Bringing Stella Home

by Joe Vasicek

  As the two men worked, they started up a conversation. By concentrating, Stella found she was able to follow along.

  “The girl is quite pretty, if a little young,” said the tall man. He spoke much slower and more clearly than Engus, probably because Belarian wasn’t his first language.

  Engus responded, but Stella didn’t understand much of what he said. She picked out the name ‘Tagatai,’ and the word ‘captain.’

  “Yes,” said the tall man as he filed her nails. “She seems shy, though I don’t blame her.”

  Engus snorted and made a glib reply, which Stella didn’t catch.

  “Still,” said the tall man, “she has a thoughtful air about her. I do not think she is as out of touch as the others.” He finished with her right foot and set it gently on the floor; Stella helped him by lifting the other before he reached for it.

  Engus answered. Stella picked out the words ‘name’ and ‘need.’

  “You are right,” said the tall man. “She does need a name. What should it be?”

  “I already have a name,” Stella interrupted, mustering her command of formal Belarian as best as she could. Engus coughed, and the tall man stopped and looked up at her.

  “My name is Stella McCoy,” she said. “That is who I am.”

  The tall man smiled. “It appears that our little mouse perceives more than we thought.”

  Engus snorted.

  “My name is Narju,” said the tall man. “But here, you must take a new name.”

  “Why?”

  Narju’s face fell, but not in an unkindly way. “You are starting a new life here, little mouse. Trust me, it will be better if you leave your past behind and forget it.”

  Stella’s jaw tensed, and her eyes began to burn. The faces of her family flashed before her mind’s eye: Father and Mother; Ben, her big brother; and James, the youngest. Did the Hameji expect her to forget about them? How could she ever do that?

  Shh, she told herself, swallowing her tears. Bide your time. Play the game.

  “Do not be sad,” said Narju. “We will give you an auspicious name, one to bring you good fortune.”

  Stella bit her lip and nodded. Narju resumed scrubbing her foot.

  “There is a star many hundred years of light from the Hameji home system, called in their legends Sholpan—the shy goddess. It is a white dwarf orbiting a much larger super-giant. To most, the two appear to be one, but master astrogators can tell them apart. Among the Hameji, it is said that to triangulate one’s position by this star is to invite good luck.”

  Stella racked her brain for any binary system she knew of that fit that description. As an apprentice astrogator, she’d memorized the names and coordinates of several hundred stars, but this one didn’t sound familiar. Maybe if she’d studied harder, she would have recognized it. She wished she had.

  “Good name,” said Engus in New Gaian from behind her. “Master Qasar be happy with.”

  “I hope so,” said Narju, in Belarian.

  Master Qasar? Stella’s heart beat a little faster.

  “Who is Master Qasar?”

  Narju smiled kindly, though Stella thought she could see a trace of sadness in his eyes. “Master Qasar is the commander of this ship. He is your lord now, Sholpan.”

  Sholpan. The name sounded harsh to Stella’s ears. She formed her lips around the word, but it felt strange and unfamiliar, like something foreign. Something that was not her.

  Engus finished with Stella’s nails and rose from his seat. He uttered a string of commands to Narju and stepped out of the room. The bead curtain clattered shut behind him.

  “What does this ‘Qasar’ want with me?” Stella asked, more comfortable now that Engus was gone. “What is this place?”

  “Peace,” said Narju, finishing with her left foot. “You are safe—no one will harm you.” He rose to his feet.

  “But where am I?” she asked, rising with him. “Some kind of harem? And who are you supposed to be—one of my servants?”

  “I am Narju, your personal attendant,” he said. “You are on Master Qasar’s ship. You…belong to him now.”

  Even though it came as no surprise, Stella’s whole body went rigid with shock.

  “So that’s it?” she said, her voice cracking. “I’m supposed to be some kind of glorified whore?”

