The Complete Alien's Bride

by Yamila Abraham

  The youngest began to laugh. “He didn’t let you do it, did he?”

  “Forget it!”

  I should hope not, Lisette thought.

  “Really Tiltawhirl—” the oldest said.

  Tiltawhirl?

  “We’re about to eat.”

  “I would go to the High Council if he continues to protest,” the one with the sideburns said with a scowl. “It’s for her own protection.”

  Jorenkis grumbled.

  The android guided in a floating tray with numerous cloche covered dishes. It deposited the plates before the men first and then arranging numerous large dishes before her. It lifted each cloche in turn.

  “These are pastries made from fish, slugs, and mollusks from the Dirhontaneta Sea.”

  A delicious fried scent wafted up. Lisette’s mouth began to water.

  “These patties are made from gen-goh beans in three different ways. The green ones are from under-ripe beans. The maroon ones are from thousand year old beans. Your beverage is Kel-Kel water which is purified—“

  “We get the point,” Jorenkis said. “Did you really have to order so much?”

  Lisette pursed her lips.

  “Be nice, Joren,” the eldest said. “She’s obviously excited to try our cuisine. Isn’t that so, my dear?”

  Lisette nodded. Jorenkis groaned.

  “That’s her way of saying yes. I can’t believe you just did that.”

  Lisette peeked at him. She was too tired to be embarrassed. Was it really such a big deal? She felt like she was back in junior high. But anyway…food. Food equals strength to work hard in the lab tomorrow. She downed the beverage (which tasted like ordinary still water) then grabbed one of the fish pastries.

  Jorenkis elbowed her. “Not with your hands—and don’t gulp so loud.”

  Lisette put down the morsel. What little appetite she had was gone now. Why was this asshole putting her through this? She didn’t want to go to strange places and meet new people. She was hungry, and tired, and he was such a little shit.

  “Joren, you need to be nicer to her,” the eldest said. “She probably doesn’t know how to use silverware.”

  Lisette grabbed the only utensil provided to her: a crescent shaped spoon. She used it to cut a pastry in half and put it in her mouth. Then she chewed and swallowed as quietly as she could.

  “I stand corrected. There’s a bit of sass there—even if she’s quiet.”

  “Do you have a collar on her?” Tiltawhirl said.

  “She still has her slave collar. You know we can’t shock wives anymore though.”

  “How old is she?”

  “None of your concern.”

  “How old are you?” Tiltawhirl fixed his snide smile on her.

  She cleared her throat. “Thirty-one.”

  “Don’t answer him when I tell you not to!”

  Lisette glowered at him. He looked appalled.

  “What’s that in Dak-Hiliah years?” Tiltawhirl whipped out a tablet and started tapping in calculations. “Hey—it’s almost the same. She’s got a good ten years on you, Joren.”

  “Oh? And I suppose your wife is younger? Oh, I forgot, you haven’t one.”

  “She’s not really a good fit for you, Jorenkis,” the eldest said.

  “What are you insinuating, Hotis?”

  He shrugged. “It seems you’re settling.”

  Lisette felt her face darken.

  “I mean, you’ll be entitled to a bride eventually.”

  “When? When I’m your age? Where’s your bride?”

  “I’m in line.”

  “Right behind me,” said the one with sideburns.

  “You may be surprised. After all, we were told the colony slaves were off-limits, but here you are, married to one.”

  “We’re not…”

  Everyone looked at her. Jorenkis slid his foot onto hers and pressed. She had to wiggle free.

  She looked at Hotis. “How…um…how did I…I mean…when?”

  Tiltawhirl began to shriek with laughter.

  “My dear,” the one with sideburns said, “when you had sex with Jorenkis you became his wife under Dak-Hiliah law.”

  Lisette made a face like she’d smelled rotten fish. She shook her head resolutely.

  “What’s that mean?” Tiltawhirl said.

  “Never mind!” Jorenkis said.

  “It means no,” Lisette said.

