by Ruby Dixon
But Vaza sucks in a breath at the sight of her. “They have sent an older female?” He puts a hand to his chest. “She must be mine.”
Perhaps so. I did not ask Trakan if the humans were of a kit-bearing age. Perhaps I should have. I glance at the last human, buried underneath her blanket. She is the worst looking of the ragged bunch. Filthy, pale, underfed—if she were a dvisti, I would not even hunt her for meat. Her eyes are dark, and her face is so small and narrow that she seems nothing but eyes and a mess of filthy mane that hangs in her face.
Ugh.
I fight a surge of disappointment. Not only is my khui silent, but these humans are…not what I expected. One that is possibly too old to bear kits, two small and so fragile I would be afraid to touch them. That leaves the white-maned one and her pink friend. I eye the pink one’s teats again. She has a good body for a human, but she is still crying, and that fills me with frustration.
“They’re a little skittish.” Trakan nods at me, a sly grin on his face. “See anything you like?”
I tap my too-silent chest. “My khui will decide who is right for me.”
But Vaza looks besotted. He stares at the older female, unable to tear his gaze away. “What is the dark one’s name?” he asks in a reverent voice.
Trakan scratches his head, glancing at the females, and then shrugs. “Didn’t ask.”
I look at him incredulously. “You did not ask?”
He shrugs again. “Didn’t seem important. They’re not staying.” He looks over at the humans and nods at the dark-skinned one. “Hey,” he calls, switching to the human language. “What is your name?”
“Oh, so you finally decided to talk to us instead of just staring in the doorway with your buddies?” Her brows go up in that fascinating, mobile way that humans have.
“You are the most beautiful human I have ever seen,” Vaza breathes. I roll my eyes. Vaza falls in love quickly, it seems.
“Hmmph.” She holds her blanket a little tighter to her body. “Well, I’ve seen better-looking aliens than you.”
This one reminds me too much of Leezh.
“Just tell him your name,” Trakan says, impatient. “These guys are your new masters.”
A chorus of muffled gasps meets that announcement. The pink-haired one begins to cry again. The filthy one seems to shrink back against the tiny, mouthy one. None of them look thrilled.
“So you bought us, huh?” The angry one’s voice goes flat. “Well then, I guess you can just call us whatever you want, can’t you?”
“It would give me great pleasure to hear your name,” Vaza tells her, adoration in his tone. “I am called Vaza.”
The female’s gaze flicks back and forth between the three of us. “Gail,” she says finally.
One of the hard-to-pronounce human names. “Sh-shair,” Vaza tries.
“Gail,” the human repeats.
“Shail.” Vaza tries again.
“Gail,” she ventures again. “Hard G.”
Vaza’s mouth puckers. “Ch-chaaail.”
A flash of annoyance crosses her face but quickly disappears. “You know what? You wanna call me Chail, sugar, you do that.”
Her voice is too sweet to be sincere, but Vaza looks pleased. He turns and gives me an encouraging smile.
Poor fool. I nod at the other girls. “Names?”
The pink one looks at Chail. She sniffs and hiccups before answering. “Buh-Brooke.”
I nod. That name is easier. “Buh-Brukh.”
The females all frown up at me. “No, just Brooke,” the pink one says, and flinches back. “But you can call me Buh-Brooke if you want.”
“I’m Kate,” says the one with the cloud of hair. Next to her, the tiny golden one says, “I’m Summer.”
There is a pause. I look over at the filthy one, waiting for her to say her name. She just hugs her knees and stares at me from the curtain of her hair.
“This is Elly,” Chail says after a moment, and gestures at the female sitting next to her, careful not to touch her. “Elly doesn’t like to talk.”
“Does her tongue not work?” I remember that Rokan’s mate Li-lah could not hear for many seasons, until the cave-ship fixed it for her.
“She just doesn’t like talking,” Chail answers for Ell-ee, who remains silent.
There is a foul smell in the room, and I suspect it is coming from one human in particular. “She does not like bathing, either, it seems.”
