Halfbreed Ch. 03

Lashvara began to slowly unbutton her military shirt. Mike could see the white fabric of an undershirt peeking out beneath, with green skin covering the rest. Her smile deepened when she saw Mike's eyes begin to stray. "Speak plainly, Human." She said, pulling one of her arms free from the outer shirt. "I don't know what you mean."

"You do, and don't try to distract me." He shifted position in his seat. "What are you people: psychics? Empaths? That white bundle of flesh was talking in my brain."

Lashvara ignored him, pulling off the rest of her shirt and exposing the top of her generous chest. Around her neck was hung a small mushroom, blue like the ocean and frilled, with multiple grasping tendrils emerging from the top of its head. She tossed aside the shirt and walked towards him.

Mike twisted in place with discomfort. "Answer me, damn it!"

"The Judge just saved your life." Lashvara said. "Had you been lying to us, this conversation would have gone far differently. His abilities are what kept your head on your shoulders."

"If I had a reason to lie to you, I would have." Mike said. "You're the ones who shot down the Halfbreed, without provocation."

The Orc sidestepped around him, the imposing shadow of her presence causing the hair to tingle on the back of Mike's neck. "You crashed on our world. You are the intruder here." She went down to one knee, her hands fiddling with the locks. Mike heard the sound of a key turning, then a click. "Besides, the Voaten did not shoot you down. That was one of the Raketi, likely the Vakka tribe."

"You're talking like I would know who any of these people are." Mike said, tilting his head back as he tried to match eyes with the Orc. She grunted and turned his head forward again with her hand.

"The Raketi are the Polar kin, the ice dwellers. They are the grandsons and granddaughters of the first Warrior. They do not take kindly to any alien presence near our homeworld. You entered their ships' hunting grounds, and became their prey." Mike felt a pressure release on his legs; he could now move a little. "We are not like them. We are the Toaven."

"Is that Orcish for 'Mind Readers?'" Mike said.

Lashvara chuckled, moving to Mike's arms, unlatching them from the hoop connected to his leg chains. "That is not all Orcs. Only a Judge is capable of true telepathy."

"I met a few natives in the short time I was on Charity. None of them seemed to know what I was thinking about at any given moment." Mike's eyes hardened as he stared at the two way mirror. He could see Lashvara's reflected face bent in concentration over his manacles."...So what were you doing just now, when you blurted out my thoughts?"

The Orc shrugged. The mushroom at her neck bounced against her green skin. "I was just feeling your emotions, like any Orc would."

"So, you can feel feelings." Mike said, shaking his head back and forth. "Heruen help me, if Aly ever ends up in your hands."

"You speak of her often," Lashvara said, a wan smile rising to her lips. "You hide your lust for her poorly."

"Could you please stop talking about that?" Mike said, lifting his head skyward as he felt the last of the manacles come off.

The Orc let out a laugh. "Aliens never cease to amaze me. Your egos are as fragile as your skulls when it comes to expressing emotion. To be anything other than what you are is disingenuous."

"Some things are better kept hidden." Mike said, rubbing at his wrists. His fingers played across the liquid metal device that had been embedded in the bones of his wrist, tied directly into his nervous system. They hadn't disarmed him - or rather, de-handed him.

"For the sake of what? Her inevitable response to your repressed emotions? Are you a child, unable to withstand the terror of someone's words?" She stood up, looming over him as she put a hand upon his shoulder, holding him in his seat.

Mike made a point to rise, resisting the slight push of Lashvara's hand to keep him down. She relented quick enough, her hand remaining planted at his shoulder as he stood and stretched.

"If you knew Elves like I do, you'd realize how ridiculous that statement is." He said.

"I know Elves, Human." The Orc responded, "I lived with them for the better part of a decade. Some of my old contacts in the Everlasting Empire were the ones who helped my tribe purchase the Shield Generator. I learned plenty about their latent xenophobia."

Mike snorted. "'Latent.' That's a good one. Aly's Uncle is a damn war hero. And he got banished to the edge of Wild Space because he got a bit too close to his human nurse. When was the last time you saw an Elf even look twice at aliens like us?"

"Your first mate doesn't seem to mind your company."

Mike clenched his fist. "My first mate is also trying to attain her Citizenship and become a functioning member of her society. She has to do this. The second our contract is up, she's headed back to the Core Worlds, to her family."

Lashvara huffed. "...Are you certain of that?"

Mike scowled. "That's what she told me."

Instead of answering, Lashvara simply laughed. Mike turned his head back to look at her, and she gestured at the door. "After you."

"Are we going to chat about my absent father after this, too?" Mike said.

"Only if you focus on it." Lashvara replied, "You don't seem to care much about him one way or the other."

