“Better than no risk of STIs?”
“Oh, yeah,” Darla said with a knowing grin. “Apparently, when different races get together, you can’t get pregnant. Not unless you’re actually a bonded mate, and even then it’s a choice.”
“She’s right,” Margussa noted. “That’s the way it has always been.”
Shalia saw the potential straight away. “You’re telling me you can get busy completely raw with no risks? No worries? No consequences?”
“I know, right? And Heydar and I were just about to finally seal the deal when these stupid Dohrags came and ruined our moment.”
“Shit, sorry to hear that.” Shalia gave a little nod to another part of the compound, a distant field with a familiar, muscular shape working hard. “Hey, there’s your fella,” she said. “He’s more handsome than I remembered.”
“It was a different situation on the Raxxian ship,” Darla noted. “But yeah, that’s my man.”
Heydar was ushered away on some task before Darla could catch his eye, but he was alive and well, and that was all that mattered to her. And Shalia could almost feel the buzzing attraction her human compatriot had for him, and, frankly, it made her ponder yet again if she might find some sexy alien lover of her own. If Earth wasn’t an option and they were potentially stuck out here forever, she might very well have no choice but to make the best of the situation.
“Pick up the pace!” the nearest guard yelled, letting off a crackling blast from his weapon for emphasis. “You have a quota to reach. Get to work!”
The women quieted down and put their butts in high gear, harvesting quickly without another word. There would be time to talk later. Right now they needed to fill their baskets.
It went on like that for three days, the women toiling in the sun, avoiding the leering stares of the Dohrag guards every time they passed, waiting for one of them to cross the line and take one of them for their own amusement. Fortunately, with the commander’s frustrated berating the other day, even the general overseeing the ground operation was more focused on meeting quotas at the moment than abusing the prisoners.
Soon enough there would be time for that. But right now theyhad to get their numbers up. Then, and only then, could they have a little fun with their prisoners.
That was the plan, anyway, but on the fourth day, something happened. Something quite unexpected.
5
The women had only just returned to their barracks and rinsed their dirty clothes when their door flew open and three Dohrag guards stepped inside. The women, many still in a state of undress, covered themselves as best they could, but the Dohrags leered at them lustfully, regardless.
“You lot, get dressed and follow us.”
“Where are we going?” Darla asked.
“You are to have the great privilege of serving General Barzin during the evening’s display. Now, get dressed. That is, unless you wish to provide additional entertainment. I’m sure the men wouldn’t object.”
The women gathered themselves quickly, dressing in the still damp clothes they had just rinsed off and hung to dry. It seemed they would be working later than normal today, but what serving the general entailed was anyone’s guess.
They found out soon enough. The yells of revelry coming from within the dining hall were audible even with the doors closed. The guards opened them and ushered the women inside. Shalia realized at once what was going on. Margussa had mentioned some of the entertainment the Dohrags favored. Tonight, it seemed, would be the more violent of sorts.
A makeshift arena had been formed in the center of the tables. A fighting ring, clearly, the ground spattered with drops of blood. Fresh blood, whose provenance was made clear by the two prisoners beating one another in a bare-knuckle brawl.
It was barbaric, but then, given what she’d already seen of the Dohrags, it wasn’t much of a surprise.
“Gather trays over there,” the nearest guard directed. “Serve the men. Their plates should never be empty and their glasses always full. You got that?”
The women nodded as one.
“Well? Get to it!”
No one hesitated. Their captors were occupied with the fight in progress, but their attentions could be shifted as easily as a toddler with a three-second attention span if women were nearby. That was the last thing they wanted.
Shalia saw the male prisoners gathered off to the side, waiting for their time to fight. There was a fairly wide assortment of races represented tonight. A man called Drixxis, whichever one he was, seemed to be the favorite, judging by the wagers the guards were placing with one another. The familiar face of the man who’d been aboard the Raxxian ship with her and Darla was there as well, looking grim, but relatively calm. It was unexpected, given what he was about to be subjected to.
By his side a hairless man with deep blue skin and blazing red eyes was scanning the crowd, an intense energy in his gaze. He met her stare a moment, holding it firmly then looking away, surveying his possible opponents. She’d seen it in his eyes. He was reluctant, but ready to do what he had to. All of them were. Shalia also noted his joints seemed to have some kind of protective growth over them, almost like a natural armor of sorts. From what Margussa had mentioned of these brawls, he would need it.
“It’s not a common thing,” the woman had quietly told her on their walk to the dining hall. “Captive labor is more valuable for work or for sale. But when we have an excess of males in thecamp like we do at the moment, the general has been known to hold tournaments for the amusement of his men.”
“Tournaments?” Shalia had asked.
