“They told me one landed here,” Fasuni says. “You must have gotten to her quickly. She’s very pretty. We could breed them. My boy is strong. The two would make pleasing infants.”
“I’m not planning on breeding my human,” Isu says as I listen, horrified at the way these creatures talk about us. I have heard these tones before in the mouths of acid-skinned beasts. I wanted to think Isu was better than that. Perhaps he is not. Perhaps there is nowhere in the universe a human might find herself free.
“Because you want her body to remain tight and supple for your own use?” The female laughs.
“Because I would destroy any other male, of any other species who dared touch her,” Isu growls. “She is mine.”
“She’d still be yours. I could stimulate my male until he expelled his seed, and you could insert it inside her.”
“No, Fasuni.”
“You might change your mind. There’s good money for humans down here. The last baby was exchanged for a six-cave home near the lava lake.”
“So this is what you do?” I ask. “Breed humans and sell them? How are you any different from the Vargons?”
“I don’t recall saying we were different from the Vargons,” Master Isu says. “But you will not be used for that purpose.”
“She is mouthy,” the female says. “You will want to break her of that. Human attitude is dangerous. They start to think that they have the right to make decisions for themselves. They believe they deserve to be free. You have to let her know she belongs to you…”
“Yes, thank you, Fasuni.” Isu sounds bored, and a little annoyed.
“You’ve not had a human before,” Fasuni keeps talking. “They can act out when you least expect them to. Having one is a privilege. If you get bored of her, you can always sell her to me. I’ll put her to my boy and keep her good and pregnant so she can’t run.”
“Your boy is dying.”
“What did you say to me?” Fasuni directs her first comment to me; even though she has been speaking in the standard tongue all this time and clearly intended to be understood, she now acts affronted, as if I had no right to speak.
“He’s sick. His hair is falling out. He’s lost muscle tone. He’s dying. You’re bad at owning humans.” I don’t actually know if he is dying or not, but I want her to know she is a terrible creature who is abusing her human.
“Humans only live a few years once they reach adulthood.”
“Humans only live a few years underground, you idiot.”
I’ve never been rude before. I like it. There is a surge of power that rushes through me as I say the words. The man by her side is suffering worse than the people who ended up as parts. As I watch, a chunk of hair detaches from his scalp and falls to the ground. He doesn’t even seem to notice. Whatever life once animated him is gone.
I feel immense pity and anger welling up inside me. How dare these aliens consider themselves our rescuers and treat us this way? At least the Vargons managed to keep us healthy until the end.
“We need to be getting going,” Isu says, standing up. “Come, Aspel.”
He walks away and I follow. Just as I do, the human male reaches out, grabs my wrist, and gives me a pained look from sunken eyes.
“Help me,” he rasps.
How can I help him? I am a prisoner here too. I am just as weak and human as he is. But. I glance back toward Isu, and I notice that he is armed. I grab the blade at Isu’s side and I thrust it up, hard, into the throat of the captive human.
He is dead in seconds. Dead before his captress notices. She doesn’t notice until his chain goes slack. She turns when the falling body yanks at her arm and she lets out an enraged scream. She looks at me as if thinking about attacking me, but changes her mind when she sees the long, curved knife in my hand.
“She murdered my human!”
Isu whirls around, grabs me and the blade from my hand. I let it go without a fight. I have already done what I wanted to do.
“Hiznulkuk ia titi vuzare!” The female lapses into their native tongue. I do not care what they are saying. I can feel the warmth of the man’s blood on my toes. It seeps out of the hole I made, bathing the floor and my feet and now that I look down, my legs and hips besides in a hot spray.
“Kinzazu ovavu vizare,” Isu growls back. “Aspel, why?”
“He was sick. He asked to die.”
Isu stares at me, as if he cannot fathom what I have done. “So you stabbed him in the throat?”
“I could have stabbed him in the chest, but that takes longer.”