It takes the lady-like crashing of her spaceship for stubborn Molly to find love.
Attacked and forced to crash on a barbarian planet, Molly must come to terms with never leaving this world and allowing the chieftain to have his way with her, all whi...
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Demanding agony pulsed on her temple waking her from the abyss. It took a moment for Molly to realize that she was hanging upside down. Her face burned which meant she had been in this position too long to be healthy. She shot a glance at Amy, smothering a moan as a wave of dizziness coursed through her. Squeezing her eyes shut, she willed the dizziness to dissipate.
"Amy?" she rasped. "MARC, status."
"She's alive, just unconscious. Scan yourself with the med-sensor," MARC commanded her, and because she was stubborn, she ignored him.
"Planet's stats? Breathable air? Gravity?" She groaned, trying to twist herself to undo the buckle, but the nausea rose...dropped...along her throat, and she hurried to swallow the bile.
"Breathable? Compared to Jasmine, it's perfect. Tons more oxygen than on Earth. Gravity is a little lighter so mind your step." He huffed, sounding like an electrical part had caught alight.
"Gee, thanks for the advice." Closing her eyes, she drew in calming breaths. She was in pain, irritated, and sick to her stomach. Could he not do this now? "You best upload a few dialects, just in case."
"A few?"
"Yes, MARC, the most popular. Why is my request a difficult one to comprehend?" The pain intensified, and she lost her train of thought, as if a fog had arisen and engulfed her inner voice.
"While you took your sweet time crashing the ship, I scanned the surface, and they're equally popular."
Molly opened her eyes, then wished she hadn't. It worsened the agony, intensifying the throbbing until her heartbeat pulsed behind her left eye.
"Closest dialect then?" Silence met her question. "All right, upload all of them."
"But—"
"For the love of coffee, MARC, your power banks are draining. I need you to go into hiber. Don't friggin' argue with me, just do it."
"Yes, Molly."
She screamed as shards of fire pierced her skull. Heat burned her nostrils as she gasped in breaths, willing herself not to faint. Pressure built up, then in an instant it vanished. The earlier pain from her headache returned, now bearable in comparison. Drops of her blood splattered onto the console. She raised her hand to wipe her nose, almost smacking herself in the face.
"Gravity difference, remember," MARC said, sarcasm in his automated tone.
She grumbled, cursing the genius who had invented the MARC onboard computer and thought a sarcastic tone would be an improvement. She unstrapped and caught herself, hanging with ease by her one arm, then swung over to Amy to shake her shoulder.
"Hun, time to get a move on. We've gotta find a way out of this. Who knows if the Vargosh followed us down. If we stay here, they'll find us. Y'know, to finish the job."
