Given to the alien, p.3
Given to the Alien, page 3
My eyes widen. Female frogs? More aliens? When my chin lifts, I notice Shoshana’s turned around, fixing her dark eyes on mine.
“You haven’t told her anything,” she says, sounding almost excited as En’tak straps a device around her ribcage. She doesn’t even seem to mind that her bare breasts are exposed, focusing only on me. “Don’t you care, Alora? Didn’t you ask them anything? What kind of alien? Draken? Miniak? Fuck, you didn’t sell her to a Todas, did you? I don’t even know this chick, but she doesn’t deserve that.”
“Go where buyer goes.” Bul’yus roughly pulls the house elves up to their feet and wraps them in the same harness that Shoshana now wears. Their small, bony bodies are limp, not offering any help, but not fighting either. I notice that their breasts are small and hard looking, barely poking out from under their greyish fur, and there are no nipples. “Buyer says what buyer wants, and we provide. And he likes what we provide! Credits arrive right away.”
“You know, it never surprises me just how sick the rest of the universe is. No wonder the government tries to convince us we’re alone in the universe.” Shoshana sneers, turning away from me. “Tell me, do you know a guy named Eli Roth? He had some movies where dudes bid on females so that they could kill them. Sounds just like you all. Post some pictures, get some bids, collect some bodies and—” she turns back to me in a flash, hands poised like a handgun, “—BAM! You’re dead. Maybe they’ll eat you, with some fava beans and a nice chianti.” She chuckles to herself, even though I’m horrified and neither of the slugs looks the least bit amused.
“Pul’et talk too much,” En’tak grumbles, shaking his head as he ushers Shoshana and me down the chilly corridor. I’m reminded again of how much this place looks like a haunted hospital, down to the mold on the walls and the barred rooms. I think Shoshana is talking to him again, but I can’t help but look back at the two Si’bets to make sure Bul’yus isn’t hurting them. He’s in the back, so when our eyes meet, his thick lips flap violently, but I try to show some backbone and lower my attention to the two smaller, furrier beings.
What is going to happen to them? What has happened to them?
And Shoshana? Why is she so much less afraid? Others have hurt her. But she keeps fighting. Despite finding her rebellion pointless, I feel a small amount of admiration. I could never speak to the slugs as she does. Just because they haven’t touched me yet doesn’t mean that they won’t. I’ve made it this far without being hurt, humiliated, or abused, and I’d like that to continue.
But despite that not happening now, Shoshana does raise some interesting questions.
Who is my buyer? How many types of aliens can there be? Is it true? Are there some intergalactic selling systems where rich aliens place bids on humans and Si’bets, to do whatever they want with them because they signed the check? Is this as good as it gets? Am I going to remember these days trailing behind Shoshana and some slugs as the better days? Will these keep me going when things get so much worse?
Because no good ever came of one sentient being owning another. I’ve watched enough horror movies to know that much. If one being wants to own another, I can’t assume it’s going to be for anything fun.
Taking in a trembling breath, I quicken my step to fall beside Shoshana, and neither of the aliens seems to mind.
“Hey.” I keep my voice low, convincing myself that maybe the slugs won’t hear me.
“Curious now?” Shoshana asks, surprising me by keeping her voice low as well.
“Yeah.” I shake my head. “I just… I don’t even know what to ask first.”
She smirks. “How’s this. Did you know the tiyan you’re wearing is alive?”
I blink. Once. Twice. I almost lose my footing, but Shoshana captures my elbow with a cold hand, hauling me back up. I look down at the furry outfit and then lift my eyes back to hers. “T-tiyan?” She nods. “That … that’s the name of an animal?” Another nod. “And this is… still alive?”
“Why do you think it fits you so well? The legs link up together on either side. It’s a symbiotic relationship if you think about it. High class, too. It likes your skin. You like its warmth. Yum.”
She’s trying to freak me out. It can’t possibly be true. I need to focus on what matters, and not just what will give me the heebie-fucking-jeebies. “How many are there?” I try instead.
“What? Tiyans?”
