by Zara Zenia
"If there was anything of use here, I am certain the previous generations would have found it," Atropos said, reaching for her shoulders consolingly. "Or Actian would know of it at the least. He's flight leader. He knows everything."
"Except you said yourself that he's relying on a new human slave trade to secure his allies," Amber pointed out, ignoring the soothing warmth of his hands. "Even if there was a way to stop using humans, he wouldn't want to use it. He wouldn't want anyone to know about it or they might get in the way of his plans."
Atropos froze, looking surprised at the thought. Amber had a feeling he wasn't used to being suspicious of his brother.
Amber turned away from him to keep walking and, frowning, he followed her.
"You don't know Actian," Atropos said stubbornly. "He isn't like that. He's trying to save us."
"At the expense of my entire species," Amber pointed out. "Not exactly endearing."
"Someone has to make the hard decisions," Atropos insisted, still following her.
"Not that decision," she shot back at once.
"It is not easy to be Flight leader! You do not see how it strains him—"
"Then maybe someone else should be in charge!"
This stunned him so severely that he fell silent. When he started to speak again, Amber held up a hand to stop him. They'd come to a long, dim corridor, at the end of which a door sat ajar. Bright light shone through it, brighter than any of the flickering, faded lights in this part of the ship. Amber moved closer at once, only to jerk to a halt in surprise as Atropos grabbed her arm.
"You do not want to go in there," he said, and his voice was low and steady. "You will not go in there."
Despite his size and his ominous coloration, Amber had never really feared him beyond those first few terrifying moments after waking on the ship. He was too kind, too silly, his lighthearted bumbling making it easy to think he couldn't hurt her, even if he wanted to. For the first time now, he seemed genuinely intimidating, and Amber felt her heart skip, her willpower faltering. She squared her jaw, trying to regather her courage.
"I will," she said and tried to pull her arm from his grip again, surprised when it wouldn't budge. Her eyes widened and she tried again, but his grip was like an iron manacle. She realized how much he must have been holding back before. It barely seemed to take any effort for him to stop her.
"Fine," she hissed, flustered and afraid but most of all, angry. "Take me back. But I'll be down here again the next time you take your eyes off me. I'll never stop trying to get out, and eventually, I will find a way off this ship."
Atropos looked down at her, a hardness in his eyes she wasn't used to seeing. Then, slowly, his grip on her loosened. He said nothing as, looking back at him warily, she turned and fled down the hall. He followed just as silently, sweeping after her wrapped in his death's head wings, not trying to stop her, just following.
She hurried to the open door as quietly as she could and peered through the gap, frowning at the white room on the other side, too bright to distinguish anything. Cautiously, she pushed open the door.
The room was vast, curving along the outer hull of the ship. The air hummed with a strange vibration that made Amber's teeth hurt. Antiseptic white, there was not a trace of the baroque whimsy and comfort of other places in the ship, nor a bit of greenery. Instead the room was filled, from where Amber stood all the way to where it vanished around the curve of the ship, with sleeping humans.
Chapter 6
They floated, unconscious and drifting as though under water, their hair and clothing like seaweed caught in a current. Each was at the center of a beam of light which suspended them, seeming anchored somewhere in their chests. Their faces were alternately serene or troubled, as though whatever they dreamed of worried them.
She watched a woman she was fairly certain worked at the university slowly clench and unclench her hands, her brow furrowed, her fingers taut, and Amber wondered if she was dreaming they were around someone's throat or clawing at some unknown attacker.
It was mostly women, though there were a handful of men, all between the ages of twenty and thirty by Amber's estimation. They was an even mix of races and ethnicities and body types. Though they were all beautiful, it was an indiscriminate beauty, no two victims quite the same.
The priority seemed to have been dramatic coloration rather than what was considered routinely attractive these days. There were far fewer size-two waistlines than there were people with dyed hair. A tall black woman with bleached blonde hair and the palomino skin indicative of vitiligo floated next to a curvaceous ginger with milk-pale skin and a dense scattering of freckles. Beside them, a man with dark red-brown skin and dramatic tattoos tensed and shifted in his uneasy sleep, long black hair catching the light.
Amber was frozen, caught somewhere between shock and horror. She had to do something, she thought, feeling a wild panic like a trapped bird. She had to get them out, she had to stop this. They were helpless. They had no idea.
A sound like sheets in the wind broke her fearful reverie, and she looked up to see something descending from a higher level toward her, wings spread so wide she almost couldn't wrap her mind around it. She fell, all her courage and bravado abandoning her as she sank to her knees, covering her head with her arms.
But the thing did not land on her. It landed in front of her, stopping itself with a heavy beat of its broad, pale green wings. The wind of it blew her hair back from her face and threw the brown cloak she wore off her shoulders to fan behind her. The man, the Lepidopterix, that landed before her was, in a word, majestic. She'd glimpsed him before when she was first waking up, but she'd been too distressed and confused to really appreciate what he was.
Actian was taller even than his brother, though not as broad. Where Atropos was built like a hulking brute, all top-heavy intimidation, Actian was built like a king, tall and straight-backed and regal. The pale silvery green of his skin and wings were almost translucent. The long green filaments of his antennae curled over his brow like a crown.
