Page 11

Chapter Eleven

T yree

I take seldom-used back hallways on my way to the captain’s room. I know every hidey-hole and storage area I can dodge into in case someone sees me. I have no room or even bunk on this ship. I’m just a pet who lives in the captain’s room, a thing to be tolerated. On the other hand, my non-status gives me a lot of freedom of movement and almost no expectations from the crew. Gods forbid, though, if I’m not available for the captain when he has use of me.

I jump to place my palm on the touchscreen lock to get into “my” quarters. I scramble into the bathroom and climb up to sit on the counter, my knees straddling the sink in order to look into the mirror above it.

The sheer panic in Anya’s voice forced me to quit ignoring my own inner warnings and take a good look at myself. And oh my, she was right. Something is off, way off. I balance on my knees, one on each of the narrow edges of the sink. Kneeling, I lean closer to the mirror and inspect my face.

The normally rounded, almost cherubic look of my cheeks is somehow more angular. My chin is slightly more pronounced. My jade green eyes look dull and have almost lost their glow from within. This confirms my recent feeling that I’ve developed a low-grade fever.

I jump down from the sink and quickly shuck my leggings. Holy drack, my usually childlike thighs and calves are taking on muscular definition. My hands look… bigger.

Completely distracted, functioning on impulse, I drag my clothes back on my body, almost pulling my pants on backward. It can’t be happening. It just can’t. My stomach clenches and seems to sink.

It’s funny how a person can think they are sane and calm and reasonable and believe it all their life until faced with a reality they don’t want to accept. I’ve been acting like a delusional schoolgirl these past few days as I avoid the obvious.

The Transformation.

There, I said it. The Transformation, I say it again inside my head and then, “The Transformation,” I speak it out loud just to bludgeon my brain into believing it.

I was born on planet Larian many annums ago, to a family of moderate means. We lived simply on a modest farm outside of a small town. My race hadn’t developed anything near computers or the ability to travel in space. We used a wheeled cart drawn by ortoni to travel for supplies. It was on one of these trips that I learned about the Transformation.

I had a friend, Morley, a youngling who didn’t look any older than me, who was the child of the general store’s owners. I loved going into town, not just because the store owners always gave me a stick of delicious manu candy, but because I enjoyed playing with Morley.

I was young enough I had never really asked questions about males and females. I knew that parents were men and women, and I just assumed that kids were kids. The idea of gender never really interested me.

One day we arrived in town for provisions, and I didn’t see Morley. When I asked Morley’s father where she was, he looked surprised and immediately glanced at my parents as if to ask for their guidance.

It was then that I saw a tall, muscular adult male brooding quietly at the table in the corner where the townspeople sometimes came to play cards on wintry days. He was staring intently at me.

My parents looked shocked, maybe even a bit fearful, and ordered me to wait in the wagon outside. My folks were kind and loving and almost never raised their voices to me. I was shy and compliant, well I guess I still am, and ran to wait in the back of the wagon.

I’d never seen our order filled or our wagon loaded so quickly. The ride back to our farm was swift and silent.

That night at dinner, my parents explained the Transformation. Frankly, it made my head spin. They explained how Larians were born with no gender and could stay that way their whole lives. They remained genderless until they found their truemate. At that time, one member of the couple became female and the other became male. The individuals could be any age, from twenty to sixty—childbearing annums .

My parents explained it was a mystery how the body changed, going in a matter of days from a tiny, childlike being to towering muscular males who were over six fiertos tall, or statuesque females with curves and breasts. They didn’t understand how the vents used for excreting became external for males or internal for females, or how men then produced sperm and females produced eggs. It was simply inscrutable.

I pressed them with questions about how I would know when I met my truemate, how it was decided. The whole sex and genitals part was simply too gross and unbelievable, so my young mind latched onto the personal connection. How would I meet this person? How would I know? How was it decided which of the pair became male and which became female?

To my parents’ credit, they gave me no meaningful answers because they had no answers to give. They simply had no way of knowing. Our science was crude. There were no facts in any book to explain things. I’ve snuck onto the captain’s computer many times, searching for information, but there are no other species in the known universe that reproduce like this, so there’s no research on it.