“Aliens,” I whisper. “You said the names of a few. Are there a lot?”
Another smirk. “You could say that. Just hope you don’t get stuck with a Draken. Octonods aren’t fun either, but they wouldn’t travel here for some human cunt.” I shiver at the bluntness of her words. “Knowing what I know, you’re probably looking to land with a Drenzi, Brehki, Sidyth, or Miniak.” She blows a raspberry softly from her lips. “Good luck.”
“Tell me what they are,” I insist, fighting the urge to grab her arm. I have a feeling she wouldn’t like it. “I need to know what I’m up against.”
“Why?” She seems genuinely shocked. “Doesn’t matter, does it? He or she will own you. They’ll use you and, when they’re done, they’ll probably bring you back here so the process can start all over again. If you’re lucky, they’ll use you for housework. Maybe for sex.”
“And … if I’m not lucky?” I dare.
“Then you can just count down the days until they’re bored with you.” She shrugs, picking up her pace again until she’s right on En’tak’s metaphorical heels. He doesn’t say anything to her, but they probably both enjoy the silence. I’m left to process everything Shoshana’s said without so much as a breath of hesitation.
Used for housework. For sex, even. That’s if I’m lucky. Still thinking about horror movies, I guess I’ll be lucky if that’s all the alien wants me to do. There could be torture. Humiliation. Things that wouldn’t be legal to do with a member of your species. The word Draken even managed to calm down Shoshana, who doesn’t seem to be fazed by anything else. And yet, despite all that, I’m still thinking about the first thing she said—about my furry onesie being a living creature. I lower my chin slightly, peeling apart the center where the garment’s attached, and when I see thousands of long, thin legs scrambling to attach themselves once again, I quickly lift my chin and pretend not to have seen anything.
Choosing to glance over my shoulder instead, I see that Bul’yus is making sure the two Si’bets keep up with the rest of the group. Ugh. That’s another thing I should have asked Shoshana about when I had the chance. What do these words mean? The house elves are called Si’bets, and Shoshana and I are called pul’ets. Also, she doesn’t like the name. I can only assume it’s degrading. I consider rushing to catch back up with her but decide against it. Wherever I’m heading, I’ll sit beside her, so there’s no need to rush towards my unknown fate.
If this is turning out to be a highlight after being abducted by aliens, I want to remember it. I don’t want to think about what a word like pul’et could mean and what the fuck a Draken is and why it fills Shoshana with so much fear. I don’t want to think about the removal of tongues and why the two Si’bets shiver in fear no matter who speaks or what’s happening.
I lift my chin high, continuing along the corridors, the only sound the dull shuffle of my feet along the bare floor.
That’s when I see the end of the tunnel. More slugs stand around, heavy artillery strapped to their limp bodies, but no less intimidating. Shoshana shrinks back against En’tak only slightly and the Si’bets all but sob as they grow closer to the guns.
“Shut mouths, Si’bets,” Bul’yus sneers. “Go transport.”
And we do. With no other words said, our odd party of two slugs, two human females, and two fuzzy versions of Dobby cross the entryway that takes us from inside to out, and immediately I’m hit with a blast of cold air so painful it nearly takes my breath away. En’tak barks for us to cover our faces and keep pushing ahead, and thus, despite my fears, I blindly follow his orders until something takes my arm and helps me step onto a platform that vibrates under my feet. I hear some of the others follow, and then a door shuts, and darkness takes over. I’m about to speak, but Bul’yus is still close.
“No speak. No words. Make good impression.” There’s a dull sound of him hitting someone or something, and one of the house elves lets out a pained cry. “No talk. Understand, pul’ets?
“Fuck you,” Shoshana mutters under my breath.
I merely nod from underneath my hood, still blind to the world around me. Despite obviously being inside a car or truck or whatever the alien equivalent is, it’s no less cold in here. Puffs of steam escape my lips with each exhale, and I’m worried that, if I talk, my mouth is going to freeze from the inside out. And so, I remain silent for the duration of the trip.
Shockingly, everyone else remains silent as well.
