Mazorium Buys a Human (Origins + Abduction)

1. Chapter 1

Mazorium

I had no intention of attending the auction on Himil Station. Unfortunately, it was being held on the main thoroughfare, making the crowd impossible to avoid. All I wanted was a nice cup of tlash tea at the international libation cart. Moving through this crowd was simply the price I had to pay.

“This is really intolerable,” I grumbled, trying to squeeze between two Tulks. Neither of them bothered to move at all. Unlike the more common Tiltimun species on the station, Tulks were notoriously rude.

“I’m attempting to pass,” I said, trying to be polite. Neither noticed.

Annoyed, I sounded a loud, angry rattle with the overlapping plates running down my spine. The sound made both the Tulks jerk in surprise and finally edge away so I could squeeze between them.

“Talins think they’re better than everyone else,” one of them muttered.

I ignored his bitter comment because it was the truth. My species was one of the wealthiest and our empire was vast. I’d be resentful if I weren’t lucky enough to be born a Talin.

“The next lot up for auction is a human female and her newborn offspring,” the announcer called. Unlike the Ufrani engine that was auctioned off when I first got to the crowded thoroughfare, this announcement was met without enthusiasm.

However, I stopped in my tracks. A human was up for auction? The ancestors had blessed me!

I turned to the nearest Tiltimun, a species known for being helpful even to strangers. “How do I get a bidding square?”

He looked at me with startled ears going straight up. Then he pointed to the front of the crowd. “They’re issued at the bidding station.”

I turned and realized it was going to be impossible to make it to the bidding station before they began auctioning off the human.

I turned back to the Tiltimun. “If you buy the human for me, I’ll pay you back plus a commission.”

The Tiltimun’s ears twitched back and forth, a sign of interest. “But they haven’t even brought the stock out to view yet. How do you know you want them?”

“Humans are hard to find,” I answered honestly.

I’d wanted one ever since I saw vid captures of the first ones being brought back after the Talin-Orlok war.

I was especially fascinated by the young, joyful human who spoke in incomplete sentences and laughed in a way that made everyone else around him express good humor.

“They’re rare but useless,” the Tiltimun responded.

Realizing I didn’t want to seem too eager, I cooled my tone. “They’re a fascinating species to study.”

“You’re a scientist?” he asked.

“Yes,” I answered. Although it wasn't a lie, it wasn’t the complete truth either.

I was a scientist, but my specialties were mineralogy, hydrology, oceanography, and geology where they related to cartography.

Not the study of living creatures. But with my own human to interact with and observe, I could easily expand my studies!

“I understand,” the Tiltimun said. “My second sibling studies winged mice on Jib. She would do a lot for a rare specimen. I’ll help you get this human for your studies. I’ll only add a ten percent commission.”

“Six percent,” I countered, knowing it was expected.

“Eight percent,” he responded.

I hoped that was enough bargaining. “That’s acceptable.”

“Very good,” he said, flopping his ears up and down in excitement.

“Here is the human and her child,” the auctioneer said.

We both looked at the stage to see a small human being led out while clutching something to her chest. She looked frail and scared, nothing like the vid captures I’d watched. My heart beat faster, and I had to suppress the urge to force myself through the crowd to get to her.

To help calm myself, I examined her with a clinical eye.

She appeared to be short, even for a human.

Her mane was straight and black, and only reached to her shoulders.

It looked mussed and dirty. Even I knew humans liked to be groomed.

It seemed that no one on the auction team was taking care of her.

Her skin was pale, which could be her natural coloring but I was sure it was partially caused by anxiety and poor treatment.

I needed to acquire her or she’d probably die of stress.

“See the listing on your bidding square for information on this human's age, skills, and life-sustaining requirements,” the auctioneer said as the bidding countdown began. When the counter ended, the bidding would start.

After the countdown was done, the display would show the current high price, allowing people to use their bidding squares to enter a counter number. It ended when the price remained unchanged for a submark.

“Why is there clear liquid leaking from the human’s eyes?” the Tiltimun asked, sounding concerned. “Is that her blood?”

“It’s a pain, fear, or sadness response,” I explained, remembering it from the information pamphlets issued by the Committee for Pet Welfare. “In this situation, it could be caused by all three.”

