Taken to Voraxia

by Elizabeth Stephens

  He cries out and flails, but Krisxox remains anchored until one of the other males brings another lightning stick down across Krisxox’s back. Violent purple light ricochets down the staff and reflects brown over Krisxox’s red body. He twists suddenly, horribly, and even though he doesn’t cry out once, when he hunches over the floor, he spits out copper-colored blood.

  My heart is hammering and my brain is fried. I can’t stand to see him hurt any more and when the Niahhorru holding the lightning stick raises it again, I clasp either sides of my face and I shriek the first words that come to mind. “She could be pregnant!”

  The lightning stick hangs suspended in the air. A chilling quiet descends. Outside I can’t hear movement. Oh comets, how many died already today? In my name and honor? No more. Not Svera.

  “I know the Rakukanna and the Raku have…been together. She could be pregnant.”

  Rhorkanterannu puffs out a breath. “And this means what to me? At worst, it only increases her value. If she is with kit, then you can rest assured your Raku will bend to my will. Any will. He will rip his hearts out of his chest with his own hands.”

  “Yes, but…” My heart beats to infinity. I think hard and as Rhorkanterannu flicks his skein-covered eyes towards me I remember that I am Svera. And in that realization, the answer comes to me quickly.

  “I’m a virgin,” I say with a start, “I’ve never been with any male. And the Raku isn’t the only one who makes decisions here in Voraxia. If he tries to trade more than the xub’Raku are willing to, then one of them — or another Voraxian — could challenge him. They could win, depose him, refuse to trade and then you’d be left with what? A woman you refuse to kill and a Voraxian kit? Wouldn’t you at least want one womb for yourself? Like mine, that has never before seen a kit or a male’s part. It could be yours to bear your heirs at least.”

  Krisxox shatters the silence that falls after I finish speaking with a splintering screech. I stagger back, but the Niahhorru near me surges forward again, this time grabbing me by the arm.

  “She makes a strong proposal. We should take her.”

  The king waits a long, seemingly interminable moment. His silver gaze searches my face — for what? I don’t know. But finally he exhales after a lengthy pause, “Alright. Bring her. We can have one shekurr while we wait.”

  Svera shouts, but her voice is nothing against Krisxox’s rage. “Nox! Nox!” Krisxox seethes and screams and I can no longer see him as I’m dragged by my arms between their enormous silver bodies. So many silver eyes look down at me. So many tongues wet so many lips. Just one of them dares speak to me, however.

  He leans down with head bowed, and his genuflected gaze comes across strangely reverential. “I look forward to my turn with you during the shekurr.”

  He jostles me slightly, but as I trip, his other hand slides around my stomach, catching me before I fall. He holds me upright and even though his skin is like a film of sand stretched over stone, I get the strangest impression that he’s trying to be careful.

  “Apologies, female,” he says, shocking me fully.

  And then Krisxox roars all manner of foul curses, which abruptly cut off with a cry of pain and then nothing. And in the silence he leaves behind, I remember perhaps the most important thing this stranger just said.

  Out loud, I whisper, “Turn?”

  19

  Miari

  “Augh…” My head is pounding. My heart too.

  I feel like I’m back in that cave with Kiki where this whole mess started, scared out of my own skin of the khrui, only this time I’m also trying to make polite conversation. Something along the lines of please, for stars’ sakes just let us go. Meanwhile, they just continue brandishing their talons and leering over us.

  They’ve abandoned their coverings and stand before us completely naked, these weird, stumpy cocks jutting out from between their hips. I try not to imagine what’s going to happen and focus instead on the ship we docked after being sucked up into the sky by nothing.

  It was so strange… a beam of light washed over us as we stood clustered together in a small copse, darkness descended and the next thing I know, I’m being carried by one of the Niahhorru through the labyrinthine walkways of this ship.

  It’s older than any of the transporters the Voraxians have. It almost looks older than the Antikythera satellite wreckage at the back edge of the colony, where I collect most of the electrical parts and metal bits I use to build my inventions.

