by Sabrina Kade
“You’re deluded, Phoebe,” York sneers. “You’re acting like this is some summer vacation. Don’t you get it? We’re slaves now.”
“Entertainers!” Phoebe chirps, rising to stand. York doesn’t bother to move. Alaska and Arizona smirk, and I barely manage to hide mine. This bitch is clueless. “They said we’d be entertainers and we’d travel the galaxies! How can you all be so negative about everything?”
“Maybe because I’ve been entertaining for too long,” York says. “Sit before you piss someone off, yeah?”
“But—”
“Sit down, Phoebe,” Arizona snaps.
And so she does.
An uncomfortable silence settles over the room as Phoebe whispers to the girl next to her. Probably some overexcited bullshit about fabulous planets and alien cultures. What a newbie. She has no idea what’s about to happen to her.
That’s the thing about some of the new girls. They start out so excited and ready for something new and fresh to do.
Travel the skies!
See the stars!
Send the money back to your families!
Entertain some of the most mysterious beings in the galaxy!
What could be wrong with that?
The term entertainer is such a laugh. We’re not entertainers. We’re playthings. Pets. Slaves. The only things keeping us alive and mostly intact are our rarity and mythical contracts.
Speaking of which…
“How long is this assignment going to be?” I ask, scanning over the group. Arizona meets my gaze but doesn’t open her mouth. She doesn’t know. She’s pissed she doesn’t know. Alaska’s soft blue gaze meets mine, but she casually looks away, flipping sandy blond hair over her tanned shoulder. Dakota and Kansas don’t bother to acknowledge my question. And though York seems pissed, she doesn’t have an answer either.
All the previous owners knew to keep their mouths shut before shipping us away.
Probably because if they told us where we were going, we’d try to escape.
Slowly, all the experienced girls turn towards the newbies. Maybe someone was stupid enough to say something to one of them.
“Well?” I ask again.
“I heard six months,” one says meekly.
“I heard a year.”
“I heard we’d be possible carriers.”
Everyone jerks in their seats like the ship’s lurched in some nasty turbulence. Arizona’s group collectively sucks in a gasp.
“Where’d you hear that shit?” York snaps.
“Easy, York,” Arizona says. “She’s a newbie.”
“You shut up; you’re not my owner.” York turns her attention to the girl who had spoken. I’ve never seen her before and judging by the looks on everyone’s faces; they haven’t either. York’s full lips press together into a thin line as she assesses her, just like I did.
“You.”
The girl looks up. She meets York’s intense gaze. She’s young. Pretty.
“What’s your name?” York asks.
“Layla—
“Like your last name matters.” York rolls her eyes. “How old are you? You look like a teen pop star.”
“Nineteen.”
“I’ve never seen you before.”
“I’m new,” she says, confirming what Arizona’s already pointed out.
“From where?”
“The training academy by Base 46.” Some of the girls agree, recognizing the mentioned site. Layla pushes a plump hand through her chestnut brown hair. She’s got the face of a twelve-year-old, but curves that don’t quit. “When picked me to go, I worked up the nerve to ask one of the guards why they wanted me so bad. He told me the price. Whoever these people are—”
“People don’t pay for sex,” Phoebe chirps.
“What planet are you from?” York says before turning her attention back to Layla. “So whoever these guys are paid a lot of money, huh?”
“Why do you think they rounded us up so quickly?” Layla continues. “That’s what the guard told me, anyway. The money offered couldn’t be refused. He told me to prepare to be a carrier, but also not to worry because they’d fix it after our contract was up.”
I swallow, and part of me wonders who the guard was. Some of them are kind. Too kind.
“Fixed?” Phoebe asks, interrupting my thoughts.
“Our lady parts, newbie. They’ll sew ‘em up nice and tight, so we’ll practically be virgins again,” Arizona says, shaking her head. “Yay.”
I can’t help groaning.
“B-but that’s not what we’re supposed to be doing!” Phoebe squeaks. “We’re entertainers. EN-TER-TAIN-ERS!” She rises to her feet again, and out of the corner of my eye, a red light flickers above the door.
