236. Make Lemonade
236
Make Lemonade
M aya
My emotions are spinning so fast I can’t even track them. I circuit from glee to horror and everything in between. In the end, I can’t say it was as satisfying as I’d hoped. I search deep in my soul for remorse, but I’m not sorry we did it.
I know there were many people involved in this destructive game, and Zedd’s evil countenance was just the face of it. But she took so much pleasure in tormenting us and gave the systematic torture of sentient beings so much legitimacy that she deserved her punishment.
“Are you alright?” A’Dar whispers in my ear.
“I can’t believe I did that.” What I’ve done hits me with the force of a sledgehammer and my hands begin to tremble.
“It’s hard to deliver punishment, but we all know it was deserved. I’ve killed many, Maya. Even in war, even when it’s our enemies, even when ordered to do so by the King of the planet, even when their crimes merit their death, it never feels good.”
He leans to kiss my head. “I didn’t want any of you to use your knives for incentive. I was trained in how to get people to talk. What you have been through in the past two days has been traumatic enough. I’m very proud of you. All of you. You did what needed to be done, even though it was difficult.” He looks at Emily and Anna as they turn to make quick exits, undoubtedly needing to be in the shelter of their mates’ arms.
My alien has more humanity than a lot of humans I know, certainly more than Zedd or her boss.
“We have a lot to do,” he says. “Let’s adjourn to the bridge.”
Once there, he takes the captain’s seat and motions with his chin for me to sit in the first mate’s chair next to him.
“Mel’Kan,” he speaks into his comm to the male still in the mech room. “Do what you need to do to get all systems working, test everything within your power, and get us ready to leave this forsaken planet.”
“Aye, Sir.”
“Computer, broadcast this throughout the ship.”
“Yes,” the AI says.
“Attention all crew and passengers,” he says, his voice stentorian and commanding.
Passengers, that’s an interesting word to use for the abducted humans.
“This is Captain A’Dar Xe’llar. Let us have a moment of silence for all the crew who expired in their cryo pods as well as my predecessor, Captain Lan’Bec who died a heroic death trying to save this ship.”
He looks stoically into the camera, pausing as his crew bows their heads in silence. The females on screen are blinking, still in shock.
“Our thoughts also go to the 237 who perished in The Game for no reason other than pure greed. To the females on board, although it is not our doing that you are on board, I can’t say I’m sorry you are here. We traveled a great distance thousands of years ago to come to your planet to encourage you to return with us to help us repopulate. We were going to give you the choice of coming with us or not. Unfortunately, you don’t have that luxury now. My mate Maya will explain.”
Whoa! I didn’t see that coming. Could have given me a heads-up, big guy!
He pats his lap and although I loathe myself for jumping at the chance, I do just that. It takes all my willpower not to take a swipe at his chest with my tongue. If three thousand people weren’t watching, I would.
“Hi?” I say. It’s not exactly a commanding start. For better or worse, because I’m the captain’s mate—yikes, I’m still not used to that word—I need to project calm. It will help everyone better deal with this situation.
“Three days ago, I was a human, just like you. Abducted from my life, just like you. Forced into this forsaken Game, just like you. Then whatever crazy, powerful chemical or pheromone machta produces struck like a category 5 hurricane.
“A’Dar couldn’t keep his hands off me, and however this chemical thing works, the feeling was mutual. Within hours this,” I motion to my face and body, “happened. There were three of us human women in the first wave. We all look like this. When you consummate machta , I assume it will affect you the same. I can’t lie to you. It hurt like hell, but the bliss and the resulting changes were worth it. Golden eyes, taller, stronger, better vision, fangs, and…” Shit. This is going to terrify them. “A taste for blood. Specifically, the blood of the male you share machta with. To be honest…” Another pause. A long gulp. “A lust for it.”
A'Dar’s hand reaches for mine and reassuringly strokes it.
“At first, I thought these changes were purely biological. I blamed it on proteins in his blood and powerful pheromones, but it’s more than that. Once you get over the differences in their appearance, as impossible as it might seem to you now, you’ll discover what I have.”
