190. A Simple Protein Chain
190
A Simple Protein Chain
J ahzara Zedd
This is decidedly unsatisfying. The bots set up lighting that shows me to my advantage. I have some of the comforts of home: my news desk, several computers, dozens of screens to watch scrolling vids, and a comms panel. The recliner meets my needs for catnaps, although it looks like it belongs in a nursing home.
I should be in my own home with my Mordite bed slave. I miss his attentions. Perhaps he even misses me. No. I doubt that. Perhaps my penchant for inflicting pain was a bit more than he could handle when I used that new metal-tipped flogger I’d been so intrigued by. Or maybe it was the surgical scalpels I couldn’t control my urge to explore.
Either way, I wish I’d contrived a way to bring him with me.
And the action in this season of The Game leaves something to be desired. Most of the females simply don’t seem to have a flair for killing. It’s so perfunctory and unemotional that it steals my joy.
And where are my little Earthers? I didn’t bother putting tracking devices on the contestants because the ship has cameras everywhere. Did they find a spot on the ship with no surveillance?
I pout, knowing it makes me look more beautiful, although the female who conducts my Renovatio treatments told me it will give me lip wrinkles before my time.
I scroll through all the feeds again, looking for the small, bipedal humanoids who manage to so infuriate me.
A’Dar
When Maya finishes her nutrition bar, I lift her from where we’re sitting on the floor and place her on the bed. Every muscle in her body stiffens. I don’t need to understand her language to know she fears what this might mean.
“Xenons cherish females,” I tell her. “I will never take what you’re not willing to give. Lie with me and tell me about yourself. I’ll need to know your language before…”
I place her with her back to the vid screen. I’ll monitor the numbers and that heinous red female’s words in captions at the bottom of the screen. Maya doesn’t need to watch. Perhaps she can find a moment of calm.
The little human is smart, starting with basic anatomy as she points to her eyes, nose, and mouth and then goes down her body, teaching me her Earther words for each thing. She tries not to be ashamed as she tells me the words for her breasts and nipples, but her heart rate elevates and her cheeks pinken.
She skips what’s between her legs altogether, and continues down her body.
Then she tells stories for hours, stopping only to take swigs of her bottled water.
At first, I understand none of her words. I only catch the lilt of her voice, as if she were telling a youngling a bedtime story. Then scattered words translate, still leaving me without a clue of what she’s talking about.
After I grab her another bottle of water, not telling her there are only 107 females left, I understand more.
“Once upon a time, there were three beers. A poppa beer , a mama beer , and a baby beer .” I assume this is the name of a species of animal and wonder if it is small, like the little blingots that scurry between trees on my planet, or if they are large predators.
Although I should have known how tired she was when she fell asleep after I took her vein, I’m surprised when she nods off in the middle of a sentence. I watch her for a while, noting the rhythm of her breath and the tiny dots on her cheeks. I decide I should sleep while I can.
Maya
The scariest scream I’ve ever heard in my life startles me awake. I’ve been sleeping, my back to the screen, knowing A’Dar was monitoring the mayhem going on all around us.
I always thought I was pretty gutsy. I guess being teleported to Antarctica and hunted for sport in a sadistic game being broadcast to the galaxy will teach you what you’re really made of. I’m terrified, and more than happy to let A’Dar be the one watching people die on screen.
Curiosity wins over my need to keep myself sheltered from the truth, though, because I turn onto my other side and watch the endless instant replays of one of the gray, spiked females being slowly killed by a roach’s corrosive spit. I can’t control my full-body shudder.
“Turn toward me, Maya. Keep telling me stories,” A’Dar urges as his hand respectfully nudges my shoulder to coax me to turn around.
I pause, morbidly fascinated by the pictures of the males in the cellblock. Some are the same species as the females entered into The Game. Some are like nothing I’ve ever seen before. One is so huge he’s crammed into his cryo pod which is almost so full it’s overflowing.
“It’s going to be a bloodbath,” I whisper as I wonder how we’re going to live through this.
“Aye,” he says.
“You understand me now?”
“Some. My two friends are also updating the translator chip, sharing through the ship’s AI as they learn from your friends. Keep talking. I liked your children’s stories. It made me remember my life as a youngling.” His voice is soft as he takes a trip down memory lane. I wonder if he’s thinking about how many years it’s been since his parents’ bones turned to dust.
When I flip on my other side to look at him, he’s sad. I imagine that’s exactly where his thoughts drifted as I told him about the three bears and the three little pigs and Beauty and the Beast.
“Your eyes,” I say, a sliver of fear darting through my guts. I’m developing feelings for him. He’s been so kind, his touch is so gentle. He keeps trying to reassure me and talks about helping me live through this ordeal. I also know I’ll never make it out of this alive without him. “Your eyes are back to the way they were. Pale.”
“I feared that,” he says as he sucks air through his teeth like he did before I fed him. “I didn’t pay that much attention to the finer points of what happens when a male goes through machta . There were no available women on Xenon. I knew it would never happen to me. I didn’t realize the condition would be so demanding.”
“Do you need to take my vein again?” I make my offer sound brave instead of terrified.
“You’re too weak. I can’t take anymore right now.”
His gaze is flicking back and forth across my face, as if he’s trying to read my mind.
“Maya, I had the ship’s AI send information about machta to my wrist-comm while you slept.”
Shit. He can’t look at me. What fuckery is coming next? Haven’t I been through enough today?
“No women had been born on my planet for a long time before I was born. I’ve never had a friend who went through machta. Your species is new to us. I don’t know how humans will react to this process.”
He’s stalling.
“When Xenons mate, although machta begins with a change in the male’s biochemistry, it affects females, too. I may have… harmed you.”
“Spill it, A’Dar.”
“I never researched machta too deeply because I would never go through it. Now it looks as if a protein chain in the male’s saliva enters the female’s bloodstream each time he takes her vein. It ignites machta within her.”
He reaches to tuck one of my braids behind my ear.
“Quit stalling,” I urge.
“During the first few weeks of machta , the couple feed back and forth, fortifying each other as their blood-bond grows, their very DNA intertwines.”
His brow furrows as one side of his mouth frowns.
“Trust me, Maya, I never would have drunk from your wrist if I’d thought for a moment that I might trigger a chemical change in you.”
“Maybe it doesn’t work on humans,” I say.
“That’s what we’re hoping. Mel’Kan and Ran’Kin and I have been comm’ing. The three of us have drunk from you and your friends. The two males were near death when they finally asked if they could take the females’ wrists. Your friends were kind enough to oblige. It’s only now we realize we could have irrevocably harmed you.”
“You healed my palm. If anything started a chain reaction, it was you healing me.”
“Aye. My two friends licked your two friends’ wounds from the Frain acid. We all agree that those quick, healing licks probably started machta in motion for the three of you.” He shakes his head, as if that does nothing to assuage his guilt. “We’re all hoping machta doesn’t affect you like it would if you were Xenon.”
“What would happen if I were Xenon?”
“You would soon need to drink from me.”
My brain freezes. I literally can’t think, can’t absorb his words.
“And then,” he says, his eyes unable to hold my gaze, “you would crave my essence as much as I’m craving yours right now.”