by Alana Khan
Dr. Evil looks tired and defeated.
“It’s awfully early in the morning to be so tired,” I jab, having no idea why I always needle him. Maybe because I’m so powerless in every other way and for some reason, this male doesn’t fight back.
“You’re not going to get to me today, Patient C,” he chides, feigning cheeriness.
“‘If you’re not part of the solution you’re part of the problem’,” I throw at him. “It’s an Earth quote.”
No response. I’m still hopeful that I can trigger his compassion—or maybe his guilt—and convince him to help us somehow.
“‘If you’re neutral in situations of injustice, you have chosen the side of the oppressor.’ That’s a quote from Earth’s great oracle, Facebook.”
“I’m just doing my job,” he defends.
Ohhh, can I explain the backstory of the Nazis and the Nuremberg trials? I have no time for that. “Some bad people on Earth were sentenced to death for using that as an excuse.”
He looks stricken. “Really?”
“Yeah. Death sentences. A lot of them. ‘Just following orders’ is not an acceptable justification.”
“Table.” He pats it with his palm, then grabs the speculum.
I realize I’m getting no joy from our usual banter, so I hop on the table and assume the position. Ninety seconds later my feet hit the floor, the procedure finished. “Is there a shower around here? I could be done in less than three Earth minutes?”
He sighs, his eyes flicking to a door at the other end of the exam room. “No more than three minimas, C. Shampoo is in the green bottle.”
When I’m back in my cell, I’m not surprised that Zar is gone. Not that I’d enjoy “gladiatoring” all day, but I do envy that he has something to do. Sitting in this 8x8 cell all day sucks the life right out of me.
I step to the front of the cell and stage whisper for Boxer Girl, I mean Grace. “Hey, Grace, I spoke with Zar, he’s going to talk to your cellmate today. Are things any better?”
“When I asked, he told me his name. He’s called Shadow. But otherwise, nothing’s changed.”
My cheeks start to burn in embarrassment, but I offer this handy little piece of advice, “When the Urluts make the announcement, you might want to um, prepare yourself for him.” When there’s no response I wonder if I need to elaborate.
“Yeah, I figured that out after the first day,” she finally chimes in, probably as bashful as I am.
“So he won’t talk to you at all?”
“No, not really.”
“Could you talk to him about escaping? Would he be open to fighting for our freedom?”
“I have no idea.”
“The Urluts look so much alike, but I think I can tell them apart. I’ve seen four of them plus the captain and the doc. Probably some more, but there couldn’t be that many. There are ten gladiators. We’ve got them outnumbered if everyone is willing to fight. Talk to Shadow.”
Long silence. “I’ll try, but he’s kind of a dead man walking.”
“Boy does that sounds familiar. Zar, too. We’ll be like that in time, probably soon, when we’re just burned-out hopeless husks. We’ve got to try to escape, and soon.”
“Okay, I’ll talk to him. Not promising anything though.”
I decide to exercise for a while. I’m not sure that five minutes of running in place is going to do much to prepare me for the upcoming battle, but it allows me to believe I’m doing something.
I start panting after maybe three minutes but console myself with the thought that maybe it’s the high altitude that’s making me so out of breath. High altitude—that thought makes me giggle a little. Then I have nothing to do but lay there and worry.
Anya! Anya, can you hear me?
It’s Tyree. In my mind. I bolt upright, looking for her. Surprised she’d be bold enough to sneak into this area during the day when all the lights are on. There’s no sign of her, though.
Yes, I hear you. Where are you?
I’m on the bridge, sitting at the captain’s feet.
Cool. I thought you said you weren’t very good at this. You’re getting more powerful.
I’ve been trying to reach you this way since we last spoke. It’s like a muscle that keeps getting stronger. But today it’s urgent. The captain was discussing the flight plan with his first mate.
Oh, mental note, add first mate to the list of people we have to kill.
Yes?
We arrive on Hyperion in eight days. It’s a notorious planet, known for its decadence, gladiator fights, slave auctions, and sex workers. They were talking about the um... breeding. They really just threw random males and females together to see if they could easily get any of you pregnant. You will definitely fetch higher prices if you carry a young. You know, two for one. But no one who is on Hyperion to buy slaves—or livestock as we’re considered—will care if you’re mated or not.
You’ll be sold to the highest bidder. You and Zar will be separated; all of you will be separated. I don’t know if that matters to you or not. But that’s what will happen.
I swallow repeatedly as I ponder this information for a moment and honestly have no idea how I feel about any of it, especially the idea of being separated from Zar. My mind still gets stuck on the pregnant part. I can’t fathom that possibility.
If we’re going to break out, Tyree continues, it had better be before we’re in orbit around that planet. When we get there, things will move fast. Slavery is legal in most parts of the known galaxy, but kidnapping is not. All you females are illegal. Captain Gren will want to sell you quickly, make some easy credits and dash into hyperspace before the authorities are any wiser.
