Our other mental casualty was the Isetacian. He’d been in his cage and was already crazy when Lurb had been captured. No one knew the Isetacian’s name, though Oses told me we’d have never been able to pronounce it anyhow. The alien hung from his vines, swinging back and forth near a wall, which he banged his skull against for stretches as long as two hours. His tiny eyes, two rows of which encircled his entire bone-covered head, never blinked. He clung with six limbs upside down on his looping vines, rocking ceaselessly, smashing the top of his skull over and over. No one paid him any mind. After a day, the constant boom-boom-boom of his attempt to beat his brains out became background noise to me too.
The Tragoom spent most of its existence squatting in its environment, which was directly across from ours. Of them all, it acted most interested in me and Oses. I imagined it resembled what would happen if a rhino and a pig had offspring. It stared at us with a fierce squint. Its wet nose snuffled, as if trying to catch our scents. The triangular ears perched on top of its head swiveled to catch every sound. Once every so often, it would roll on its mucky ground, snorting and squealing as it did so. I could discern no reason for these occasional bursts of activity.
Lurb found it odd that there was a Tragoom amongst us captives, because Finiuld used several of them as security guards. The only reason he could think of that this one was kept as an exhibit was because it had been some powerful chieftain. Lurb’s best guess was the Tragoom had been important enough among its people to warrant being a prize.
The Joshadan’s name was Nifixcyl. Oses bowed and spoke to her with great respect. Nifixcyl nodded once and said hello in her whistling language, but nothing else. She sat still with her eyes closed much of the time, a sapphire furball that interspersed lengthy bouts of meditation with weaving mats out of the reeds that surrounded her. Once a mat was completed, Nifixcyl would take it apart. I wasn’t so sure she hadn’t gone insane like the Isetacian and Simolsha.
“Don’t be fooled by how small and weak she appears,” Oses advised me, gazing at the Joshadan with obvious esteem. “Joshadans are fantastic survivors with the hardiest souls of any species I’ve ever known. Other species may enslave and torment them, but the Joshadans remain strong in their minds.”
The Yeknap, which was named Zezezez, crawled out of its hole in the sand to click its serrated claws and bare a mouthful of fangs at us at regular intervals. Oses explained it was an expression of solidarity and friendship. I’d have sworn it was a threat display. I guess a six-foot long creature that resembles a cross between a centipede and a lobster with a bear-trap face isn’t going to appear friendly, no matter his good intentions.
This was Finiuld’s merry menagerie, his live collection of captive species. Lurb said there were more exhibits elsewhere on the ship. They were no doubt as pathetic as our lot.
February 14
The first few days of our captivity, the food wasn’t half bad. Alien though it was, I couldn’t complain it was inedible. Four times a day, floating trays of roasted meat, fresh fruit, and steamed vegetables were the norm. There were sweet pastries with nuts and fruit embedded in the bread for desserts. Oses left those to me to devour. I did so, taking every bit of pleasure I could find from our situation. Four full meals were excessive for me, but I indulged in those treats whenever possible.
On about the fourth day of our incarceration, we’d eaten lunch and Oses was doing some callisthenic-type exercises. I followed along as best I could, but I got winded quick. Deck squats, in which you squat down, roll onto your back, roll up into a squat, and end with standing up straight, were the worst. I think I amused the hell out of Oses with my attempts. To give him credit, he offered encouragement rather than teasing me. We both wanted me in peak shape for whatever escape attempt might come our way. Yet by the fifth or sixth deck squat, I wouldn’t be able to roll up to my feet. I laid on the grass doing a spot-on imitation of a throw rug, gasping and hating everything to do with physical fitness. Oses would make me mad by performing about fifty of those things. He didn’t even breathe heavy.
I’d managed to do four deck squats, and I felt the inevitable end of that round approaching. My thighs were on fire, my chest was heaving like a bellows, and sweat was running rivers under my fur dress.