I only saw Morley once more after his Transformation. We went into town for his Joining Ceremony. I had met his mate once at the shoemaker’s shop. Now she looked tall and regal and very grown up.

I sought Morley out, but he wasn’t particularly interested in me. He had a mate and was now interested in far more adult things than an old playmate. He had seemed so distracted that later, on the ride home, I asked my parents about it. Now, as they explained everything they could, they alluded to his growing paranormal powers.

They said not all Larians grew special powers when their body transitioned, but some did. They said some could hear others’ thoughts, some could move items with just a desire, some could feel others’ emotions. They denied that either of them had acquired any additional powers upon their Transformations, then laughed and said maybe it had “skipped a generation” and I would develop lots of powers just like grandfather Crantu. I never got much of an answer from them about what those capabilities might be.

I was kidnapped from my planet not too long after that. So, my trove of knowledge is pitifully small. By my reckoning, I’m thirty-five annums of age. I never figured I would hit my Transformation because I never thought I’d see another Larian. I had taken it as fact that my Transformation could be triggered only by another of my kind.

But, as I look down and see muscular legs where before there had been childlike, undefined meat on bone, I can’t deny my Transformation has been triggered. And it must have been triggered by one of the slaves on board.

All the gladiator and females seem to be paired up. I can’t imagine who it could be other than the captain, the doctor, or the other members of the crew. Those choices make my heart hurt.

Anya

The next morning, along with the command to complete the act, we are cheerfully informed that the captain has declared today a “holiday” due to our defeat of the Marauders. To celebrate we women will be invited to watch the males in gladiatorial competition. Oh, happy day.

What makes him believe the males want to compete, especially in front of us? And I definitely doubt any of us women want to watch. From what I’d observed the day the Marauders attacked, none of the women would want to watch their males get hurt.

When I glance at Zar, however, I realize I got at least half of the equation wrong. He looks thrilled! Totally pumped.

“You’ll watch me fight today, Anya? You’ll see me fight. You’ll see me win!”

When did he become a monosyllabic caveman, I wonder. Then I remember he’s a gladiator. He’s done this his whole life. It’s the one thing he thinks he’s good at. Of course he wants to show off for his female.

I’ve never enjoyed watching prizefighting on TV. I couldn’t bear to even glance at World Wide Wrestling when scrolling through the channels, even though it was obviously fake as hell. I definitely know I don’t want to see my guy getting hit and possibly bloodied in a show for my entertainment.

Then I glance at his expectant face. He’s like a five-year-old who just picked the neighbor’s flowers and presents them excitedly to his Mom expecting enthusiasm and praise.

“Can’t wait,” I say, faking sincerity.

We do our business, and I’m escorted to medbay. Dr. Drayke seems enthused about the upcoming exhibition.

“Really?” I ask. “You didn’t seem the type.”

“These men train for this all day every day. To be able to have an audience, without the fear of…” He interrupts his train of thought, not wanting to mention that usually these events don’t allow the males the luxury of knowing they’ll emerge in one piece. “Well, at any rate, this should be a safe way for them to swagger in front of their females.”

“Hmmm… I’m curious, doc, you talk to every woman every day. How many of these women have… paired up with their males?”

“Paired up?” He looks confused.

“How many of my fellow ladies are kind of happy with their cellmates?”

“Anya, I don’t really have long conversations with the other females. I have no idea what goes on in their heads. I can tell you, though, that most of them don’t look nearly as unhappy now as they did on their first day. None seem to have what might be called ‘failure to thrive.’ A few have begun to ask if they could already be pregnant.”

Wham! It suddenly hits me that I’ve been so preoccupied with the insurrection I’ve completely pushed the question of a possible pregnancy to the back of my mind like a child pushes their dreaded peas to the back of their plate.

“You could tell already?”

“Of course.”

I guess I should have known this. “Test me!” It’s an order.

“I do test you, Miss Anya. I test each of you every day.”

“And?”

“I haven’t examined you yet today, but no, you weren’t as of yesterday.”

My mind completely shuts down. I have no idea whether I’m happy or sad about this news. At this moment, I can’t even connect with my emotions.

“Is that good news or bad?” he asks.

“I don’t know,” I mumble, my lips numb.