Angie's Gladiator: A SciFi Alien Romance

by Dixon, Ruby

  I give my head a little shake. "I'm confused, Vordis. Did I say something to offend you somehow?"

  "You cannot offend me. I am a'ani."

  I sigh, because the look on his face tells me that the conversation is done, and I don't know why I'm being stonewalled like this, but it sucks. "Well, I'm sorry if I did something to upset you," I say softly. "It wasn't my intention. If I threw too much at you yesterday, I understand." I rub my belly in an absent motion. "Sometimes it's just nice to talk to someone, you know? And no one seems in a hurry to talk to me."

  Vordis hesitates, as if weighing something. After a moment, he says, "The other females talk to you."

  "No, they talk around me, mostly. Or they ask how I'm feeling, and if the baby kicked." I roll my eyes. "I'm not Angie. I'm a walking stomach that they don't know how to handle. I don't have real conversations with people anymore. They treat me like a problem or like I’m made of glass, not like I’m a person. But it's all right. I'm not trying to unload my problems on you." I smile brightly to hide the fact that I feel more alone now than ever before. I'm being rejected, somehow, and I don't even know what I did.

  He considers this, then asks, "Would you like for me to demand that they speak to you?"

  "That defeats the purpose of things, doesn't it? No, I just want people to talk to me because they want to hear what I have to say. To have friends. That's all." I shrug. "I'll leave you alone now, though." I turn and start to walk down the beach again, feeling stupidly hurt. It was just a brief conversation yesterday, but I can't shake the idea that I've somehow offended him and now he's keeping me at a distance again. I stare at the sand without seeing it, walking—

  —and yelp when I roll my ankle on another one of the avocado-sized seeds. I tumble to the sand, ungainly and clumsy, and flop onto my back, the sky tilting overhead.

  I blink for a moment, afraid to move. Fear flashes through me. Did I hurt the baby? But after a moment, nothing seems amiss, just a throbbing ankle, a sore butt, and lots and lots of wounded pride. Did I think it was impossible to feel more ungainly than I already am? Clearly the universe is testing my limits.

  "Angie!" Big hands scoop me up, and a moment later, before I can even process, I'm hefted into the air by strong arms and tucked against a bright red chest. "You have hurt yourself—"

  "No, I'm fine. It's okay," I promise him, patting his bare shoulder. Even that small gesture feels awkward, because what if he doesn't like to be touched? He doesn't flinch away, though. "Nothing's hurt. I'm just not used to being so big. I rolled my ankle and lost my balance."

  "Do you require healing?"

  "Only my pride."

  He laughs, surprised, and looks at me for what feels like the first time today. Our eyes meet and then it gets awkward. He nods at me, his laugh dying, and then nods at the camp. "I will carry you back there so you can rest your ankle."

  "You don't have to," I tell him, worried. "I'm huge and heavy right now—"

  "No, you are not. You are carrying a child and your body has adjusted to that, but you are not huge, Angie." He looks down at me again, and I could swear his eyes are warmer than they were before, and this time my smile is genuine instead of apologetic.

  Weirdly enough, I want to ask him if he finds me pretty. But that's a bad idea. "Where's your brother this morning?"

  I can practically feel him stiffen against me and I realize it was the wrong thing to say. He looks away, his jaw tightening, and I know I've offended him again. Somehow. "I will sit you down by the fire," Vordis tells me.

  "Okay." I don't say anything else. I'm trying to think of how to apologize, how to get him to be my friend again when I keep somehow screwing things up. I need to talk to someone that knows aliens so I can figure out what I've done wrong. Even if Vordis doesn't really want to be my friend, I don't want him to hate me.

  I’m miserable at the thought of that.

  * * *

  After Vordis deposits me by the fire, he tenderly checks me over for any wounds, his fingers skimming over my ankles. It's probably a good thing he checked, since I can no longer see them. My big belly gets in the way. When he's satisfied that I'm whole, he gives me a curt nod and disappears, heading off to do whatever it is that he does when he's not stalking me. I watch him leave, bewildered. It's like he doesn't want to be near me, which is odd, since I'm pretty sure no one's assigned him to be my bodyguard.

