I’m grinning in spite of myself. Reon’s so easy to talk to. Once I got over the language barrier thing, of course. I feel at ease, comfortable enough to say, “Well, will you be entering the competitions yourself? I understand it’s probably not going to happen. You have the best in the world coming here, right?”
Reon seems affronted at this. “Are you saying I’m not a prime physical specimen?”
I spluttered for a second, before exclaiming, “Well, no, that wasn’t what I meant! I mean…” I trail off as I try to examine his body structure. It’s hard to tell under the neat clothes. Presumably, since he has a similar form to a human, he probably needs to build up muscles the same way. “Are you a prime physical specimen?”
“I have a mother who would kill me if I wasn’t.” Reon lets out a sigh at this. “I’ve taken part in a few tournaments in my lifetime.”
Oh. “Did you win any?”
“No,” he admits. “But I came close in a few places.”
“How close is ‘close’ to you?”
“Um… 26th place in my last one. But that was the general melee, too many people fight there. I’d do better in a smaller competition.”
Not so reassuring, but I try not to show it. “I suppose you have to be good to be able to enter, right?”
“No, not really. Just need enough money,” he says casually. “Or a good sponsor. You could be a fat, wobbling mountain, and still make it there somewhere.”
I laugh at this image. “So, the deal’s still up for you to try and help me out?”
He gives me an amiable smile, along with the glint of something else in his eyes. “I don’t see why not. But again – no promises. You need to prepare yourself for the worse.” He reaches over, touching my hand with his pale brown skin, briefly squeezing the knuckles. “I’ll speak to you later. I need to make introductions elsewhere.”
He leaves, and my heart uplifts from the pit it was dwelling in, lighter than before. I still sense the lingering warmth of where his hand touched mine. It’s like a burning imprint on my hand, invisible and powerful. Part of me expects nothing to happen because of this, but to see his efforts to help me out brings some cheer to my soul.
Unfortunately, I know the “nice guy” types are doomed to fail. They’re just not aggressive enough, dominating enough or passionate enough to do what needs to be done. That’s why the alphas and bad guys always win. I feel a brief sadness at this stab of reality. It seems to me that I’ll have to make the most of his kindness, whilst he’s still around.
And, maybe, just maybe, I might be able to persuade him to help me out further. It’s a long shot, but at least I can take the shot at all.
There’s something else I might need to prepare for too. Something I’m unwilling to consider, but know that I must.
The possibility of never returning home. Never being able to see my bitchy friends, laugh with my mother and father, brother and sister. Never make it to university and get my dream job, and find the perfect, handsome guy to share my life with. It’s this kind of thinking that threatens to drive me close to despair, to insanity. The same as it must do for the other women here.
I could do with some tips for coping. I like to believe I’m strong, but this isn’t a situation I’ve ever faced before. The only thing I have going for me is that I’ve learned the language, and the aliens seem to value humans.
But, given some of the stares, I’m getting when I go to the common room, wanting to order dinner from the canteen, I don’t think all the aliens value humans.
One of the Yaru openly leers at me, resting his hand between his crotch, absently stroking his pants. The gesture is so reminiscent of human vulgarity that I pause for a moment to watch. The Yaru sees me looking, and starts rubbing his crotch more vigorously.
I wonder if it’s intended to shame or embarrass me. I’ve been to enough college parties not to give a shit if some guy whips out his dick. Sometimes I’ve even liked it.
Generally, the best way to defend yourself against something is to simply not let it bother you. I lift my eyes disdainfully to look at the others in the room.
I do see another woman behind me though blushing furiously, her face a peculiar shade of scarlet. She dips her head until her eyes are clinging to the floor, and shuffles past, whilst the Yaru lets out a low laugh.
I take my attention away from him at last, and go and grab a meal.
I wonder how long it’ll be until I break down.