“Elly’s had a hard time,” Chail says and moves forward protectively, careful not to touch Ell-ee but putting her body in front of her.
“So hard that she cannot use soap-berries?” I snort.
Chail gives me an incredulous look. “You’re standing there in a fur diaper and you’re going to give her shit about her bathing habits?”
“All right, that’s enough,” Trakan says, snapping his fingers at the humans. “Be nice.”
“She does not have to be nice,” Vaza steps in, protesting. “I like Chail’s fire.”
Chail just looks back and forth between us, uneasy. After a moment, she lifts a finger and points at Vaza. “If I get to pick, can I be owned by this one?”
Trakan shakes his head. “I don’t care. I just need to offload the lot of you.”
But I am disturbed by her words. I cross my arms and frown at the one called Chail. “No one is owning you.”
Gail tilts her head. “Really? Because it sounds to me like you just bought five humans.”
“We wish to have you live with us. You will take a khui and possibly a mate.”
The pink one starts to cry and buries her face on her friend’s shoulder. “Ohmigod, we’re going to be sex slaves,” the little golden one with the dark hair whimpers. Even the big one with the pale hair begins to sniff, distressed.
The dirty one just stares at me, and I could swear there is hate in her eyes.
I do not like that they are all upset. This is going very poorly. I turn to Trakan. “We will take them to the village. Get me their fur wraps and boots and I will make sure they are dressed.” Surely this cannot be any harder than helping Claire dress Erevair.
But Trakan gives me a puzzled look. “What you see is what you get.”
My impatience gets the better of me. I am tired of this fool and have no more use for him, and the weeping of the humans bothers me. For some reason, I feel…guilty, and I do not like it. “Their things. Give me their things and we will take them out of your cave.”
“They don’t have anything like that.” Trakan gives a shake of his head and crosses his arms over his chest. “Sorry.”
“Food? Drink? Belongings? Furs?” I am shocked.
Trakan just smirks. “Friend, what part of ‘slaves’ don’t you understand?”
3
ELLY
“You think they’re primitives?” Kate asks, tucking a pale strand of hair behind her ear. Worry’s written all over her face. Heck, worry is written all over everyone’s face, and they look to Gail for answers.
Gail shrugs, tucking her paper gown around her body as if it’s a designer dress. “Girl, I don’t know what to think anymore.”
Me either, and that worries me. Normally you can peg someone by how they react to getting a slave. Sometimes you see that cruel smile spread over someone’s face the moment they’re given the collar and lead. Sometimes they look at you with disgust, like you’re an annoyance they have to put up with. I’ve had them whistle at me and click their tongues to get me to move, like I’m an animal. Usually within the first five minutes, they show their hand.
But I don’t know what to think of these guys, or the fact that one of them left to get us warm clothing.
They’re the same race as the two that bought us, but they’re different somehow. Their eyes have this weird bluish glow to them, like they’re lit from within. They have no tattoos, and they wear what Gail described as a fur diaper and not much else. They wear necklaces with teeth and bone beads, and their long, black hair is smooth and loose, though
the younger one has an intricate braid going down the back of his head. Their horns aren’t capped with that smooth, shiny metal like the others.
They really do look like primitives, but what are they doing on a spaceship, hanging out with the goons that bought us?
The ones that bought us were easy to peg. The younger treated us like animals, and the older one acted like he wanted nothing to do with us. Despite their scary size, I could handle this. I know what to expect from them.
But these new ones unnerve me. Every time I think I have their behavior figured out, something changes. They bought slaves—humans specifically—so I expect them to treat us like animals. But the elder one with the gray streaks in his hair? He acts like he’s in love with Gail at first sight.
So…maybe he’s kind. Maybe it’s like he said and they bought human slaves because they want mates. Lucky for Gail, I suppose. She’s nice, and she’s done what she can to protect all of us, so I’m happy for her.
