Page 2 of Taken to Voraxia
Svera clutches tighter to me. At the same time, two aliens walk out into the light. Both men — or males, rather — carry advanced weaponry — shields that are not solid, but radiate an irridescent blue around each edge and bowl outwards in the middle.They must be made of holax…I hate that the engineer in me is impressed.
The two step aside, making room for more Dra’Kesh males to descend. Around two dozen, these males are all weaponless, each wearing a dark cloth around his hips, fastened with a heavy belt and met by sturdy black boots way too hot for our planet and its scorching sand. They don’t seem to care, and march in an eerily synchronous motion left…but ordinarily where they’d already begin sniffing at our women…they walk right past them.
“What are they doing?” I whisper.
Svera opens her eyes. Her expression twists. “I don’t know. Where is he? Do you see him, Miari? The one they call Bo’Raku?”
I grimace at the name while sweat dampens my armpits. My tongue feels thick in my mouth as I say, “No. Not yet. Maybe…maybe he’s not coming this time.”
As I speak, the male in question strides from the bowels of the ship. I curse. Svera’s weight ease a little more onto me, full of disappointment.
“God help us,” she whispers. “He isn’t alone.”
She’s right. This time, the monster who brutalized Kiki is joined by two other males. The look of them shocks me. I’ve only ever seen the long, bright white hair of the Dra’Kesh and their red skin that matches my own, but the one on the far left is an indigo hue, the color of twilight, while the one in the center is a dusky blue. Both have hair the color of darkness and both stand taller than Bo’Raku.
The one in the center casts his gaze around — eyes huge and monochrome. He wears the same black boots, cloth and belt the others do, and though his expression is equally ambiguous, there is something in his air that grabs my attention and refuses to let go.
Maybe it’s because he somehow looms larger than the others. Than everyone. ThananyoneI’ve ever seen before. His tail whips the air agitatedly behind him and I feel myself tracking his every movement as he walks.Leader. He’s their leader. I shudder despite the sun pounding down, afraid, not just of him, but of the sudden fluttering tattoo of my heart.
“This can’t be good, can it?” Svera says.
I shake my head, but when I go to answer, can’t seem to find any words.
Svera exhales, as if relieved, “Finally. There’s Mathilda. I was wondering where she was.”
Leader of the Antikythera Council and our colony, an older woman with grey hair and leathery brown skin peels apart from the crowd. She moves past the fence, past the rows of kneeling women, and approaches Bo’Raku first, but when he pivots, angling his body so that Mathilda has nowhere to go but towards the center alien, she does.
“Welcome,” she says, bowing before the blue one with the prominent brow and the dominant air. She bows so deeply, her long green sleeves brush the ground.
Green leaves only grow on trees from the west side of the planet, the uninhabited place. Venturing there is suicide, so I know that dress would have cost her a fortune. Or just the value of a human life.
“We are most honored to welcome you here to our colony, Bo’Raku, and your…honored guests.”
Goosebumps break out on the backs of my arms, so stiff they hurt.How dare she say such things to them. To the one who hurt Kiki. To the one who will hurt her again.
The one named Bo’Raku answers in a series of guttural hisses and clicks and I shake Svera gently. “What are they saying?”
Svera’s mother purchased an old Dra’Kesh holoscreen from the Antikythera Council and studied their language from it. She says that because she was able to communicate with the male who chose her, her experience being hunted wasn’t a torture…and she was able to feel more than pain. That she was able to endure and move on, free of scars.
Svera is learning from her and thinks it might help her too, next rotation. I don’t know that it will, but at least she’s tryingsomethingand now she’s one of two who can understand their language outside of the Antikythera Council who were all given some kind of translation device that allows them to communicate with the aliens one-to-one.
Svera scrunches up her face, concentrating on reading his lips as she mouths the Dra’Kesh words softly to herself. “He greets her. And he welcomes two other…sorry, I missed that part. He says that they should be afforded every luxury. They’re from…Voraxia? Have you ever heard of that?”
“No.” I shake my head, eyes still glued straight forward to the blue-grey alien as I try to shake the feeling that something is wrong. He’s fidgety and restless, glaring at the rows of women kneeling before him like hehatesthem.
Abruptly he leans over and whispers something to Bo’Raku, who stills. Some sort of silent communication passes between the two males as they share a ferocious glare, a battle of wills, which the blue alien wins. Bo’Raku bows his head and speaks again to Mathilda.
“He says that this year, his two honored guests will choose first and that…” Svera’s voice falters, her eyes get huge. “He says that if they’re pleased, there is a possibility that they’ll take chosen breeders with them back to Voraxia.”
The people nearest us turn in unison. They don’t speak, but they don’t have to. I can read their faces, likely mirroring my own. “Off-planet?” I feel lightheaded at the thought. No one has ever left this planet. No one has ever left the colony. No one.
“Svera, did you say off-planet? Back to his planet?” Drant, in front of us, whispers over his younger brother’s shoulder.
Svera nods. “Off-planet. But to Voraxia…I mean, that’s what it sounded like he said. But only for the ones that the hunters choose.”
“Taken to do what with?” Rae asks beside him. Her aged forehead crinkles with worry. Her son, Mika, stands next to her and he’s leaning forward onto the balls of his feet. His wife is part of the offering this year. And she’s pregnant.
“Maybe they’ll be wives,” Svera offers.
