Wrax

by Starr Huntress

  I wait for the answer I think I already know. DNA doesn’t change. 96% is what I got last time and that isn’t high enough for a match.

  The nurse looks at it with half her attention, as if she isn’t expecting anything either. But then she does a double take, and looks back at the screen, brow furrowed.

  I gently clear my throat. “Um, can I—” I ask, beginning to gather up my things to go home, as if rushing out will change whatever she is about to say to me. She holds out her hand and I sink back into my chair, feeling all the blood leave my face. I feel like I am about to faint.

  “It’s working on it,” she says, but her face is up close to the screen and her voice is low with concentration. I know that she sees something that interests her. Something she doesn’t usually see. “You were a 96% match at the highest the last time you came here, correct?”

  “Yes,” I say, tense and uncomfortable.

  “Mm. It looks like the new system has a match for you.”

  She looks at me and to my surprise her once-tired eyes are now wide and swimming with some new emotion.

  It’s pity.

  My skin feels numb, so I simply nod for her to continue. There is clearly something she is itching to say to me.

  “The match you have … he’s from a very … unusual culture. They’re not exactly like the other Mahdfel women have gone to live with.”

  Great. “What exactly does that mean?” I press her.

  “It’s one of our new systems, Firosa.”

  I already knew it would be from a new, strange system, because I didn’t have a match with any of the old ones. “And, um, what is Firosa like?”

  She turns back to the screen and scans her eyes over it. “Well, you’ll be the first match they have. From, um, any planet.”

  It takes me a moment to realize what she means. “I’ll be the only female on the entire planet?”

  She rubs her nose. “In the entire system,” she corrects quietly. “And they, um, the Firosan Mahdfel are still Mahdfel. In that they place huge importance on their mates and treat them with the utmost respect — much more than human men!” She laughs lightly, trying to make me smile, but I don’t. I’m straining my eyes trying to read the screen from where I’m sitting.

  “What’s different about these ones?”

  “Well, the Firosans are sort of…” She blinks at the screen as she tries to find the right word. “...feral.”

  Feral.

  “What’s this man like?” This alien... “My match.”

  “He is well-respected on this planet,” she says, her voice light like she doesn’t want me to probe much more into that. But I have to.

  “Oh? Why is that?”

  “He is, I suppose, sort of their leader. It says here a close approximation would be a King.”

  “He’s the King of Firosa?” I repeat. She shrugs.

  “The actual planet is called, um, Paxia. But the Firosans travelled freely around the Firosan system, hence the name.” She pauses, and then remembers my question. “Oh, well, I mean … not really. But sort of.” There is much more she isn’t telling me. I can see it in her body language. Hear it in her voice. “So you’ll be really well taken care of, at least.”

  “I have no choice, do I?” I confirm. I feel like I’m floating. I’m having an out of body experience.

  “No,” she says quietly. “The teleportation device is at the back of this building.” There’s one in every DNA clinic, courtesy of our alien friends. Women who are matches are often not even allowed to leave the clinic when they are found a match, because they flee. I wonder if I would flee if I had the chance. And where I would go. Or who I would go to.

  I can’t think of anyone.

  “Ok,” I say, and gather up my purse.

  “Do you want us to send the team to get your things? You can call your loved ones while you wait for it to arrive.”

  To my horror I see that tears of empathy are filling her eyes but she is trying very hard not to let them fall. I wonder if she is upset because I have a match so very far away in uncharted territory, or simply because I have a match at all.

  This job must be even more stressful than mine…

  Before I really know what I’m doing, I’m shaking my head and standing up. “You can send my next of kin the standard letters or phone calls,” I say, assuming that those exist. She nods, which is good.

  “And as for the payout—” The payout. Dammit, I had forgotten. The next of kin gets a sizeable chunk of cash to ‘make up for’ the loss of their loved one. It has helped many a greedy family member sell out a hiding matched woman in the last decade. “—that will go to the next of kin that you left on the form in the waiting room,” she informs me.