"Fair enough." Mike said, marching to the door. "Onwards, then."

He stepped through, finding himself in a spare, white corridor with an elevator on his right. The entrapped human felt a hand push him hard forward through the portal to let her through. He stumbled, nearly slipping on the pristine, carbon fiber floor plating. It muffled his footsteps as he walked. The walls themselves were of carbon fiber. This building was Elven made.

The two Orcish guards standing to either side of the elevator doors snapped to attention. Mike felt Lashvara's hand take him by the back of his neck, shoving him forward like he was a dummy she was manipulating. Mike let out a grunt of annoyance but complied. Helpless - for the moment.

The Orc standing guard to the left of the elevator door nodded at Lashvara. He stood a good head or so taller than Lashvara, his female companion did as well. It seemed that Mike's interrogator was a shrimp in the species. The thought made Mike feel all the more intimidated.

"That old fart said you want to fuck an alien." The Guard enjoined.

Lashvara let out a belly laugh. "Damn Tarvan and his ever multiplying wrinkles! I flirted with the Human once because he made me laugh, and he takes me to task for it!"

"More than once actuall-ah!" Mike started to say, before Lashvara pinched a pressure point in his shoulder and he went down on one knee. The Orcs chortled at his submission.

"He's a bit too pale and bony for my taste. I doubt he'd even fit." Said the Orc to the right of the elevator door, her rifle slung over her shoulder, tangling between her long, black lion's mane falling in a thicket behind her head. She shifted her weight back and forth as she unsubtly looked Mike up and down. "Plus I can't get over the skin pigment."

"Don't judge a blaster by the case it's carried in." Mike retorted. He tried to lift his head to speak, only to be shoved back into place by Lashvara. "Give me ten minutes and the use of my hands, see if I can't make your green toes curl." He said to the ground.

"You cowering is the only thing I see, Human." The male Orc on the left said, an easy grin rising to his face. The smile faded into a sudden, sharp scowl as he affixed Mike with a glare. "-Were you trying to flirt with a Princess of the Toaven during an interrogation?"

"No..." Mike shook his head, doing his best to smile up at the two Orcs in fatigues looming over him. "I was hoping to fuck the lady currently yanking me by the scruff of my neck. But judging by her grip, I think she's in denial."

The three Orcs laughed as one. "He's a bold one, I'll give him that!" Said the male Orc. He pulled out a small keycard from a thong on his neck and swiped it across the reader. There was a beep, then the elevator slid open noiselessly.

"Don't even give him that." Lashvara said from behind his head. There was humor in her voice. "This one's a Smuggler. You're likely to 'lose' whatever you give him."

"I'm an honest businessman, not a pickpocket!" Mike protested, even as he was pushed into the elevator. He was half tempted to utilize his hand device against his manacles to prove an ironic point.

"Shut up and stand to one side." Lashvara said. The two guards filed in after them, crowding the small elevator with their long rifles. Lashvara hit a button and the elevator door slid shut. The silence was deafening as the room began to move.

"...A Princess, huh?" Mike said, attempting to turn his head. "I didn't know you natives kept royalty."

"My father is the Chief of the Toaven. One tribe among many." Lashvara retorted, twisting his head forward once more. "This Starport is the result of dozens of tribes' collective efforts. We are a confederation. On this base, I am just a soldier."

"-And a deviant." Said the Orc to Mike's right. Lashvara and the female Orc Guard both laughed at him. It sounded almost harmonized, as if the two were one with the emotion. The cadence of their laughter even fell into sync.

"Tennik," Lashvara said, "You are ruthless to me, sometimes."

"It's affection that drives my brutality, I assure you Ma'am." Tennick replied, filing out of the elevator as the door slid open to reveal a bare, medical hallway. Mike's eyes were immediately drawn to the Elven architecture. It was a large hospital prefab, of the kind that Elves would erect in the first weeks of a planet's colonization. But the proportions were... off.

The Orcs towered over Mike, so it stood to reason that their buildings were just as monumental. The hospital's bare, white ceiling was vaulted, far higher than a human structure would ever construct. The hallway was flanked by numbered doors with colored lines leading from the wall down indeterminate directions of the hallway's numerous turns. There were no visible windows, but the hallways were brightly lit and welcoming in nature. The door frames hung a good two feet taller than usual. Mike felt like a dwarf in the room.

"Keep it moving, Human." Lashvara said, shoving him forward as she set a sudden pace. Mike could do little but lead from her example, marching forward in stiff, controlled steps. The Guards followed along at a distance, seeming bemused by her harsh treatment of Mike.

"You know you don't have to manhandle- urgh- m-me, right?" He said, grunting as he walked forward, hunched over.