"You do not belong here," he said, his voice deep and sonorous, shaking Amber to her core. He reached for her, and Amber was certain for a moment that she would die.
"I brought her," Atropos said suddenly, calm and easy as he appeared behind her. She had almost forgotten he was there.
"The hosts should not be disturbed before implantation," Actian said with a frown. "You know this. If anyone could come in here, the hosts might be damaged."
"I know, brother." Atropos bowed respectfully. "But Amber—the human—wished to see."
"Oh, this is your pet?" Actian replied, squinting down at Amber. "Her coloration is so dull I could not tell her apart from the low-grade chattel. I assumed one of those had escaped. You have strange tastes, brother."
"Humans have other charms beyond base coloration," Atropos said defensively. "And I am dull-colored as well. We suit one another."
"Perhaps you do," Actian said, antennae twitching curiously. "But you should not have brought her in here. You might have taken her to the main incubation hall. But this place is for the prime stock for our auction. We cannot risk even a single one being damaged."
"I thought to show her a human's place," Atropos replied, and the coolness in his voice felt like a spike through Amber's heart. "She is resistant to accepting her new home here."
Actian nodded in sudden understanding.
"I see," he said. "Perhaps you were not being foolish after all. It is better the creature learns to mind now, before Gifting Day. Get the silly thing off the floor. I will help you show her."
Amber could only numbly obey as Atropos pulled her to her feet. Shame at her foolish bravery hung over her, while fear rattled in her chest. Had Atropos really meant that? This new cold side of him was frightening and unfamiliar. He all but held her up by her arm as Actian began to walk past the rows of sleeping, suspended humans.
"See how peacefully they rest, human?" Actian said. "They will remain this way all
through Gifting Day, when they are seeded with new life. Humans are uniquely suited to this, you know. It is a not unpopular theory that early Lepidopterix created the first hominids for the express purpose of carrying our young. Why else would you be so perfect for our purposes? The shape of your wombs, the hardiness of your bodies, the compatibility of your internal chemistry—you are ideal. Recent research suggests you may be equally useful in carrying the young of many different species. And not just hosting an externally fertilized embryo. There's even talk of true crossbreeding, based on samples of your fascinatingly adaptable chromosomes. Humanity may be the Universal Surrogate we've all been waiting for. And with the Lepidopterix managing you, you will be able to help an untold number of species. Truly, your service is a gift to all sentient races. You should be quite proud."
Amber clutched her cape in white-knuckled hands, fighting the urge to run or lash out. Actian seemed to have no idea how horrifying the future he was suggesting sounded.
"It probably can't even understand me," Actian said, glancing at the silent, pale-faced human girl.
"They only just stopped being apes a few millennia ago, brother," Atropos replied. "Go easy on them."
Actian shrugged.
"Regardless, perhaps seeing her betters in their place here will make her more grateful that you allow her such freedom," he said.
A glimpse of auburn hair distracted Amber from her distress and anger at this line of reasoning. She took a second glance at the woman they were passing, then cried out in sudden, horrified recognition.
"Erin!"
Amber lunged toward her friend at once, Atropos's grip on her arm holding her back. Amber had no idea Erin had been taken. All this time, she'd thought her friend was safe on Earth, wondering where Amber had gone. The thought of Erin, beautiful, kind, funny Erin being subjected to what she knew would happen here made Amber's skin crawl.
"Oh, do you know this one?" Actian asked conversationally, stepping closer to Erin. He brushed a drifting auburn curl away from Erin's face with surprising delicacy. "She is an impressive specimen, is she not? Almost perfect, I would say. She is meant for the auction, but I am considering taking her for my personal host come Gifting Day."
"Let her go," Amber blurted out without thinking. Atropos's grip tightened on her arm. "Please. Send her back to Earth and I'll cooperate. I'll take her place! Just let her go!"
Actian laughed, not cruelly but indifferently, as one laughs at a silly child.
"A sweet offer," he said. "But your only worth is to my brother. Without his sentimentality, I would not take you for base breeding stock, let alone to replace a quality animal such as this. You are just going to have to accept your place in the world, and hers."
"No!" Amber shouted and struggled against Atropos, no real plan except to get to Erin, to stop this madness. Atropos held her in place easily, frowning slightly as she thrashed in her distress. Actian was frowning as well.
"You should hurry and seed her," he told his brother mildly. "She'll be less troublesome once she's gravid. No one would blame you for doing it a little ahead of Gifting Day."
Atropos looked slightly uncomfortable. Amber, helpless to escape his iron grip, went limp, a sob welling up from her chest.
"I do not intend to use her for a host," Atropos told his brother somewhat haltingly.
"Why not?" Actian said with a frown. "She's perfectly capable of it. She's already been assigned to you. If you're angling for a host of better stock—"
"I didn't intend to contribute my genetics at all," Atropos confessed. Even Amber, hanging despondently from Atropos's grip, could see the shock this caused in Actian.
