure as hell won’t save our damned souls.
“I’m not interested in your games, Zakar,” I say. “I just want to know one thing. Did you find their starship, and is it in working order?”
“This is more fun,” Zakar mutters.
“We don’t have to kill them to leave this planet. We have the necessary fuel,” I argue.
It’s not that I care for the humans. I don’t.
Zakar growls and clenches his fists. “Remember what we said? Every human being must bow their heads, and the women must take our seed. That was what we were designed to do.”
“You’re fueled with a great anger. They have weapons this time. Is it really worth dying over?” I ask.
Zakar stands and grabs a bar above his head. He hoists himself to a second layer, folding inside of a vent.
His words echo above. “Ten atrocities. Ten lives they tortured and killed. Humans are evil. They smile and tell you what you want to hear, but they only look out for themselves.”
We were the survivors. We were the bastards who revolted.
I start walking through the corridors of the ship. Above, I hear his footsteps follow. “Even so, why risk captivity again?” I ask. “I do not understand.”
“There is a female,” he mutters.
I stop.
My body flushes with a strange warmth, and my skin glows. I can feel my cock harden, and a great desire washes over me.
I am a weapon, the perfect symbiosis of fuck and fight. They designed me to procreate and proliferate.
They designed me to destroy.
I saw her last night. The female bowed her head. She wasn’t violent. She was docile.
She was nothing like the others.
I tried to warn her.
“She is fertile,” he says.