  Jorenkis sneered at her. “You little bitch.” He cut into his food with swift stabbing movements. “I said we were married because I’ve got rights to her. I mean, obviously she just got here yesterday. I’m not a rapist.”

  “Lisette,” Hotis said, “if you don’t care for Jorenkis you don’t have to marry him. Our surrender agreement with Earth says—“

  “Oh will you shut up,” Jorenkis said. “She knows. She’s not going to marry you, you old dimwit. She’s in my lab. I’m the one who controls who sees her.”

  “You don’t have to marry anyone,” the one with sideburns said. “But—if you wish to get married we can damn well make sure you get the opportunity to mingle.”

  Jorenkis knocked his plate off the table. It crashed leftward onto the floor, taking Lisette’s bean plate with it. He rose and started shoving her.

  “Up! Up!”

  She stood.

  “To the mire with all of you! I was nice! I let you all see a real human woman!”

  They exchanged scoffs.

  “I should have known you wretches would try to steal her. You’re worse than Etikens!” He clutched her arm and made her speed walk out with him.

  “Why did you have to humiliate me like that?”

  Lisette struggled to keep up. She had to keep one hand fastened to her chest to hold her bosom in and the heels of her shoes kept bending sideways. He ushered her into the hover car.

  “Well? Answer me.”

  She huddled with her arms around her and kept her head low. There was the numbness of extreme exhaustion within her.

  “Talk you dumb beast!”

  She shook her head.

  Jorenkis clutched his horns, leaned forward, and growled with exasperation. “Gods, why? This was supposed to be a good thing. I was supposed to be happy!”

  When they landed before the science building he sat up and took a deep breath. “It’s fine. You know what? You’re broken, but you can be fixed. It will take time, obviously, but we’ll do it.”

  Lisette tried to stop listening.

  He pressed a button to open the hatch door beside her. “Go. I don’t live here. Just you and that idiot do. You know how to get to your room, right?”

  She looked at the glass entrance with a trace of panic. “Is it…locked?”

  “I don’t know. Just—have a fucking robot help you if it is. Go. Get out!”

  It wasn’t locked, and she found her quarters after going the wrong way only once. She tore off the sultry dress, put on one of her old tee-shirts, and collapsed into bed.

  Prax-Denay knocked on her door the next morning. She’d left it partially open. She lifted her face from a pillow imprinted with make-up. Her mentor stood with his body sideways to her and spoke into the empty corridor in front of him.

  “I like to start my work days at trector dawn. That’s an hour from now.”

  Lisette inchwormed herself to the edge of the bed. The tee-shirt she’d put on barely concealed her behind. She scooped a handful of blanket up to cover her from the waist down.

  “If you get up now you’ll have time to bathe and eat breakfast before coming to the lab. We’ve a great deal to do today. I want you sharp.”

  She sat on the side of the bed and looked at him. None of what he said required an answer. She wished for an invitation to talk—something forthright enough to let her clear the air between them.

  “Is there anything you need to tell me?”

  Damn it. She needed more than that. She grasped at the puny thread he offered as best she was able.

  “Like…what?”
/>
  Prax-Denay glared at her. “Like you won’t be working in the lab much longer because you’re married to Jorenkis now.”

  “No,” she said in the loudest voice she was capable of. Then she stared down at her feet. “I don’t want…I don’t really...”

  Prax-Denay entered the room and sat on the foot of the bed. His back was to her, so she stared at him freely.

  “You’re not here as a bride candidate. If you don’t fancy him then simply refuse his advances.”

  Lisette felt her stomach tighten into a knot. Pushy people always trampled her. She could fantasize all she wanted about telling Jorenkis off. In reality the words would stay stuck deep inside her throat.

  “I’ll report Jorenkis to Lord Elentinus if he dares to press things against your wishes.” He turned back to glance at her. “Lord Elentinus is your master, you know. Not Jorenkis.”

  She nodded.