Chapter Four
The day of the tournament opening arrives, and I’m far from ready. Reon, being our official translator in the hotel, can’t be around when it’s his event in the tournament. I’ve not been able to have as much private time with him as I would have liked. It gives me little opportunity to try and get to know him better. To like one another more.
I am given clothes to dress into. Again, the aliens seem to love going for the skinsuit, but I suppose it’s just what they used to see. I imagine how they might react if they knew the types of clothes humans had designed for themselves over the years, from practical to racy. Everything here for the Yaru serves a practical purpose. They don’t seem to indulge in the idea of fashion, which is slightly disappointing. They still groom themselves, and do everything in their power to look tall and proud – but all of them wear skinsuits, ranging from gray, brown and black.
“At least they’re not putting us in front of a crowd naked, I suppose,” Tia mutters to me as we sit in the common room, drinking a type of Yarussian tea. It has both a sweet and bitter flavor, and we both linger here, nervous of what the day will bring.
“I wish we didn’t have to be the prize of anything,” I say. “Or, well, to be stuck on this planet.”
“Can’t have everything.” Tia leans on her elbow, giving me a pointed stare. “You’re coping better than the others. Most are in a state of denial.”
“Hard to deny what’s in front of my eyes.” I scowl. “We’re basically going to become some alien’s sex slave. Exciting, huh?”
“Very.” Tia gives a wry smile. She swirls the small, plastic stick in her tea, and I see beads tip from the stick into the liquid. “We’ll just have to make the most of it. Therapy sessions by talking to one another. And, once we’re taken, see if we can’t find a way to communicate. Might be nice to have another human on the planet to talk to, you know?”
“Deal,” I agree, shaking her hand. Honestly, I think if I’d met Tia back on earth, we wouldn’t be friends. I wouldn’t even bother associating with someone like her. Too smart for her own good, and confident of it. She wouldn’t be a popular girl. More of a career girl focused on the future, not the now.
Part of me wishes Reon is here, but Tia provides some good company as well. It’s not long before all the humans are gathered up, placed into another one of those hover vehicles, and we’re whisked off to the tournament grounds nearby. Not all the women go because not all the events they’ve been assigned to starts today.
Two guards attach themselves into me, and we end up walking along a dirt track that leads away from the hotel to the tournament expanse. We go through a large gate which is also manned by ticket vendors, and we’re waved through.
“Which event will I be placed in?” I ask my guards. They've dressed again in these boring black skinsuits, toting weapons and what I presume is some kind of thin body armor on top.
“You’ll be in the Five Trials,” one of them informs. “That’s not a bad one. Only ten contestants can get into the Five Trials, and they base them on points. Are you following?”
“I understand. Is it challenging?”
“The challenge is that the trials are never the same each year. So, you can’t prepare.”
I nod to the guard, thanking him for the information. I inhale the strong grass scent of the ground, feel the oppressive heat and sweat of so many people packed together, and bob past some of the crowd, fully separated from the other humans.
Come to think of it; there’s not much to do when your s
ole role is to be somebody’s prize. The tournament is so vast that I can’t see all the events happening. It spreads out across several field’s worths of ground, and the many wooden stands obscure many of the events from view, where the crowds cheer and watch, or bob around selected market stalls promoting whatever it is Yaru like to sell. Maybe they sell edible slugs or something.
There are fighters gathered at a melee bout nearest to us. The stand is to the side of my vision, making it possible to see, as well as a roped fence keeping more on the spectators away. It looks like it’s a brawl between thirty or so fighters, and it doesn’t appear as if any human women in this event will be the prize.
As a spectator, I’d probably find this stuff entertaining. As a prize, I simply dread to see who might win me.
The arena where the people competing for me is has a huge blue sheet covering most of the ground, hiding lumpy objects underneath. I speculate wildly at what they could be. Weapons? Sleeping animals? An obstacle course? The shapes are identical in ten different rows. Possibly a really small obstacle course.