  I feel a tingling of discomfort.

  “Can I … can I change that?”

  She looks over at me again. “Oh. Sure. Let me enter it here. You had your parents down on the form. Who would you like to change it to?”

  I swallow. “Give them a quarter of it. That will pay for their mortgage for a year if they don’t go to Hawaii and buy new TVs, and then they can find another way to live after that.” I feel cruel. Or I expect to, but I don’t. I feel lighter. “The rest can go to the local animal rescue center.” I wave my hands, trying to remember the name, but the nurse nods and writes that down.

  “That’s fine,” she says, quietly editing my information on her screen.

  I feel … weirdly … great.

  I feel like an enormous weight has been lifted.

  Let’s see how Hardstark, Hardstark, Hardstark and Fitch do without me. See how my parents do without half of my hard-earned paycheck. My sister without my free babysitting, and my ex-boyfriend and ex-friend with only each other.

  I stand and allow a security guard from the other room to enter and gently guide me through the room.

  “Are you sure you don’t want some of your things?” the nurse calls after me.

  “Do they have clothes in Firosa?” I ask.

  “Yes.”

  “Then I’m fine!” I laugh, feeling giddy as I am led down the stairs to the buzzing teleportation area. My hair stands on end and my teeth chatter. The security guard stays silent but even he looks uncomfortable down here.

  I step towards the pod and run my fingers over the warm metal. I can feel the energy bubbling from within the core, and I know that I can’t even begin to understand how this thing works. Not for one second.

  “Step into the center, onto the ‘X’,” the guard says, trying not to look me in the eyes. I see a trace of pure humanity in his expression and wonder if he is trying to avoid my gaze because he knows he will want to help me.

  I step onto the big white X and wait for further instruction.

  “Here is your Firosan translation device,” he says, roughly clipping something small and cold into my ear and making me jump. I hear a small buzz and then a loud singsong series of beeps. “It’s, uh, a little different. Firosan tech. I hear it’s kinda odd.”

  “Hello, I am your translation device and helper AI.”

  I remain silent, feeling the waves of tingling energy roll off my skin again and again. Through the pod, the guard looks like he is underwater.

  “Are there any last minute questions or concerns?” he asks me, still not looking right at me.

  “Um,” I say, “how long does this take?”

  “It is instantaneous. You will experience some nausea, and you may also experience headaches, cramping, vomiting, dizziness, confusion, fatigue or heart failure. Thank you for your cooperation in this matter.” He has definitely memorized that spiel. My heart is hammering in my chest. I press my hand over it.

  “Heart failure..?” I repeat.

  “Here, you get a mint to suck on for the journey. It helps with the nausea. Good luck,” he says, voice steady, and he glances over to look at my eyes for the first time. I realize that he is searching them to uncover my emotions. He will not see the fear, anguish, regret, that I think he expects to.<
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  Because, against all odds, all I feel right now is excitement.

  Chapter Two

  Cara

  He was right. It was instantaneous.

  One moment I was standing in the shiny basement room of a DNA clinic in my hometown in California — on Earth — and the next moment it was like I’d been ripped apart and put back together somewhere entirely different.

  I bend double, immediately feeling my stomach contract, and I remember the wrapped sweet in my hand just in time. I pop it into my mouth, cough hard, and press the back of my hand to my mouth. I squeeze my eyes shut, feeling the minty flavor overtake my senses.

  I almost immediately feel better.

  I open my eyes to find that I am in a room that really is not entirely unlike the one I just left. The same clean gray walls surround me, the same blinking machinery, and the same ripple effect until I step out from inside the pod.

  I pull in deep breaths, marveling at the way I can still breathe just fine. There are unfamiliar smells, but I can’t put my finger on them. I’m sure I will get used to them soon enough, though.

  The main difference between this room and the last one is that, instead of a security guard, there are two men in here. And they are seven feet tall, roughly, and built wider than human men. Oh, and they are both as purple as fresh eggplant. They are wearing interesting, expensive-looking cloaks in blood-red that go over their heads and tie tight around their waists, and then fall around their ankles. They swoosh as they walk up to me.