I pause a moment, warming to my task. Hell, I just went live all over the galaxy. Talking to three thousand people shouldn’t be so scary.
“These males are honorable, protective, caring, and considerate. Once they’ve experienced machta they will never look at another female with lust, will never cheat, and will be devoted for the rest of their lives. Isn’t that what all of us have been wanting since we were little girls?”
My gaze darts to A’Dar, as if I have to connect with him even during this speech.
“Look around you. As compelling as machta is, not one of you is being raped or hurt or forced.” I pause and take another fortifying breath.
“Here’s the bad news. It’s so terrible, you might want to take a seat.” My now-golden eyes stare into the camera. “It doesn’t matter what you look like—human or in the process of change. We’ve made an executive decision that you can’t return to your homes.”
I pause, keeping my face on lockdown. Then I let my sorrow show as I decide I want them to see how much it’s tearing my guts out to deliver this news. I give them my spiel about Area 51, then give them time to let it sink in.
“When life gives you lemons, make lemonade. Bloom where you’re planted. Insert any other platitudes here, ladies. That’s all you’re going to get—words of sympathy—because the fact is immutable. We’re leaving. All of us.
“You can choose to make something good out of this or not, but that won’t change the fact that you’re on this Xenon ship and any second now we’re going to leave Earth’s atmosphere, never to return.”
Mel’Kan chooses this moment to turn on whatever the fancy sci-fi term is for the propulsion system. We all feel the rumble underneath us.
Ran’Kin replaces my face on the vids with a picture of that humongous, black basalt door closing. The aliens in that tented holding area are rushing to get out of the way of the waves of scalding exhaust.
“Can we circle Earth for a bit?” I ask A’Dar, knowing my voice is still being broadcast.
“Aye?”
We didn’t take a moment to discuss this, but I don’t think he’ll mind what I’m about to say.
“You’re all leaving on this ship. Say your mental goodbyes to family, friends, jobs, and possibly chocolate and coffee, although maybe we can stock up before we leave atmo.” Where did I get the terrible idea of making a bad joke?
“I propose we hang around while you all give serious thought to any women you’d like to bring with you. You’re close to people. You know those among your friends and relatives who are hanging on by an emotional thread. Perhaps you have a friend who has been on a thousand first dates and never found a guy who could go the distance—or was worthy of it.”
I warm to my topic and forge ahead. “You probably know someone who hates her job and lives in a shitty one-bedroom apartment with a roommate because the minimum wage is so low and the cost of housing is so high. You’ve had serious conversations. You know who might actually be okay with leaving everything behind on a hope and a prayer that things might be better in a life among the stars.”
I glance at the screen in front of me showing the upturned faces of the women in the cargo bay. When I see the first woman who appears interested, I feel better about continuing my sales pitch.
“This ship is huge. I imagine it could use everything from cooks to accountants to ticket takers at the cinema on the Entertainment Deck. We can all find purpose here. And maybe,” I pause for effect, having gotten over my initial stage fright, “we can find love.”
I peer right into the camera as I continue.
“But let’s give them the choice we weren’t given, shall we? You can’t come right out and ask if they want to come with you. We’ve already discussed why that won’t work, but what if you give them the red pill/blue pill choice?”
I see one other woman cocking her head, considering my words. It emboldens me.
“What if you go on Facebook and lay it out as an almost rhetorical question, like ‘if you were given the option of flying away on an alien spaceship, not knowing where you were bound, but knowing you would be treated well and never have to struggle for food or shelter… if you could find work you loved and maybe find love… would you leave everything and take a chance?’”
I turn in my seat and look at A’Dar who is gazing at me with so much affection and respect. “Can they have two days? Two days to figure it out?” I ask.
“Aye.”
I scan the screen to see some women are still in shock, many are weeping, some have checked out altogether, some are so deep in machta they’re about to have sex on the floor of the cargo bay, and some have wheels spinning in their heads as they sort through their list of possible women who might want to join us.
“Two days.”