by Luna Voss
I may not interact with Kyrzons very often in New Sutter, but every time I do, it makes my heart race. Although they are required to disarm when they enter the settlement, every Kyrzon I’ve ever met has looked big and strong enough to tear a human limb from limb.
In school, I learned that their society is divided into different tribes, which constantly war with each other, vying for resources, territory, and women. Their lives are hard, violent, and often short, with many lower-status warriors never having the chance to breed, or to know the pleasures of a woman.
The Kyrzons with the most power and status are the tribal chiefs. These are the strongest, most respected warriors on the planet, and many of them have an almost mythic reputation. Chief Drokal, for instance, now apparently dead at the hands of Clan Broga, was legendary for his strength in battle, and for his aggressive military leadership of his tribe. Before the news of his death, his name was spoken only in hushed tones.
As far as most humans are concerned, the Kyrzons are nothing more than violent savages, concerned only with power and territorial expansion. It’s always been harder for me to take that view, as I’ve known since I was young that I would be wed to one of them. I’ve always tried to focus on our similarities, rather than our differences. In so many ways, Kyrzons and humans are alike. We have to be, considering our two species are able to make babies together.
Make babies together. The thought fills my stomach with nervous butterflies. Sure, I went through a sexual education class in school, and I have a basic idea of how human reproduction works. I even know that the Kyrzons make babies in roughly the same way that humans do.
But the thought of actually doing that with a Kyrzon male gives me goosebumps. I’ve never even fooled around with a human male before, much less with an enormous, musclebound warrior.
For a moment, I allow myself to dwell on the subject. It’s hard for me to imagine what a Kyrzon would be like in such an intimate situation. How will my husband treat me when he has me alone in his tent? Will he be gentle with me? Will he be rough? My mind flashes to the image of a hard, battle-scarred Kyrzon, his big, rough hands touching me as he begins to remove my clothes. I feel my body start to respond to the scene I’m imagining, my lower half suddenly tingling with a warmth I hadn’t expected.
I’m snapped out of my thoughts by the sound of someone knocking on my door.
“Cleopatra?” comes a voice. “We’re leaving for the auction house in 15 minutes.”
“Okay!” I call back. “Coming in just a moment.”
* * *
Hover-carts take a lot of energy to operate, and so normally, they’re reserved for work. But Auction Days are an exception. I ride in the back of the cart this time, not the front, breathing deeply to manage my anxiety as we drive through New Sutter, picking up the other Brides who will be sold today.
After a couple of stops, the back of the cart fills up with four other women my same age, each of us clutching a small bundle of clothes and other personal items. I greet each new passenger with a nod, but I don’t otherwise attempt to make conversation. Nobody else does, either. We’re all staring at our feet, our nervousness clearly palpable. The last one to get on, a wispy, blond little thing, looks almost like she’s about to throw up. She sits next to me, trembling. I glance at her, but she doesn’t make eye contact.
“Our next stop is the auction house,” the worker driving the hover-cart announces.
I glance over at the little blonde again. She doesn’t look at me, but she reaches out her hand, and I take it. She squeezes my hand for the rest of the drive.
The auction house is on the outskirts of New Sutter, near the city wall. Humans typically avoid the whole area, and the details of what goes on inside are a bit of a mystery. No one but the humans who work there, and the Kyrzons who come to bid, have ever been inside.
I take a deep breath as the hover-cart slows to a stop outside the auction house. The other Brides and I file out of the cart in silence.
“This way,” says our driver, leading us to the building. Her demeanor is brusque, as though she doesn’t want to risk developing an emotional connection us. I don’t blame her. She’s never going to see any of us again.
She shows us to a door on the other side of the auction house and knocks on it three times. For a moment, we wait. And then the door opens, and another woman greets us.
“This is the end of the road for me,” our driver tells us. “I wish you all happiness in your new lives.”
She scurries back to the hover-cart and drives away.
The woman standing in the doorway of the auction house gestures to us. “You can follow me inside,” she says, not bothering to introduce herself.
The auction worker leads us into the building, and for a moment, I can barely see as my eyes adjust to the dimmer lighting inside. She takes us down a hallway to a small room filled with chairs, where she gestures for us to have a seat.
“What you are about to do is both your sacred duty, and a great honor,” she recites, standing at the front of the room like a teacher giving a presentation to her class. “From the moment your name was drawn from the lottery, you knew your life would be different.”
I fidget in my seat. She keeps speaking: “As a Kyrzon Bride, your path will be more difficult than most. You will be sold to a warrior, or if you are lucky, a war chief. You will become his wife, and you will bear his children. You may not ever have a chance to return to Human Territory, or to the life that you have known.”
“But,” the auction worker continues, “it is your sacrifice that guarantees the safety of New Sutter, and that allows our way of life to continue. Everyone has a duty. Some work the fields, some tend the animals, and some are destined to be sold at auction. By appearing here today, you are performing your highest duty, and doing so admirably. On behalf of every human living on the Planet Kyrzon, I thank you. Every single one of us is in your debt.”
