Red Planet: The Slave Queen (Tamarians Book 1)

by Jessica Snow

  “Much to your regret,” Father laughs. “I've seen how you admire the human's skill, even if you do not approve of the way I want him to display it. But come, my son, and enjoy the sacrifice of the animals to the Blood Moon.”

  “They are more than animals, Father,” I shoot back, stopping. “You know that; I've heard Mogar tell you that himself. The data proves it. And animals do not speak or think, not the way humans do.”

  “You sound like one of the Resistance members,” Father jokes, patting me on the shoulder. “And when you are King, you will be allowed to govern in the way you see fit. For now, though we have the Games.”

  I know Father and I have pushed him as far as I can. It is a rule every member of noble blood knows. When King Joren is laughing, you watch your tongue, before he has it cut out with the knife in his golden cane. I nod, saying nothing as Father leads us into the royal box, where Lord Neyton and Lady Neyilla are already waiting, along with Lord Mogar. They couldn't be more different, Neyton and Mogar. Despite Neyton being nearly twenty years his senior, it is Mogar who looks older, as he is one of a tiny minority of Tamarians who refuse to take the lifespan enhancers even though he can afford them. His dark blond hair is starting to go gray at his temples, and his plain scholar's robe looks rumpled, like he slept in it. Knowing my former tutor, I wouldn't be surprised if he did, probably slumped over his desk in his study, either a flexi or even a real book in front of him. He gives me a smile, which I return, giving him a nod. He's a good man, and I would not be prepared for the throne without his guidance.

  “Highness, it is an honor and a blessing to have your presence among us,” Neyton says in his nasally suck-up voice, the standard greeting whenever Father arrives at an event. Ceremony, I detest it, and I can see the laughter in Mogar's eyes when I shuffle side to side in frustration at the bullshit.

  “It is a blessing to be amongst my friends and my people,” Father replies in one of the ten standard replies to Neyton's greeting. That being completed, we sit, Father in his seat, with Mother next to him. Lord Neyton sits next to Father, and I'm next to Mother. It doesn't surprise me when Neyilla takes the seat next to me, although I would have preferred it if Mogar sat next to me. I find his conversation more enjoyable.

  A human woman shifts over when Neyilla sits down next to me, and I recognize her, she's been Neyilla's body servant since the two were mere toddlers. Audra, I think her name is, and I give her a nod of familiarity. I can read it in her eyes, she cares for Neyilla even less than I do, and I can respect that. She's tall for a human woman, and attractive, with a flaming red shock of hair that's unique among most of the humans I've seen around the capital, and an athletic grace to her body that tells me she knows how to handle herself. Considering that she's Neyilla's bodyguard as well as body servant, I should hope so, Neyilla's casual cruelty makes her no friends among the minor nobility.

  “Shall we?” Father asks as everyone gets seated. He looks to his left and right, and I give him a nod. Neyilla's trying to catch my attention, but I pointedly ignore her, at least for the moment I can rest on protocol. Father gets to his feet and we all follow, Father raising his hand for silence in the Arena.

  “My fellow Tamarians, welcome to the Blood Moon Games,” Father says, his voice picked up by the tiny microphone on his robe to be rebroadcast and greeted by the roar of the crowd. “I do hope that the warm ups have been to your favor?”

  Of course they have been, even the most battle weary fan has been anticipating these final four fights, and I know that around Tamaria, over three billion eyes are glued to their view screens as the fights are broadcast planet wide. Sixteen men, in groups of four, no rules. To the death. No reprieve, no quarter. For the average Tamarian, who believes that the Blood Moon must be satiated with actual blood as a thanks for this year's bounty (or to break the bad fortune from a poor year), it is essential to end the year on a good note. Tonight is also the only night where the orbits of our two moons are in perfect reverse synchronization, so that on the night side we are in perfect blood red eclipse, while on the day side we will have a full solar eclipse as well. Foolishness, superstition, and wasted blood. Not that Father cares, he just sees it as a way to appease the masses. Father lets the cheers continue for a little while, then raises his hand again for silence. “Then... let the parade of the gladiators begin!”