  And unlike the Antikythera satellite which is all thin plastics and sleek surfaces, the Niahhorru ship is a heap of blackened metal and rusted bolts. The floors are pocked and the ceilings are all warped. The walls are covered in deep grooves that I imagine could have been made by the spikes covering the Niahhorru.

  I sit up against the tray beneath me, shuddering as I imagine its proposed use. Though the room is dark, I can still see heavy cabinets against the walls, shelves empty. Medical bay. Maybe this is where they conducted surgeries. Or experiments. Tortures unknown.

  Svera and I lay on mirrored tables on either side of the room, facing one another. Shackles have been built into the platforms, but the Niahhorru don’t bother with them. Where would we even go when I can’t even imagine where we are or how we got here?

  The room is packed with even more of the four armed-monsters than greeted us on land. Three times as many, even though this room is barely bigger than our guest house. Our guest house… Xoran’s guest house. Because maybe I won’t see him again…

  I shuck that thought aside. It’s not helpful here. I don’t have anything that is though. Just a desperation to live and a knowing that Xoran and the rest will try to come for us. Try. Because for all I know, they could have beamed us four quadrants away in any direction. Maybe more. Maybe ten. What’s outside of the eight quadrants? Are we about to find out? Will we live that long?

  I glance across the space at Svera, sitting up as I am. She has one arm crossed over her chest to shield my breasts even though hers are covered beneath the hologenerator. Even now operating for her Tri-God… I’d laugh if I weren’t so terrified.

  Some barking between the males clustered around us draws my attention to the right. The crowd shuffles apart and one of the monsters moves towards Svera’s side.

  “What are you…what are you doing to her?” I try shout, but my throat is so dry. I hack out a cough and swallow paper butterflies.

  The brute doesn’t answer me, and proceeds by holding the wand in his hand out towards Svera and waving it wildly over her body.

  “What are you doing?” I shout again, but no one responds. The king is conspicuously absent, and so are some of the others that beamed up with us. Some are new faces and even though they’re just as big and scary, they seem younger somehow, more volatile.

  “This one is without kit,” the one with the wand shouts. There is a cry of celebration from the crowd and I see more hands dive south, reaching for the hard stumps of short cocks, which they stroke with renewed vigor.

  They look like cut off tree trunks, far, far too big around to be manageable, and tough besides. Almost like they’re covered in bark. And even though they’re short, I know for a fact that one of those would hurt like hell if they tried to put it inside. Which is exactly what I’ve offered.

  The man with the wand shuffles over to me and waves the hard piece of metal about. Red lights glow on one side and I freeze when they beep out loud. The room falls silent. The man issues a loud curse.

  I freeze, horrified as a faraway realization surfaces with his words. “She is with kit.”

  A collective groan rises up and one of the males steps forward. He points two threatening fingers at me with his upper arms, while his lower ones drop to form clenched fists.

  “This one lied to us! She said she was a virgin! Rhorkanterannu will not want to perform shekurr on the Voraxian queen and now this centag wench has cost us a shekurr!”

  Hands drop from cocks, which seems like a good thing until I feel r
enewed heat vie with the wet air in the room. My skin crawls with moisture and fear. I try to say something but cough instead. The angry one takes a long step forward, and when the guy with the wand tries to get in front of him, he shoves him clear off his feet.

  The wand, like the one holding it, flies and I don’t see where either land. I just hear the sounds of pain and see the angry one charging towards me. I scramble back and my hand meets air when I reach the edge of the table. I try to jump off, but the angry on is on me now and grabs me by the ankle.

  He drags me towards him in one swift pull and even through the chaotic sound of his heavy breath and my screams, I hear Svera’s voice shriek, “She didn’t lie to you! I did.”

  The male hesitates with two lifted fists. His silver swirling eyelids betray nothing of his emotions, even if the tightening of his jaw does.