I must go into a small tower, which is more like a box standing on four long legs, with a narrow staircase that swirls up into it. The box is open on all sides, and when I sit on the chair with the red cushion, I’m afforded a view of the event, and some of the fighting behind me – but nothing else. The walls, grandstands, and squash of crowds limit my visibility. There’s a building nearby which is fenced off by walls almost as high as the top floor. I think it’s where I saw the dome, but I’m not one hundred percent sure.
The ten contestants who have entered the Five Trials area stand toe to toe. I can’t help but notice how small and slender Reon seems to be, next to the hulk of aliens that have cast their lot into the trials. He’s still muscular, more so than an average human male – he’s just dwarfed by the others. It doesn’t do any wonders for my confidence, which keeps dipping up and down.
I’m happy to see him there. Thank you, Reon. Seeing him there lifts a weight off my soul.
Only ten contestants can get in – and Reon managed on short notice. I don’t know what that means, though. Is he rich? He has influence? Or they had a spot to fill? My heart does little leaps, and I find myself praying quietly that he’ll perform well.
I seem to keep thinking maybe he’ll do it, before squashing it with Nah, impossible. Then letting that feeling rise up again since hope has a harder time dying than I thought.
There’s a charcoal skinned brute with biceps larger than my head, and a green skinned giant that surveys the competition with gleaming eyes – though I’m not close enough to discern the color of the irises.
My eyes lock with Reon’s for a brief moment, and he gives a reassuring smile. Or an approximation of one. I just have to keep praying. I can’t assume the worse will happen. I don’t know how alien physiology works, exactly, either. Maybe Reon’s the strong one, and I just don’t know it. Still, some of the Yaru have twice the mass of him.
Win or lose; I’ll still need to make the most of Reon and Tia, anyway. I have a good thing with them, and I don’t know when that good thing will end. Maybe, I can get some practice off with Reon, in case the aliens have some weird fuckery when it comes to sex. My cheeks flush slightly at the thought. Maybe I have another motive. The one I’m not willing to admit to myself.
I consider how to broach the subject with him later, when the contestants, watched by the eager crowd under a bright orange sun behind a rope fence beyond my tower stand, start cheering as event organizers begin tugging off the tarpaulin.
With the tarpaulin removed, it reveals what appears to be… a mini fucking golf course. In ten rows.
As a “trial.”
I blink, confounded as each of the contestants are handed their equivalent of golf clubs, and take places at their start points. I’ve gone from nervous to incredulous to struggling not to laugh as I witness the alien meat mountains holding their clubs, many which are minuscule in their hands.
The thought of someone playing mini golf to win me as a permanent sex slave instead of, say, fighting to the death, is both slightly disappointing and amusing at the same time.
I lean forward in my seat and watch with mild interest as the competition starts. Instantly, the aliens line up and try to hit their holes on the first section of the course. It’s not exactly… exciting to watch, but the crowd is cheering and jumping up and down in a frenzy as if it’s the best thing ever. By the third obstacle, I notice that Reon’s with the front runners, and when I see him still there by the sixth, I begin to wonder if he might actually win this. Not just this, but the whole competition, especially if all the challenges are non-confrontational physical punch-fests like this. Maybe he does stand a good chance. Yes, I know, I should be praying the whole time, but it’s far too easy to doubt. And far too horrible to hope, and then lose it all.
He falls behind by the eighth obstacle, struggling to make it past a particularly tricky bend, and the green skinned giant finishes first. He roars in triumph, pumps his fist in the air, then throws away the club into the crowd. I see someone get knocked out cold, but the rest are still cheering themselves silly. Brute.
Reon finishes in fourth place. The points are rated from ten to one, which lands Reon with six points. The crowd screams as if they’ve witnessed some epic race, and not a novelty challenge you might see on a kid’s sport’s day, with bean bags, dressing up, and sacks.
I’m struggling now to take the denizens of this planet seriously. I also learn that this is the only trial out of the five that will be conducted today, which means I’m going to have to wait a lot longer before my fate is decided.
