which would have worked if she were standard cargo - but I get the sense there is nothing standard about this human woman.
A half-dozen murketeers charge her all at once. En masse, they are more successful. Though one is punted across the room with a jab from her knee, the other five manage to get her re-packaged, wrapping ‘G’ branded tape and around her legs and arms and even her eyes until she is presented to me like a cross between a turkey and an express package. One of them jabs her with a needle, no doubt containing extra sedative. Pathetic.
They have taken her senses to try to keep her calm. It is not working. Beneath her bindings, I can see her muscles flexing and her shoulders and hips wriggling back and forth. She can’t move her limbs because they are thoroughly restrained, but that is not going to stop her from trying.
“ENOUGH!” I boom the word before the murketeers take it on themselves to exact any revenge on their now helpless prisoner.
“SIGNED, SEALED, DELIVERED,” the murketeer in charge declares. “IF YOU WOULD BE SO KIND AS TO SIGN A FEW FORMS…”
I know precisely what he is trying to do: get a free snack. He has no idea how close he is to becoming one himself.
I stride forward, grab her from their inept hands, and throw her over my shoulder. She grunts. I hope she is not hurt in some way. If she has been harmed, I will personally consume their entrails.
“Are you alright, human? Did they hurt you?” I address the questions to her shapely, well-wrapped rear.
She replies with a grunt which could mean almost anything.
"She can’t talk. We filled her mouth with rubber so we didn't have to hear her very unpleasant words,” the murketeer explains. He has no shame. He does not realize how close he is to death now that I am no longer entertained.
“Get out of here,” I growl at them. “If your ship is still here in five minutes, I will incinerate the interior of this bay, and you all with it.”
The smiles do not drop off their faces, not for a second, even as they run toward the ship as fast as they can move on their round little feet.
I leave the bay with my very precious human cargo, and carry her to the room I have set aside for her, a room which just so happens to also be my room. I do not want this human out of my sight, even for a moment. I want to observe her closely, train her intimately. I want to make her my own in every way possible - and I cannot do that nearly as effectively if she is in one of our cells.
I know she has escaped from many prisons in her time, but our prison is different. This one is surrounded by the void of space, which makes escape almost impossible unless we land, or unless she finds a shuttle. The shuttles are all locked down in such a way as to ensure no human could launch them. They need a dose of purse scythkin blood from one of our clutch members in order to be activated.
I hesitate for a moment before laying her down. I like the way she feels in my arms. I like the way she smells. I like everything about her immediately, though I have barely known her for more than a minute. After a moment of connection, which lasts as long as it can last without becoming an obvious sign of weakness on my part, I lay her down on the soft bedding I have placed on the floor. This is where she will sleep, chained at the foot of my bed. For as many hours as I can muster away from the duties of the first hatched, she will not leave my presence, or my sight, for that matter.
I take the blindfold off first, and see immediately why she lost her battle with the murketeers. Her eyes are bloodshot and glazed. They’ve sedated her, and somehow still not managed to dull her spirit. The gag comes out next. I want to hear her voice, even if all she speaks are words of rebellion and rage.
I wait for her to say something, but she just blinks at me slowly. I wonder if they slipped her extra sedation when she was being unloaded, and if it is beginning to have late effect on her.
With her lying quietly, I