Claimings Tails and Other Alien Artifacts Read online

  Claimings, Tails, and

  Other Alien Artifacts

  Lyn Gala

  Copyright © January 2013 by Lyn Gala

  All rights reserved. This copy is intended for the original purchaser of this e-book ONLY. No part of this e-book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without prior written permission This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy.

  Editor: Kierstin Cherry

  Cover Artist: Mina Carter, artwork edited by Lyn Gala

  Distributed by Smashwords

  Originally Published in the United States of America by Loose Id LLC

  This e-book is a work of fiction. While reference might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Warning: This e-book contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language and may be considered offensive to some readers. This book is for sale to adults ONLY, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.

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  DISCLAIMER: Please do not try any new sexual practice, especially those that might be found in our BDSM/fetish titles without the guidance of an experienced practitioner. The author will not be responsible for any loss, harm, injury or death resulting from use of the information contained in any titles.

  Author’s Note

  This is dedicated to the readers who gave this universe life. I expected my odd little tale of a tail and its gentle giant to vanish into the mists with no more than a few odd WTFs in the rare review. Instead I have found readers who share my view of love. Showing love trumps saying the words, physical actions are more important than physical attractiveness, and true love exists in impossible corners. Thank you for supporting our guys. I have to give a special shout out to the Patreon supporters who make it possible for me to pursue my passions. Alexis, Beth, Courtland, Shannon, Pim, Nicole, Dragon, Alyssa, Cristal, Ninna, Vonn, Charlotte, Suzu, Simone, Elizabeth, Jennifer, Jeff, Michele, Tracy, Samantha, Mandy, Sadie, Maryam, Marnie, Thothkristen, Kristi, Amber, SJ, and Shawn keep the muses fed and healthy even when life conspires against them.

  Table of Contents

  Author’s Note

  Chapter 1, bonus material from Prelude to Claimings

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4, the beginning of the classic Claimings tale

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Bonus: Asdria’s Fears

  Bonus: First Sight

  Bonus: Slow Attractions

  Bonus: Headstrong

  Common Rownt Sayings

  About Lyn Gala

  Other titles by Lyn Gala

  Chapter One

  As he walked up the steps to the trading plaza, Liam spotted the huge trader already set up on the side of the plaza opposite the entrance. It was prime territory. Liam’s trade goods, sent from Earth, had been moved to a secondary table.

  Liam had no idea if that was normal or not, but he had no intention of arguing with a nine-foot-tall alien. So he moved to his new spot and started arranging the copper pots and boxes so potential customers could see them.

  Prarownt was nothing like Liam had expected. He’d been a kid in California when the first Earth ships had made contact with another alien species—the Anla. Early reports had made contact missions sound exciting and dangerous. By the time Liam had joined the war effort, humans had found the Rownt, and the early trickle of bootleg videos showing the oversized aliens and their odd looks and rural lifestyle had caught humanity’s attention. It was like finding out that dinosaur-turtle men were alive and living like the Amish. So when Liam had received his transfer to the linguistic division as a tech assigned to facilitate trading, he’d expected to explore an alien race. He’d wanted adventure and maybe he had a few fantasies about making some grand discovery about these reptilian aliens. Linguistics might not be the most exciting field, but he’d hoped to advance human knowledge or engage in debate.

  Instead, the assignment included a lot of walking through wild fields and standing around trading tables waiting for someone to buy his goods. Rownt didn’t exactly engage in small talk, so Liam had no opportunity to make any grand revelations. It was boring—like the front, only without the intermittent periods of utter terror and imminent death.

  Luckily, Liam liked boring.

  Standing in the trading plaza, Liam could enjoy the songs of native birds and the rustling of leaves. One songbird kept repeating a complex set of whistles and chirps. Trellised pillars held up a wooden canopy that shaded the area. Vines climbed the latticework until the whole structure seemed almost alive. The other Rownt sharing the plaza with Liam had a table full of various pots and ceramics. He stood in front of his trading table with his tail wrapped around his leg and his eyes half closed. His skin had the soft purple hue Liam considered normal. He’d sometimes spot a darker Rownt, and on one occasion had seen an alien so pale it was nearly humanish in color, but the vast majority of Rownt had a fairly consistent color.

  Liam leaned against the low wall that marked the edge of the trading plaza and pulled out his computer. He opened one of the midcourse grammar tutorials on sentence construction and started rereading the information. He’d passed his tests already or Command wouldn’t have approved his reassignment, but that didn’t mean Liam could actually speak the Rownt language. When Craig, the other trader, had first brought Liam to the square to introduce him to the first Grandmother who happened to pass by, Liam had stumbled through a few Rownt phrases. All his hard-won knowledge of Rownt language had evaporated under the stare of one of those enormous females. But Liam had never given up, and he wouldn’t back away from the challenge of speaking the Rownt language.