  The four gates on each of the four compass points in the arena open, and the competitors enter the arena. They are armored, but not armed yet, that will come later. Still, they cannot be trusted to be kept together in the same slave pens, too many of the nobles who offer up their slaves for the Arena use the hypnotic drugs to drive them into homicidal rages against their opponents. Last year, I saw a man get his arm literally lopped off at the elbow, his blood spurting a meter into the air.... and still he died charging one of the other fighters. Barbarism.

  The four groups of gladiators march towards the center of the arena, stopping at the visible lasers in the sands. Stepping over them now would mean death, but they'll be removed later. Instead, all sixteen men arrange themselves, and turn towards the royal box. “We who are about to die...”

  The gladiators start the ancient salute to the King, when suddenly a light streaks overhead. Whistling, it pulls everyone's attention up, and the gladiators’ words cut off. I look up, and see a rocket streaking into the air. “What the hell? The fireworks aren't until....”

  The rocket explodes, and a strange light bathes the entire crowd. I feel the world swim, and I stagger backward, trying to find my chair, to find shelter. I can't breathe, I can barely see. I fall to the ground, crawling for the exit, looking for somewhere to find a way to protect myself from the weird light, but I'm losing my strength, and as the darkness closes over me, the last thing I see is Neyilla's servant, Audra, kneeling down next to me. She has an intense look on her face, and her eyes are a remarkable pale blue, like the skies during the early fall when the rains have left for the rest of the year until after the Blood Moon Games.

  Huh... for a human, she's actually quite pretty.

  Chapter Three

  Audra

  Watching every Tamarian around me stagger and collapse in the course of four seconds is just... weird. The ones who use more of the anti-aging drugs seem to drop first, with King Joren and Queen Tauria unconscious before they even have a chance to move. Neyton and Neyilla are next, Neyilla half standing before she collapses, with Morag and Tauren falling last. Tauren fights whatever it is that they've been hit with, and when I kneel next to him, he's still somewhat conscious. His eyes are rolling, but he sees me clearly as I reach for his tunic before his head sags back and he falls unconscious.

  I quickly grab Tauren by the shoulders of his tunic and start dragging, glad that at least for the moment Neyilla had me dress in something besides the huge hoop skirt dress that I was supposed to wear tonight. The doors of the Arena are far too narrow for that, and in fact, I have to slightly twist Tauren to get his wide shoulders through the stone archway that is the entrance to the royal box. He's heavy, at least twice my weight, and the shoes I'm wearing slip on the gritty walkway. I fall down, but before I can get up I hear someone coming behind me, and I look, seeing Mathias. “Lend a hand?”

  “Yeah,” Mathias says, his face clouded with anger. Maybe he's just upset over the fact that he's in thin soled sandals and a loincloth that is little more than a flap of synth leather over his cock and balls, but he's pissed off. “What the fuck happened?”

  “A rocket went over the stadium, then exploded. The light was weird, I can't even begin to describe the color, and then the Tamarians started passing out. I grabbed Tauren here by the tunic and started pulling. The other slaves were still trying to figure out what the fuck happened.”

  “They're not dead?” Mathias asks. “Fuck, I thought it was just the guards to the harem.”

  “No, I don't think any of them are dead,” I huff, my breath whistling. “Now, are you helping me or not?”

  Mathias nods and
grabs Tauren's arms, while I go to his feet. He's still heavy, but I've trained for more than just keeping slim enough to double as a breathing mannequin for Neyilla's dress fittings. I'm strong enough to at least get Tauren's legs up, and we start down the corridor, Mathias leading. “Where are we going?”

  “We're taking the royal transport,” Mathias says with a laugh. “It'll serve the fuckers good.”

  “How long are they supposed to be out?” I ask, before remembering that Mathias didn't know that the Tamarians wouldn't be killed, and realize he's flying blind as much as I am. Great, the blind leading the blind. Always fun. When I played this game as a child, I walked face first into a tree, I just hope this time isn't as bad.

  We reach the transport platform and find the Tamarian honor guard that normally guards the transport also lying on the ground, out like lights. Mathias glances at the powerlance that the guard is carrying, but his hands are full, and instead we carry Tauren to the transport, where the door opens automatically at the detection of his presence. “First time I've been happy to be carrying a Pinko. Help me get him into one of the pilot's seats.”

