“Me? A hybrid? An orphan who killed her own mother? The one responsible for holding our entire colony hostage by you? No. I’m not a leader. No one would listen to me even if I wanted to be.”
I ignore her insults, even if they do make my claws curl. “You are not a leader, yet you still watch over your people as a leader does. Is this the care of which you speak?”
She seems to consider for a moment, then nods tentatively. “I care about my people as a whole, yes. But there are some I care about more than others. There are some I don’t care about at all.”
I do not wholly understand, but I think I am beginning to. “And so it pleases you to bestow your kindness onto your people.”
“Yes. But I do it mostly for Svera and Kiki. I’d do anything for them.”
Anything. The thought troubles me and I sense her tense. She looks at me sharply and I wonder if we do not share the same thought in the same moment. I feel mired in the fog of emotions foreign to me. Shame. Fear. Regret.
“So this is why you make pacts with me. Because of your care for these humans. A care that is not unlike the affection a Raku or a xub’Raku has for those on his planet, or in his constellation.”
“Yes. I guess you could say that.”
“And it pleases you to be in the physical presence of your people, or your…friends,” I say the word in the human tongue, wondering if I am pronouncing it correctly.
“Hexa.” She cocks one of her brows and delicately curls a tuft of hair behind her ear.
“And it is for this reason and no other that you wish to journey to Qath.”
“Yes.” She nods. “That’s right.”
I exhale, relieved. “You have no need to venture to dangerous territories to see your friends. If you wish to see them, then it is at your request. I can be sure that if they are your friends, and that I have understood the definition of this friend correctly then they are of no danger to you. And if it brings you pleasure, then it is not to be denied.”
I understand now the widening of her eyes and the slight parting of her lips. It is the same as the turquoise ridges I struggle to restrain around her. I feel the pleasure expression claim my face. Her surprise becomes even more daring and I almost, quite nearly, make the pleasure sound myself. It has been spans since I have made such a sound…rotations.
“You’ll let me see my friends?”
“Let you? You are Rakukanna. Your interest in seeing your clansmen will cause you no harm, and does not threaten our bond. There would be no reason for me to intervene here. It is your decision should you like to see them.”
She balks. “It’s my…I can make…decisions? All I have to do is ask?”
“You are no slave.” I mean the statement as a pleasure statement, but the word tastes of acid against my tongue. My gaze slits. “You think yourself a slave?”
She rolls her shoulders back as she turns to face me fully. All the while, she does not break my gaze. “My whole life, I’ve grown up knowing that the aliens that come for us during the Hunt are there to hurt us and that there’s nothing we can do about it. I tried to do something, but I’m still here. I can’t do anything you don’t allow. I can’t go anywhere without your permission.”
“That is to protect you,” I snarl. “Younglings have these restrictions to their sires. Mates have these restrictions to one another often. I would not dare venture into a dangerous territory without informing you of my actions first. It is your right to be aware.”
“But that’s different. You choosing to tell me is different than me having no choice. Think about it. If you wanted to leave me, you could just fly us back to that colony and dump me where you took me from. You could take me back to your ship and jettison me out into the wide open galaxy.
“You could sell me now if you wanted to. You’ve already made it clear that I’m yours and that I’m not going anywhere. You can leave me anytime you want and there’s nothing I could do to stop it, but I’m not allowed to leave you.”
Her voice is passionless and intelligent as she delves down to the root of our transaction, a transaction born of Xanaxana, one that supersedes everything. But she does not understand. She recites facts, but there is so much more, so much deeper.
She speaks as if I am not irrevocably bound to her, as she should be to me. We have consummated our mating. I have spent seed inside of her, but she acts as if it is nothing more than the price paid for a slave at auction.
I would die for her. I yearn for her pleasure and the pleasures I know she knows how to give. How can I make her see that it is not pact that compels me but something greater?
That she does not understand our bond makes me tremble in rage. I do not know what color my ridges are in this moment, because I have never felt a torment so great.