  “Cara Delaney.” There is a crackle in my ear and his mouth movements don’t quite line up with what I hear him saying. My translator is working in real-time to change the sounds to those that I would recognize. It’s astonishing, and for a moment I’m caught up by the barrage of unusual sights and sensations and don’t notice that the huge purple man is extending his right hand towards me.

  I shake it.

  “You have handshakes here, too?” I ask.

  The Mahdfel man shakes his head no. “I have been thoroughly researching Earth customs. I am Ambassador Fellopian.”

  I snort and quickly cover my mouth. “Really?”

  His eyebrow twitches. Their faces are extraordinarily human. Their build and coloring are really the only visible differences so far.

  “Sorry,” I say quickly. “In my language that … is a word. It means—”

  He taps on his ear and I shut my mouth as he looks thoughtful. Then he raises his eyebrows sky high. Was he consulting his own translation device? “Oh my,” he says quietly. “Well, will you call me Fello?”

  “Sure,” I say. “Sorry.” I clear my throat and smile at the second man, who is a paler purple color and is regarding me with thinly-veiled uncertainty, bordering on disappointment.

  “Cara,” I say to him, holding out my hand. He shakes it and continues to look me up and down.

  “Ambassador Kivak,” he says. “Or would you have me change that, too?”

  Oh my. I’ve already caused trouble and I’ve been here for ten seconds.

  Kivak turns to Fello and sighs. “She is very small,” he says simply, as if explaining his disappointment. Fello nods with a wide smile.

  “She is a good specimen of humanity!” he replies, as if agreeing. Even though I’m an alien here, I can totally tell they are coming at this from opposite sides. Kivak isn’t happy about me being here for whatever reason, but Fello is gearing up for the time of his life. He turns back to me and claps his large purple hands together, excited. “Let us show you our planet, shall we?” he asks.

  “Yes,” I say. “Where … exactly are we?”

  I walk between them, and it is a strange feeling to be flanked by two huge cloaked men like this. I feel quite important.

  “This is the planet Paxia,” Fello explains. Kivak keeps his eyes trained straight ahead of him as we make our way down the hallways and up the stairs. Lights glitter everywhere in alternating patterns, shining through the walls, ceiling and floors, as if at random.

  “Paxia,” I repeat. “In the system … Firosa?”

  “That’s right!” Fello says, resting a proud hand on my shoulder and then releasing me again, as if frightened that he might squash me like a bug. They are almost two feet taller than me and substantially wider and thicker. If I didn’t know what I do know about the Mahdfel and their protective attitude towards women, I think I would be very scared.

  I still wonder why I’m not scared, though. It feels like I should be. But mostly I’m just interested in what will happen next.

  “What is my…” I try to find the right word. “...my future partner like?”

  We get to the top of what I assume is their teleportation base and before I can look around at the overwhelming expanse of dusty reddish nothingness around it, I am ushered into a sleek silver and black vehicle. I sit in the back and Kivak and Fello sit on either side of me.

  “Oh, um,” Fello says, glancing at Kivak, who does not return his look, “Wrax is a very honorable man.”

  Why do I get the impression that he really struggled to come up with something good to say?

  “Very strong,” Kivak says. I wonder if I sense a real undertone of bitterness, or if that is just his voice.

  “Right,” I say. “Good sense of humor, or—”

  “You may find that we Firosans do not take too kindly to your tendency to make light of things,” Kivak tells me. “The Earth sense of humor is one we do not share.”

  I turn, confused, to Fello, but he just smiles kindly down at me. “Oh, ok,” I say.

  We take off and accelerate in under five seconds to what seems to me like a very unsafe speed. The vehicle banks and careers off the edge of a dusty red cliff, and I take in the rest of Paxia from an aerial view. I resist the urge to scream as we fly fast through the air.

  “What is this?” I stammer, gripping onto the seat for dear life.

  “A hovercab.”

