kaza returning to its own filth, I revisited the sight-capture of the other night, transfixed and repulsed.
The sight of another alien of the same race as my Goddess-given prize had given me pause, and then it had spoken Theraxl.
“Unhand Rax,” it demanded, its cold voice holding no emotion save rage. Leaning closer to the screen, I had tried to make out its features in the dim light of Ikthe’s darkening hour. With lighter skin than my prize possessed, it still had the same configuration of eyes, nose and mouth. It had frowned and taken a step toward my BoKama, wielding a flimsy weapon. “Drop him, and I won’t kill you.”
I paused the recorded sight-capture, rewound it a moment, and played it again.
A laugh caught in my throat. Something about its eyes spoke of a familiarity with death. A fearless acceptance of its embrace. I’d seen similar in the deep brown skin of the prize bound and waiting for me in the war room. I’d been feeling poorly and hadn’t visited in many days, counting on my devoted maikshe to keep it alive in my absence. But the little upstart in this sight-capture had dared to threaten my BoKama, and it lit the embers of my seething curiosity. I knew then I would visit my prize within the zatik.
Watching the recording play out, I remembered thinking that the ridiculous attempt of a rescue must be subdued.
“End it,” I had uttered, my own voice brittle and chill as an ice sword.
“Which is it?” My sister had said in exasperation. “The hunter or the alien? I cannot subdue them both.” Before I could answer, the alien spoke, its voice loud in the clearing.
“You will subdue neither of us,” it said with a command of our language that had surprised and disturbed me. “I have a weapon trained on you that will drop you in a jotik.”
The farce of this tiny being threatening war had brought a smile to my lips until BoKama’s sight-capture caught the flash of determination in its dark eyes. Its gaze pierced into my heart, and I thought I saw the Goddesses’ unsmiling faces for a half-jotik, but it held its weapon aloft and pointed it straight at me through the lens and spoke. “And if I have to kill BoKama, then I’m coming for you next, Ikma Scabmal Kama.”
Thunderstruck, I couldn’t push air past my lips to demand its death at once. In the absence of my command, BoKama had taken her own counsel.
“I’m laying Raxkarax down,” she said, and her headpiece lens showed her placing the Iktheka at her feet. The view changed as she rose back up until the small being stood centered in the sight-capture.
Light reflected off its armor, and I was reminded of the BoKama’s Answer Dream. Five streaking stars of light. Would the Goddesses have given me the same dream had I accepted my responsibility? I took the five stars to be the hunters I’d sent to their deaths, and considering I’d stumbled across the first dark-skinned alien only rotiks after the Lottery Five were exiled, I accepted that hapless creature as my due.
Hatred singeing my narrowed eyes as I stared at the second alien, the screen flashed with a brain-piercing blue-white light, and then the signal had blacked out.
“BoKama!” I had shouted into the comm, but there was no answer.
Fury had strengthened my weak limbs and howling rage had enlivened my breaths.
It allowed me to attend to the dark-skinned alien once more.
I didn’t remember passing the rooms or traversing the stairs and corridors. Standing in front of the limp form, I had spoken to it.
“Look at me when I enter the room,” I’d said. It had tried to raise its head, and my anger receded. “Defenseless trespasser,” I whispered and knelt before it, lifting its chin with my clawed fingers. “I do not know from whence you came, but you did not travel alone, did you?”
I could almost see the clockworks in its mind as it tried to decipher my language. A pink swollen tongue peeked from between its chapped full lips. Would it speak?
A coarse whisper hinted it was ready to speak.
Biting my lip, I looked at the maikshe’s potions. I had come in haste, not bothering to summon the healer to join me.
Dipping the ladle into the pot of fresh water, I decided a splash would aid the alien in speech without rewarding it too dearly.
The sound of its swallow echoed in the quiet room.
Leaning close, I had whispered. “You’ll answer now? Try again. I’m listening.”
“Eat. Kathe,” it had said in Theraxl.
Hissing, I had struck its face without thought, battering it until its eyes closed and it slumped further, its shoulders straining to carry its weight.
These many moons had it been listening to my conversations with my healer and dissecting our language.
Spent, I had hobbled backward a step. If my BoKama was dead, so too was this alien. And I would fly to Ikthe myself and hunt the other one to ground and tear it limb from limb.
But, as was true on most days, fatigue had overtaken me.
Limping my way back to my chambers, I had passed no one in the halls, or perhaps they had hidden at the sound of steps, fearing their Queen. I’d done a grave disservice to my own people, but when the Goddesses gifted me with the dark alien, I knew I’d been forgiven. My punishments and abuses could be inflicted on the vermin that dared invade my fortress and defile the Goddess Garden and I could release my own people from my reign of terror. I’d fallen asleep, safe in the knowledge of the Goddess’s blessings upon me.
Memories faded and at the sight-capture’s end, I retreated to my chamber where a new sachet waited on my dressing table, and I snatched it to my nose with a grateful inhalation. The madness crouched at the corners of my vision, but all would be well. When BoKama sent word she returned with a prisoner, I’d felt relief that she was yet alive. But our audience in the throne room with the prideful iktheka left me with a foul taste in my mouth.
Lying atop my bedcovers, I let my mind drift over the sight-capture. Something troubled me about it aside from the startling presence of a second alien. Something about names. Sleep settled over me, a cloudy cushion of relief. I would go over it again if I couldn’t seize upon the troublesome thought on my own.