“I think we should talk about that first,” I say. I’m not even sure if we can have kids. Would I even survive childbirth, or Roka birth, out here without a hospital in sight?
He’s rubbing my stomach with a satisfied look on his face. “Talk. No. The mighty Turic has placed his mighty seed in his Avery’s womb. The hardness begins.”
“What hardness?” I ask, my throat constricting at the sudden realization of what could be happening. I didn’t think I’d get pregnant. We’re not even the same species.
“Turic,” I whisper, my stomach suddenly sensitive. I touch where he’s touching. Was my stomach always so hard? I gulp. Flabby and soft, yes. Hard, no.
Oh, fuck.
“Turic’s mighty baby is growing within his Avery.”
Just as I feel a wave of panic wash over me the door flies open and there’s an angry mob of Drandroka flying in the room. A tiny feathered dart sinks into Turic’s thick neck and his eyes start to immediately roll back in his head.
“No!” I scream as they rush in and a dozen strong hands grab me.
Turic is drugged and slow but he still attacks, knocking out three Drandroka before he finally collapses to the ground.
I scream as they pull me out the door. “Don’t hurt him!” I command.
He’s the father of my baby.
fourteen
Turic is still drugged, moaning incoherently as two Drandroka drag him forward. “Where are you taking us?” I ask. “Actually, on second thought, I don’t want to know.”
We’re a long way out of the village. We passed through a short stretch of forest and now we’re heading to the cliffs in the distance. My feet are so sore and I keep dreaming of Turic’s heavenly mossy bed.
Poor Turic. His head is lowered as two Drandroka hold up his arms and pull him along. His limp feet drag through the dirt, kicking up dust. I really hope that’s a sedative running through his veins and not a poison.
My stomach feels heavier and harder since Turic pointed it out. I also feel nauseous but that could be from this death march. But there’s no mistaking the unfamiliar but beautiful feeling coursing through my body: I’m pregnant with Turic’s child.
A new stronger need to survive overtakes me. I have to survive. For Turic and for our unborn child.
Loupin creeps up to the head of the pack where I’m walking. The nausea increases but I don’t think it’s from the baby this time.
“Loupin doesn’t know how you slew the many fanged beast,” he whispers, spitting on my arm as he speaks. “But you won’t get lucky again.”
“I don’t need luck,” I answer with my chin in the air, looking forward. “I am the Saku.”
He’s probably right but it’s still fun to see the flash of panic in his eyes as he sinks back into the crowd, leaning heavily on his long staff.
The ground ahead is littered with huge bones and my heart starts to race at the sight of them covering the landscape like freshly fallen snow. It looks like another Tyrannosaurus nest and we’re heading right for it.
“Turic,” I whisper as the two Drandroka carry him up beside me. His head rolls with every bump and it doesn’t seem like he’s going to be much help. “You have to wake up.”
He answers with a garbled groan.
I guess I’m on my own. I already killed one T-Rex today but still, I would feel much better if Sleepy Smurf was by my side, alert and in full blue berserker mode.
The guards tiptoe as they walk us up to the dinosaur’s nest. My legs feel weak and I’m hyper-sensitive to any sounds, which makes it extra eerie because it’s deathly quiet below the cliffs. A Drandroka guard behind me clears his throat and I almost jump as high as the cliff walls beside me.
The two Drandroka holding Turic drop him onto the ground with a thud and sprint back to the safety of the group on the hill. I’m by his side at once, stroking his relaxed masculine face trying to wake him up. He’s so out of it.
Just as things couldn’t get any worse, they get worse. They drag Tin Tom out and throw him beside me. “Good daytime to you breeding aged earthling,” he says in a chipper, crackling voice.
“Hi, Tin Tom,” I whisper, exhaling in defeat.
“There is a dinosauriform in the close vicinity,” he says, blinking wildly. “Tom recommends that we depart immediately.”
“We can’t,” I whisper with a gulp. “We have to kill it.”
Tin Tom stops blinking. “The statistical likelihood of a weaponless human surviving an encounter with a dinosauriforms of that magnitude is zero percent.”
“Zero percent?” I whisper. “Come on man. Not even a computing error of 0.00000001%?”
Tin Tom blinks, looking smug. “Tom does not make errors.”
My head whips around to him as my blood starts to boil. “What about letting us land on this fucking crazy dinosaur planet? Wouldn’t that be considered an error? Eh, Mr. Perfect?”
Tin Tom just blinks. “Rolanda was the Captain.”
“Ugh,” I cry out, throwing my hands in the air in frustration. I may have to die today but do I really have to be tortured?