  “Please, calm yourself,” said Narju. “You are safe here. Master Qasar is busy and probably will not see you for many days. You will be treated well. Do not trouble yourself.”

  Stella swallowed. She had a hundred other questions, but before she could ask any of them, Narju pressed a finger against her lips.

  “No more questions,” he said. “I will answer them later.”

  How much later? Stella wanted to scream. Why can’t you answer me now? Instead, she bit her lip and did her best to be calm. If Narju was right and Qasar wouldn’t see her for a few days, she could afford to wait. Play the game, bide her time. She’d find a way out.

  From the open locker, Narju pulled out a thin white gown. “Here,” he said, turning to her. “Take off your towel. You need to see the doctor.”

  Stella frowned. “Why?”

  “For your examination. Please, let me put this on you.”

  Stella tensed. “I can dress myself, thanks.”

  “But milady,” said Narju, bowing deeply, “I live to serve you.”

  This so surprised Stella that she could think of nothing to say to it. Still, she made no move to comply.

  “Very well,” said Narju. “I understand how you must feel, being new to this place. If you wish, I will let you dress yourself.”

  Stella let out a quiet sigh of relief as Narju left the room, the bead curtain clattering behind him. When she was satisfied that she had as much privacy as she was going to get, she let her towel drop to the floor and slipped into the sleeveless gown. It was open in the back, and although she did her best to tie it shut, she found it difficult to reach behind her. She arched her back to get a better angle.

  “Are you ready?” Narju asked from outside the doorway.

  “Yes,” said Stella, finishing up with the last tie.

  Narju walked up behind her and examined her work. Before she could protest, he busied himself retying her knots.

  “You need not be so shy in this place,” he told her. “The only men allowed on this level are eunuchs such as myself. Our Hameji overlords have made it quite impossible for us to do anything but serve you.”

  “You mean—”

  Stella stopped herself in mid-sentence. Narju said nothing.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, blushing deep red.

  “No apology is necessary,” said Narju as he finished. “Come with me.”

  * * * * *

  Stella felt practically naked in the patient’s gown. She tried to ignore that as she followed Narju down the hallway, keeping her eyes open for any unguarded doors or possible exits. Bide your time. Play the game.

  He led her down a corridor similar to the first: colorful silks, golden tassels, more bead doors, and of course the sensual, shaggy carpet. They passed several people, most of them servants in their crisp white smocks, though Stella saw a couple of other women. She couldn’t escape the feeling, however, that more eyes were watching her than she could see.

  They turned a corner and came to an elevator. Narju pulled out a card and swiped it at the access panel, and the elevator door opened. Unlike the rest of the harem, the interior was gray and drab—purely utilitarian.

  This elevator leads to the rest of the ship, Stella realized. She took note of the pocket where Narju kept his key-card.

  When the doors reopened, they stepped out into a corridor so spartanly decorated that it seemed as if she’d set foot on a different ship. The white tiling on the walls had yellowed with age, and there were surprisingly deep impressions in the floor where countless feet had trod. Stella felt the grainy indentations with her bare feet. Judging from their depth, she realized that the ship could easily be dec
ades old—perhaps even more than a hundred standard years.

  A pair of soldiers guarded the elevator. At a gesture from Narju, they stood aside to let him pass. Stella found it odd that the guards would be posted outside the harem instead of inside—as if they were trying to keep the rest of the ship out. She shivered in the noticeably cooler air and tried not to think about what that meant.

  At a turn in the corridor, Stella caught sight of another woman. She was about half a head taller than her, a little more filled out around the waist, and probably fifteen or twenty years older, judging from the slight creases on her forehead. She wore a long green dress with purple fringes and long, loose sleeves. The dress had no pockets, but several small cloth pouches hung from her belt.

  The woman scowled at Stella as they passed. For her part, Stella stared at the ground to avoid eye contact. In a second, the awkward moment was over.

  “The medical bay,” Narju said, opening an otherwise unremarkable door a short distance down the corridor. With his free hand, he motioned for Stella to enter.

