by Alana Khan
“And Ka'Ron’s pants would be close to bursting for his female,” Ar’Tok murmurs into my ear. “He’s been stroking himself to thoughts of her every night since he met her. He would never admit that each time he spilled his seed, he called her name into the silent dark of night.”
“And a female of worth would never touch herself alone in her bed. But Avaleigh held a dark secret,” I admit, “she’d explored her body under her covers, imagining her hands were Ka'Ron’s hands, that the fingers that plucked her nipples were his, that the hand that brought her release was his.”
“Star,” Ar’Tok says. Instead of shattering the moment, his use of my name draws me in, hinting that what’s to come next isn’t going to be playacting anymore. He’s going to tell me something real. “I dream of you every night. Every single night since I stumbled onto your signal. If we were ever to meet, I would worship your body. More than Ka'Ron with Avaleigh, I would adore you.
“I would taste every part of you. If I ever had the opportunity to be with you, even if it was just for one night, I would taste you. Every inch of you. I would memorize it. If I lived to be one hundred, I’d be able to recall the sweetness of—”
A loud buzzer goes off, along with every red warning light on board. The computerized male voice announces, “Warning! Warning! Oxygenation apparatus malfunction! Warning! Warning!”
“I need to check this out!” I say as my body transforms from relaxed and aroused to high alert. I bound out of my chair and run to the mech room to see if it’s another false alarm or if the oxygenator really isn’t working.
Usually, when the dial displays a malfunction, I check the release valve, which emits a stream of air. This tells me the machine is producing oxygen and also re-sets the dial.
When I release the valve, though, no air comes through. None. The dial still reads zero. I do what I can, banging on the dial, re-starting the mechanism, changing the hoses. It’s the converter itself that quit working. After doing everything I know how to do, I realize I’m screwed.
I grew up on this satellite. I know everything there is to know about it—my dad saw to that. With just me in this vessel, I have twelve hours of shallow breathing before I die. That’s it. End of story. I can’t fix this.
I saunter to the bridge so as not to expend an iota more energy than I have to, and sink into the captain’s chair. Although I didn’t expect Ar’Tok to still be waiting, he’s desperately calling my name.
“Star! Please answer me! Are you alright?”
“Oxygenator isn’t working,” I say, trying to keep my anxiety down so I don’t use more air than is necessary.
“Can your mech fix it?”
“I’m alone on this vessel. I am the mech. No.”
“Get off the comm with me and call the authorities for help!” he orders. “No. Tell me your coordinates and let me do it.”
“I’m human. No one would come help,” I explain as calmly as I can.
“Your coordinates!” he roars. “I’ll come get you.”
I hear him calling his captain and pilot to the bridge. I know the outcome even though he doesn’t. The Feds aren’t going to waste an ounce of fuel to go out of their way on a fool’s errand to rescue a little Earth female.
I don’t say any of this, though. I don’t want to waste my breath.
After he calls his captain, I tell him my coordinates, then let my fingers fly over my keyboard as I send out emergency messages on the off chance someone will rescue me. It’s all I can do.
Ar’Tok
“What’s the emergency?” Captain Zar demands as he flies through the bridge’s double doors.
“Emergency hail from a lone human female.” I wait a few modicums until Axxios, one of our pilots, joins us. I tell him her coordinates and the situation.
Axxios has already slid into the pilot’s chair and is punching her coordinates into the computer.
“With hyperdrive at top speed, we can be there in just under thirteen hoaras,” he says.
“Please, Zar,” I ask.
I’m relatively new on this ship full of escaped slaves. They rescued me and a few others, then commandeered the ship we were being hauled on. They scrubbed that vessel of all identifying information, renamed it the Devil’s Playground, and stationed half their fighters on each ship. We’ve stayed side-by-side in space, making certain we have competent staff on both ships before we separate.
I learned comms, trying to make myself useful, hoping they wouldn’t evict me from the ship at the first stop.
They seem to have accepted me, although I steer clear of everyone as much as possible. But rescuing someone they’ve never met? For no reason other than I asked? It defies logic.
“Yes,” is all Zar says before Axxios kicks the vessel into hyperdrive. “Now, Ar’Tok, tell me who this female is, what you know about her, and what’s the emergency. Before you do, call the Devil’s Playground and let them know why we’re speeding away from them.”
“I still do my job when I’m working at night,” I explain after I inform the other ship where we’re going. “But I . . . found a female I talk to sometimes.” Growing up in prison, I learned how to lie well at a young age. The less I admit about how long and how frequently I speak with Star, the better.
“We were talking tonight, just for a minima or two, and her oxygenator malfunctioned. She says she has twelve hoaras of oxygen left.”
“Ar’Tok,” Zar says, his voice tight with disappointment, “you’re a valued member of our team. We don’t expect you to work every minima of the day and night. If you talk to a friend on comms, you’re not breaking any rules.” He pinches the bridge of his furred, feline nose.
