Authors Note: In case you don't understand the start, the man's dying (or near death) so his brain isn't working 100%. A little interaction. No lemons I'm afraid. Enjoy and no hating!
Chapter 3
John awoke for the third time that night. He opened his eyes groggily, wondering if it was going to be worth it. A Jackal was snuggled up to him. He found that comforting.
Why?
John couldn't remember, and he wasn't about to either. He couldn't get his half-asleep brain to work properly. He glanced around the dark street. The sky was streaked with orange.
Dusk? His mind tried. Nah, couldn't be. What was it? Who cares? Not me, He decided. A grunt broke his train of thought. John looked at the creature at his side. It's eyes were open and staring at him sleepily. It got up and stretched (SHE got up and stretched, he corrected himself). She yawned and pointed at something purple hanging in the sky. It seemed awfully big. She motioned towards it expectantly. John realised she wanted him to answer. John nodded, figuring if he just agreed nothing could go wrong. The Kig-Yar grinned and tugged on John's arm. John stared at her blankly. She raised her wrist to her face and made weird noises into it. She's talking. Said a more active part of John's mind. Unfortunately this was his subconscious, so all he got was a nagging feeling.
John groaned and rubbed his eyes. He surveyed his surroundings. He was in a small white-walled room. At the front, a blue energy barrier stood, distorting anything outside the room beyond recognition. At the back was a metal sheet balanced on four stilts. On this metal sheet was a large cloth. A bed. John noted, now fully aware. He was sprawled on the floor in an awkward position. Realisation struck John like a physical blow. He was a POW. John hit his head against the wall in frustration.
"FUCK!" John cried in self pity. He'd heard the stories. He knew what came next. Interrogations. Torture. Death.
After John had been sitting in that position for five minutes, he realised his hip didn't hurt anymore. He looked down to where the injury was, and saw a fresh white bandage. John raised a hand to his head, just above his right ear. There was a bulge in his skin.
"It's your translator," explained a voice from nowhere. John whipped his head around at the energy barrier. He could just make out a silhouette of some creature. Apparently the distortion was only one way.
"Great," he growled. "Not only do I have to be in a bloody alien flagship, but I have to listen to bloody monsters all day? Just great. Thanks for that."
His guard hissed, but said nothing more.
A few minutes later, his guard grunted "Food." sounding as if it hated it had to feed him. John took one look at the slop on the tray that had been pushed through the barrier, and decided he would have to be pretty desperate to eat that. Instead, John wandered over to his bed and lay down.
"How did you get here?" Said a feminine voice from the next cell. It sounded human.
"A... Umm... Well..." John couldn't decide on an answer that didn't make him look like a sick retard. Oh yeah, I made out with a Jackal and wanted to take it one step further, but it turns out it was just a trick...
You can see the problem, right?
"It's complicated," John said lamely. The prisoner next door took the lie as mistrust, and decided to stop talking to him. Fine by me. John thought angrily.
The next day.
"Food," the guard growled. It was the only thing she said to him now. John looked at the slop in disgust. His stomach growled. John groaned. He had to eat it. He picked up some slop gingerly with his fingers.
It looked like mud.
John raised it to his lips and swallowed it as quickly as he could. It tasted bland and strangely metallic. John gagged. The guard outside watched him, very much amused. John managed half the tray before he felt nausea sweep through him. There was a jug of water, from which John took a large swig. It tasted like chlorine.
The guard waited. She hated it, but she waited. Her commanding officer stalked off with the two other guards, also Brutes, to find replacements. No-one cared about the Jackal. After all, she had volunteered for this.
"John?" Came a soft voice. John thought it was the prisoner next door again, so didn't bother opening his eyes as he lay on his 'bed'.
"Yeah, what?" He asked grumpily. The barrier to John's cell fell, then sprung up again.
It's the Brutes John decided. They've come for me. Then another thought: The prisoner next door sounded concerned for me. That's nice.
"John?" Said the voice again, this time right next John's ear.
"AAAHH!" John cried as he found himself face to face with a Kig-yar. The Jackal in question cringed at John's outburst.
John stared at the creature as he tried to slow his racing heart. The answer slowly dawned on him.
John cocked his head at her. She knew his name, obviously from spying on him, but...
"I never got your name," John explained.
"Hueira," she said breathlessly. She put her hand on his bed for support and rubbed the back of her neck with her other. This commonly meant: shy Jackal. Or itchy Kig-yar. John decided it was the former option.
"It's beautiful" John smiled. Hueira looked away, unsure how to reply. John raised his hand to stroke her smooth check softly. She closed her eyes and leaned into his touch. She purred ever so softly.
Hueira wanted him, and she wanted him now. But she remembered what happened last time. They needed somewhere private...
Hueira tapped a button on her wrist and the barrier fell. She grabbed John's hand.
