by C. Y. Croc
After fighting through the agony, my eyes begin to focus again and I’m vaguely aware of a humming noise surrounding me. Hustle and bustle is going on all around me as outlines of bodies walk past. Finally, I’m able to focus and I realise I’m in an outside market of sorts, and I’m astonished when I realise the bodies passing by are of a completely different species to the rat-faced aliens.
They are humanoid in stature, with two arms and two legs but although their long hands resemble humans, they have three fingers and a thumb instead of four. Yet, their feet are completely different. They are elongated versions of a camel’s hoofs, but whereas a camel’s hoof has two toes, these humanoids have three toes and a heel, which seems pointless because it balances about two inches off the ground.
I concentrate on the faces that quickly walk past. Hairless, they have large upturned almond-shaped eyes twice the size of mine and a large flat forehead topped with an upturned crescent-shaped bone. The males’ bones being much larger than the female ones. Either side of their pointy ears hanging down over their shoulders are thick skin tendrils that are as wide as my wrist are, coming from their heads they slim down to thumb size at the bottom. If I could move my jaw it would be scrapping the ground right now.
The grating voice of one of the rat-faced aliens calls out behind me. “I have a very rare species here for sale, a male Human. Perfect for using with your laborious jobs!”
A couple of men stop in front of me and laugh. “Ha! He looks fit to drop!”
My abductor is quick to defend the accusation. “No, I assure you he has many a doons work in him.”
“Prove it! Release him from the freeze ball. Let us see how strong he is.”
A second later the light encasing me disappears and I drop to the ground on all fours, weaker than a newborn kitten. The alien men crease over and erupt with laughter, drawing the attention of the other patrons. Their combined laughter ignites a cluster of lost memories that invade my head simultaneously, all too much for me to disentangle and comprehend. My brain feels like it’s going to explode and I grab my head and begin yelling like a man possessed.
“Aaarrgghh!”
“He’s worthless, look at him. Worse than a feral conchibus!”
The rat-faced alien sounds desperate. “No, don’t walk away! I’ll let you have him at a good price... Six million credos!”
I’ve fallen onto my side on the ground and I watch the two men shake their heads already beginning to walk away. “I wouldn’t even give you one million for him.”
My vision is periodically hazing over and I watch the males take a few steps. My eyes are trying to refocus when a female with green skin and radiant violet eyes steps forward from nowhere. She stoops in front of me and looks me over from head to toe. The two males stop walking and look back over to her, sniffing the air. I watch her mesmerised as she looks up to the rat-faced alien standing behind me.
“I’ll give you three-million for him.”
“Four and he’s yours.”
She hesitates and draws in a slow breath shaking her head. “I can’t go that high, I would use all of my spare credos.”
The two alien men stop, turn back, and take a step forward. “You must be joking female. Why would you even contemplate wasting a single credo on that useless male, especially being a worthless Human?” I watch her bristle and then stare into her eyes hypnotized; it’s as if they have turned to liquid fire at the male’s comment. “Come and be my mate, you’ll not need to worry about credos then!”
She stands erect and turns to him, her body language hostile. “I wouldn’t look your way if you were the last male left on this planet.” She turns back to rat-face, “I’ll give you three and a half and no more and you will help load him onto my dray!”
The two males’ faces are screwed up and incensed, and the one who’d spoken spits a reply to the violet-eyed woman. “You’ll be sorry. Let’s see how brave your words are the next time we meet!”
The woman gives him a sweeping look of disgust and then turns her back on him. The two men turn around and stride away, barging through the crowd.
The woman pulls a backpack from her back and begins foraging inside it until she finds what she’s looking for and pulls out a small drawstring bag. She proceeds to count out some small flat rectangle grey objects and throws them back in the backpack, then hands the bag to rat-face.
“It’s all there.”
“I’ll just double-check.”
The woman sighs impatiently. “At least get your minions to load him up while you’re counting!”
I hear rat-face make a click of distaste with his mouth and once again I’m immersed in light and hovering off the ground towards a cart. I’m placed down on my back and the light vanishes, and as my eyes begin to glaze over again, the last thing I see before I pass out are two swirling violet pools.
Saaxxatee
FLINGING MY EYELIDS open I shoot up in my bed covered in a thin layer of perspiration. I’ve woken up hot again and I feel like I might burst into flames at any moment. Swinging my legs out of bed I stumble over to a bottle of hydration fluid on the table and fill my mug. I gulp down the contents as if a single drop of liquid hasn’t touched my lips in wids. When it’s gone I fill my mug again and drink the refill just as quickly.
My head is thick and muggy and my heart rate is elevated but I don’t feel sick...just...different, and this new unwelcome bodily state has been plaguing me every doon for the last cyc, causing me to have restless nights which in turn make me tire quicker, so now the doons are getting longer as I try to catch up, and the work around my property is now starting to pile up. Whatever this ailment is that’s taken hold of me, it had better hurry up and run its course because with only me to do the work around here, even if I get sick like now, I still have to grit my teeth and get on with it.
Bupple raises his sleepy head from the mat at the foot of my bed and lazily opens his eyes. Yawning, he stands on his eight legs and stretches the four in front and shifts his weight to the front ones to stretch out the legs behind.