“Sorry.”
“You don’t need to be sorry. Call Savannah to the bridge. She’s the best mechanic we have. Perhaps she can help your friend fix the issue.”
My stomach tightens into a ball of writhing snakes. Is he going to call off the rescue mission?
Moments later, Savannah runs onto the bridge and begins a technical conversation with Star, whose comm is still open.
“That female knows her stuff,” Savannah says when she signs off, “she’s already tried everything I suggested.”
Captain Zar and Savannah leave the bridge; now it’s just Axxios and me.
“I’m putting in headphones to listen to music,” Axx says. “You talk to your female in private.”
“Timetable?” I ask.
“Ten hoaras, fifty minimas,” he says sadly.
I look at the counter I set the moment Star told me she had twelve hoaras. It says ten hoaras and ten minimas. Barring a miracle, we’re going to arrive forty minimas too late to save her.
It doesn’t surprise me when a giant fist squeezes my heart. I’ve known I had feelings for Star since shortly after we began talking. But the depth of my anguish shocks me.
“Star. You there?”
“Yes.”
The sound of that one word tells me all I need to know about how scared she is. She never told me her age, but at this moment, she sounds like a little girl. A terrified little girl.
“I forbid you to talk, Star. Not like our usual conversations. I don’t want you to waste a molecule of air unless you must say something. You just listen, okay? Just use my voice as a lifeline, something to hold onto.”
“Mmm,” she says. I resent even that little hum. I don’t want it to snatch half a modicum off her life.
“I’m sure you have questions. Don’t ask them. I’ll tell you everything I probably should have told you weeks ago.
“I’m on a ship of runaway slaves. I tried not to lie to you, but I’m pretty sure I led you to believe I work for the Federation. We’re far from it. In fact, we’re on the run from them.
“Several lunars ago, ten Earth females were abducted and thrown into cells with ten male gladiators on the ship we’re coming to rescue you with. It was a slave ship. The gladiators and Earth females staged an overthrow and confiscated the vessel.
“Two
lunars ago, I was on a ship being transported to a slave auction when another gladiator and myself, as well as two human females, were rescued. We commandeered that slave ship, so now we’re a little band of escaped slaves with two vessels.
“I bet you were worried you wouldn’t be safe with us because you’re human. When we rescue you, Star, you’ll be welcomed among us. Rescued and welcomed and safe,” I reassure her calmly even as the back of my mind is mourning the forty dracking minimas we lack. I shake my head, trying to erase the picture of a little human curled into a ball in the corner on the bridge of her ship. Dead.
I keep talking and calming and comforting her. When I run out of things to say, I read to her from a book she told me was one of her favorites. When my voice runs dry, I play music for her. Not the swacheck music that is an acquired taste, but things she’s told me over the last few lunars that she loves.
“Star? Sweet? Can you hum for me? Just to reassure me that you’re awake?” I caught myself at the last moment, so I said the word ‘awake’ instead of ‘alive’.
“Mmm,” is all she says.
“Hum if you want me to shut up. Maybe I’m boring you.” I try to lighten the mood.
She’s silent. I figured she would be. I hope my words and silly songs and stories are something she can hold onto.
The countdown clock says two hoaras, eleven minimas.
“Please don’t talk, but I want you to think about all the things you want to do after we rescue you. You never really told me much about your life, but I’ll bet there are places you always wanted to explore and activities you wanted to try.
“Picture it, Star. Planets you want to investigate. Perhaps it’s been a long time since you’ve been to a zoo, or swam in the ocean, or tasted exotic fruits.”
It’s not hard for me to come up with hundreds of ideas of things she might want to try. I’ve had all these thoughts myself, a thousand times. Growing up in prison, seldom leaving my cell, I dreamed of many things I wanted to explore. Now I’m just listing them for Star, giving her beautiful pictures for her mind to hold onto while the oxygen in her satellite vanishes.
“I’ve read that the ocean tastes like salt. Wouldn’t it be fun to experience that?” I ask. “Or imagine lying on fine blue sand on the shores of the Ocean of Tranquility on Ortheon, on your back with the sun pouring down on your face. I bet it’s peaceful,” I lower my voice in awe, encouraging her to visualize such a calm place, hoping it gives her serenity.
“Remember the feel of rain on your face, the fresh smell of it.” I can’t imagine this, since I’ve never experienced it, but maybe she can. “How about the wind blowing through your long, brown hair? Remember the smell of a garden, Star? The swirling scents of a hundred different flowers perfuming the air? Or the soft feel of your beloved pet’s fur as it curls on your lap?”
Glancing at the countdown clock, I see she has twelve minimas left. My jaw quivers as I try to hold back tears. I feel desperate.
“How long, Axxios?”