I sigh heavily and wonder if she can “hear” it.
Crap. So we have seven days. My mind is processing like the world’s fastest computer as I crunch through as many angles as I can think of. I have no new and brilliant thoughts on how to overthrow this crew, but I certainly don’t want to be sold into a different kind of slavery on Hyperion.
As I see it, I continue, we have two major problems. The biggest of which are these delightful collars. We can’t take the first step if the collars are still activated. We’d all be dead before we’re one minute into the escape.
And the second?
The captain. I’m sure none of us knows how to fly this ship. How do we subdue him enough to get him to fly this ship where we want without killing him?
Long silence, and then it’s almost as if her voice lowers and she’s whispering in my mind. You know why he keeps me around, right? I crawl into the captain’s mind and lull him to sleep at night. What if I can get into his brain to make him do other things against his will? If I can do it without him catching on, perhaps I’m strong enough to get him to turn off the collars. Let me try a few things.
Watch yourself, Tyree. If he catches on to what you’re doing, he might kill you.
Zar
I dread seeing Anya as I’m escorted back to my cell with my comrades. I have no idea why she sat next to me on the cold, hard floor last night rather than lie down on the bed. I sense she wants something from me. My nostrils flare in anger. Doesn’t she realize I have nothing to give?
As the guards open my cell, I see her sit upright on the bed. If I’m not mistaken, she seems glad to see me, happily expectant. I must not understand human emotions—she couldn’t want to see me. I can’t believe she’d even want to look at me after all we’ve been forced to do together.
She looks so beautiful. Her brown hair is clean and shiny. The smell she calls filth is gone and I breathe in her personal scent. My cock takes notice, twitching in my loincloth. I’ve never been attracted to anyone I’ve been forced to couple with before. I realize how lucky that has been; I’ve had no connections to anyone since Pallatin. I remind myself that the last thing I need to do is get attached to another living thing.
I pick up the food bars the guards threw on the floor and toss half to her. She hands me half of her half.
“You need more than I do to survive,” she offers.
“You have to keep up your strength, too.”
“You’re twice as big as me and you work out all day. I’m right, you’re wrong, let’s never have this argument again, okay?” Her jaw is set in determination as she spears me with a hard gaze.
I nod and accept the food, then turn around to look at the gray wall so she can’t read my surprise. Not even Pallatin would have given me his portion of food. It’s everyone for himself in this world. Her behavior makes no sense; I simply can’t understand it.
She pats the bed next to her, and I join her there.
“Tyree says we'll arrive on Hyperion in eight days, “ she whispers. “If we’re to escape we have seven days to do it.”
“Anya, I’ve been captive, a slave, all my life. There is no escape. You shouldn’t get your hopes up; it will demoralize you even more when you realize how powerless you are. There’s a zero chance of your plan working. You realize that, right?”
“We have ten gladiators, right?”
My words didn’t even faze her. I nod dumbly.
“I’m thinking that the attack will have to start when the males are in the ludus and have access to weapons. What weapons do you have there?”
I realize there’s no reason to argue, she’ll just keep pushing for answers. I sigh. “The weapons are kept heavily locked. Behind the sealed door are wooden swords, lances, tridents, bows, and blunt-tipped arrows as well as large nets to disable the opponent.”
“Holy fuck. They have lasers, electronic collars, and sophisticated killing machines and our side has wooden swords…”
She looks completely dejected. I can see hope spooling out of her, her facial muscles loosening, her shoulders sagging.
I know it’s ridiculous, but I jump in, trying to give her something to believe in. “We are only watched by two guards, though. There are ten of us and two of them. We are trained warriors and might be able to overpower them. It’s just that the collars…”
“We might have a workaround for the collars.”
She tells me about Tyree and her abilities, making sure to keep her voice low, next to my ear.
“Okay...let’s just say that by this mental magic your friend can get the captain of the ship to disable the collars.” I can’t hide the dubious tone of my voice. “We rush the guards, overpower and kill them, take their weapons—they have three each. That gives ten gladiators six weapons and the passkeys to most places on the ship. We leave the ludus and work our way to the bridge, killing any overseers along the way. Let’s assume another miracle happens and we can just barge into the bridge. Then what?”
“These are good questions. We really have to get the strategy right. I have so much intel to gather.”
Her jaw is firm, eyes focused on the ceiling as she ponders. As I’m working various escape scenarios in my head I’m thoroughly distracted by the delicate curve of her throat. Sometimes her beauty strikes me completely out of nowhere, surprising me as it does right now. But it’s not just how she looks that attracts me—it’s her hope, her determination, her strength.