The other one scares me, though. He’s a good deal younger than the other one, and taller. His horns arch high above his head, and his face is all hard angles and scowls. And he eyes us like he is expecting something and has been disappointed. I don’t know what he wants, but we aren’t it.
I’m glad he left a short time ago. I hope he doesn’t come back.
I hold my blanket tight around my shoulders and watch as the elder blue guy comes and sits next to Gail. He crouches low beside her and holds out something stringy and dried. “Are you hungry? Would you like to eat?” He speaks English pretty well, though there’s a strange cadence to his words.
Her eyes narrow as she watches him, and I know she’s trying to figure out his motive. “What is it?”
“Smoked dvisti,” he says, though I’m not sure I get the second word right. He offers it to Gail. “Good for travel.”
She takes it from him and sniffs it. He beams at her as if this is the best thing he’s ever seen, and then looks almost crushed when she breaks it apart and begins to pass it out to the others. We’ve been fed over the last few days, but there’s never enough food to go around for slaves. I shake my head when Gail tries to offer me my portion. I don’t think I can eat. My stomach clenches up when I’m nervous and I’ll just throw it up.
Considering that I’ve been nervous ever since we were sold, it’s not a good idea to put anything questionable in my empty belly at the moment. I watch as the others eat, ignoring the gnawing feeling in my stomach. I watch Vaza’s reaction as Gail nibbles on the smoked meat, but it doesn’t look like he’s angry, or gleeful at the thought of it making her sick. It doesn’t look like he’s going to slap it out of her hand. That’s good.
“So…you said this was good for travel,” Gail comments between bites. “Does that mean we are traveling?” She keeps her tone mild and sweet.
Vaza nods. “We are going to my people’s village.”
“Is that where your friend went? To your village?”
Vaza shakes his head. “Bek went to get furs from a hunter cave for you. You need warm clothing. Outside there is much snow, and humans are fragile.”
I make a small noise in my throat, and Gail glances over at me, even as the others chew, oblivious. She’s wondering the same thing. “Do you run into a lot of humans?” Gail asks.
I want her to ask if they have a lot of human slaves. If so, perhaps Vaza is not as benign as he seems. I could expect it out of the meaner, scowling one, for sure. He looks like the type.
“There are many humans in our village,” Vaza says. “Many many.”
Yes, but are they there by choice? Or were they bought and dragged here to be sex slaves? I’m guessing the latter, and it makes me ill to think about. I thought being someone’s zoo pet was bad, but being forced to be someone’s sex slave is going to be a thousand times worse.
Gail looks like she has questions, too, but before she can speak up, Summer does. “Caves?” she asks, her nose wrinkling. “Do you guys live in caves?”
Brooke looks ready to cry at the thought.
“Oh no,” Vaza says.
Someone sighs with relief.
“We live in huts. Our caves collapsed.”
“Oh god,” Brooke whispers. “Huts.”
“I’m sure they’re very nice huts,” Gail says, and gives Vaza a saccharine-sweet smile. “And I’m sure we’ll be very happy there.”
He nods, beaming. “All of our humans are very happy. They have many kits and are content with their mates.”
Well, doesn’t this just sound amazing. Happy sex slaves busy producing children for their masters. I hug my legs tighter, vowing to fight every step of the way if these bastards even try to touch me under all this dirt. I’m going to make myself so revolting that no one will ever think of it.
“You are very beautiful,” Vaza continues, clearly not reading Gail’s mood. “It would honor me if you would choose to share my furs.”
“Well, aren’t you sweet,” Gail coos in a voice that sounds completely insincere to me, but Vaza doesn’t seem to notice. “I think I need to get settled in before I make any decisions. If it’s up to me, that is.”
“Of course,” Vaza says, giving her another besotted look.
A voice calls out over the intercom. “Bek’s on his way back with a sled, Vaza.”
Vaza rises to his feet. “Wait here. We will return shortly.”
“Oh, I’ll be here,” Gail says dryly. “Not sure where else I would go.”