  The moment she stepped through the doorway, she felt that something was wrong. On the outside, everything seemed normal enough—clear, bright lights, spotless white walls, the sterile smell of disinfectant. Several monitors hung down from the ceiling, and a detachable, floating table hovered off to one side. In the corner she saw an examining table—old, certainly, but still functional. It wasn’t until she caught sight of the medicine bottles on the counter that she realized what was bothering her. More than half of them were opened—some even lay completely empty on their side. The instruments dangling from the hovering table were lopsided and off-color—probably pieced together from spare parts. The walls were spotless white, but the floor was yellow and unnervingly sticky.

  A portly man in an off-white apron greeted them. He had a wide face and long black hair pulled back in a ponytail like Narju’s. One of his eyelids drooped, giving him a half-drunk expression that did little to quell Stella’s growing anxiety. He spoke to her, but his accent was so thick that she could barely understand him.

  “Please step up to the examining table,” Narju translated.

  Stella hesitated. She glanced from Narju to the Hameji doctor. He gave her a vacuous smile and gestured impatiently with his hand.

  “What if I say no?” she asked.

  “It will not hurt,” Narju said. “I promise.”

  Stella hugged her chest a little tighter. She made no effort to move.

  “Everyone who comes to the ship must be examined,” Narju said in his gentle, encouraging voice. “I was examined, too, when I first came.”

  Yeah, Stella thought. And sterilized.

  Narju coughed. “Don’t worry—the doctor will not…alter anything. This is only a routine examination.”

  The man motioned again with his hand. His half-smile was quickly disappearing.

  Stella glanced over her shoulder at the door. It was closed—no way out. She swallowed and stepped shakily up to the table.

  The doctor started by checking her pulse. She shivered as he untied the top few knots on her gown and reached his hands underneath the fabric. The end of the stethoscope felt frigid against her bare skin, and she dug her fingers into the underside of the table as the he pressed it from spot to spot.

  When he was finished, the doctor withdrew the stethoscope and slipped a thick band around her arm. To check my blood pressure, Stella realized. A harsh noise sounded from some unseen machine, and the band slowly constricted, making her fingers tingle. She winced as it grew tighter, wondering what would happen if it never stopped. For a few frightening seconds, it almost seemed a reality. Eventually, however, the pressure equalized, then gradually let up as the machine completed its discomforting task.

  Her eyes and ears were next. She squirmed at the squishy sound the conical probe made as the doctor jabbed it in her ears, and the device’s bright light cut into her eyes, burning splotches of purple and green into her vision. Stella blinked several times after the procedure was finished, but the splotches refused to disappear.

  The doctor turned to her again. In his hand, he carried a syringe.

  “No!” Stella cried, pulling her arms tight against her body. She scooted as far away from the doctor as she could.

  “Have no fear,” Narju cajoled her, putting a hand on her shoulder. “He only needs a blood sample. You’re doing very well.”

  The doctor stared impatiently at her with his droopy eye and false smile. Slowly, she held out her arm. As the needle burrowed into her skin, she clenched her teeth and closed her eyes. For nearly half a minute, the invasive device remained impaled in her body, until the doctor collected as much blood as he needed and pulled it out.

  When will this be over?

  As if in answer to her unspoken question, the doctor motioned for her to lie down lengthwise across the table. Stella did so slowly, careful to keep her gown from hiking up. When she was lying flat on her back, the doctor took her feet and put them in some sort of device, so that they were locked in place.

  What is he doing? she wondered with alarm. The next thing she knew, she felt a sharp pain in her ankle—the pain of an incision.

  “What are you doing to me?” she screamed in New Gaian, sitting up at once. Narju took her by the shoulders and forced her down, holding her against the table.

  “Don’t struggle,” he said. “If you struggle, the doctor might make a mistake.”

  “You told me he wouldn’t do anything!”