  Confused, I take the bowl of food that a blonde woman named Raven pushes into my hands with a shy smile. She doesn’t talk much to anyone except to nod sympathetically about her mismatched name. “Hippie parents,” is all she ever says, as if that explains everything. And then she always finds a way to sneak away before the conversation turns to something deeper. We all have our quirks, of course, so I don’t pry.

  I'm lost in thought as I eat, mentally playing back all the things that I said to Vordis that might have been misconstrued. When I'd left him that afternoon, though, he was smiling and pleased. He went to find me a freaking pickle, he said. And the next time I saw him…he was different. Reserved. Something isn't adding up. I finish my meal, rinse out my bowl before handing it back, and test my sore ankle. It seems to be okay, so I take a walk through the camp, studying faces.

  I turn a corner and see Vordis and Thrand standing with the leader, Vektal, as he explains something, wrapping cord around a spear-head. They have their arms crossed and a wide-legged stance that's identical, but I can still immediately pick out which one is Vordis. He glances over at me, too, but I keep walking, not wanting to interrupt a lesson. Callie and Devi are sitting nearby, mending nets, their heads together as they chitchat and sit across from a patiently working Cashol. Tia's following Harlow around, and Steph, Sam, and Hannah are working on adjusting one of the tents. Liz took Penny, Nadine, Bridget and Flordeliza out for a flora and fauna lesson with her mate, Raahosh. There are others around camp, too, but everyone looks busy. I hate to interrupt.

  I head for the cave, instead. Maybe I'll take a nap. A nice, depressing nap. That's what pregnant ladies do, right? I head in, and as I do, I'm immediately struck by how dark it is. When we first got here, I was relieved that the girls would be staying in the caves while the men and the sa-khui would be staying in tents. A cave seemed more like a house to me, and so I counted myself lucky when I was given a cave room of my own so I could have privacy. Pregnant, you know. Must be treated special.

  But I didn't count on how chilly a cold stone cave would get at night, or how hard it would be on my back. I didn't count on how dark it'd be, or how damp when the weather turned—and the weather always seems to be turning.

  More than anything, my cave is lonely. I'm at the very back of the complex, and all the others are piled together like puppies, more or less. I've seen them sharing small campfires or huddling their furs together like it's a big sleepover. It just makes me feel more left out than ever.

  It's never bothered me to not be included before, but everything's different on this planet. Even my body. I put a hand on my belly and the baby in there kicks in response. I don't know what to think about it, either…so I just try not to. Maybe that's the wrong coping tactic, but it's all I've got at the moment.

  "Ho, Ann-shee," an excited female voice calls out, reverberating on the cave walls. "Har-loh said you might need more pillows, so I brought you mine." Farli ducks into my cave, all smiles.

  I can't help but smile back. She's tall and beautiful and lean…and the only female sa-khui I've seen. Compared to the men, she's lithe and muscular where they're stocky and brutal, but she's a beautiful blue just like they are, and her glossy black hair is tousled with feathers and small, decorative braids. She's dressed like the other sa-khui males, too—which means, not wearing much at all. Today she's got on a necklace and a loincloth, and that's about it.

  Of course, if I looked like her, I'd probably dress the same.

  "Hi Farli. More pillows would be wonderful. Thank you so much." I rub my lower back. "I don't want to hog them, though."
r />   "Hawg?" she asks, her expression quizzical. "What is this?"

  "Take them all," I explain. "Be greedy. I can share."

  "You are carrying a kit," she says, as if that explains everything, and reaches out to caress my belly. "Besides, I rest my head on Mardok's chest when I sleep. He is all the pillow I need…and he says he does not mind my drooling." She chuckles, a look of pleasure on her face as she mentions her mate.

  Mardok. Of course. Farli's mate is unlike the other sa-khui. I've learned over the last while that though most of the “natives” (or “barbarians” as Liz likes to call ’em) are descended from a people that crash-landed here a long time ago. Mardok's ship visited a few months ago and he resonated to Farli, so he stayed with her. He's from another world full of blue people, and so he's familiar with outer space and all the aliens in it, I bet. "Hey, Farli, is your mate in camp?"