“Tyree can help me figure out exactly how many beings are on this ship, what their jobs are, and where they are when the gladiators are in the ludus. Seriously Zar, I know ten gladiators can overpower the two guards. With laser weapons, your contingent has a good chance against the others. And every additional guard you kill probably nets you one or two more weapons. I think we just might be able to pull this off.”
I nod as she speaks, feeling a lightness of spirit I haven’t felt since Pallatin made me laugh. Could this be...hope?
No. I can’t allow this. I won’t dash her little dream of escape—that would be cruel. But I can’t allow myself to share in her delusion—that would be stupid.
Anya
He looks so skeptical. I mean, I think it’s taking everything he has not to openly scoff at me.
My racing thoughts of escape are totally hijacked by how handsome he is. I was never really attracted to the perfect movie star fantasy of male perfection. In the past, I've been drawn not only to the antisocial bad boy (come on, who hasn’t?) but also the occasional distracted computer geek as well.
I like different, and boy does he qualify. I’m also drawn to his quiet strength. Perhaps I’m crazy, but I feel something developing between us. I enjoy his company. I look forward to his return from the ludus every day. I sigh heavily; frankly, I don’t know how I feel about him.
We’re still sitting on the bed; my feet are dangling off the edge, his flat on the floor. “Did you talk to Shadow?”
He nods, frowning a little. “Shadow is…” He struggles to find the words. “Shadow learned to cut himself off from his feelings. I don’t think he realizes he’s being harsh or rough. I actually think he believes he’s doing her a favor. You know, getting the mating accomplished so they don’t punish her.”
I cock my head, not understanding what is so freaking hard to comprehend about physically hurting someone, or wanting to be tender.
“I explained things to him. He’s not stupid. I believe he’ll try harder to…be gentle. ”
I reach out to touch Zar’s arm. I’m slow and soft, I don’t want to trigger another disappearing act like yesterday. I just want to connect with him, not have sex.
“So how’d you do it? You cut yourself off from your feelings just like Shadow did. But you seem hyperaware of being gentle. You’ve both been hurt. How is it that although you’ve both been through so much, you respond so differently from each other?”
Zar
“I don’t know,” I hedge. I’m not good at this—talking and examining myself and my emotions. I’ve spent my whole life avoiding those things. Why is this female so full of dracking questions?
But I try. I try to search myself. It feels important to Anya, so perhaps it should be important to me.
Like a bolt of lightning, I realize I do know why we’re different. I’m completely cognizant of why I’m “hyperaware” as Anya called it. Now I have to decide if I want to divulge it to her.
I know what Anya sees when she looks at me. She pays attention to my body. I smell her arousal. I think she likes the way I’m built. Looking at her musculature, I can only imagine I’m bigger and stronger than males of her species. I’m pretty sure she’s attracted to my strength.
If I tell her why I’m so capable of tuning in to her feelings, I’m pretty sure it will repel her. Part of me doesn’t want to disgust her. Part of me wants her to be drawn to me, excited by me, to admire my power.
But another part realizes it would be easier for both of us if she was repulsed by me. If I disgust her then maybe this ridiculous, unhealthy, destructive attraction would end. Severing this bond would benefit us both. It would kill this dangerous hope building in my breast. It would make it easier for her when we’re separated on Hyperion—a fate that is all but guaranteed.
Before I can second guess my decision, I decide to tell her the truth. This will instantly kill her interest.
“I know what it’s like to be raped.” There, it’s out. I want to annihilate what’s between us. I want to scorch the soil so nothing can spring back up between us again. I’ll tell her even more details. I’ll keep talking until she can never look at me the same way. I’ll tell her things she’ll never be able to forget, images in her mind she’ll never be able to unsee.
“I know what it’s like to have things forced on me. My owners have sold me for the night, sold me for days and weeks and even months. I’ve been forced to pleasure males and females and couples. I’ve been forced to be the receiver and the giver. I’ve been tied down…”
“Please Zar, that’s enough.”
“No, it’s not enough Anya. Don’t you want to know more?” I have no idea why I feel the need to continue. It’s like going in for the kill in the arena. I’ve never enjoyed that part of what I’ve been forced to do, but now I can’t stop. It’s imperative that I slay the attraction betw
een us. Slay it with my words.
“I’ve been forced to…”
“Please stop! Please.” She’s begging.
I find the courage to glance at her. She’s shocked, I can tell. She’s not even trying to keep her face blank. She’s in pain. If I read her correctly, she’s in misery. Maybe I’ll be lucky and she’ll stop with the questions and leave me alone.
She turns toward me, bending her knee which grazes my thigh so she has a better angle to see me. She leans slightly toward me, captures my face in her palms, and simply holds my gaze with hers. Thankfully she’s silent. No words, no questions, no platitudes. She simply shares the silence with me. I thought I’d be embarrassed to reveal what I just did. No woman wants her male to be weak. What I just admitted to her exposed the depth of my deficiencies.