  Once I am certain that I won’t die, I dare to crane my neck and properly look out the window. Paxia’s desolate areas are red and full of winding valleys and canyons, not too unlike parts of southern California. But it seems to go on for miles upon miles.

  It’s barely five minutes before we slow to a stop and alight in a designated area without so much as a bump. Firosa might be a bit of a wasteland, but these people sure know how to build good tech. It was a smooth ride.

  I follow Fello out and see for the first time that there is no driver of the cab; the front ‘seat’ is just a block of blinking lights. The way they’re set up looks like they wink at me just as I turn to leave.

  “How much do you know already about your lifemate?” Fello asks me. I shrug at him. I can hear a collective roaring and cheering far away and I can’t figure out what it is, but it’s distracting.

  “The nurse who found him told me he was sort of a leader.” I don’t want to be presumptuous and use the word ‘King’ — I don’t even know what that will be translated to in his own tongue. And the nurse seemed pretty unsure.

  Kivak laughs bitterly, but I am already getting used to him. And how to ignore him.

  “Interesting take on it,” Fello says. “Our system is without a leader, but for all intents and purposes, yes; he is the top of the food chain.”

  I bring my finger up to my translator. “Food chain?”

  “Hierarchy is … perhaps more fitting,” my AI speaks into my ear. She has been given a pleasant voice, with remarkably realistic intonation. I like this technology so far.

  “So is this where he works?” I ask the Ambassadors. They look at each other and then down at me, and wordlessly gesture me through the enormous red stone arches.

  The roaring grows louder as we turn and descend stone steps into a huge arena.

  “This is the Paxian Arena,” Fello tells me, leaning in and speaking loudly. All I can see is a sea of purple and red. Mahdfel men are roaring, cupping their hands to their mouths and pointing to the center of the stadium.

  I am led to a place of i
mportance, and I feel a thousand pairs of eyes on me, but the noise never calms down.

  A voice booms above the noise of the crowd from some kind of megaphone, I assume. “Prepare yourselves, for the fight of a lifetime! The King of the Arena invites you to watch him bring down his hatchet of justice upon yet another scumbag criminal’s warrior champion!”

  The King … of the Arena?

  I am not close enough to make out specific detail, but I watch as a huge lilac-skinned beast of a man strides to the center of the stadium and holds up a hatchet in two hands. His expression is fixed, dark and concentrated. His gaze flicks to me — one eye a fiery gold and one a mechanical red — and then he frowns and looks away. Even from afar I can make out the definition of each and every formidable muscle.

  “That is him,” I vaguely hear Fello saying from beside me.

  “Who?” I say dumbly, but of course I know the answer.

  “That’s Wrax,” he says. “The strongest warrior in all of Firosa. And your lifemate.”

  I blink, and sink down in my seat as more and more Mahdfel notice me and begin to stare.

  “Are you ready?” the announcer voice roars over the crowd, who stop looking at me and cheer again. “For the People VS Lehakshi Natarr! Representing the people, it’s the King.” Deafening cheers make me want to cover my ears. “And representing Natarr is quick-striking up-and-comer, the Viper.” The cheers die down a little, but they are still there.

  From another end of the arena steps a bluish-purple man, who is smaller and leaner than Wrax but still probably larger than any man I’ve ever seen on Earth.

  Wrax turns to face him and they stare each other down from opposite sides of the arena.

  I can see from where I’m sitting that the Viper is not intimidating at all. He is shaking like a leaf, in fact, and the crowd is laughing at him. Still, when the announcer gives the command, he leaps forward, running faster than I had thought possible towards Wrax.

  The King of the Arena doesn’t look perturbed in the slightest. He waits until the Viper reaches him with what looks like a rapier outstretched, and then at the last second he twitches his hatchet to knock the rapier off-center. The Viper is knocked off balance and falters ever so slightly, and Wrax flicks the hatchet into the air, catches the blade end, and thumps the hard end onto the Viper’s temple so hard that I can almost feel the vibration from here.