  “Why?” I ask, and Mathias grunts in frustration and effort.

  “Security measure, the transport won't do a fucking thing unless there's an authorized person in one of the pilot's seats. My Resistance contacts told me Tauren's got his atmospheric and exospheric licenses, he's probably authorized on this crate, I'd prefer not to hotwire it. Now move your ass!” Mathias yells. I help him heave Tauren into one of the three pilot's seats, before sitting down in the other to help keep him upright there. Mathias jumps into the other seat, and looks over the controls. “Not the same, but close enough.”

  Mathias fires up the thrusters, and we lift into the air, a little more roughly than I'd expect it to be, but we turn to the north, zooming off. “When did you get your pilot's license?”

  “Neyilla wanted her fuck slaves to be multi-talented,” Mathias grunts, then takes a deep breath. “It was why she allowed me to continue my gladiator training, she thought that me being sweaty was sexy. The piloting was just because I had a shitload of free time, so I got to ask Hystun.”

  I nod, thinking about the slave that was the pilot for Neyton and Neyilla. “So have you got your license?”

  “Me?” Mathias asks, laughing. “Fuck no. I hope we only have to fly, too. I have no idea how the defensive systems work on this fucker. How's Prince Pinko?”

  I look Tauren over, checking his pulse and breathing. “He's out, I don't know for how long or anything like that. What was that rocket, anyway?”

  “I was told it would, and I quote, eliminate opposition. Thought that would mean all those Pinkos would be dead as last night's roast. Pisses me off that they aren't,” Mathias says, looking over the controls. He goes silent, dropping us to tree top level as he continues to follow something on the navigation system. I can tell he's stewing, he always chews his lip when he's angry and doesn't want to talk, so I focus my attention on Tauren.

  “I'm going to try and find something to tie him to the seat with,” I say, getting out of the co-pilot's seat and going to the back. While this is a royal transport shuttle, it's still gotta have an emergency kit somewhere, right? I start digging around, starting by looking behind the seats. There's nothing there, but I do find something underneath the passenger seats, two survival kits that have inside them medical kits. “Here we go.”

  “What did you find?” Mathias asks, and I show him. “Med kits? What do you need that for?”

  “You might have learned how to fly, but I had to learn how to use a first aid kit,” I tell him, prying open the first kit. “Let's see... here we are, casting tape.”

  I loop the tape around Tauren's forearms, wrapping them around the armrests on his pilot's chair. I don't want to bind his chest, casting tape hardens to steel strength in less than five seconds after it's sprayed with its setting compound, and if I wrap it too tightly around his chest, I could choke him to death. Instead, I find the emergency flight restraints and buckle him in, then wrap the harness buckle in the tape. “It's going to be a bitch cutting him out of this, but I don't know when he's going to wake up.”

  “Don't forget his legs,” Mathias says, his eyes never leaving the viewport in front of us. “I don't want him kicking some damn control.”

  “Good thinking,” I reply, getting down and finding a spot to cinch his legs. It takes all of one spool of casting tape, but when I'm finished it'd take a laser or a vibro blade to free Tauren. “There, he's all trussed up.”

  “Just make sure he stays that way. I hate to have to show up in the Resistance Camp with nothing but a corpse,” Mathias growls. “Why the fuck aren't they dead?”

  “Maybe whoever designed the rocket thinks that peace is best achieved with no bloodshed,” I reply. I'm left with little to do but look out the window, or look at Tauren. I've spent time around him before, Neyilla has been pursuing and sucking up to him and his mother for years, but this is the first time I've seen him really up close. His ears are a little more pointed than the average Tamarian's, giving him a slightly dangerous look. He's also, I have to admit, handsome in a lot of ways, with his blood-orange Neyla crystals actually highlighting his features. He doesn't overdo it with the adornment either, his clothes are restrained, and I remember his voice, it's deep and powerful, charismatic. He's not as self-absorbed as most of the nobility either, even if he's blunt to the point of sometimes being an asshole to everyone except his parents it seems.

  “Audie? Audra!”