  Prax-Denay turned away from her again and took a breath deep enough to make his shoulders rise and fall. She wanted to crawl over and hug him from behind. He seemed to need that, but that action was on par with telling off Jorenkis to her. She could fantasize about doing it all she wanted, but would never budge an inch. (Besides, he might grab her and kiss her and make use of the bed they were on.)

  He continued to sit there. She stayed in place also. The superficial situation was that he’d told her to get up and get ready for work. If that was all that was going on she might have fidgeted enough to get him to leave. That wasn’t what was important, and she knew it with the whole of her heart. Prax-Denay was aching to say more. Unlike her, she knew he wasn’t used to holding back his words.

  They’d had but a single day together. If they could just continue as they had yesterday their connection would evolve naturally. There was no need to rush things with meaningless words. His silence—his hesitation—was more powerful than anything he could say.

  Prax-Denay sighed again. This time he verged on a groan. Lisette felt confused.

  “You might as well know,” he said at last. “Jorenkis is from the highest caste of the Dak-Hiliah. He’s descended from royalty. There’s the opposite end of this spectrum. Where I come from. I’m of the lowest caste. The…foulest.”

  Lisette remained confused. He had to know they were all big blue aliens to her. She could care less about their ranking system. She was a slave, after all. How much lower can you get than that?

  “My people, the Etiken, were considered beasts in our ancient history. The druids have always ordered us to live separate from the rest of society. Etikens are supposed to deal with dead bodies, sewage, trash—all these things are centered in the Etiken district in the Dak-Hiliah capital. We’re…not allowed to interbreed with anyone outside the Etiken caste.” He partway turned back toward her, but didn’t meet her eyes. “I’m not allowed to fraternize with you. We’re forbidden to be anything more than colleagues. Do you understand that?”

  Lisette’s lips parted. She didn’t answer despite knowing she was required to.

  Prax-Denay turned further and looked at her. “Well?”

  She lowered her head. Her heart raced, but she still forced out the words. “What happens if we…if we, um…?”

  He became aghast. Then he gave an exasperated smile. He turned his back to her once again and laughed with chagrin. “You’re arguing with me…that’s just stupendous.”

  She bit her lower lip.

  He shot her a narrow eyed glare. “What? Is it just curiosity?”

  Lisette shook her head with the slightest of movements.

  Prax-Denay gave the acrimonious laugh again. Then he balled his hands into fists. “Damn it!” It took moments for him to overcome what Lisette perceived to be frustration.

  “What will happen?” he said through a clenched jaw. “Jorenkis will accuse me of being a fiend who defies the will of the druids—who can’t control himself around a helpless human slave. He’ll demand I be castrated. And those bastards, those self-righteous…they’ll actually agree to it. Even the king of compassion, Lord Elentinus. He made my brother do it, you know. They’ll give me a choice—if you can call it that. Accept castration or go back to the slums.”

  Lisette squeezed her eyes closed. Tears dripped out. The grief hit like a sudden ache behind her eyes. Was it really like that? This was her world now? She buried her face in her hands. This wasn’t enough to stifle her first hiccupping sobs.

  Prax-Denay stood while keeping his back to her. “It’s all…all well enough. I’ve done the responsible thing. Now you know.”

  She snuffled and gazed up at him. He hesitated before her doorway.

  “Your empathy is…touching.” He raised his nose. “Now get ready for the day.” Then he left her.

  Lisette proceeded as ordered despite struggling with how to find the bathroom (hidden in the molded wall) and then how to work the shower. Once under the hot stream of water she wanted to languish. Now was the time to think things over, to adjust. There wasn’t enough time.

  She donned the last clean set of clothes from her laundry bag. When she went to tell a robot about this she was informed a new wardrobe was being made for her.

  “Um…I don’t…I don’t want to dress like I did last night.”

  “Obviously not,” Prax-Denay said from the end of the corridor. “That would hardly be appropriate for your work in the lab.”

  She went to him with her hands folded together and her head lowered. Prax-Denay made a low sound of approval and led her downstairs.

