Page 97 of Exiles on Earth
I press the shells against my head. It was so disorientating, having my only means of communication taken away, my ability to reason with anyone.
“I want to go.” I wanted to say it calm and firm, but my voice wobbles like a kid missing their mom and dad. “I need to go home now, with Ilia.”
Shara closes her mouth. “Of course you can go home, but Ilia’s situation is… a little more complicated. Come with me. I have a few duties to attend to, but you can wait in your rooms if you’d like.”
“No. What’s happening with him?” Now that I’ve gotten out what I needed to Shara, I hear the hum of conversation in her penthouse. “What’s going on?”
“I’m in the middle of hosting a gathering. I usually arrange at least one event during the Mating Games. I would have asked if you wanted to attend the party or to be part of the games in the arena, as is tradition.” She hugs me around the shoulders, her voice pitching a little. She really was worried, but she still let it happen.
She leads me into her sitting room, where the walls have moved around to create a big open balcony area. Males in skin-tight leather serve drinks and canapés, the little morsels as alien to me as they would have been on Earth. The women wear colorful paint on their skin and scales, their hair done up to look frizzy, like they’re jungle explorers.
Prif Samara is also there, a smirk on her lips. “There she is, the brave Earth girl.”
“Fuck you,” I snap back.
Everyone goes quiet. Then they start laughing.
Shara links arms with me. “She did marvelously in the arena, don’t you think?”
The other woman’s eyes flash. “Yes, although perhaps… acting up a little.” She tosses her gray-streaked hair. “You knew, of course, you wouldn’t be harmed, yes?”
“No, and the guys were harmed.” I gulp, remembering the poor yellow alien being swept into the trees. “Get them out of there, now.”
She waves dismissively at the vista spread beneath the building. “The Games are over. Here are the scores,” she says, nodding at a board hovering in the sky.
I don’t give a flying fuck what the scores are. “Where’s Ilia?” I whisper to Shara.
She jerks her chin at the board. I turn to see a big close-up of Ilia, still with his arms bound, shouting up at the drone hovering over him.
My headphones translate his diatribe. “She’s a visitor to our world! She should be treated with respect and utmost care. She was frightened, and that’s wrong. Stop your games, Prif Samara, and leave her be!”
The women chuckle. “Such energy and passion.”
“Mm, but only for one.” Their eyes pass over me, as if inviting me to share in a joke.
But this isn’t a joke. Ilia once gave me courage to stand up to Terry; I can do the same for him now. “Aren’t you ashamed of yourselves?” I ask these richly dressed women.
“Ashamed?” Their faces go blank as their nanites or whatever translate, and then they frown. “What do you mean? The Games are harmless fun.”
“Harmless fun for you, but guys are getting hurt out there. And what about how you treat the clones?”
“They’re clones. They don’t feel anything,” one woman says dismissively.
“How do you know?” I demand.
“Extensive testing,” the woman says, eyes flashing angrily.
I know from her body language I’m poking a bear here, but I’m done. What evidence can I provide apart from what I feel in my heart?
Samara’s eyes swing to me, cold and direct. “Did you do something to the Tuber, Earth girl?”
“My name is Ellen, and all I did was show him basic courtesy and respect.” Maybe not when he first crashed into my barn, but after that, I always treated him like he had his own mind.
Samara points at the scoreboard behind us. “Well, Shara, for now your plans are thwarted. Your Tuber scored the least. Stupid male only tagged one female, the one with the lowest points.”
What’s she talking about?
Shara inclines her head toward me. “The games today are about finding targets in a dangerous jungle. Females who want to participate are put into the safety tubes to watch directly, and men battle the elements and each other to reach them. It’s a primal thing for us.”