I grunt and turn forwards again to face the never-ending canopy that comprises my planet’s skyline. I have no words to tell her because I know that nothing I could say would change her mind. She does not feel the current of Xanaxana in the same way I do, if she even feels it at all. And perhaps she never will. But it does not matter. We do not have to like one another. She will still be my mate and if she has to be, bound to me like a slave to its master. I wince at the thought.
“Nox,” I say, voice dripping with molten reien farrn, the pink rock that powers Voraxia’s core, “you are not allowed to leave.”
I am crushed like the snapping jaws of the mighty zyth beast around a spine, at the thought that she wants to. That if, without our pact, she would.
10
Miari
Xoran is totally silent for the rest of the ride. I wish I could say that I enjoyed the silence and the time to myself out from under his curious gaze, but I don’t enjoy the silence and even if my intention was to hurt, provoke and offend him, a weird part of me is starting to regret it. I’ve never seen him like this before.
There’s no emotion in him whatsoever and all I’ve seen from him since I first met him one rotation ago are his brightly colored ridges brimming with it. Anger, lust, rage, pleasure, fear, curiosity, displeasure, misunderstanding, distrust, concern. All in colors from copper to indigo, yellow to lime, pink to sapphire to the monotonous blue-green hue of the treetops below. Like Xoran’s greyer skin, they betray absolutely nothing of what’s beneath.
I want to ask about them and what they are and why the leaves are so small, yet densely clustered and how they trap in heat and if they are so dense, how they let in sunlight.
I want to ask him why, if the outer atmosphere is so cold, he doesn’t seem to be so interested in wearing any clothing. Doesn’t he feel the same chill I do? He mentioned it before. Not that I mind…
I want to know about his home world and if this is where he grew up and if the glider is powered by the same pink liquid I found in the thermal gauge and if it is, what it’s called and what it’s called even if it’s not.
But I don’t ask him any of these things. Because he doesn’t seem to want me here anymore. Or maybe…and it’s a strange thing to think…maybe I didn’t just poke and provoke him. Maybe I hurt his feelings. But I didn’t do anything wrong. So I don’t try to make it right.
Instead, I keep quiet and stand apart from him towards the edge of the glider and I watch the tops of trees as they approach, nearer and nearer now until we slowly begin descending among them.
My pulse starts tapping double time, and I feel the makings of a small smile start to slip across my face. I bite the insides of my cheeks to try to keep it at bay, but I’m leaning forward onto my toes, towards the glider’s translucent, glimmering exoskeleton, bouncing on the balls of my feet. I press my hands to its shimmery surface, wanting to see everything there is to see.
I’ve never been off the colony. Never seen anything besides the renderings done of Ancient Earth, from the galaxy that we inhabited before. After its collapse, and some of the humans escaped to a distant star — Voraxia’s star — a few sketches and books became all that’s left of an entire planet’s history.
The ancient texts describe huge buildings made out of metal and glass and streets made out of hard black material with ground transporters whizzing across them. Is that what I’ll find here? Slick, metal buildings powered by Voraxian technology? Beautiful hand carved plastic and chrome?
We descend beneath the canopy and my answer unfolds. No. Instead, I find something else entirely. The canopy is dense, but it isn’t thick — twice the width of the glider or so — and below the canopy, the bark on the trees is a beautiful, jewel red. I imagine if I stood right next to one, I might just camouflage against it.
The branches that support so much foliage connect to an impossibly thick, smooth trunk that only gets thicker the farther down we travel. So thick around that I can imagine our glider docking itself fully inside of one…and as we descend further still, two gliders, three…the whole blasted ship we arrived in!
The trees are huge! And where is the floor of this forest? I look down but all I see is the trunk of the tree beside us. “Are we…” I start. I glance over at him and he turns away quickly. I shake my head. “Nevermind.”