***
By the time the transport device stops once again, the silence seems much tenser. I hear muffled voices beyond the confines of the vehicle, but I’m not saying a word until I know it’s okay. Who knows what the customs are on alien planets? I have a collar, and that could mean something. I’m called a pul’et, and that probably means something too. I won’t take any chances if being quiet gives me a better chance for survival. I’m just trying to stay alive.
But I do notice that the air has changed. It’s almost bearable. My fingers itch, wanting to remove the hood from my onesie, but, in a flash, I hear a door open, and the voices that were muffled before hit my ears with a painful roar.
“We here.” I recognize En’tak’s voice, and, despite my worries, I lower my hood. “No, no,” he says harshly, pulling it back down to cover my face. Or maybe Bul’yus is doing that. Or Shoshana. I can’t tell. “We at seller’s market. You have buyer. Much shame show off what not belong to us. Si’bets, you come now.”
There’s a sharp shuffle, and the two house elves are removed from the transport. The voices beyond are still oppressive to my eardrums, but at least my translator tries to pick up on some of them. The sounds are low and deep. Many are masculine, and some accents only feel comparable to Germanic, Slavic, or something I cannot begin to describe.
But they are new voices. Different voices. Which can only mean there are different aliens out there. I wonder how many. I want to see, but En’tak made it clear that I should keep my face covered. Now is probably not the time to argue, but how many chances will I get to do this? Even in fear, I realize not everyone will get a chance to see what I’m about to see. As Shoshana said, Earth wants us to believe we’re alone in the universe, and I’m about to get concrete evidence to negate those supposed facts. So when a slug helps me out of the transport, my attention locks on my furry feet, and I try to get my bearings.
It’s warmer here, but not comfortably so, more like going to a flea market on an early Saturday morning in late winter. I gauge the temperature in the mid-40’s, possibly lower, and thank heavens for my onesie, even though it’s a living creature that is somehow getting off on being wrapped next to my skin. My chin lifts further, tracking Shoshana’s feet ahead of mine, alongside En’tak’s slithering form. His back is to me, and Bul’yus is behind me once more, so I figure, if I’m going to look, this is probably my best shot.
The kaleidoscope of various sentient beings is almost more shocking than the onslaught of voices I heard earlier.
They’re everywhere. Aliens.
Giant aliens, heads unseen from my lower position.
Smaller aliens, shuffling past my shins with angry cries of annoyance.
Fuzzy aliens. Scaly aliens. Humanoid ones. Insectoid ones.
Aliens I can’t describe within the limits of human vocabulary.
And, as interested as I am in understanding the different races, species, and beings surrounding me, I can’t help but notice that the interest is mutual.
I feel them staring at me and at Shoshana. Even the house elves.
Whatever we are to these aliens, I guess I can assume we’re of great interest because that terrible chill I get when I think someone is watching me never goes away as I struggle to keep up with Shoshana and En’tak. I don’t want to lose track of them. I get the feeling that they are the only ones considered ‘safe’ in this entire massive space, and that immediately puts me on edge.
For the first time, I am really and truly terrified of what is about to happen.
I feel as though I’m on display, and it’s only when En’tak and Shoshana stop ahead that I can think of anything else.
“You go,” En’tak directs Shoshana. “Go with Si’bets. Keep calm. Quiet. Good dinner tonight if behave.”
“Whatever,” Shoshana mutters, but I realize she’s taking care to keep her voice low. “What about her?”
“Has buyer. Go to other cage. Now go.”
My hands are shaking as the familiar rattle of a cage tickles my ears. The increasingly familiar feet of the Si’bets shuffle past, and then there’s another rattle. The door is locked. That can only mean—
“You go in,” En’tak says, and two slimy hands brush against the small of my back. “Then, you look. No staring. No tricking buyers. You have buyer! Be well until he come!” Then his touch isn’t a brush, but a full-on shove as I topple forward, barely keeping my footing under the shiny surface. My new cell reminds me of a dog kennel, and I quickly spin around to face the slug. “Hood stays. No, speak. No tricks, pul’et.”