“Are you hungry maley?”
He just stares at me and the spines along his spine ripple his response showing me how happy he is at my question. His huge silver eyes are trained intently on mine and my insides melt.
With Bupple supplying me with companionship and all the love I need, I’ve never given any thought to finding a mate and having nips, and from the males I’ve come into contact with at the sooq and the ones I’ve encountered when they sometimes come out here to buy livestock from me, I’m not at all impressed by what I’ve seen and certainly don’t feel like I’m missing out.
I head outside to my shimmer with Bupple close at my heels, but then he spots a whiffleet and begins to chase it around, zigzagging across the ground in front of the dwelling.
Normally I don’t take my shimmer until the day’s work is complete but with the amount of perspiring I’ve been doing this past cyc I have no choice, and my routine now calls for a shimmer both morning and night because the odour I’ve been emitting is not my usual smell and although it’s not unpleasant, I’m not used to smelling any other way other than I how usually do.
I rack my brains to try and think of the reason or source to why it’s happening. Have I been eating differently since I began with these symptoms? The only new thing added to my diet is lingo berries, and that’s only because they’ve come into season. Maybe it’s not an illness I’ve got, maybe the berries just don’t agree with me anymore, after all, the last time I’d eaten any was last yana. My body could be trying to eliminate them from me anyway it can. I lift my arm and smell my pit. Eliminating them through my pores by the smell of it. I must cease eating them at once.
Stripping my clothes I stand naked for a moment taking in the view of my land, luxuriating in the feel of the cool breeze as it brushes against my clammy skin. I smile contentedly. I’m secretly proud of what I’ve achieved, more so because I’ve been on my own since I was barely a nipseak. Alone
I’ve managed the lands of my parent’s property, grown my own sustenance, and making a small living from the livestock I’ve raised and sold—unheard of on my planet for anyone other than males to do. I fought against all odds and took care of myself, a lone female in a male’s world.
Thinking about it now, maybe the elders of my clan were a little too eager to let me be a ward unto myself, they wouldn’t have let any other full-blooded Kimanka female in my position from their clan live alone. My heritage most certainly had something to do with it. My jaw ticks. I’m beginning to question everything about the politics and ethics of my clan these last few wids. It’s as if my brain has suddenly woken up to my situation and surroundings.
The shimmer’s temperature is tepid, perfect for the way I’m feeling. With skin still a little too hot to the touch I close my eyes and let the jets rain down on me and lose myself to the rhythmic hum as the liquid pulses out.
“Saaxxatee, I need some chigmuts—four of them!”
Startled I open my eyes to see Boraf, one of the males from the township sitting astride a ewit, a silent creature usually only ridden when out hunting. I turn away from his leering gaze and grab my night shift, hurriedly pulling it down over my wet body. It snags on my damp skin doubling the effort and time needed for the task.
“A warning of your approach would have been appreciated, Boraf. You can see that I am not in a fit state to receive customers yet!”
He dismounts the ewit and struts over to me slowly, raking his eyes over me. My damp shift has glued to my mambas and I instinctively wrap my arms across them to shield them from his unwelcome lascivious glare. He stops abruptly and lifts his chin, sniffing the air, his nostrils flaring, and I watch in astonishment as his pupils dilate. A lecherous grin forms on his thin lips and I get a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach.
“Something smells good!”
He takes a couple of steps towards me and Bupple suddenly appears, his normally soothed skin spines now erect and pointing in Boraf’s direction, a low warning hiss emanates in the back of his throat. Boraf stops in his tracks and narrows his eyes menacingly at Bupple.
I keep my voice even and controlled. “I suggest you go and help yourself to the chigmuts today. You know where they’re kept!”
His eyes lift off Bupple for a node to glance at me but then swiftly return to him. He pulls a small cloth sack from his belt and throws it to the ground at my feet.
“That should be more than enough credos to pay for them.”
He turns his back to me and leads the ewit away towards the byre where I rear the chigmuts. I feel my shoulders drop a couple of inches when he’s out of sight and then stoop down to Bupple’s level to pet him under his chin, grabbing the sack as I do so.
“Good maley Bupple, there is something off about him today and I’m glad you spotted it too.”
Going back into my dwelling I lock the door and quickly change into my working clothes. I fill Bupple’s feeding bowl with strips of dried chigmut meat and then pulling off a handful of cemec dough bread I stand by the window biting off pieces, eating it there while I wait until I see Boraf emerge from the chigmut byre. When he does I quickly count how many he has before he shoves them into the basket on the side of the ewit. Satisfied he’s not taken more than he’s paid for, I’m just about to turn away from the window when I see him look back at my dwelling. I move my body to the side out of sight but keep my eyes trained on him. His face has an odd look. I don’t like it one bit and it sends a shiver up and down my spine.
As soon as he’s completely out of sight I grab a canister of hydration fluid and head for the door, and as usual, Bupple is close at my heels. I feel weary even before I begin my doons work but I still have so much to do to prepare my lands and livestock for the imminent change in seasons, sinno season is closing in fast, and with it, the unmanageable and unpredictable winds. If I don’t get all of my jobs done before it comes, I can say goodbye to next yana’s credos.
