Claimed: Unchartered Territory by Nia K. Foxx

appeared to be a bed until her bare feet came in contact with a step. She looked through the sheer fabric to the room around her. Okay, it was a little grandiose. Peering over the side she noted three steps leading from the elevated bed.
    So she wasn’t dead, and she obviously wasn’t on Juno, so where in the universe was she?
    I must be part cat because it looks like I’ve escaped another brush with death, she couldn’t help but think as memories of her unexpected journey through the wormhole and her encounter with the giant, grunting men on her ship rushed back to her.
    The aliens must have brought her to their planet. She took a deep breath of precious oxygen and smiled. So it was habitable. She counted herself lucky for that but her mind quickly jumped to the next thought. Was she a prisoner and this room some sort of holding cell?
    Parting the guazy white material she made her way down the steps into a room that rivaled any she’d ever seen. She might not have spent any time in prison but this certainly didn’t look like one she’d ever seen in movies. The walls were the color of burnt sienna and seemed to be adorned with a myriad of art work. Curiously, she wandered the room taking in the alien artistry. As strange as it seemed Dallas was certain some pieces looked familiar. She paused longer in front of one very recognizable painting.
    Starry Nights, Vincent van Gogh, her mind made the instant connection with the piece of art.
    It somehow made sense on the alien planet but still begged the question, how did aliens have replica of human artwork? Her mind tried to reconcile everything experienced or seen since her first contact with the aliens. They were obviously a civilized race, to some degree, and had spared her life. No complaints there. But what was their purpose, was she guest, prisoner or something else? She shook off the latter thought, refusing to let her mind to dwell on an ancient Twilight Zone episode where humans were being harvested as a food supply for aliens.
    One thing was for certain the outfit she wore felt more harem girl, circa Star Trek , and less prison bitch. Dallas tried not to think about who or what had changed her out of her uniform and into the skimpy outfit absent her undergarments. The material, criss-crossed over her breasts and was secured at her lower back. A second garment wrapped low on her hips exposing her flat midriff. Thankfully the semi-sheer material flowed to her ankles swirling around her as she walked but surprisingly not tripping her up.
    “Beautiful?” she muttered to herself fingering the distraction that took her attention away from her skimpy attire to something that resembled giant wings hanging on a wall. The material was soft to the touch and she couldn’t help but wonder if they had once adorned the back of some type of animal. She contemplated it a little longer before her attention was easily diverted to what appeared to be a large shuttered door flanked by two windows with the same coverings.
    Eager to see the world beyond she practically ran to the openings. Her excitement was short lived. She searched for a handle or some other means of opening but found nothing useful. Nudging the door didn’t seem to work either. It didn’t even have the decency to budge from her efforts. She got the same results from the coverings over both windows.
    It might not look like a traditional prison but she got the sinking feeling her movements would be limited.
    A noise behind her caused Dallas to jump suddenly, turning in time to see as two women entered the room followed by a man who made the tall pair look like children. She tensed as she assessed the large male figure, broad, muscular shoulders and chest exposed save the wide blue band that crossed his torso. An intricate array of tattoos wound around onside of his torso and adjacent arm. She would have taken more time to look at the design pattern if not for being distracted by the familiar weapon holstered on his