"I know. I just like making you squirm." Lashvara replied.

"I bet." Mike responded, smiling slyly at the ground. The two Orcs behind him laughed together. They seemed to be a boisterous people.

"So the truth comes out." Tennik said, "You really do like him, Lashvara! Should I be the one escorting him back to his cell? I'm worried you might make wind with the scoundrel!"

"Go suck a Subra mushroom," She retorted, "Who or what I choose to mate with is of no concern to you. And I'm not about to sleep with a thief and an alien."

"Thank Heruen." Mike said as they reached an empty lobby, leading towards the exit. "I forgot to wear my body armor."

The hand at his neck clenched. Lashvara pressed her fingers to his pressure points again, drawing a sharp pain to his head. "You'd need more than that to survive me, whelp." Lashvara snarled, annoyed at his tone.

Mike shrugged. "I'm probably going to eat a bullet soon anyway, might as well go out with a smile on my face."

The female Guard cackled, even as the group stepped out into the open night air of Votar. It was late at night, the floodlights of the base were the only real illumination besides the glimmering moons above. "He burrows under your skin like few others can, Lashvara. Do you intend to 'interrogate' him further, when you're alone?"

"-After I get finished pounding you into the ground for insubordination, sure." Lashvara retorted, dragging Mike across the deserted central courtyard.

"Now you're just teasing me, Lass." Mike said, smirking.

"It's Lash." The Orc blinked. "Lashvara." She added, as if she'd just outwitted herself. An annoyed scowl built on her features. "My name is Lashvara."

"Care to take a second swing at the whole 'name' thing, Beautiful?"

The Orcs laughed as one. "You sure we have to shoot this one, Ma'am?" Tennick said, his deep voice chuckling. "I think I'm starting to like him."

"That's precisely why we have to shoot him." Lashvara growled, though her heart wasn't in the statement. "He's less likely to talk his way out of punishment, then."

"You've got cheery tribe mates, Lass." Mike remarked, feeling Lashvara's hand against his back pushing him out into the wide thoroughfare of the base's concrete road. "If you didn't keep getting distracted by my dashing good looks, maybe you'd remember to smile more often."

"Shut up." She replied. "We're almost there."

They walked along the road until it gave way to the shoreline of a small, inland lake. Across the glorified pond were signs of larger settlement, far removed from this isolated, secured area of the base. As Mike's footsteps crunched upon the soggy gravel he saw a number of buildings across the water. They had widely variable designs, huddling together in rough cul-de-sacs that dipped off from the main thoroughfare, running the length of the camp.

Some buildings were similar to the hospital Mike had been in: prefabricated structures of a modular, yet elegant design. Others, however were tall-thatched buildings with long bodies cut from wood, with elements of carbon fiber material weaved into the framework. The Orcs seemed to live in longhouses; nearly everything was communal in this loud, boisterous place. Campfires dotted the landscape, looking like nothing so much as flickering fireflies in the evening dark.

Mike was steered by his captors towards a most unusual sight in the village: a building with more than one floor. They were taking him to what amounted to an Elven Embassy: a sort of cultural service center, wherein the haughty race would attempt to interact with their alien neighbors living on the same planet.

The structure was tall and thin, like a human skyscraper but with half the space usage. It stretched a relatively modest four stories high, the top of its head hanging a scant few feet above the tree cover.

They passed through the front kiosk in a hustle. Mike noted with some trepidation that the reception desk was empty. Half the buildings in this camp seemed unoccupied, or were not being used as originally intended. He had yet to see a single species other than Orcs within the base. What was going on here?

Another elevator ride. The Orcs were quieter and more subdued here. Mike felt a growing sense of unease, wondering if their 'jokes' about shooting him had been jokes at all. When the weight kicked in and the elevator started moving downwards towards the basement, Mike felt a nervous thrill run down his spine. For all his bravado, he did not want to die today. The Orcs chuckled at his fear.

"Quaking in your boots, Smuggler?" The female guard goaded. "Do you still want me to take you up on that offer with your hands? Or did you want to save the struggle for when you get downstairs?" The other Orcs laughed, Mike stared at the ground and tried to steady his breathing.

When the elevator doors opened the Guards took their assigned places at its entrance and halted, leaving Mike alone with Lashvara. She led him down a long corridor, past a series of maintenance rooms and equipment storage, to a quiet little alcove that Mike knew from experience to be one of the Embassy's holding cells.

"Before we go in there, Lass." Mike said, coming to a halt at the metallic hatch as Lashvara punched in the code to open it. "Can I ask if I'm ever coming back out?"

"You can ask." She replied as the door slid open. "It won't help you much either way."