Nobody reacts. We’ve all heard this spiel before, or at least, a version of it. There’s nothing new or interesting here. We’re all fixated on the mystery of what is to happen next.
“I’m going to lead each of you to your dressing room, where you will change into your auction clothes,” says the worker. “You will remain there until I knock on your door, at which point I will take you to the auction block. You will be given further instructions once you have been purchased.”
Next to me, the little blonde raises a trembling hand. “Which one of us is going to be sold first?” she asks, her voice small and shaky.
The auction worker looks at her, and for a moment, she relaxes her professional façade, and I see real compassion behind her eyes.
“The order in which you will be auctioned off will be chosen at random,” she tells us. “I’m sorry, that’s all I can say. Now, if you’ll all come with me, I’ll take you to your dressing rooms. Leave your personal items here. They’ll be returned to you after the auction.”
Chapter Four
I sit in my dressing room wearing the revealing, light-colored bodysuit that the worker referred to as my “auction clothes.” It’s similar to the one-piece bathing suits printed by the Ship’s clothing fabricator, only made of a much thinner material. I feel almost naked, with my nipples clearly visible through the thin fabric, and all of my curves perfectly on display. That, I realize, must be the point: the idea is obviously to show me off, in hopes that I fetch a higher price.
Here on Planet Kyrzon, we use the most valuable resource we have as our currency: energy. Our money system is wholly built around the power we generate, with each credit representing one unit of electrical energy. In New Sutter, the credits are backed up by the energy stored in the Ship’s battery. In the Kyrzon world, as far as I know, there is no central energy storage, meaning that any transaction must be paid for with the physical exchange of power cells.
How many power units will they be willing to pay for me?
The thought enters my mind before I can help it. The Kyrzons in th
e saloon last night certainly seemed to find me captivating, but in fairness, it’s not like most Kyrzon males get to see a lot of women in their day-to-day lives. I really have no idea what they consider attractive. As far as I can tell, Kyrzon culture is pretty rugged, with their leathers and furs and armor. I have to imagine I’m a lot more delicate and feminine than most Kyrzons are used to seeing.
I really know very little about how the tribes live. No humans do, except for those who have already been auctioned off as Brides. I know that their society is very hierarchical, with the chiefs commanding the most respect, but I have no idea what most Kyrzons do when they’re not at war or purchasing humans for breeding. I don’t even know much about the role of women, whether those women be human, or one of the rumored Kyrzon females.
All I know is that whoever buys me will want to breed me.
I startle at the sound of a knock on the door to my dressing room.
“Looks like you’re up first, Cleopatra,” says the auction worker through the door. “Are you ready?”
I take a deep breath. This is happening.
“Ready,” I say.
I open the door to the dressing room and follow her down the hall.
She instructs me as we walk: “When I open the door to the auction room, you will step out onto the block, and the bidders will have a chance to observe you. After that, the bidding will begin. The auctioneer will guide you through everything. All you have to do is follow his instructions.”
We stop in front of the door at the end of the hall. My heart is racing, my breathing shallow. I’ve known that this was coming since I was 13 years old, but nothing could have prepared me for how this moment would feel.
I glance at the auction worker, and she looks back at me with measured kindness. “It’s time,” she says. “Take a deep breath. You’ll be fine.”
I nod.
The auction worker opens the door and gestures for me to walk through.
Chapter Five
Gathering my strength, I step through the door. There's a short runway in front of me, and I walk down it, the bright, soft lights overhead forcing me to squint. At the end of the runway is a platform, elevated by several feet. I climb up the steps and step onto it, still blinded by the light.
I can hear people in the room around me as my eyes adjust. Lots of them. I hear them moving, glasses clinking, murmuring, occasional laughter. Deep voices. I squint, glancing around me and trying to take in my surroundings.
The room is filled with Kyrzon men. Not one of them is shorter than seven feet tall, and all of them are wearing their finest furs and battle armor. I've seen Kyrzons before, but even still, these ones look huge.
And every single one of them is looking right at me.
My breath catches in my chest, and I can tell my face is turning turning red. I feel incredibly exposed, wearing nothing but my skimpy bodysuit. I can feel the eyes of every Kyrzon warrior piercing into me, undressing me. I shiver.
Even in the saloon on nights around Auction Days, I've never been the center of attention like this before. Every single warrior watching me has a look of hunger on his face, as though I'm a prize he's determined to claim for himself.
I can feel my nipples standing up, poking against the fabric. The way these men are looking at me gives me goosebumps, my body undeniably aroused. I stand there, drinking in their attention, feeling vulnerable, but also, oddly powerful.
I look around at the Kyrzon warriors surrounding me. They're all sitting at tables, nursing drinks. I try to take in their faces, doing my best not to catch anyone's eye. Most of them are grinning, some of them leering, clearly drunk.
My eyes land on the door at the back of the room, which, I realize, must be the entrance. It opens, and a hulking figure enters. I watch as he takes his place at the back of the room, leaning against the wall.
He's big and fierce-looking, even for a Kyrzon, with broad shoulders and a muscular chest. He has a heavy brow, a great, masculine beard, and the Kyrzon equivalent of a Mohawk hairstyle, with intricate designs shaved into the sides of his head. I can't help but notice that he's extremely handsome.