We must travel down for an eighth span — maybe even longer, before I finally see a color other than red. I see white. What is it? Is it one of these concrete passageways that existed in Ancient Earth? The thought thrills me, but is accompanied by a harrowing realization. It isn’t paved, because I can see the trees roots sinking into it sinuously, like great big feet. It’s sand.
I want to laugh. I do laugh.
“What is it, Rakukanna?”
Raku’s voice startles me and I turn towards him, forgetting momentarily about the distance between us. I grab his arm and use it to help me balance. “It’s sand. I thought I might escape sand on another planet, but I guess I’m wrong. Guess I’ll have to go to another galaxy for that.”
I wink and Raku’s lips twitch but the lurching of the glider severs any bridge that might have been forming between us. His hands move back to the holo screen controls and I stare at the ground, watching as white, powdery sand sprays out from under the glider as we finally touch down.
Raku presses a button on the holo screen and the security shield retracts. The sensation of warmth hits me like an enveloping kiss.
Again, I’m unable to sensor myself before voicing my curiosity out loud. “How is this possible?”
I’m nearly panting, arms covered immediately in a thin sheen of sweat. I feel lightheaded too and wonder if the oxygen content of this planet’s atmosphere isn’t greater than it was on the colony. The scarcity of trees there compared to the density of them here would yield itself to that possibility.
“I fail to understand what it is that you are referring to.”
“The raised temperature. It was cold above the canopy, which is so dense it doesn’t let it in any sunlight. It shouldn’t be this warm.”
“Voraxia has a reien farrn core. You discovered reien farrn in the device you built on my ship. In its molten form it acts as an energy source. In its solid form, it is a naturally heated rock. The canopy traps that heat near the planet’s surface.”
My wheels are turning and I’m sure there’s a stupid grin on my face. I try to marshal it when I see him staring at me out of the corner of his eye. When I glance his way, he straightens and jumps over the glider’s raised edge.
“Come,” he says, and not in a way that garners discussion, but that forces my feet forward. It’s a body’s length down — mine, thankfully, not his — and I expect him to help me down like he tried to help me up, but he doesn’t.
He just stands a few paces away with his body angled to the side, gaze surveying the copse of trees surrounding this little clearing like he’s waiting for someone to appear.
I’m about to tease him about it, since there is clearly no one in sight, when suddenly two of the trees on the far end of the sandy glade open. Pale tan doorways shift to the side, like the doors on the ship, and Voraxians pour out of them, three men and two women.
Immediately, my eyes are drawn to the female who approaches Xoran first. The differences between our bodies are noticeable and I immediately feel self-conscious.
Growing up, seeing so many pretty girls with their big puffy hair and their dark brown skin, who looked nothing like me…I never liked the way I looked. At least until now…with him watching me like I’m the sun to his universe. Or maybe it’s just the Xanaxana. I wince at the thought.
The approaching Voraxians drop to their knees and something painful constricts in my chest as Xoran, in all his majesty, approaches the female kneeling slightly in front of the rest. She’s so beautiful, alien that she is.
“Raku,” the female breathes, “It gives us no greater pleasure than to receive you home. Voraxia has felt your absence.”
“Rise, Ixria. You honor me with your words.” Ixria. He knows her name. He knows her. Maybe she’s one of his other females. Does he have other females? Why do I care? The pain in my chest intensifies and I rub at it with the heel of my palm.
“It is we who are honored.” She stands, unfolding gracefully in long, elegant limbs. She is a slightly darker color than Xoran but has the same straight, jet black hair shared by the Voraxians crowded behind her. There are about eight now.
None of them are wearing tops, so I can see every detail of her perfectly flat stomach and chest. She doesn’t have breasts like I do, and I’m surprised to see the same hard plates there that Xoran has. The only difference are what look like slightly raised, but tough, nipples.
She doesn’t have hips to speak of, whereas mine are broad and smooth out into thick thighs, and her face is elongated as well, with bright black slanted eyes that nearly extend all the way back to touch her hairline. Eyes that abruptly switch to me with something that Xoran has said.
