“What about getting him a companion? It’s clear he hates the other subjects. I hear Kelons are rather fond of fat women.”
The pair chuckled. “From the newspaper reports, only tall, fat women can keep up with their advanced libido.”
“Now, there’s an idea—we haven’t taken any semen samples yet. I would like to analyse the genetic proprieties and how they can be applied, as well.”
“Agreed. The more we can take from him the better, but still it comes back to how.”
“I’ll think on the issue. I wonder if the genetic blend of this alien and human would produce a better serum or dilute it?”
“It’s a possibility we shouldn’t ignore. From all the reports, human women are breeding compatibly with this species.”
Zelron’s limbs were still heavy, but he fought the drug in his system, growling low. He never understood the appeal of human women to other Kelon males who took them for mates, although he never met one in person and had no desire to. Females mattered little to him since an incident years ago left him horribly disfigured. There was never any chance of him attracting any kind of female to carry on his line, or would he ever touch a human woman, especially one forced on him.
“He’s waking up, we need to hurry. Call the guards to get him back to his cell before he fully awakens. No doubt, he would break our necks and those of every worker in the laboratory, if he ever got free.”
Dr. Martin spoke the truth. Nothing would stop Zelron from killing them for what they’d done to him, or to the others locked in the cells next to him. He did not care if they were Xersons—the torture the humans put them through in the name of science was unacceptable. They needed quick, clean deaths, not to endure forced experimentation, time after time.
Four guards entered his vision. Unbuckling his straps, they hauled his large bulk from the table, onto the chair with wheels. They took him back through the corridors and into the cell with bars thick enough to prevent any kind of force, other than a large explosion, from breaking him free. They dragged him in and quickly backed out as he struggled to turn over. Zelron heard the locks slide into place and growled. Weakly, he pushed himself up. Soon, the drugs would wear off and he would go back to doing what he did to help control the violent impulses riding him.
When a warrior could not train or fight, his desire turned inward. Only hard workouts helped distract his mind from their natural sexual urges. The system of self-control worked for thousands of years, along with the removal of flesh foods from the Kelon diet. This honed their race into an intelligent, space-faring people.
Zelron was far from space and far from his people, trapped in a never ending nightmare. Escape and revenge were the only things keeping his mind and body from giving in.
Chapter 2
Providence scowled, unable to find anything wrong with the circuit boards she examined, which meant the problem was deeper. Possibly the problem came from an appliance, or another part of the factory which wasn’t on the main board.
This was an old army base, so she doubted she was in the main power room. She would have to look around to find the source of the blackout.
She gripped her flashlight, heading for the door. Outside, the guard was gone. Shrugging, she headed right, down the long corridor, finding herself back in the room with the coloured doors.
“Hmm…eeeny, meeny, miney, mo? Ah, what the heck, we’ll start with red.” Walking up to the door she tried the handle. “Figures.” It was locked.
With no guard in sight, it only took her a few minutes with two pieces of flat metal to pick the lock; a skill she’d learnt from a, disreputable former friend. Things were always easy to open when you had the know-how and the right tools at your disposal.
A self-satisfied smirk curled up the corners of her lips when she pushed open the door and was greeted by a flight of stairs heading down.
Ha! She knew there was a lower part of these old barracks.
“You’re not here to snoop, Prov, find the loose circuit, then get the hell out.”
Goose bumps rose on her skin and there was a chill in the air—something didn’t sit well with her. Why the heck would a cosmetics and cream factory need a modern looking basement? She couldn’t keep the thought from circling her brain.
“Suck it up, woman; get your frickken job done.” Talking to herself was a bad habit she developed after spending way too much time alone.
She sighed and carefully navigated her way down four fights of narrow stairs.
Once reaching what she figured was the main corridor, she easily spotted the electrical conduits running along the ceiling and the row of flickering, dim lights… Hmm, they must have a back-up generator.