a year wait for those at the back,” Vrateus retorted. “And that is if the guy before you has been gentle enough for you to get her alive.” He leveled a pointed stare at Crux. “You know there’s an excellent chance she will not survive that long. Not all species have the endurance for that lifestyle. And she is...” He finally took a good look at the girl, trying to identify what species she was.
She glared at him with her big, dark-colored eyes. The long filaments on her head looked more like hair than fur—a deep shade of brown. Her skin was of a similar color to his, maybe a shade or two lighter. He saw no wings, horns or claws on her. The only tail she had was on the back of her head, but it didn’t seem to be functional, hanging limply down her back. She might have injured it during the crash.
What was she?
“Who are you?” he asked.
She straightened her back. Her composure was admirable, though it wouldn’t help her situation.
“I am the mission specialist with the research team from Earth. My planet is the newest member of the Federation—”
“Species?” he cut her off.
Her dark eyebrows moved closer together as she gave him a disapproving glare.
“Human,” she said, with a snappy note in her voice.
He searched his memory for the species with that name and found nothing. He was certain he’d never seen anyone like her before.
Staring at her, he’d lost his train of thought and had to gather his focus before addressing his crew again.
“As I said, the wait for those at the back would be nearly a year.” He still had no definite plan, working on it as he went. “Do you want to spend that much time, not getting a thing from our bounty here?” He glanced down at the girl again, and she gave him another glare, filled with shock and resentment.
“What other choices do we have?” came a question from the crowd.
Over the years, he had trained them to expect solutions to problems from him.
“I’d say, fuck the waiting. Let’s have fun now!” Krakhil roared. The dimo’s deep, rumbling voice rising over the noise.
“It would be a very short-lived fun, I’m afraid.” Vrateus kept his own voice calm and even. Showing any emotions would only fuel the excitement of the males already charged with lust in the female’s presence.
“You want to keep her to yourself!” Crux roared accusingly.
Vrateus considered that option briefly and quickly dismissed it.
Taking the girl for himself would ignite a riot. Crux would be the one to start it. The errock had laid his hands on her—in his mind, the girl was already his property. If denied any access to her now, Crux would snap, all errocks would follow, quickly joined by the others.
All seven hundred united against Vrateus.
The exact situation he had been masterfully avoiding for years.
“Give her to us,” several voices demanded. “Even if for just one night of fun.”
The strangled gasp of the girl reached him. Without looking at her, he sensed her tension. Her fear.
“It might be fun. But only for some.” He let his words sink into their minds. An idea formed in his head, but he knew he needed to lead them to it carefully. “What do you do for fun now?”
“Fight!” many yelled.
That was true. Most of them participated in the nightly fights he organized to let them work out some testosterone and aggression.
“What else?”
“Eat!” someone shouted.
After the years of hard work Vrateus had put his crew through, the Dark Anomaly finally was producing enough food to sustain them all. There was enough to eat for fun, not just for survival.
“Gardening,” came a quiet voice.
Malahki.
The damirian spent a lot of time in the in-door gardens, taking care of plants. Vrateus didn’t expect to see Malahki here. The damirian had no gender. It was neither male nor female. Lust didn’t affect its species at this stage of their development.
Curiosity was not a gendered quality, though. Anything out of the ordinary passed for entertainment on the Dark Anomaly.
“What else?” he prompted. “What else do many of you do for fun before falling asleep?”
“Fuck!” Trox, one of the errocks, smirked.
“You can’t call it fucking if you’re on your own.” Nocc, another errock, guffawed, shoving an elbow in Trox’s side. “You jerk off.”
“Right.” Vrateus tilted his head, carefully keeping the mood of his crew in focus. “How about if you had a female sitting next to you while you did that?”
“While I’m jerking off, you mean?”