The poor human’s clothes were dirty, but at least the child was bundled in something that looked warm and soft. The mother was shaking badly and I feared her legs would give out on her.

I silently begged the human to survive the auction. Once she and the infant were mine, I’d take good care of them, but I needed her to not die before then.

“Are you ready?” I asked the Tiltimun.

He held up his bidding square. “It’s not a good idea to be the first bidder. Better to let someone else enter a number.”

The countdown flashed and then the display blanked out for a mircromark before it came up again, ready to record the bids. I was going to demand the Tiltimun start bidding, but a number appeared before I could say anything.

“That’s low,” the Tiltimun muttered. “I know humans aren’t considered valuable, but that’s surprising.”

I didn’t know the current cost of buying sapient creatures, so I wasn’t sure what price would be acceptable. If she was being sold on Talarian, the starting bid would've been ten times that much.

“Bid,” I demanded. The Tiltimun tapped the bidding square and the number flashed higher, but only by a slight amount.

The Tiltimun looked at me. “I need the highest amount you’re willing to pay for this human and pup.”

I threw out a number that must have been too high by the Tiltimun’s estimates because his head jerked back.

“You could buy something of real value with that amount,” the Tiltimun muttered and entered another bid to keep us as the high number.

The amount continued to grow but only by small increments, and soon it didn’t fluctuate at all.

After a submark without bidding, the number flashed and changed color from black to blue.

“I declare this item sold,” the auctioneer said, and the human was led off the stage. I hated losing sight of her.

“Give me your Ident numbers,” I demanded, grabbing my Identification Cube so I could transfer what I owed to the Tiltimun.

He pulled his information square out of a bag on his shoulder and issued a request. I didn’t even look at the number as I agreed to pay.

The moment he received the funds, he transferred ownership to me.

There it was! Proof that I was the owner of a human! Actually, two humans because my human had a tiny, defenseless offspring.

Desperate to get to them, I turned to the area next to the stage without another word to the Tiltimun. He called out something to my back, but I ignored him. The only thing that mattered was collecting my human and her offspring before she died of fear.

I ignored the angry voices as I pushed and shoved my way through the crowd.

I didn’t care about being polite any longer.

If anyone tried to be threatening, I sounded an angry rattle.

I stood taller than most of the species here, not to mention I wasn’t without skills.

I could be deadly if I needed to. The others in this crowd sensed it and moved out of my way.

The sound of distress filled my earholes when I got close to where the human stood among several other items already auctioned off. She and the infant were the only living creatures in the area. She didn’t even have the comfort of other livestock around her.

“Can’t you quiet the whelp?” the guard asked. He was a small Tulk, but still larger than the human. “That sound is bothersome!”

“I’m sorry,” the human said, her voice quiet and shaky. She was staring at the ground with her shoulders hunched, as if ready to shield her child from the guard's anger. “She’s hungry, but you won’t let me try to feed her again.”

The guard stalked toward her. “Did you talk back to me?”

Now that I was closer, I could see dark marks forming on both her arms. They were in the shape of the Tulk’s fingers.

Rage filled me.

Ignoring the bird-like Doringo clerk who was asking for my Ident numbers, I jumped the barrier between the crowd and the items. My war rattle filled the air around us as I grabbed the guard's arm before he could strike the human.

I used my strength to toss him far away from my precious human. He hit a wall with a surprised squeal and bounced to the floor. He stood up then scurried off, probably to call for reinforcements. Let them come; I’d deal with them as easily as I did him.

With the threat gone, I turned to face the human while sounding a rumble of comfort from deep in my chest.

“You’re safe now,” I told her. “Please don’t expire from anxiety. I’ll be removing you from this place very soon.”

“You can’t be back here!” the clerk protested but stayed on the other side of the barrier.

Tucking the human behind me, I showed my teeth to the clerk. A clear warning.

“She is mine,” I growled.

“Oh, well, yes,” the clerk said, fussing with his information square. “But I still need proof of the winning bid, and you need to formally agree to abide by the station’s code of conduct with the merchandise you purchased here.”

I unclipped my Identification Cube from my belt again, and after a few taps, I showed him my Ident numbers and ownership.