  Narju said nothing. Stella’s whole body shook, but she kept still as the doctor inserted something small and hard into the flesh between her Achilles tendon and the bone. He applied a thick balm to the incision, and the pain quickly faded, though she lost all feeling in her foot.

  “You lied to me,” Stella cried, staring up at Narju with tears of fright in her eyes. “You said it wouldn’t hurt.”

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “He won’t do anything more.”

  The doctor unbound her ankles and left the room. Stella swung her legs over the edge and gingerly tested her foot. It felt awkward to stand on, as if it had fallen asleep, but she could still walk.

  As she followed Narju out of the room, however, her movements were wooden and without feeling. This wasn’t a game anymore—how could it be, when the Hameji had more control over her own body than she did?

  * * * * *

  Narju returned Stella to the bathing room and had her change into new clothes—a blue knee-length skirt with a white blouse and an ornate, gold-embroidered vest. She found it a little ostentatious, but after the burlap tunic and the skimpy doctor’s gown, she was happy with whatever she could get. When she was finished, Narju once again led her out into the corridor.

  “These are your quarters,” said Narju, parting a bead curtain that covered the doorway to one of the bedrooms. “If you need anything, press the red button on the access panel. I live to serve you.”

  Stella stepped into the room, and Narju bowed and left. The beads made a light clattering noise as they fell shut. Stella could see through them to the corridor outside, giving her the feeling that she was still in a public place. The general lack of privacy unnerved her—all of the doors across the harem had been replaced by bead curtains, so that every space felt exposed to view. It was probably one of the ways the Hameji controlled them.

  She looked around the room, not sure what to think of the place. It seemed comfortable enough, if a little small. The walls were covered in light pink silks, golden tassels hanging in patterns from the ceiling. In the far left corner she saw a set of white pillows, piled at random on top of a threadbare couch. A double bunk bed jutted out from the wall on her right, while an arabesque Auriga Novan chess table stood off to her left, next to the couch.

  “Well, hello,” came a voice from the bunks.

  Stella jumped a little. It was a woman’s voice, speaking in New Gaian.

  “Hello?” Stella tentatively replied, also in New Gaian. She peered in the dir
ection of the voice, and soon caught sight of the unknown woman lying on the upper bunk.

  She was fairly young, perhaps in her early thirties, with light blond hair that barely reached her shoulders. While she wasn’t exactly fat, she was a bit heavier than Stella had expected. She wore a fluffy blue bathrobe, tied loosely around the waist and open enough to show that she wasn’t wearing anything else. Her breasts were much larger than Stella’s, and she didn’t seem to have any qualms about letting them hang out.

  “Well, what’s your name, honey?”

  “My name?”

  “That’s right, darling. Don’t be shy.”

  “My name is Stel—I mean,” said Stella, taking a breath, “my name is Sholpan.”

  “Is that the name they gave you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Sholpan. A pretty name, as far as Hameji names go.” She sat up and grinned. “My name’s Tamurin, dear, but you can call me Tamu.”

  “Is—is that what they named you?”

  “Of course, sweetheart.”

  “Are we roommates?”

  “You guessed it.” She slipped her feet over the edge of the bunk and slid to the ground. As she did so, her bathrobe fell open, completely exposing one of her enormous, pasty white breasts. Stella’s eyes widened.

  “Something the matter, dear?”

  She gestured with her eyes at the open bathrobe. Tamu laughed, and without any concern in the least, closed it—though not so tightly that it wasn’t in danger of falling open again.

  “Just a bit of flesh,” she said. “Nothing between roommates, eh? Believe me, honey, you’ll get used to it after a while. How old are you?”

  Stella took a second to recover. She hoped she never got used to letting herself hang out in that way.

  “I’m seventeen,” she said, her voice coming out as a croak.

  “So young!” Tamu shrieked, making Stella jump. “So very young. I would have guessed eighteen or nineteen. You’re quite beautiful for your age, darling.”