"Blasphemy!" Actian declared. "Everyone must contribute! You know that if even a handful of us abstained, our numbers would dwindle beyond sustainability within a few generations! With the numbers we lost to that illness last season, we are at risk enough already."
"I know, I know," Atropos said at once, backing down. "It is just . . . this method, the way we use the humans . . . it vexes me, brother."
Actian shook his head, making an odd clicking sound that might have been a sigh.
"No one would know it to look at you," he said. "But you've always been soft-shelled. But we must all do things we are not comfortable with for the good of the flight. There are many things I wish were not so, but as flight leader, I must shoulder the responsibility regardless. I'm sure you can find it in you to do something as simple as donating your genetics, regardless of your squeamishness."
Atropos hesitated for a moment, then bowed his head.
"Of course, flight leader."
He talked with Actian a little longer, but Amber was beginning to have difficulty focusing on it. She couldn't see anything but Erin, hanging helplessly in front of her, expression serene in deep sleep, unaware of the nightmare waiting for her when she woke up.
Chapter 7
Eventually, Atropos pulled her away, back the way they'd come. She tried briefly to resist, to stay with Erin, but she knew she wasn't strong enough. Atropos, impatient with the way she hung limp, forcing him to drag her, picked her up, his powerful arms undeniable. He carried her back to his room through the same passages she had used to get down here, when she'd been so full of delusions about her own heroism. She wasn't the hero of this story, just another victim. Actian's easy dismissal of her value had cut right through her.
Back in his balcony room, the curtains drawn, Atropos set her gently on her bed. She rolled over to face away from him, her arms around herself, feeling beaten and unsure what would happen to her now. Atropos had proven once again not to be the person she thought he was. She didn't know what she could trust from him anymore.
"I am sorry," he said quietly behind her. "I said cruel things. I allowed cruel things to be said to you. I promise that then, as before, I only wanted to keep you safe."
"How am I supposed to believe that?" Amber almost whispered, not moving to look at him. "I don't know who you are."
She felt his hand above her shoulder, almost touching for just a moment. Then it withdrew.
"I am not the human you knew on Earth," he admitted. "But I am not the cold brute my brother expects me to be either. With you, even on Earth, I was more myself than I have ever been allowed to be here. Even that was not entirely my true self. I needed to charm you and the others my brother wanted for the auction. But with you, for the first time, it did not feel so much like lying. I wanted you to like me, not for his sake, but for mine. I am so sorry, Amber. If I had known my feelings for you would have caused this, I would rather you had hated me."
Amber covered her face with her hands, her feelings too complicated to figure out.
"If you care about me," she said at last, her voice a rasp, choked by the tears she was trying to hold back, "If you ever did. Then you have to help me stop this. I have to save those people."
"You do not understand what you ask of me," Atropos said as gently as he could. "To betray my brother, to doom my species—"
"I know exactly what I'm asking." Amber sat up slowly, turning to look at him. "You heard your brother. He's going to make you use me as a host. He isn't going to give you a choice. I'm asking you not to force that on me. I'm asking you not to force that on anyone."
Atropos looked away, expression troubled, and Amber reached out for him, touched his cheek gently. She wanted to believe there was still something of the man she'd been falling in love with inside him. She wanted him to still be someone she could trust. She had no one else to turn to here. He reached up to touch her hand, holding it to his cheek.
"I will try," he said. "I can promise nothing but that. But we must find another solution. I cannot let my species die out."
"We'll figure something out," Amber said, jumping on even the slim chance. "There has to be a solution that doesn't trade the freedom of one of us for the survival of the other."
"I will try," he said again. "But you must try as well. To behave as though you have accepted your place. If you draw
my brother's ire, we will have no chance at all."
Amber frowned, then pushed down her pride.
"I'll try," she agreed.
"Then come with me this evening," he said. "Word has spread of Actian's gift to me. There are many who want to meet you. There will be a party this evening and I would like to make it your debut."
"Is it safe?" Amber asked, worried.
"Of course," Atropos said at once. "And I will be there to protect you. I would never let any harm come to you."
He smiled at her so kindly that even with his strange dark eyes and alien features, it made her heart skip a beat. She wished she could really believe him.
"All right," she said warily, for Erin's sake. She would do whatever it took to make sure Erin made it out of this place.
"I will go and prepare," he said with a smile. "Please, rest. I know this morning was stressful for you. But things will get better, I promise."
He hurried away then, and she heard the rush of his wings as he took off from the balcony. She sat where he'd left her, fear and despair rolling in her chest. Part of her wanted to run down to the abandoned part of the ship again at once, to drag Erin out of that stasis beam and escape with her. But she knew it wasn't possible. And even if it was, she'd never forgive herself for leaving all the others behind.
She curled up, knees to her chest, her hands over her face. She slid them up into her hair with a groan. She needed rest, as Atropos had said. She found herself suddenly regretting not waiting for him to bring back food earlier. Her stomach grumbled unhappily.
She breathed in deeply, ready to ask the computer for more of the terrible fruit in syrup, when she caught a whiff of something familiar. Surprised, she hurried to the door between the little corner of the balcony room that she had walled off and the main room.