As I began to squat down for what would no doubt be the last rep, Finiuld and another, almost identical, little creep suddenly appeared on the other side of the enclosure. Startled, I emitted a shriek as a dark shape darted in front of me. Oses crouched between me and the Ofetuchans. He’d been startled as well, the instinct to protect me ruling him for an instant.
I sensed movement from the other habitats as their prisoners scrambled to the corners, moving as far from the Ofetuchans as possible. It wouldn’t have helped them if the little creeps had been interested in them, but instinct is hard to fight.
For our part, Oses and I recovered and went right into our plan of non-compliance. The Nobek turned to face me. We both sat down cross-legged from each other. We did not look at our captor or his companion. We stared at each other and readied ourselves for whatever might come.
Finiuld’s companion’s voice had that same sweet musical quality, though his was a bit more lilting and higher-pitched. “My, that Kalquorian is a fine specimen. It’s too bad we can’t keep them alive except in stasis. When did you catch him?”
I watched Oses’s eyes glaze over at the lovely, mesmerizing tones. My heart was pounding with too much fear to fall under the spell. While the creeps spoke, it was up to me to hold my wits together.
The original Little Creep sounded smug to my ears. “He’s been here four days. It usually takes them time to figure out they aren’t going anywhere.”
“You’ve clothed him in the historic primitive garb of his species.”
“Her too. Beastly, aren’t they?” Finiuld tittered.
“But so many do that with their collections. Don’t you find it boring?”
“I prefer them stripped down to their basic natures. Besides, it’s stupid to dress lower creatures as if they were cultured people. They should dress appropriate to what they are: animals.”
“Especially Kalquorian Nobeks. You know, the average is nine weeks before the first suicide attempt. Do you think it’ll live longer because of the Earther?”
My heart hammered to hear them talk about Oses committing suicide. A sick feeling mixed with fury to hear the nonchalance in their tones. That captivity could drive my lover into killing himself meant nothing to them. I wanted to claw their eyes out.
Finiuld sounded puffed up with pride as he answered his companion. “Of course, Madol. He’s a Nobek, the most protective breed of Kalquorian. He’s duty-bound to keep a female safe, especially when he can mate and sire children on her. Neither can stand to see the other hurt.”
“They care for each other, do they? That is luck. Congratulations on catching her. I believe she’s the first to be added to a collection. With more of them evacuating their planet, everyone will be scrambling to catch one. You said she’s occasionally immune to our voices?”
“Apparently so. It’s tied to how frightened she is at the moment. Here, I’ll demonstrate. Shalia, for my next command only, disobedience won’t result in Oses being punished. Stand up so we can have a look at you.”
I stifled a groan. Non-compliance was playing into Finiuld’s hands at that instant. He wanted me to ignore him so he could show how I could resist his voice hypnosis. It was a case of ‘damned if you do, damned if you don’t’. However, sitting still and ignoring him was the plan. I watched Oses regain his senses as the Ofetuchans watched us silently. The Nobek blinked at me, and I closed my eye in a slow wink. All was well...so far. He twitched a slight nod.
Little Creep’s friend Madol spoke, stealing my Nobek from me once more. “It’s amazing that she can do that. The species are so similar; I would have thought they would be affected the same. Aren’t they rumored to have a common ancestry?”
“If they do, they’ve evolved on separate w
orlds for millennia. It’s to be expected a few differences exist. Oses, stand and turn toward me.”
Oses started to obey. I leaned forward and muttered in an intense tone, “Listen to me and hear my voice, Oses. Stay seated. Do nothing voluntarily.”
Consciousness flooded into his expression once more. He was halfway up, but as he got his senses back, he sat once more. His lips pressed together. Anger sparked for a second before his expression turned stony.
Madol’s lilting tones had a mocking edge to them. “Isn’t that interesting? I believe she’s helping him slip his leash, Finiuld.”