Her ridges flare bright yellow then, startling me. Immediately the woman drops back to her knees — and so do all of the Voraxians behind her. When she rises, her gaze hits mine unforgivingly and her voice is oddly…reverent?
“You honor us deeply Raku, that we might be among the first to lay eyes on our Rakukanna. Rakukanna, we beg of your forgiveness for our impoliteness. We had not recognized you for who you are.”
Xoran twists to look at me and I don’t know what he wants because his expression is unreadable. All I know is that I don’t like this strange adulation at all and I feel the sweat that had already been drying up against my skin return in a rush.
“You um…” Great. So elegant, Miari… “You don’t have to kneel. You can rise.”
The woman doesn’t do so immediately, but seems to hesitate, like she’s not sure what I’m really saying. Which is fair, because I’m a stuttering idiot. The moment she does, she locks eyes with me and it’s like pulling teeth not to look away under the intensity. Because past her, I can feel that they’re all staring.
“Thank you, Rakukanna.”
“No problem, Icks-ree-uh?” I try pronouncing the word that Xoran called her, but I can tell that it comes twisted out of my mouth. I glance towards Xoran and he’s no help at all. “I don’t know if I’m saying that right.”
She smiles. “It is as you say it.”
I smile back and laugh a little bit. “You liar.”
The woman’s ridges flare bright white and then a pale, sickly hue. I quickly stammer, “Nox, I didn’t mean…to insult you. I…meant it as a joke.”
“Of course, Rakukanna.” Another little bow. “I understand,” she says, lying again.
“My name is…”
Xoran releases a half-whistle, half-hiss that succeeds in shutting me up. “The Rakukanna does not know our ways, Ixria. Not yet, but she will.”
I feel myself flush. Everyone’s ridges are flaring a pale color. White and a little bit of yellow. I’m starting to gather that one or both of those colors is bad.
“Sorry,” I murmur.
More bright yellow from the female. She bows deeply. “I am the one who is sorry.”
“You don’t have to apologize.”
&nb
sp; Her mouth opens and shuts. She bows to me again and I glance again at Raku. I’m no Svera. I have no grace whatsoever.
Attention fixed on the female, Raku says, “Ixria, dock the glider. We won’t be needing it for the lunar, or for the following solars. Not until after the ceremony. We look forward to receiving you.”
The woman’s ridges flare an uncontrollable burst of orange and then fuchsia. She’s so much more expressive than he is. I wonder if they aren’t all more expressive than the one who’s chosen me for his mate.
“We would not miss it for all Voraxia’s moons,” she says to him and then repeats to me though I have no idea what ceremony they’re talking about.
“We will be honored then. Come, Rakukanna.” Xoran holds his arm out to me and I go to him, giving the woman one last nod, which makes her flare bright orange once more.
Xoran hisses something under his breath that sounds like a curse, but doesn’t say anything to me. He keeps his hand on my lower back as we weave between the trees. As we walk, toes sinking into sand much softer and forgiving than that of my home world, I feel antsy all over, wondering about…well, everything. This place, its people, my faux pas.
But just as I open my mouth to crack the thickening tension between us, we round another of these massive trees and I see what my eyes can only describe as a river of starlight, so bright that I have to lift a hand to shield my eyes against it.
“Oh my stars, is that…what is that?” I glance up at Xoran only to realize that I’m holding onto his arm with two hands and have edged myself partially behind his body. Using the person who scares me most as a shield isn’t something I would have expected of myself and yet, it’s what came naturally. Instinctively.
I wonder if he’s thinking the same thing because his ridges have flared the same bright orange the other woman — alien’s — had, before flashing with a little bit of white and then turquoise. The color cuts when he turns away from me and starts towards the fiery river. Its light doesn’t seem to startle or bother him at all.
Taken to Voraxia Page 12