  Things in the lab started with slow awkwardness, but soon they were working with the same gusto as yesterday. Lisette felt the lab to be her comfortable place, no matter how different all the tools were from what she’d been used to use. She flitted from one station to the next, accomplishing her tasks. Every few minutes she blurted a few words to Prax-Denay to inform him when she was taking an experiment in a new direction. He understood her thinking with little need for explanation. He gave her expressions of enlightenment or praise. Then he focused on his own tasks.

  She got to the point where they needed to work at the same station. Despite their arms rubbing once or twice Lisette wasn’t flustered. They were both too impassioned about the results of the test.

  “There! No effect on the thyroid,” Prax-Denay said. “Have a robot run a three week trail on some moffmits to be sure.”

  Lisette met his eyes with a smile. It was because of their success, not an attempt to flirt, but their faces were close. She saw Prax-Denay swallow. This brought back all the anguish of his morning revelation. Her smile erased and she took several slow steps toward the test animal lab.

  “Quickly! We still have to run the thalamus test!”

  She sped up to a trot. It was easy for her to get back into her work mindset. The midday meal seemed to come way too fast. Then she realized all they’d accomplished. The serum was near ready. They just had to make sure none of the lab animals showed the possibility of side effects. Robots would handle the repetitive minutia involved in these trails. She was free to proceed with the next exciting project.

  “Come and eat with me.” Prax-Denay led her to the door. “You should have had a tour of the facility. Jorenkis could have at least done that.”

  They passed his office. The door was open and his chair vacant.

  Prax-Denay harrumphed. “I thought he might show up—now that you’re here. He’s gone back to his old ways. The only time he was around was when he needed to harass me about things important to the council. He’s useless. No skills. No war experience. He barely managed to finish school and he’s never strived for anything. Yet he’s what our society values.”

  Lisette felt the forlorn feelings creeping back. (Though the thought of Jorenkis not being around much was nice.)

  Prax-Denay gestured for her to sit once they were a room with sleek cabinets molded into the walls. He pressed some buttons on a console then retrieved bottles from some random cupboard and sat with her. The bottle offered to her was full of liquid
cold enough to cause condensation. Lisette watched how Prax-Denay opened his and mimicked him.

  He didn’t seem to be looking at her, almost conspicuously so, but then he said, “They had you wearing rags at the slave colony. Lord Elentinus should be ashamed.”

  Lisette glanced down at herself. Yes, her sweater and denim skirt was full of holes. All the slaves dressed like this. She’d become too accustomed to notice.

  “You weren’t provided a tailoring machine?”

  Lisette concentrated. “I um…I don’t think so.”

  “Why didn’t you ask for one?”

  She shrugged.

  “You humans use a great deal of nonverbal communication. I could ask you what that means, but I prefer not to. I’d rather just figure you out.”

  A robot came out of no where and brought them two plates of piping hot food along with the stupid alien utensils she’d seen last night.

  They ate several minutes in silence. What a difference from her meal with Jorenkis. Prax-Denay hadn’t asked her what she wanted, but that was because he realized she had no idea about their food. It was considerate of him to select something for her. When she tasted how delicious it was she felt a euphoric surge. This was her idea of bliss. Not being forced to engage strangers. Not being forced to wear a horrible costume. Not thrust into a creepy restaurant on a planet she had absolutely no idea about. No, she would happily eat and sleep where she worked. Prax-Denay provided her with good company.

  He’d already proven himself the smartest scientist she’d ever worked with. A lot of her old coworkers faked the depth of their knowledge. She had to stifle her own skill or they’d become intimidated by her. This always led to them covering their ineptness with anger. She was an easy target. Gullible bosses often believed it when people blamed her for their screw-ups. Lisette never argued. The jobs just weren’t worth fighting for. Her work was moments of insight interspersed between months of tedium. She would have been happier as a housewife.

  Things were so wonderfully different here.

  “You’re quiet, but I can see the wheels of your mind turning,” Prax-Denay said. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

  A tiny smile formed. She fought it back. Prax-Denay knew how to make her talk, and with him she actually didn’t mind it.