My eyes dart back to Phoebe as she paces around. We watch with wary expressions, all noticing the blinking red light above the door.
“They’re trying to scare us. Make us listen, you know? We’re entertainers, not hookers.”
York laughs. “Sorry to burst your bubble, Phoebe, this is what you signed up for. Didn’t read the contract, did you?”
Phoebe stops pacing and spins around. Color flushes across her pale cheeks.
“Sorry, girl.” Ellis shakes her head full of curls. “Welcome to the wonderful world of being a Human Whore.”
“I’m not like you guys,” Phoebe snaps, darting over. Ellis holds up her hands and, satisfied with this; Phoebe moves on to York. “And I’m not spreading for anyone, even if they did pay.”
York’s lips pull into another one of her famous smirks, further infuriating Phoebe.
“I’m not! Just because he paid me, doesn’t mean I’ll carry an alien’s baby! They have people for that—”
“And you’re one of them,” York says calmly, drifting her attention towards the flashing light. “And you might want to sit. The Todas don’t want us messing each other up before landing. And I will fuck you up if you don’t get out of my face.”
“Sit down,” I say tiredly. I don’t want them to bother us. I want to land and face another assignment. Maybe it won’t be so bad. I’m sure other girls on the ship carried before, but I can’t focus on that because Phoebe’s misinformed squeaks are getting on my last nerve. “You see that blinking light? That means there’s too much noise — too much ruckus. If you don’t sit down and shut up, York won’t need to fuck your ass up. They will.”
A cluster of girls – both known and unknown – huddle to the furthest corner of the room from the door as Phoebe and York continue to have their version of a dick swinging competition. I had to hand it to Phoebe; she was either brave or dumb.
I’m pretty sure it’s the latter when the intercom in the room crackles on, and a deep voice fills our ears, sounding like someone trying to talk with a mouthful of mothballs. I quickly flip on the language communicator in my left ear so I can process the gurgling sound.
“Is there a problem, whores?”
“We’re not—” Phoebe starts before I dive at her and cover her mouth. She struggles against my grip, but I have plenty of experience on how to keep a girl quiet.
Arizona shows her approval before turning towards the intercom where the rough voice is rumbling from. “No problem. Just so excited.”
Shallow breaths fill the intercom, followed by a few gurgling chuckles. “We’ll be arriving shortly. Prepare yourselves. The weather calls for rain.”
There’s silence as the line clicks off, and Phoebe breaks free from my grasp.
“What are you doing, bitch?” she squeaks.
“Saving your ass,” I shoot back, kicking her away. “Do you want them to come in here? Because I sure don’t. We’ve got bigger problems. We’re almost there. They said it’s raining. Maybe it’s a planet like home.”
“Lots of water would be nice,” Alaska says dreamily.
“Let me know how it looks when you’re lying on your back,” York says. “Let’s all think about this, ladies. These pervs must have paid a pretty penny for us, thanks
to the info from Lyla over there.”
“Layla.”
“Whatever,” she says, dismissing her with a wave of her hand. “Anyway, we’re about to land on a planet filled with, what sounds like, rich, horny aliens who want mixed babies. Margaret Atwood couldn’t make this shit up. Oh wait,” she finally smiles, “yes, she could.”
“I don’t know about you guys, but however long this is, or what we’re supposed to do, we should deal with it,” a girl mutters, resting a hand on Phoebe’s still shaking shoulders. Mia, I think. “It’s just another assignment.”
“Spread your legs, not your lips,” I grumble.
“Because aliens don’t like their dicks sucked,” Kansas finally speaks up, laughing and elbowing Arizona.
“Shut up,” Arizona mutters.
“Do as the client says,” Mia continues, dark eyes scanning across the sterile space. “Don’t piss off the client; only piss on them if that’s what they request.” Her deadpan voice brings a small smile to my face, but I don’t interrupt her because, while I know the mantra of an entertainer, it’s obvious not everyone here does. Or if they do, they’re not taking it seriously. Not yet. But they will.