“Not for long. Do that again, Shalia, and I’ll turn his collar on. Oses, stand up.”
Once more the Nobek began to rise. My heart galloped a mile a second as I did what would send him straight to the bowels of Hell. I almost didn’t go through with it.
“Oses, resist him. Sit down and remember, it’s only pain.”
The Nobek dropped to his butt with a thud. For a second, his upper lip wrinkled from his teeth in defiance before the collar activated and agony hit him.
Oses’s screams rebounded against the walls of our enclosure as he went down, writhing and tearing at the grass beneath him. His feet drummed frantically against the ground and in the air as he tried to escape the torment.
I couldn’t watch. I stayed in my spot, shut my eyes, and tried not to scream with him.
Finiuld kept the collar on for perhaps ten seconds. Before it was over, tears were sliding down my cheeks. I kept thinking it was my fault Oses was being tortured. It wasn’t. It was the Little Fucking Bastard Creep’s fault. As hard as I’ve found it to kill those attacking me in the past, I think I could have bashed Finiuld’s skull in with laughter pouring from my lips right then. I’ve never hated anyone so much as I hated him.
At last, Oses stopped screaming. He panted and moaned in the aftermath. I kept my eyes shut, unwilling to view what I had brought on him.
Finiuld said, “Stand up, Oses. Right now.”
I followed that up without pausing. “Don’t do it, Oses! Stay right where you are.”
More screams came a second later, blasting my eardrums. I tried to block them out, chanting in my head, it’s only pain; he’s not being damaged. It’s only pain; he’s not being damaged. It’s only pain; he’s not being damaged.
It was precious little to hold onto as my lover shrieked on and on. When he stopped, perhaps a full minute later, I was bawling.
“Perhaps you should concentrate on his weakness, Finiuld.” Madol sounded gleeful at the Little Creep’s failure to make us comply.
“That will be my pleasure. Oses, rip Shalia’s clothes off and fuck her.”
My eyes flew open at that command. I looked into a feral face only a few feet away. Despite the agony he’d just been in, Oses was up on all fours and crawling towards me.
I drew a deep breath to steady myself. “Stop, Oses. He does not command you.”
Awareness returned once more to the Nobek. He froze in place and turned his hectic gaze towards the Ofetuchans standing outside the containment field. They were treated to a fang-filled snarl of defiance.
The next seconds were eclipsed in drowning pain. Now it was my turn to suffer, to scream as anguish tore me to shreds. I had known it was coming. I knew I wasn’t being ripped to tatters. Still, when that kind of cruelty is happening, it doesn’t matter that no damage is occurring. All that matters is the suffering.
When I emerged, shaking and sobbing and lying in a puddle of my own piss, Oses was sitting nearby. He held my hand, his body quaking violently. His fangs were down, but he stared into space. He was trying his best to hang onto his promise to me that we would resist under all circumstances.
I wasn’t sure how I spoke. However, I was desperate to remind him of the most important thing in the equation. I rasped, “For all of us.”
He continued to stare into space, but he managed to jerk a nod. Part of me felt relief. Oses would not let me or my unborn child down.
“Rape her, Oses. Make her cry.”
“Come back to me, Oses,” I demanded as he pulled my legs apart. “Master yourself, Nobek!”
He howled, a mixture of grief and rage. Oses gathered me in his arms before torment descended on me once more.
When I regained sense, he was shouting. Instead of angry animal screams, however, Oses yelled words at the top of his lungs.
“I cannot hear you! You do not order me! I will not hurt Shalia for your entertainment! You are nothing! I won’t obey!”
The constant stream of defiance kept anything Finiuld might have said from reaching Oses’s ears. Despite being weak from torture, I felt a jolt of triumph. We had found a path past the hypnotic weave of the Ofetuchans’ voices. We had a small thread of defense.
I peeked at the creeps to see how they were taking our refusal to bow to them. Madol had a mixture of worry and amusement flitting over his ugly face. Finiuld looked furious.