As Vaza rises to his feet and leaves, tail twitching, I watch him go. Mentally, I play through a dozen scenarios in my head quickly. All of it boils down to one thing—I can stay here and be a sex slave, or I can try to escape. They might kill me for trying, but at this point, I’m not sure it matters.
I’m so tired of someone else owning me.
So before the door slides shut behind Vaza, I get to my feet and hurry after him.
“Elly,” Gail hisses. “What are you doing?”
I ignore her. She can stay. Maybe Vaza – or whoever she ends up with - will treat her right. I don’t have any such hopes for myself. I’m too unpleasant, too bad-tempered, just like my last master said. The only thing I’m good for is a beating. And these guys are so big that they’ll break me. I might die if they catch me escaping, but at least I’ll die on my own terms.
I follow a few steps behind Vaza, who is so confident that he never even stops to look behind him and see if he’s being followed. He heads down the winding passageways of the ship and then pauses in front of a door hatch. He frowns and smacks a hand, child-like, on the panel of strange buttons. It does nothing, so he smacks it again.
“Quit hitting the keffing door controls,” a voice calls out overhead. “I’ve got it.”
A moment later, the door hisses open and Vaza steps out.
And then I see it. For the first time in ten years, I see sunlight.
It’s…so beautiful.
I can smell fresh air, too. Not the stale, recycled air of spaceships or space stations. Not the manure stink of a zoo in a private ecology habitat.
The outdoors. The real outdoors.
Intense yearning rushes through me, and I charge after Vaza. It’s so close.
I don’t even care that the wind whistling into the ship is bitterly cold. I’m just desperately hungry for that daylight, that air. I want to breathe it in and feel human for a short time again. To feel free.
Vaza’s down the steps before he realizes I’m coming after him. He turns, frowning, as I reach the top of the steps.
The moment I cross the portal, I’m blasted with arctic, icy air. It’s so cold that my lungs hurt. My bare feet, warmer than the metal underneath them, stick to it, and intense pain shoots up my legs. I have so much momentum that I don’t realize that the skin on my feet is tearing off until the pain rips through me. I stumble, even as Vaza cries out a warning, and fall off the side of the stairs.
I land a short distance below in a cloud of snow.
Snow.
I
sit up, dazed, and scramble to my feet. I can’t think properly, but all I know is that I have to get away. There’s snow everywhere, though, and my feet are throbbing with pain and the cold. I pant like a wild animal, gasping for breath, and crawl forward. Must get away. Must—
Dear god, is this place nothing but snow? I can’t see far for all the flurries in the air, but what I do see is nothing but white and mountains. There’s rock, and there’s snow…and that’s it.
It looks like we’ve been dropped on this planet’s version of Antarctica. Even now, my limbs feel numb and the blood on my feet has crusted over.
I’m going to die. And it’s not going to take them catching me and beating me to death. I’m going to die of the elements within minutes. I don’t have anything on my body except a thin paper gown. My fingers are numb, and I don’t want to breathe anymore because it hurts too much.
But…I can see the sun. No, wait, two suns.
It’s so beautiful. I crawl forward, toward those gorgeous suns, and I feel my eyes filling with tears. At least I get to see the sun again before I die.
A strong arm grips my waist, and then I’m plucked off my feet by an impossibly warm body that seems to be a mixture of soft skin and hard bony ridges. “What are you doing?” a harsh voice growls in my ear. “You are going to hurt yourself, fool.”
I struggle against his arm, but he’s holding me tight. I can’t breathe, and I imagine this big arm hitting me, punishing me for escaping. It only makes me fight harder. I’m barely in control of myself as I flail, kicking and scratching. I don’t want to be taken back in. I don’t want to be put in a cage again.
I don’t want to be a slave.
“Stop it,” he snarls. “You will hurt yourself. You—”
The shock collar lights up, and then the world disappears in a blast of pain, my brain sheeting white. The last thing I see are the suns, fading out under the agony.