Only takes a few cruel clients for a human female to learn their place in the galaxy.
My spine stiffens, and I glance around the room with a different set of eyes. I don’t know a lot about these girls. Maybe a bunch is newbies, and yet, here we all are, together and possibly going to be carriers for another race. If we can’t trust each other, who can we trust? If we didn’t know each other, who could we turn to when things got tough? We’re twenty women of all shapes, sizes, races, and ethnicity, but one fact tied us all together. We needed money. We would do anything to get it.
We all had to find a way to get along because maybe the next time a fight broke out, we wouldn’t be able to stop it. My eyes drift to the newbies like Phoebe and others I haven’t met.
“We have to find a way to get along,” I say, rising to my feet at last.
A silence falls over the enclosed space.
“We’re going to land in an hour, and I don’t know most of your names.”
“Why do we need to learn each other’s names?” Arizona asks, frowning.
“We’re all in this together. Think about it. We’re going to a planet where we have no idea what to expect other than some information about the weather. It’s rainy. It could be hot. It could be cold. We could be with kind aliens, or not so kind.”
“Drakens,” Sloane whispers.
“We don’t know,” I say, “but the point is that we’re all going to be there together. Shouldn’t we at least know each other’s names?”
“That’s rich coming from you.”
I snap my head around to find the owner of the voice. Narrowed black eyes glare back at me, but they’re glassy too. Her hair matches her eyes, pulled up into a tight braid. She’s pretty and looks to be Native American. High cheekbones appear as she sucks her lower lip as though trying to build the courage to speak again now that I’m focused on her. I search over her face several times, trying to place her, but nothing comes. I grow angry.
“Do I know you?” I ask.
“No. I guess you wouldn’t.” She slowly rises to her feet, and though she’s young looking, she’s also tall. I lift my chin as she ambles closer. “I’ve been on assignments with you. I know who you are, but you never seemed interested in getting to know anyone. Do you have the slightest idea who I am?”
I swallow as everyone’s eyes drift over. I’m under the spotlight now. “No.”
“My name’s Celeste Cameron,” she says thickly, as though it pains her to speak. “And I was with you on the Kyet mission. Do you remember me now?” As though to explain herself, she lifts her thick braid and pulls it tightly, making herself wince.
My eyes widen — the braid. Of course. I swallow again. “Celeste. Y-yes. I do remember you. Sorry.”
“Spare me.” She releases her braid and takes a step back. “You watched and laughed and charmed other clients while I hung there by my hair. You watched. You never asked if I was okay and you never bothered to know me. And now suddenly, you expect everyone to run and listen to your words because you’re finally afraid?” A cruel smile flickers across her stunning features. “I hope you’re afraid. Now maybe you’ll know what I felt like for the months I was in Kyet. For months I was nothing but a toy.”
“I’m sorry,” I say again, meaning it. My face grows hot. “Okay? I’m so sorry. You’re right. I didn’t want to know who you were. I didn’t want to know who most of you are.” I wave my arms around the room. “But I want to know now. I have to know. If we’re going to be carriers, we’ll need other for support. I’ve seen girls get pregnant and it’s not always the same as we’ve seen growing up. We’ll need each other.” I grab Celeste’s thin arm, pulling her back to me. “I’ll need you guys too, okay?”
Celeste’s black eyes dart back and forth. Her arm tenses under my grip, but she doesn’t pull away. Instead, she frowns and wilts like a dying flower. How often did a hold like mine turn into something much rougher? I release her slowly, and her posture relaxes. My lips curl up tentatively.
“I’m Blythe,” I say softly, introducing myself no matter how silly I sound. “I’m twenty-four. I loved Swedish Fish and dollar store lavender face masks before I signed up for this.” Celeste looks unsure, and I worry I’ve already lost her. Maybe my apologies came too late.
“Ellis Roth,” a voice chirps. I look past Celeste’s shoulder to find the mixed-race girl with thick thighs and gorgeous curly hair standing up. “I’m twenty-five. I loved horror movies and young adult books before I signed up for this.”