  As he whirls around, one of the short spikes jutting out near his tailbone catches my ankle. I jerk back, but still see the blood seconds before the pain actually registers. A fresh gash forms from my shin to the center of my right foot. Xok, as Xoran would say. This is great. Just excellent. The sarcasm is all mine that follows.

  I sit up and focus on clamping my hands over the blood flow, which is why I don’t immediately understand why the room full of pirates finds itself abruptly in uproar.

  Xoran? I look around, expecting to see him charging in from anywhere and everywhere, but there’s just the dank, black mold-encrusted walls and the grates on the floor and the pipes overhead and the pale, grey bodies dusted in silver and rigid rock plating. And then I look across the space and cowering beneath the angry one who just tail-swiped me is Svera, back in her own skin.

  I scrabble to the end of my table and think of launching myself onto the guy’s back only to quickly come to the conclusion that I’d immediately impale myself.

  “Hey,” I shout, but it’s too late. He’s cursing and one of his fists is raised. He brings it down and his lower left knuckles brutally slash across Svera’s face.

  “No!” I scream and the sound seems to make some of the Niahhorru buckle. Others look like they’re going to be sick. They recover quickly and immediately close in around their friend.

  They grab him as Svera tumbles from the table and onto the floor. She lands hard, but she’s still moving and I feel just some of the breath release from my clenched lungs.

  She dabs her cheek, fingers coming back red, and when she looks up, I see three streaks weeping in bright crimson. “Svera, are you…” What? Is she alright? Of course, she’s not alright!

  She just nods at me.

  A whir sounds somewhere deep within the ship and then there’s a sharper clang as the metal doors jerk open and some of the Niahhorru I remember fill the space. The king leads them in and his face is severe. He takes all of a second to survey the scene before abruptly pulling a pink, curved blade free of the belt on his hips.

  “A female was harmed?” He says curtly.

  All but the culprit answer in the affirmative. One steps forward — the one who’d spoken to me about the shekurr — and gestures to me. “This female is with child.”

  Rhorkanterannu glances at me and there is an expression on his face that makes me feel…sad. The slackness of his mouth, the sudden tension in his steely neck, the slight intake of breath.

  He is raw yearning. Nothing else.

  His eyelids shutter, something like a blink. Their swirling color goes from silver to gold and back again. He looks away from me.

  “Harmed by Yourandena?”

  Another affirmative response is seemingly all he needs as he sweeps between the platforms. The angry one withdraws a blade of his own and the battle that ensues is short and jarring.

  I can barely track their movements as the king spins and the other blocks and knives clang together. The king expertly switches his short blade from one hand to the other and stabs the angry one up from the bottom of his jaw through the top of his skull. And just like that, in the span of three blinks, the fight is over.

  My stomach pitches and I swallow hard, hoping to keep the bile that rises, in. The stench of the Niahhorru blood is overpowering.

  I’m sure Svera feels the same because her face loses all color and the red blood weeping down her skin appears even brighter against her now ashen, sickly complexion.

  “Change us both. Now,” I say loudly, hoping to high hell she has my hologenerator as well as her own.

  Rhorkanterannu turns to face me and his silver eyes flash as he glances across the room to Svera first and then me. We’re both me though now.

  “What is this?” He says firmly.

  “You can’t kill us,” I blurt, “And you can’t rape us. You don’t know which of us is which and you could be harming the Rakukanna who you want to use for your bargaining chip. And you can be as sure as the sector’s seven suns that you would be starting an intergalactic war if you hurt her even more than you already have.”

  I grip my ankle and gesture feverishly to Svera. Her mauled face is covered by the hologram, which flickers as it adapts to her cheek. Technology, please don’t crap out on me and Svera, hold on!

  The Niahhorru king’s diamond eyes slit and all four of his arms and his legs swell and steel. He looks terrifying. Only a few times have I seen Raku look this way. So lethal.

  “Is this what you think? That I would kill a female? Let alone female royalty of another federation? Let alone one who may be with kit? Do you know nothing of the Niahhorru?”