And then he looks up at me, and for a moment, our eyes meet.
I feel color rush to my cheeks. For the briefest of seconds, he traps me with his gaze, and it's like I'm lost in his startlingly blue eyes.
And then I look away, blushing, my eyes fixed resolutely on the platform in front of me.
"Okay, warriors and warlords, it's time to begin!" booms out a male voice from a speaker above my head. I look around the room for the source, and see a human male standing at a podium to my right, holding a microphone. He smiles and gestures to me.
"This is Cleopatra, our first tribute to be sold this Auction Day. Cleopatra, dear, will you give us a little spin?"
The auctioneer twirls his finger at me suggestively. It takes me a second to realize what he means. I make a quick 360 on the platform, embarrassed.
"A little slower, dear," says the auctioneer. "We are trying to make a sale, after all."
The Kyrzons around me chuckle.
Blushing fiercely, I twirl around again, this time more slowly. I hear chairs creaking as the assembled warriors lean in to get a closer look.
My face is burning as I return to my original position, facing the audience. All the warriors in the room are still watching me, the tension thick in the air. I can't bear to let my eyes return to the handsome Kyrzon standing at the back of the room. I can feel his eyes on me regardless.
The auctioneer addresses the audience: "Warriors and warlords, are you ready to set this Auction Day off with a bang?"
The room at large roars its approval. I suppress a shudder, reacting to the sheer amount of testosterone in the air.
"Then let the bidding begin!" exclaims the auctioneer. "We'll start at 500 power units."
"600!" roars a Kyrzon to my left.
"750!" growls another one.
"I've got 900," comes a voice to my right.
"Okay," the auctioneer booms out, "a lively start. Can I hear 1,000?"
"1,500 power units!" calls the warrior at the back of the room.
For a moment, there is stunned silence. Several of the Kyrzons glance back at him, looking shocked. Not just by his bid, it almost seems, but by his very presence.
"You!" one of them growls, standing up from his seat. "What the fuck are you doing here?"
Several other Kyrzons stand up menacingly.
"Now, now," says the auctioneer, forced calm in his voice. "Remember, no hostilities are allowed inside the auction house. Save it for when you leave Human Territory."
Several of the Kyrzons sit down, but several also remain standing. The handsome Kyrzon at the back of the room barely reacts, leaning against the wall with a positively arrogant lack of concern.
"Please, warriors and warlords," the auctioneer implores, "save this for after the auction. There are to be no hostilities in the auction house. The bid is currently at 1,500, can I hear 1,750?"
All of the warriors except for one return to their seats. "2,000," roars the bald, clean-shaven Kyrzon in the middle of the room, still on his feet. His blue-painted forehead wrinkles into an expression of furious determination.
"2,500," the warrior at the back of the room returns promptly.
"3,000," the bald Kyrzon spits.
"5,000."
"10,000."
"20,000," growls the bearded warrior.
The bald Kyrzon looks furious. He glares at his rival, and then turns slowly to the auctioneer.
"50,000 power units," he says, puffing out his chest.
Every single Kyrzon in the room gasps. Even I, not knowing exactly what a typical price for a Bride would be, am stunned by the number. That's an incredible amount of energy. That's like… more power than most of the Ship's systems use in an entire year. I would know.
I can hear the assembled warriors murmuring amongst themselves. It's obvious that this is a much, much higher price than any of th
em would usually consider paying for a mate. All of them are looking at the handsome Kyrzon, waiting to see what he'll do next.
I can't help it. I look, too.
He's not even facing the auctioneer, but rather, staring directly at my face. I look down at my feet, resisting the urge to cower at the intensity of the situation. There's so much tension in the room I can hardly stand it.
The bearded warrior takes a deep breath, his expression fierce. "100,000 power units for Cleopatra."
The entire room falls silent.
The auctioneer freezes. He stares out at the room, wide-eyed, as though struggling for words. For a moment, he stays paralyzed, like he doesn’t know how to compute what just happened.
And then:
"Sold!" he announces, snapping back to himself with sudden glee. "Sold to Chief Drokal for 100,000 power units!"
My head snaps up. Pure shock washes over me, my stomach churning.
…Did he just say Chief Drokal? What the fuck?
Chapter Six
Pandemonium breaks out in the auction room at the mention of Chief Drokal’s name. Everyone stands up, and several warriors began to advance on him, including the aggressive bald Kyrzon with the blue forehead. The auctioneer springs from his podium holding the microphone, doing his best to calm everybody down.
“Please, not in the auction house!” he implores, waving his hands. “Warriors and warlords, I ask that you respect the rules our peoples have followed faithfully for hundreds of years!”
They pay him no heed, forming a circle around Drokal, muttering, growling. The bald Kyrzon steps forward and advances until he and Drokal are face-to-face.
“Drokal,” the bald warrior growls, his lips curled into a snarl.
“Chief Broga,” Drokal rumbles back, staring him directly in the eye.
“Chief Gutter sent word that you were dead.”
“I am not,” Drokal replies, his expression almost cavalier.