I spend the morning fixing holes in the byres and checking the roofs for loose fixings. Everything must be held down fast. The winds are only here for a few cycs but in that time they wreak havoc and can cause an immense amount of damage, so it’s imperative that even the smallest problem is repaired.
The morning is quickly over and I’m disheartened when I realise I’ve only worked on two byres. This strange ailment that has taken hold of me has slowed me down threefold and I’m disgusted that I’m working more like the dainty females from the township than the strong independent female that I’ve evolved into. More than once I’ve found myself sitting down for a rest, mopping my brow and fanning myself.
I have a delivery of pijjits to take to the township this afternoon and just one final job that must be done before I go. I finish securing the last shingle into place on the byre that I’m on and then jump down and reluctantly head for the building with a lower storeroom I’m growing my new rooted parnifs in. It’s a job I’ve been putting off for the last two wids and if I don’t get it done by the end of next wid I can kiss goodbye to potentially earning five million credos next yana because if I don’t cover a doorway to the underground storage room, the winds will ruin all of the upturned leaves that need to be kept in a dark and damp environment.
When I reach the entrance to the lower storage room, I stand staring at the huge stone circle disc I use to cover it, with hands on my hips like it’s a piece of art and not the job I’ve been putting off for wids. Assessing it, I think about which is the best way to go about moving it, almost willing it to move with my eyes, but of course, it just sits there. Last cyc, this job would have been tough but I’d have gritted my teeth and done it. That’s why I’d put it off, thinking I’d leave the harder jobs until the last minute. Little did I know I’d succumb to a mysterious energy-sapping virus.
All I have to do is roll the damn thing along the length of the wall until it covers the doorway, how hard can it be? I psych myself up and jut my jaw out in determination, then putting my hands in place I dig my heels into the ground and push.
I can feel the veins sticking out of my forehead, the cords of muscles bulging in my neck, as well as the burn in my shoulders and arm muscles. It doesn’t budge so I try a different tack and put my back against it. Five mids in I know I’m defeated, and slump to the ground with my back still against it panting.
“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” Bupple appears from nowhere, drawn by the distress in my voice. I run my finger up and down his spiny ridge and he makes a purring sound. “It’s okay Bupple. I’m not mad at you—just myself. This means I’m going to have to hire help, and you know how I feel about asking males for help. Especially the males from my clan.” I kick at the ground with my heel, angry at myself. “Right! Let’s get the pijjits loaded onto the back of the dray and then it’s the dreaded trip to the sooq.
MY STOMACH BEGINS TO turn over before the sooq even comes into view. It’s the sound of so many people together in one place that unsettles me and like always when I hear the hubbub, I fight to keep the traumatic images of the last time I saw my parents out of my head.
As if sensing my distress, Bupple comes over to me from his viewing place on the dray and snuggles down by my side, rubbing his flattened needles into my leg. I stroke my hand along them taking comfort in their softness when flat. But there is no purr this time. So close to the hustle and bustle of the sooq, like me, he’s tense and on high alert.
Driving my dray through the crowds to get to the stall where I need to deliver the pijjits, I’m unnerved by the number of males looking my way. I normally elicit the odd stare from one or two males, more out of curiosity than attraction, but today the unwelcome stares have eyes filled with something else, and if I didn’t know any better I’d say it was desire.
I finally pull up by the side of my buyer’s stall. It belongs to an elderly male named Niddoo to whom I’ve supplied pijjits to for the last decadion, a male I feel indebted to for the way he helped me when I was a nipseak. I jump down from the dray and
begin unloading the screaming pijjits.
“Saaxxatee, you’re here at last. I was expecting you here a hinc ago. I have eight orders to fore-fill but I’ve had to tell them to call back.” He walks towards me eying me up and down. “I can see by the state of you you’ve had a busy morning.”
A Taraquet’s grating voice draws my attention and I look over to see three of them holding something on the ground in a freeze light, but with so many people milling about it’s impossible to see what it is.
“What’s happening over there Niddoo?”
He waves his hand in the Taraquet’s direction. “Pah, I had word from the committee that Taraquets applied for a doon’s trade licence to sell some poor mistreated male they’ve acquired. I’m not sure what species, but I’ve heard it’s a prisoner they’ve purchased from a warden off Prismn, someone who was too mentally damaged to do his time there. But who knows what to believe.” He takes a step closer and sniffs me as he hands me payment for the pijjits. “My sense of smell is not what it used to be but you are very malodourous my dear Saaxxatee.”
I recoil at his breach into my personal space and snatch the sack from his hands, embarrassed that the smell is noticeable to others too. “Have you heard if there is anyone in the sooq today after manual work Niddoo?”
He grimaces. “There was Saaxxatee. If you’d got here a hinc earlier there were two young nipseak males after a doons work for some extra credos. But they are hired for the wid now.”
My shoulders drop in disappointment. I nod, “Okay, thanks Niddoo. Is it okay to leave Bupple and my dray here for a short time while I purchase a few essential items?”