  "Oh, yes. He works on the tiny metal things he stripped from the ship. He says if he has enough time and patience, he can make things we need, like more translators." She shrugs simply, and then a slow smile curves her mouth. "I am just pleased I can be near him through the day, though I will have to go hunting soon enough. He needs to work without being distracted."

  And she giggles like the naughtiest schoolgirl, which makes me laugh, too.

  "Can I talk to him?"

  "Of course." She takes me by the arm. "Come to my tent. We will sit and drink tea and you can ask him your questions. Yes?"

  Farli's tent is messy. In addition to furs and half-woven baskets everywhere, Mardok has what look like computer parts and various bits of metals in piles all over the place. He sits in one corner, a head-lamp that he must have taken from the ship strapped to one horn, providing light as he uses a tool to carefully pry a component free of one circuit board and place it carefully in the slot of another. Farli and I remain quiet until he's done, and I even hold my breath, just a little, because I don't want to distract him. If he messes up, it's not like there's a replacement anywhere. But when he's done, he looks up at us and flicks the light off. "Angie, right?"

  I nod. "I was wondering if you have a moment."

  “Of course,” Mardok answers, putting aside his work.

  Farli pats my arm. "Wait here. I will get you something comfortable to sit on."

  I hesitate, wondering how best to begin. "You're not from here, are you?" I decide to play it casual. Or try to, anyhow. A moment later, Farli drags an overstuffed pillow next to the fire and pats it, indicating I should sit down. Ugh. One of the things I've learned since I woke up pregnant is that my body doesn't act like it used to. I manage to get down to the pillow, but it's not all that comfortable. I cross my legs in front of me and lean forward slightly to keep my balance, but I know that I'm going to need help to get up. One thing at a time, I suppose.

  "Me? No." His mouth crooks into a grin of amusement. "What gave it away? The tattoos? The arm? The horns?"

  I feel silly, because I look at him and realize that other than blue skin, he really looks nothing like Farli and her people. He's even taller than they are. I also notice for the first time that one of his arms is colored slightly lighter than the others, but I don't ask. My tailbone is already throbbing and I don't want to sit here for longer than I have to. "I was wondering what you knew about the red guys. The twins."

  "The a'ani? I don't know much," he admits, putting aside his components.

  "A'ani," I echo. "That's what they are?"

  "That's what their race is called," Mardok agrees as Farli sits next to me with elegant grace. His gaze slides over to her in an almost caressing way, and then focuses on me once more. "Why? Are they bothering you?"

  "Oh no," I say quickly. "They've been very kind."

  "They've been very obvious, too," Mardok says. "Everyone's noticed that they're both obsessed with you. You need to tell us if they're becoming a problem."

  "We do not wish for anyone to feel uncomfortable," Farli adds, watching me. "We know this is all new for you and much to take in."

  "No, really. They've been very sweet and nothing but perfect gentlemen, I promise." I didn't come here to get them in trouble, and now I feel terrible. "I just wanted to know more about their particular race. Their culture. How they think. I was speaking with Vordis the other day, and I worry I offended him, because now he doesn't want to talk to me."

  "How they think?" Mardok chuckles and gives a light shrug of his shoulders. "Who knows how clones think."

  My jaw drops. "They're clones?"

  "I thought you knew? They look alike." He gives a small shake of his head. "That's my fault. I'm assuming far too much, because I just thought everyone knew. All the a'ani are clones. It's an old race, long extinct. Story is that their planet was too near a star that went supernova and the only ones left are clones. They're all clones of each other, all with the same genetic makeup. They're used primarily for functional purposes—I've heard of lords that have manors full of a'ani slaves to do work, or mines full of them because they’re cheap labor. I've seen them in arenas, though usually used as fodder leading up to the main show. And I've heard of a'ani armies who are used in war because they're expendable."

  I stare at him in horror. "That's…awful."

  "It is, isn't it? It's a big universe out there, but not a kind one." Mardok picks up one of the components, as if he can't stop fussing with it, and flips it over in his hands. "I thought I would miss technology if I stayed here, but now I'm thinking that Farli's saved me in more than one way." He looks up from the component and smiles at his mate. "There's something pure and wholesome about this place. It's a hard way of life, but not a bad one."