No, more than furious. His glare was pure murder.
I couldn’t hear the Little Creep over Oses’s yelling, but I had no trouble reading his lips before he and Madol disappeared. You will pay.
We gave them several seconds to be gone before we spoke. “Well done, Shalia,” Oses whispered in my ear.
“You too. Even a small victory deserves some celebration, right?”
“Most certainly.”
Oses got up on shaking legs and carried me to the pond. We cleaned ourselves up. I had to wash my shift and Oses donated his vest to give me some modesty. It was enough to hide the girly bits, but I had to hold it closed. Oses’s kilt had also been soiled, so he was left to parade around naked while it dried. We hung our clothes side by side on a branch of our tree.
“No dignity in torture,” I muttered. I hated losing control of bodily functions in front of everyone, especially Oses. It made little difference that he suffered the same humiliation.
“It’s part of the attempt to break us.”
“Now we find out the penalty for being hard to get along with.” My stomach churned at what Little Creep would do to us.
“Stay strong, my pet. Think of who you’re protecting.”
I nodded. We settled down to wait for whatever hell might come, Oses holding me tight against his body.
We didn’t see Finiuld for the rest of the day, however. He let us stew over what our punishment would turn out to be. We were given nothing to eat, either. When the other prisoners’ food arrived, no trays floated into our containment. I didn’t have any appetite anyhow.
Sleep was fitful. When the next day came, so did Finiuld.
February 15
I woke with a scream when Oses jumped to his feet roaring. In a second, he was down again, unconscious.
Finiuld stood within our environment, only feet away. He pointed something at me that I could have mistaken to be a garage door remote. I had barely started to move when darkness closed in.
I woke up all at once. I laid on something similar to a chaise lounge, what they used to call a ‘fainting couch’. Fainting, my ass. The Little Creep had knocked me out somehow.
Speaking of the tiny bastard, he lounged nearby on a cushioned thing that reminded me of a toadstool. It was a poisonous, sickly green color. Finiuld had traded his usual waistcoat for pajamas. If I’m lying, I’m dying. He wore cherry-red satin pajamas. It clashed with his ruddy coloring and funky orange-red hair. He wasn’t pretty to begin with, but he brought ugly to new lengths in that get-up. He was barefoot too. He had funny duck feet, which his tail curled around as he hugged his knees to his chest.
He watched me as he sat, waiting for me to wake up. He had what I initially took to be an incense stick clenched in his tombstone teeth. Since he smoked it, I suppose it was more of a cigarette. Wispy tendrils wafted from the lit end. It smelled peppery and stung my nostrils.
We perched on a balcony that ran in a circle over a floor, which I came to call the Arena. I’ll describe that part in a moment. First the ledge. It was t
his ring of blue marble floor on which was scattered various seating furniture. Lounges like what I reclined on, mushroom poufs identical to that Finiuld perched on, couches, cushions...all kinds of arrangements. There were the floating trays that served as tables. Most were empty. The tray next to Finiuld had a cup of some brown liquid that I swear tiny things were swimming in, along with that garage door remote-looking device.
The hateful freak smiled at me, his teeth clenched on his incense cigarette stick. “So glad you could wake up for the entertainment, Shalia. Sit up and prepare for the show.”
I did so, noting I was still clad only in Oses’s vest. Finiuld gulped whatever it was in his cup. Ew. Then I saw his ‘entertainment’ on the Arena floor below us.
The surface of the floor had the same marbled appearance as the stone ledge where Finiuld and I sat. Smooth and polished, it allowed for easy clean up, as I was to learn later. The walls ringing it had murals painted on it. The scenes depicted what I imagined an intergalactic Roman coliseum might have put on for shows: various species battling each other and animals from all reaches of the galaxy, fights to the death. Beautiful and gory all at once, it was a stunning glimpse into hell.
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