As if I would be so desperate as to try and win over the attention of an alien who has a taste for human flesh. But I am happy to be able to look around freely. I’m alone in this new cage, which stands about six feet high and two feet deep. The rest of the females are in a cage next to mine, maybe three or four feet deep and six feet tall. They’re tightly packed in there, and Shoshana has her back turned so no one can see her face. I guess she’s being difficult again, not allowing any potential buyers to notice her alien beauty.
I see no point in hiding my face. En’tak keeps reminding me that I have an owner, so why allow myself to exist in ignorance willingly?
The seller’s market is what I’d expect an alien flea market to look like. There are different floors, but the entire building is open in the center. There are probably thirty or forty different levels, and each one is packed to the edge with stalls. Some sell food. Others peddle items I can’t even begin to recognize. Then there are the cages. My eyes widen as my attention lands on pens like mine with various aliens trapped inside. Some keep their backs to the main floor while others stand with dignity etched on their oddly-proportioned faces.
I don’t see other humans, but I refuse to believe it’s just Shoshana and me.
How many others have accepted this fate? Aliens, or even humans back on Earth?
How many times has a female or male disappeared, and no one batted an eye? Is it possible that so many kidnappings could take place without arousing suspicion? Is it possible the government knows? It seems odd that aliens could abduct so many humans from their homes, and no one cares about it.
But no. Maybe the aliens are smart. They’d have to be, to a certain extent. Despite looking like slugs, En’tak, and even Bul’yus, can travel through space. I’m on a different planet now, Elista 3, I think they said, and so I can only assume that I’m far enough away from home that even if I did manage to escape my unknown buyer, I would have no idea how to get back home again. As painful as it is, I must accept that my life is no longer on Earth. I’m the alien now, and there’s nothing more important than staying alive. My dreams of becoming a full-time teacher, getting my Ph.D. in special education, having a family, and raising some kids will no longer be.
I’ll never walk down the aisle.
I’ll never watch my belly swell while pregnant.
I’ll never give my parents the grandchildren they always wanted.
No. The only thing I can do now is to make sure I live to see another day.
Reaching this conclusion doesn’t make the scene before me any more comfortable to take in, though, watching those leering, sometimes lustful eyes dancing across my frame. They must know what’s under my onesie because, right now, I only look like a fluffy, purple teddy bear. Ugh, unless some of them have x-ray vision or something. Instinctively, I step away from the bars and cross my arms over my chest. Maybe that will help. Probably not, but I’m not sure if anything in this new life will give me comfort now.
The bars of my cage remind me of that much, anyway.
***
My buyer has not arrived, but that doesn’t mean there’s no interest in me. There have been plenty of interested aliens striding past the stand that belongs to En’tak and Bul’yus. I can tell they’re trying to entice buyers into taking one of the Si’bets, or even Shoshana, but I guess they’ve been here for a while, so the interest has faded.
I, on the other hand, am considered fresh meat, I guess.
“Ahh… Terro!” En’tak garbles loudly, and I perk up, wondering if this is the alien who is going to be my owner. “How be you? Ready to spend?”
“Spend on what?” the alien snarls. “Always the same with you, En’tak. Two Si’bets and one mouthy pul’et. She wouldn’t be worth the price of killing her in the lot beyond the market.”
I take in the strange beast, finding him to be more bear than man. His fur is a stark white, and he’s dressed like a gladiator from a summer blockbuster movie. He’s large, though, considerably so compared to the slugs—I clock him at well over seven feet tall. His eyes are black holes of emptiness, and his black nose twitches as though he’s scented something disgusting. Those eyes land on me.
“That is new,” he snarls. “What is that?”
En’tak puffs out his barrel, glistening chest. “New pul’et. She nice, yes? Very clean.”
“She is for sale?”
En’tak shakes his head. “Already bought. Special order. Excellent price.”
“Who bought her?” His eyes lift to mine again. “I want her. She has a cunt?”
En’tak bristles. “Why… yes. She has, but has a buyer. Show him, pul’et. Show collar.”