I’m eventually led away from the stands and made to go back to the hotel, with two guards tailing behind me the whole time. It’s a shame, because some of the market stalls appear enticing, and smell good with the aromas of baking food that wafts out. I also see Yaru trying out their luck at game stalls, such as throwing balls into holes or fishing for their lucky numbers from a pool of water and floating… rabbit fish things. The guards are dressed in bulked out body suits and protection, similar to Kevlar vests, except I’ve not seen a suit with a scaly material on it before.
Wanting to find a way to browse the stalls, I say to the guards, “I can find my way back by myself.” I know they’ll likely dismiss me, but it’s worth a shot.
“I’m sure you can,” one of the guards replied, his thin lips stretching into a smile, “but can you find your way out of a sack?”
“What?” I stare at the one who mentioned the sack. Yellow scales, gray eyes, and short tentacles on his head, resembling punk spikes. I think he’s the one who talked to me earlier.
“We have opportunists and thieves here,” the guard supplies. “And you’re probably worth a few million at an auction. So, you’ll be having an armed escort at all times. All the humong females.”
“Ah.” I suppose that makes sense. I don’t think I want to be shoved in a sack. Though it’s cool, the humong pronunciation has stuck now.
The guard, who addresses himself as Narl, gives me a wink. I find his friendliness odd, but don’t dismiss it as I’m placed back in my new and prettier prison. It’s nice to see others make an effort to be kind.
About an hour later, Reon arrives back at the hotel. “Did you see that? I got 4th place! My suns, I saw my opponents and thought I was done for.”
I laugh at his surprise, shoving down my fears. “Yeah, you did really well!”
“I doubt we’re getting five rounds of Gastrick,” Reon says. “They change the trials each year, so it’s hard for people to train for them.”
I nod and smile, all the while trying to absorb Reon’s features into my mind. I’m still debating on whether he’s attractive or not. I think he is. He has an aesthetic intrigue about him, and smooth skin that I’m interested in touching, just to see if it is cold or warm, if it’s smooth or hiding an invisible roughness.
I realize I need to get used to the idea of being with an alie
n. Given that this is my future. Should I ask Reon now about the whole alien sex thing?
Before I open my mouth to do so, someone else walks into the hotel.
My eyes turn into flints as I identify the newcomer as the winner of the first round of the Five Trials.
The winner casually strides up to reception. I see the receptionist initially begin to refuse him entry before the newcomer slaps something down on the counter.
Next thing that’s happening is he’s being led to his new room.
Oh no. Reon wears the same expression as what I’m feeling.
A few moments later, the green skin comes out and approaches us.
He stands and stares at me for a long moment, red eyes scouring my form. I see spikes protruding from his neck, above the start of his gray jumpsuit.
“So, you’re the human who will soon be mine,” the Yaru states in a low, growling voice. “I’m known as Tusken. Prince Tusken. What do you call yourself?”
Prince Tusken? Well, fuck. I don’t want to answer – but there’s a strong possibility his arrogant statement might turn out to be true. I might indeed be his. Probably best not to antagonize. “Esther.” I don’t bother with my last name – Jackson.
First time I’ve seen any kind of royalty up close. On earth, we used to elevate our royals far above other humans. I suppose it’s the same here.
“And,” Tusken continues, now giving a sickening smile to Reon, “Here’s our rich little lordling, Reon of the
Masyeuon province – preferring to run away from his duties by teaching language to dumb aliens. And staying in a hotel with the humongs.”
It irritates me to hear him say it like that – as if we didn’t have a language beforehand, or intellect, until we were taught the Yarussian language.
“Thought I’d give it a try,” Reon says casually. “I’ve never seen an alien with red tentacles before, so I thought, why not?” I notice his scaled hands clenching, the light brown skin turning yellowish white from tension. I also detect a primal, aggressively charged atmosphere between the two Yaru. As if they’re mentally dueling one another right now.
The Lost Seal: A Seal Romance Page 31