  Hours passed. The sun slowly shifted in the sky so that a ray of light bisected Liam’s table. Liam loosened the top two buttons of his uniform as the heat started to build. Liam’s eyes nearly crossed as he, for the fourth time, studied the tritransitive structure of Rownt verbs. Verbs conjugated according to who performed an action, on whom the action was performed, the object involved, and the attitude intended by the doer. But no matter how much Liam cared about the proper conjugation of verbs, his attention span had a limit.

  For a time, he tried pacing the trading plaza and watching the few Rownt who wandered this far from the center of town. However, every time Liam passed near the other trader, the Rownt watched. Liam had the feeling he was breaking some social taboo no one had explained. Craig had given him very little information on correct behavior, just issuing vague promises that the Rownt seemed fairly hard to offend.

  Rather than risk finding a way to offend his hosts, Liam headed back to his table, picked up his computer, and started one of the technically against-the-regs games Craig had loaded. For a while, he amused himself with a simple matching game that required him to figure out codes on a security system before cops showed up to arrest his game character. Liam wondered what Rownt would think of the game, but he had no w ay to know.

  Liam looked up when a new Rownt stepped into the plaza. He was smaller than most of the aliens, but he was still taller than the average human being. This new trader walked to the other side where the potter had set up.

  He walked past the potter’s table, stopping several times to study pieces. Each time he silently returned the piece to its place, not shifting any toward the circle marked on the table that indicated goods to be traded. After the new Rownt examined or at least touched every single pot, he headed for Liam’s table.

  The first time a Rownt had walked toward him, Liam had felt a cold and panicky sort of fear. They were huge. If a Rownt decided to lose his temper, he could break Liam into tiny, bloody pieces. However, in the time Liam had been coming to the trading plaza, he had never seen a Rownt show the least bit of emotion.

  So the fear had faded into a softer sort of wariness. He kept track of the Rownt near him, but he had stopped expecting an attack. He also didn’t expect a trade. Three other Rownt had come and looked at Liam’s wares before buying pots. Liam had asked Lieutenant Spooner to request text goods, but Liam still had copper boxes on his table.

  This new trader picked up the small text page Liam had set out. Formal trading precluded speaking, so Liam had typed a short explanation of the types of metals and the processes used to create the decoration. Every trader who came to the plaza gravitated to the text. They studied it so intently that Liam got the feeling they regretted leaving it behind. One trader had even put the page into the trading circle, but Liam had been so shocked he had failed to react, and the trader had left. The informational text definitely got more interest than the actual bowls.

  This new trader headed for the corner of Liam’s table where a particularly large copper box stood, and his trajectory brought him uncomfortably close. Liam tried to stand his ground, but at the last second, he flinched back. His hip hit the table, and he blurted out a sharp, “Fuck” as copper tumbled to the tile floor.

  Immediately he froze. Speaking in the trading plazas was forbidden—a cultural taboo. Liam held his breath, expecting one of the Rownt to grab him and rush him out of the space at any second. He would be disgraced. Command would send him back to the front to die. A thousand fears and thoughts clanged around in Liam’s head until he couldn’t think straight. It took him several minutes to realize the two Rownt only watched him with large eyes.

  Taking their lack of action as a sort of forgiveness, Liam dropped to his knees and began to gather up the copper. He froze again as the new Rownt crouched down beside him and picked up a fallen box. He turned the piece over in his hand, examining the decorated top before he set it on the table.

  Liam could only stare at the enormous hands. Rownt didn’t help each other, or that was what Command said anyway. Rownt were one-hundred-percent mercenary, which is why they had not technologically developed as fast as humans. They had solar panels and a power grid. And clearly they could refine metals since that was Liam’s main job—obtaining ship-grade metals. However, they were still largely agrarian, living in small villages surrounded by farms. Their lack of cooperation precluded them from forming larger cities or industrial centers, and if Liam believed Command, there was no reason for a Rownt to help him pick up his goods.

  When the Rownt stood, Liam grabbed the last few copper bowls and scrambled to his feet. His nerves were frayed by this unexpected change in behavior, and he was almost vibrating with a need to do something. Ideally he would like to run all the way back to base and ask Lieutenant Spooner to explain this new behavior. However, Liam was not only a sergeant but a linguistic technician. He’d earned his promotion, and now he had to prove himself worthy or the military would be very happy to take his shiny new rank and kick him back to the front.

  Indecision kept him standing beside his table until the Rownt pulled trading tokens out of a bag. He dropped five coins down on the table and watched Liam. Relief washed though Liam. He knew how to handle a trade.

  Cautiously, Liam picked up each of the coins the trader left in the circle and used his computer to scan the image carved into the metal. Unlike human worlds, Rownt didn’t have the concept of currency, so each coin represented a specific trade good. Liam checked the database to make sure he understood what this trader offered before he decided how many brass containers to offer in return.