  I swallow hard, thinking of Vordis and Thrand. Mostly of Vordis. "So you think they were just…bred to be gladiators? The a'ani?" I won't call them clones. That implies that they're not people, somehow, just things. And they're definitely people to me.

  "I suppose so. All of the male slaves we rescued seemed to be gladiators. It's common for them to be bought and sold on the black market, much like, ah, human female slaves." He clears his throat politely.

  "Then maybe they're interested in me because of the baby?" I rub my belly. "Is it possible that they haven't seen a pregnant woman before?" It couldn't be that they're just interested in me because I'm human. Thrand won't talk to me at all unless I ask him a direct question. Vordis is much friendlier—or rather, he was. And there's lots of humans on this beach. Actually, come to think of it, both Liz and Harlow are extremely pregnant, and the two a'ani haven't been excessively attentive to them, either. "But that doesn't explain why I'm the only one they focus on."

  "It's hard to say." Mardok watches me closely. "You do know they don't have their own personalities, right?"

  I’m shocked to hear that. "They don't?"

  "Like I said, they're clones. It could be that they're both fascinated with you for some unknown reason and because they think alike, that's why they both follow you."

  It makes sense…and yet it doesn't, either. Not have their own personalities? I think of Vordis and Thrand. How I can tell them apart simply by their body language. Oh sure, they have some gestures that are the same, and when one gets an idea, the other leaps to his feet at the same time. But…Thrand is all quick, impulsive energy. Vordis is different.

  Vordis smiled at me and laughed at my jokes.

  I don't feel like they're the same, but I don't contradict Mardok. He's the expert. "I see."

  "You're sure they're not bothering you?"

  I give him a reassuring smile. "Not at all. I was talking to Vordis the other day and I thought we had a nice conversation, but the next day he ignored me as if I'd done something wrong. I worried that there was some sort of cultural miscommunication or a boundary I had overstepped."

  Mardok and Farli exchange looks.

  "You…have not resonated, have you?" Farli asks, her hand over her chest. Even now, I hear a gentle, happy purr coming from her and Mardok both. "Neither one of them sings when you are near?"

&nb
sp; "No, nothing like that." I pat my belly when the baby does a little somersault. "There's no vacancy at the hotel, you know?"

  "Resonance can happen even if one partner does not yet have a khui," Farli tells me. "It happened for myself and Mardok this way. Vektal and Shorshie, too. Perhaps one of them has resonated to you and tries to hide it." She reaches out and touches my hand. "If they grow too aggressive with you, come to me. Or to Mardok. Or to any of the sa-khui. We will protect you if they make you feel unsafe."

  "I don't feel unsafe," I protest again.

  "We don't want another Gren," Mardok agrees, and then I'm silent. I think of poor Willa, who was kidnapped by the beast. He was a gladiator too, wasn't he? And Veronica's disappeared with Ashtar. Maybe I'm being too forgiving. Maybe the gladiators are dangerous and I'm just not seeing it?

  But that doesn't feel right to me. I nod anyhow, because they're the experts, not me. "I'll be careful, I promise."

  4

  VORDIS

  "Spar with me, brother," Thrand demands, giving my arm a good-natured shove. "You cannot sit and just stare all morning. Your body needs exercise."

  I do my best to ignore him, chewing on a handful of freshly smoked meat as I stare grimly ahead from my seat in the rocks. I gnaw on a tough part and then tell him, "I am busy. Leave me alone."

  "Busy staring at the female?" Thrand snorts and elbows me again before snagging a bit of my food and tossing it into his mouth. "She is safe. Look at her."

  I do. Oh, I look at her all the time.

  Today, the weather is miserable. It is cold and icy, the skies overcast with no sunlight. The ice pings from the sky like noisy rain, pebbling the beach with its leavings and making the human females huddle close to the low fire. I sit a short distance away, wearing one of the long, fur-covered tunics to warm my flesh. Angie is there with them, drinking a bowl of hot broth and looking sad. Even amongst the other females, she seems alone. They do not talk to her, which is odd. They are kind and polite when they speak, but no one includes her and it is obvious from her face that she feels it.