Wild Beast: A Rough Sci-Fi Romance

I remain shackled as he eases me down onto all fours. He does not like it when I walk on two legs. He says it makes me seem too proud. I have not earned it. I have not given him my honesty.

I crawl because he commands it, hands and knees on rough stone floor. My mouth is watering. The Vulpari, which is the species my master belongs to, eat but once a day. He considers hunger outside a single great meal to be a sign of decadence and indulgence.

Following after my master, I wonder if I will ever feel the freedom I experienced on that alien planet again. Will this collar ever leave my neck? Would I know what to do with myself if it did?

He stops, but I keep moving, not noticing that he has come to a halt. The result is that I brush up alongside his leg. He looks down with a hint of a smile and runs his fingers through my hair.

“Eager little pet,” he murmurs. “You will have your meal soon enough.”

The doors in front of us, which are the reason he stopped, slide open. With their opening comes a rush of warm air and convivial sounds. I can hear chewing and gnashing, shouting and singing. They howl their happiness and their togetherness to all the moons surrounding the ship. The ceiling of the dining hall is not solid and opaque as the walls are, as my dungeon cell is. Instead it is transparent across the entire span of the room, allowing in the light from an infinite number of stars that seem to drift by slowly above. Truly it is the vessel that is moving, and not at the slow glide that the stars imply with their glittering distance. We are moving at an impossibly swift pace from one place to another.

This is the one chance I have to see the light of what may as well be day. When a sun is near, as one is now, the dining hall is suffused in radiant light. From my floor-seat beside Volt’s chair, located at the head table that runs horizontal to the other tables I can see solar panels opening all around the room. At first I thought they were plants, but now I realize they are technological facsimiles of plants. They open and flower and spread their electric traced leaves to catch the rays from above. The ship thrums with power given to it by the universe through which it travels.

I was taught that the universe is vast and empty and cold, and that to move through it one had to burn or fuse bits of it in order to get through it. The Vulpari do not labor under that illusion. Their technology takes full advantage of the endless flow of energy around them.

Volt’s crew is eating spread out along a series of three long tables. This is how they eat every meal, once a day coming from all corners of the ship to join in a feast complete with booze and carousing.

I settle into my place beside the captain, very much aware of the eyes that run over me every time I make an appearance. They have not accepted me entirely as yet, not because I am the captain’s pet, but because I am ever so edible. These Vulpari believe themselves to be entirely civilized, but they cannot help themselves when it comes to me. The captain keeps me locked away for my own safety as much as his pleasure.

They lick their lips and they slaver with hunger. The food they are eating is the closest they can fabricate to roasted meat, covered in the richest gravy.

“Eat, pet.” Volt distracts me from my observations by presenting me with a sliver of meat from his fingers. I have not fed myself in a long time. Every bit of nourishment I receive comes from his hands. I take the food between my teeth gently. I have learned not to be rough, even when hungry. I have learned not to be too eager, or to beg—except when he wants me to beg.

He turns his attention to his own meal, but he does not forget to feed me steadily throughout. Every second mouthful he takes, he provides me with some nourishment. I wonder, sometimes, if he might love me. I know he desires me. I know he protects me. But is he capable of love? Or am I nothing but a distraction on a long voyage?

I can think of little other than him, though I do not know if I love him or not. I am dependent on him, kept captive by him. I desire him. It was my desire that trapped me with him. If only I could have stayed away, I might have been free. But I did not stay away. I came to him and I spread myself for him and I allowed myself to be captured. I do not know that I could ever explain to another how that happened, why I did not call on all my powers of resistance, why I did not demand my freedom while it was still in my grasp. He told me what would happen to me.