  No, I don’t. But I don’t cop to it. All I can think about is Svera. And the baby inside of me. Holy stars. Xok! Is that what the guy with the wand said? I’m pregnant. I’m pregnant…My job just became harder by half. Now I’ve got to keep all three of us among the living.

  I swallow hard and my hand covers my stomach, as if on instinct. “Well you’re about to. Kill a human, I mean. My fr…the Rakukanna is about to bleed out. She’s half-human and we don’t have the plates you do. Look at her face…”

  He turns and I am a little surprised by the abject horror that crosses his steely features. I’m so used to the colors in the Voraxians’ ridges…and I haven’t actually seen a human but Svera in so long. But these Niahhorru do seem to have more humanoid expressions than the Voraxians do because when his eyes widen and his mouth parts and his four arms roll back in their sockets and he uses one of those enormous hands to grip his bottom jaw…he staggers and he looks…he looks gutted.

  “Where is Quintenanrret? We need the healer here now.” His voice is a roar that seems to shake the whole room. I shudder and grip my leg with renewed vigor. His gaze falls to it and I see his chest swell even fuller.

  “Quintenanrret!” He takes two swift strides towards me, arriving at my side so quickly, I jolt out of my skin. Or rather, out of Svera’s.

  “How long do humans have before they bleed out?”

  “I…” I don’t know, but I don’t need to tell him that. “Not long. Our blood is thin, so we bleed out very quickly. We need urgent medical care. Even these small cuts can be enough to kill us. You need to take us back down to the planet. You need to return us to Voraxia where they are experienced in healing us.”

  He’s breathing hard, his plates pulling and pushing against one another. He licks his lips as looks down at my ankle, then at my face.

  And then he says in a voice that is low and meant only for me, “It does not matter to me if you are the Rakukanna, if you are with kit, or if you do not want to be here. The survival of my species is the only thing that matters. Your survival, your being here, is linked to that. And for that, I need you alive. Do not move. I will be back momentarily with the healer.”

  His hard voice slashes through two more names as he commands them to follow. He passes through the blackened doors and the rest of the Niahhorru crowd closer to us as the doors crank shut loudly behind their king, the body of the one who hurt us, entirely forgotten.

  I look to Svera as one of them reaches for her. All four of his arms seem to move with
a gentleness reserved for a much softer being. Like a dancer. A giant, four-armed silver-colored dancer.

  “Don’t touch her,” I rasp. He might look like he’s trying to be soft, but I don’t know what their skin is made of and it looks harsh and hard and unfriendly.

  I’m surprised when the brute responds immediately, hands jerking back to his sides in unison. He crouches instead at her side, silvery shimmery gaze switching to me constantly, as if seeking confirmation that he’s doing the right thing.

  “Human,” he barks, voice gravelly and deep. “Will she survive?”

  I nod and watch Svera’s face, but I can’t tell how bad it is through the holo. It flickers, and then flickers again. The Niahhorru nearest her rears back in shock, and I curse the flawed contraption.

  Another Niahhorru charges into the center of the room, severing my line of sight to Svera. “This one is not the Voraxian Rakukanna and she is not with kit. We should perform shekurr now.” Not just his words, but his itchy, twitchy demeanor lead me to believe he is a much younger Niahhorru.

  “What in the comets is shekurr?” I mutter, half under my breath because the truth is that I don’t care to know. I hope only that it’s not what I think.

  The Niahhorru at Svera’s side frowns up at the young one. “We do nothing to the females without Rhorkanterannu present. It was his genius that led us to them, and gave us the bridge to bring them off of Voraxia. This is his mission. We are here because of him.”

  The young one flinches wildly and takes another step towards Svera, his hand on his stumpy cock. “This…this one should be punished for her deception!”

  “Get away from her!” I shout, “Svera, change me now.”

  The Niahhorru close to me take a half step back and I judge by their surprise that they don’t like my holographic display — or the fact that I displayed holographically at all.

  The young one’s head swivels on his neck. He hisses, “Give up this infuriating machine and reveal yourselves!”