  I look over at Mathias, who's glancing at me sideways. “Yeah, sorry. Just lost in my thoughts. I mean, I've dreamed of freedom often, Mattie. But I never thought it'd happen, and certainly not like this. I'd almost resigned myself to being Neyilla's slave for the rest of my life. I guess I'm still getting used to it. And to have the Crown Prince with us... heaven and stars!”

  “Well, we're coming in for a landing, and you're going to be taking your first steps as a free woman,” Mathias says, circling. “There... that mountain meadow.”

  I watch as the grass comes closer, the transport settling down nearly perfectly on the ground, and I glance over at Mathias. “You've got skill.”

  “Hardly. This crate could be flown by a three-toed tree hanger and still land softly, I think,” Mathias says.

  “And the Prince?” I ask, causing Mathias to shrug. “I'm just saying Mattie, how much further?”

  “The camp is supposed to be in these mountains, I was just given instructions on how to get to this rendezvous point. The Resistance is supposed to find us, but not here, I was told to go to the trees. If you want to wait here with Prince Pinko, go ahead. I'll be back as soon as I can.”

  “Okay. You were told to deliver him, I don't want us to show up empty handed, or worse, with a spoiled present,” I joke, giving Mathias a grin. “Although, are you dressed for the outdoors?”

  Mathias shrugs and gets out of his chair, looking down at his loincloth. “Let's hope they have clothes for me. Or else I'm going to be really fucking cold tonight.”

  Mathias opens the door to the transport, and a swirl of cold air hits me. Here on the eve of the Blood Moon, winter has set its teeth in fiercely. “Heaven and stars! Close that hatch! Wait a minute!”

  Mathias closes the door and I get out of my seat, going to the back of the transport again. There has to be something for Mathias, I don't want him going out like this, and honestly I fear for Tauren's safety if I leave him alone with Mathias. The amount of rage and anger I've felt burning off of him as he flies is homicidal, and I'm worried about him.

  Finally, under one of the seats, next to the seat where I found the medical kits, I find what I'm looking for. “Here,” I say, pulling out the rain poncho, “it's not much, but his royal highness could never be expected to actually get wet. And his pilot would never want to get wet either. Figured they had to have something like this. It's not much but....”

  Mathias smiles and takes the poncho from me. “
Thanks, Audie. Hopefully I won't be too long.”

  He opens the hatch again and exits quickly, shutting the door behind him as he runs towards the trees. I watch him carefully until he disappears before I sit back, sighing. I look at Tauren, and think about the story I'd told Mathias. The fact is, back there I was thinking about Tauren, but now that I've said it, the idea of being free has worked its way into my thoughts, and I'm having a hard time letting it go. As far back as I can remember, I've been a slave. My first memories are of being Neyilla's playmate, actually Mathias and I were both her playmates. We played what she wanted, for as long as she wanted, and the first lessons we got in obedience were to make sure that she always won whatever game it was we played.

  Since those moments, my entire life has been being Neyilla's slave. I was set on the road to education because Neyilla needed slaves that could read and be useful to her. I learned reading, writing, martial arts, and various other subjects because of Neyilla. I stood in the back of the room as her tutors tried to instruct her, soaking up what I could about politics, mathematics, economics, and all the other subjects that Neyilla quickly grew bored with. Some of the tutors, would secretly slip me lessons, if for no other reason than they wanted to make sure that Neyilla would have an advisor who might be able to help her when her ignorance became a liability.

  I glance over at Tauren, chuckling. “No problems for you with that, according to what I've heard,” I whisper to him. For some reason, I reach out and stroke his silky soft hair, shaking my head. “From everything Neyilla's said about you, you're as much a scholar as you are a Prince. One impressive warrior too. Yet still....”

  He's my enemy. He represents everything that has been built to keep me and most humans under the rod and lash. It is from his ancestors’ decrees that humans have been stripped of all rights, made to be little more than animals, and subjected to treatment that, even if I am immune to Tamarian hypnotics, it still turns my stomach. Raped, tortured, humiliated.... and that's just what's happened to Mathias, what turned the sweet, kind boy that I fell in love with as a teen into the bitter, angry man that I tried to comfort but can only share a transport with now.