child is too young. I have no interest in training something useless.
The Tragoom grunted again.
I don’t care if you’re hungry. I have better things to do than wait for you to dig it out. Put her before me so I can inspect her worthiness to serve.
The words were in Tina’s mind. She’d forgotten Bi’isils communicated telepathically.
She was given no time to consider the matter. She was set on her feet before the gray alien, which looked at her with cold interest.
At least, she supposed it was interested. It was hard to tell what emotion it felt. Its head, larger than Tina’s, sported huge black eyes. In contrast, its nose and mouth were mere slits. It wore a white tunic over its miniscule frame. It couldn’t have been more than four feet tall. Tina wondered how such a tiny frame could support its huge skull.
“Get this thing off me! I don’t consent to whatever it is you want,” she yelled, trying her best to yank free. The Tragoom yawned, its carrion breath gagging her.
Your consent matters not. I require a non-Tragoom slave to care for my home and personal needs. You’ll serve as required. It nodded to the Tragoom. Bring her to the ship, and I’ll perform a sexual trial. After that, you’ll be fed. Her, if she proves inadequate.
The Tragoom shoved Tina before it, its grip on her upper arms bruising. She dug her heels in, kicking rubble as she shouted and fought.
A small figure darted at them, flinging stones. Tina cried out in horror. It was Zac.
He pelted the Tragoom, yelling, “Let her go, monster!” When he ran out of rocks, he tried to tackle the fiend, wrapping himself around the Tragoom’s leg. “Leave my sister alone!”
The Tragoom released one of her arms to pluck Zak off and fling him aside. He fell hard with a grunt. Tina shrieked when the boy went still.
“Zac! Zac! He’s hurt! Let me go, you sorry bastards!” It was her turn to pick up a rock. She sent it flying at the Bi’isil. It barely jerked out of danger.
The Tragoom restrained her, keeping her from grabbing any more stones. The Bi’isil came close.
Lesson One in proper protocol. When addressing your master, it will be with absolute respect. Never, under any circumstances, will you strike me. Take off her helmet.
The Tragoom did so, and its foul reek made her gag. As she choked on a burning tide of bile, the Bi’isil tipped the metal rod it carried toward her. The Tragoom dropped her with a sound that was squeaky with fright.
Tina hit the ground, and the tip of the metal rod touched her cheek. She went rigid, unable to move as torment filled her entire body. White-hot agony ripped into her, as if she were being shredded by ragged claws. Though the Tragoom no longer held her captive, she couldn’t escape.
But she could scream. For an eternity, she did so, even during the rush of vomit that ejected in a forceful stream. Through it all, the Bi’isil simply stood there, holding the rod to her flesh, watching her suffer.
At last, it lifted the rod away. Pain is only the beginning. Learn to please me, or die. Now apologize.
Tina should have been cowed. The Tina of Earth and the Tina of the convent would have been. Those earlier versions of herself had thought their only function was to please others. And the Bi’isil’s rod had been sheer hell. A sizable portion of instinct was intent on never doing anything to be touched with it again.
Despite the agony she’d endured, she wasn’t either of the earlier Tinas. She was a new Tina, clanned by men who’d shown her she had nothing to prove to anyone to be worthwhile. She was the Tina who loved those men, one of whom who’d been shoved over a cliff because of this Bi’isil bastard. She was the Tina who’d witnessed her brother attacked by its Tragoom slave. Her people-pleasing days were done.
She lifted her head. The Tragoom kept its distance, betraying it had been a victim of that pain stick in its past. Noting it shielded its crotch with its hoof-like hands, Tina had a moment of pity for the awful thing. But only a moment.
She aimed her glare at the Bi’isil. The rod still pointed in her direction. No matter.
“Take your big, ugly gray head and shove it up your Tragoom’s ass.”
Tina lunged and grabbed the pain stick, avoiding its business end. She yanked. When the Bi’isil hung onto