  Three of the coins were for bitter berries. The support staff had threated to murder anyone who brought more berries back to base. The food shortages caused by the war meant that any food earned in trade had to be used. Lieutenant Spooner could send it to the trading square, but if it didn’t sell in a day or two, the food would be sent to the kitchen if it was edible. However, everyone on base agreed that bitter berries tasted so vile they’d rather starve. Liam was almost sure the soldiers had threatened and intimidated the support staff long before Corporal Smitty had pinned Liam into a corner and explained in vivid detail what he would do if Liam showed up with even one basket of the things.

  Liam pushed the three coins out of the trading circle and back toward the trader to indicate his lack of interest. The potter made a strange hum, his voice quavering, but when Liam looked up, neither Rownt appeared to have any expression, so Liam couldn’t tell what that meant. He didn’t remember seeing any mention of trills or hums in the database of Rownt language either. This was getting stranger.

  A quick check of the image on second coin, and the computer returned a description of a dry and almost tasteless nut that was full of protein. Liam put it in the trading spot and then turned his attention to the last coin. He recognized the markings although he double-checked the computer anyway.

  Since Liam couldn’t speak in the trading square, he fingered the coin for ore as though reluctant to put it down. He was fairly sure this Rownt would understand his interest in that trade. So far, Liam hadn’t gotten any of the metals he was supposed to be trading for. Lieutenant Spooner assured him that Rownt were slow to trade with new partners and that it could be a number of months before he brought any ore. Command expected a difficult transition. However, it made Liam nervous every time Craig came back from a trade with a coin for ore. Liam kept waiting for Lieutenant Spooner or Commander Dorson to declare him unfit. Luckily Spooner was supportive, and Liam had never even seen Dorson after the commander greeted the new arrivals.

  Liam put the ore marker in the trading spot and then pushed most of the copper off to one side, away from the trading circle. The potter made that strange vibrating hum again, and Liam feared he had made a mistake. Part of him wanted to push more copper back onto the table, but if this Rownt had ore markers, he could afford to give Liam more than one. Liam’s heart pounded and his mouth was so dry he couldn’t swallow. He wanted that ore marker. He needed to be able to prove to someone that he could do his job. However, he waited. Rownt valued patience. After a second, the potter retreated to the table with his wares, and then it was Liam and this one alien staring at each other over copper pots. It was surreal.

  The trader studied Liam’s offering before putting out more food tokens and a marker with something that looked like a club. Liam checked his computer and found the food offering was a type of fruit. Unfortunately, no one had made notes on whether it was any good. As a soldier, Liam knew one hard and fast rule—do not piss off the people who controlled the food supply. Rather than risk bringing back bitter or sour fruit he pushed the tokens away. He couldn’t find the symbol for the clublike marker, and that alone made it interesting. Bringing back new information on the Rownt vocabulary had to be at least as valuable as ore. Liam kept it and pushed two copper bowls back into the trading space.

  The Rownt trader added more nuts, and Liam added a large box but removed a smaller bowl. The trading continued that way for some time. Liam secured some fibrous root vegetables that the staff had reviewed positively, and when the Rownt added another ore marker, Liam couldn’t risk losing his first real victory. He was going to bring back two shares of ore and information on a new trade good that m atched the club symbol on the unfamiliar token. Liam was almost lightheaded with emotion. Glee and relief and gratitude to this new trader all curled around each other until Liam wanted to throw his arms around the Rownt’s shoulder and hug the stuffing out of him.

  And if he tried, the Rownt would probably gut him, so Liam contained his enthusiasm and flipped over the trading coin that rested at the edge of the table to indicate he accepted the trade.

  Then the Rownt bowed. Liam had seen Rownt bow to each other, especially to the enormous Grandmothers who made up the ruling council, but none had ever offered him the courtesy. Liam carefully imitated the gesture, and the potter gave a third trill. This time the new Rownt trader raised his lip in an unmistakable snarl, and Liam froze. If these two fought, Liam was going to be the small breakable object in the middle.

  Instead the new trader turned and headed out of the square.

  Liam felt a little moment of panic. This was the first Rownt to trade him ore, and he had helped Liam pick up his fallen bowls. Liam didn’t want the trader to walk away forever. He followed the trader out, standing on the top step so he could almost see into the trader’s eyes.

  “You purchased more than you can carry alone,” Liam said. Simple statements of fact were the safest form of communication. The training vids and Lieutenant Spooner had both pounded that into Liam’s head. Rownt and humans didn’t live in the same emotional landscape, so attempting to use any value statements or discuss thoughts or emotions would fail. Liam had no way of saying he wanted to trade with this Rownt again. He couldn’t speak of his appreciation for all the trader had offered him. He could only state the obvious.

  “I shall return later,” the trader said.

  “I would be happy to help carry them,” Liam said. Halfway through the statement he realized he had misplaced his predicate and probably sounded like an idiot, but hopefully the Rownt could figure out what he meant. Liam then hurried to add the one phrase he had practiced with Lieutenant Spooner so much that he could say it in his sleep. “I am Liam, trader of the human base.”