“Thirty-two minimas, my friend. There’s a contingent of males at the gangway, already dressed in spacesuits. My mate Brianna’s bringing you one. You can put it on here. Keep talking to your female until the last moment. But if she’s alive, she’ll want to see you first, so at the last moment, run to the gangway.”
Every muscle in my body tightens. I want Star to live with every fiber of my body, but if by some miracle she’s still alive, when she sees me, that little smile she told me about will disappear. She’s looked at the Intergalactic Database and seen pictures of normal Simkins. Handsome males the color of burnished metal.
In the name of all that’s holy, what will the little human think when she sees my ruined face? My ravaged body? The discoloration of my skin and horns?
It doesn’t matter. What matters is that she lives.
She said she had twelve hoaras. That couldn’t have been a scientific statement, could it? It had to be an estimate. An estimate that only had to be twenty minimas off.
“You be sure she sees your face first when you rescue her,” Brianna says optimistically as she hands me the suit. “It will calm her, Ar’Tok. Let her hear your voice. Hold her hand. She’ll live through this,” she reassures, even though she doesn’t know the number on the countdown clock has already reached zero and I haven’t heard a hum from Star in over ten minimas.
“Dr. Drayke and Dax have the hover stretcher and oxygen mask at the gangway. Beat them to her if you can. Give her your strength.”
Brianna’s expression is so caring, so concerned, it makes me feel guilty. None of the good people on this ship know my shame. I’ve succeeded in keeping it a secret. They’d kick me out at the next stop if they knew my transgressions.
“Thank you, Brianna. You’re a good female. I’m glad you’ve found two males who love you,” I say of Axxios and Braxxus, her silver and gold mates.
“Tell Star you’ll see her in a minima, and get your ass to the docking bay,” Axxios urges.
“Star,” I say into the comm. “If you can still hear me, hold on a few minimas more. I’ll be right there.”
I run to the airlock right as the doors open. After working her magic, Savannah opens the entry into Star’s ship. I rush in, unerringly finding my way to the bridge.
Red lights are flashing and klaxons are blaring, but I ignore everything as I look for Star. There’s a little pile of clothes under the captain’s computer station—a pile of clothes and a head with a hank of long brown hair.
“Here!” I yell. The doctor and Stryker are right behind me, and a moment later, after I lift her onto the stretcher and they’ve placed an oxygen mask over her face, they run with her back to our ship. I’m so focused on Star, it’s surprising that I catch the vid screens out of the corner of my eyes.
There must be ten of them on the bridge; they’re all set to a picture of a handsome Simkin male. A normal Simkin with bronze skin and perfectly-formed horns. One who isn’t scarred and damaged. One who looks nothing like me.
Chapter Two
Ar’Tok
Star is the one who was deprived of oxygen, but I’m the one who can barely breathe. I’m sitting next to her in medbay, watching every rise and fall of her chest.
That’s not exactly true. I also sneak peeks at her through her oxygen mask. Gods, I never dreamed she’d be this beautiful.
Dr. Drayke is so kind and considerate. He explains everything he’s doing, making certain I understand and approve. He acts as if I’m her next of kin. As soon as she opens her eyes, everyone will realize I’m nothing to her.
She’ll take one look at me and order me out of her room.
But I’m here now, and I keep talking to her. I like to think my voice is a lifeline to her. At least for a few more hoaras.
“It’s hard to tell, Ar’Tok,” the proper blue doctor says, “but Savannah tells me the oxygen in her vessel wasn’t down to zero. The air was thin, but she was still able to breathe. My scans suggest she’ll have a full recovery.
“You can pull the bed from the other room and set it up next to hers. It’s quite comfortable. I laid in medbay with my Nova when she came aboard badly injured. She’ll be happy to tell you how much she hated me at first, but being in here with her gave us time to get to know each other. Here, I’ll help you.”
The kind medic won’t take no for an answer as he helps me roll a second bed into the tiny exam room. The last thing Star will want is to wake up lying next to a stranger—a monstrous one at that.
As soon as the doctor takes a break, I’ll push the bed back into the other room.
“Comm me the moment she wakes. Until then, the best thing you can do is be here with her, talk to her. No, strike that. You’ve been up for an entire day. The best thing you can do is take a nap so you can be clear-headed for her when she wakes.”
He checks her vital signs once more, then leaves.
I push the bed into the exam room it came from, drag a chair near her bed, and read to her from my computer pa
d. She’s deeply asleep, though, and I haven’t slept in over a day. I set my wrist-comm to wake me in two hoaras, and catch a nap.
Star
I wake to the soft beeping of electronic equipment. It sounds nothing like the Misfit, the satellite I’ve spent my entire life on. My eyes flare open in fear as I recall the oxygenator malfunctioning and those long, agonizing hours of gasping for breath.
I remember my thoughts as I drew what I thought was my last breath, but I must have simply lost consciousness. I know I’m not dead. Not that I personally believe in heaven, but from what I read, no religion believes heaven is a tidy medbay emitting rhythmic beeps.