“Layla Sullivan,” says the baby-faced one. “I’m nineteen, but I’ve been doing this since I was sixteen.” Her near black eyes dart around as though expecting judgment, but none comes. “I lied about my age to get the money. I loved my little brother before I signed up for this. He’s the reason I’m here.”
Phoebe stands, trying to put on her bravest grin as Arizona and her crew eyes her skeptically. “Phoebe Harvard. Eighteen years old, and I’m still excited to be here. People are good at the end of the day. All people. And this is a hell of a lot better than rotting away in Idaho.” She sits again. “I like books that aren’t too hard to read.”
“Why’s that?” I ask, genuinely curious for an explanation.
“Sometimes words jump on the pages for me.”
“You probably have Dyslexia,” York offers, softening slightly.
Phoebe pouts. “People always say it’s because I’m stupid.”
No one bothers to correct her, but York finally decides to stand up. Getting her on my side is something to get excited about. She’s smart. Fucking brilliant and, with her, I’m less worried about Arizona and her friends.
“York Albright. Twenty-one. I loved documentaries and cheap red wine.”
“You still do, I bet,” I say.
“When my owners allow me to drink, I do not take what they offer me.” York takes a seat as some of the girls remain focused on her. She’s embarrassed by the attention. “Someone else say something.”
I glance towards Arizona, Alaska, Dakota, and Kansas. “Any of you want to say something?”
Arizona purses her lips. “Like what? Kumbaya or some shit? Should we all hold hands and sing? Say a prayer? Say everything happens for a reason? Or maybe we should smack each other on the asses with wooden paddles and say we’re sorority sisters for life? This is the dumbest thing I’ve ever seen. We’re not here to become friends.”
“That’d mean a lot more if you didn’t always have your posse,” York points out.
Arizona’s dark eyes blazed. “That’s different, you bitch. You don’t know what we’ve been through.”
“So tell us,” I say.
“No,” Arizona snaps, spinning towards me. “And I don’t need you telling me what to do or who I will and won’t need. I have my girls, and they’re the only ones I trust
. I don’t trust you, or you, or any of you silent fuckers who don't dare to say anything.” She points her finger at a corner of the room where several girls continue to remain silent and staring. “As far as I’m concerned, the only people I can trust are my girls and me. I don’t need any of you! And even if I do have to carry some alien’s baby, that’s fine. They’re all the same anyway. I’ve done it before, and I can do it again. I don’t need sorority sisters.” Her tanned cheeks flush as Alaska touches her forearm. “Whatever, I’m fine.”
“You could tell them,” Alaska says softly.
“Screw you,” Arizona snaps, shooting up to her feet. “I’m going to pee.”
As the door shuts behind her, I try not to let Arizona’s pissy behavior bother me. “Anyone else want to say hello?” I ask, putting on a fake smile for the girls in the corner watching me warily. “Come on. Please. If anything, can we at least know your names?”
They glance at each other. They glance at Alaska. They glance at the bathroom door where Arizona had disappeared behind.
“Adrienne,” one says with short brown hair and freckles. She quickly looks away and points at the beautiful Hispanic looking chick and the hottest chick on the entire mission. “That’s Mia and Lacey.”
“Hey.” I wave as York does the same. Neither girl responds to either of us, but I can’t help but stare at Lacey. She’s one of the prettiest girls I’ve ever seen in my life. Like a model, actress, and socialite all rolled into one. Perfect, wavy black hair, pale skin, and light blue eyes. If I was a lesbian…
The two girls next to Mia and Lacey both glance up but remain silent. These two are incredibly fit and healthy. It would be nice for them to answer, to make sure they’re on our side, but they seem only to care about each other. I shake it off, trying not to be offended.
Sides? What am I talking about? This isn’t a game. No one’s going to win.
“Aoi Kane,” one says. She looks Asian with incredible black lined eyes and matching hair with a few red streaks.
