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humansareweirdsedition · 7 years

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Humans Are Weird: Women’s Edition Part XI

It’s Part XI guys! This one took a bit of time not because I had difficulty writing it (which isn’t to say I didn’t have writer’s block at some point), but because my cat Moon kept bugging me. Like, as I wrote this sentence, he was sitting beside me, purring for attention. He doesn’t leave me alone. All day long, he has followed me around and kept me from working. He’s such a pain.

By the way, the italic conversations are the Voyager Moana’s crew speaking Earthen languages (usually mixed). An example is two random individuals speaking Arabic and Japanese in the same sentence. One person be speaking in Japanese, but then start speaking some Arabic words in between, and the other person will do the opposite and they both completely understand each other.

Part I >> Part II >> Part III >> Part IV >> Part V >> Part VI >> Part VII >> Part VIII >> Part IX >> Part X >> Part XI >> Part XII >> Part XIII >> Part XIV

“Lieutenant General!” exclaimed Fatima as she stood up and salute her. “It’s good to see you’re alive.”

Seeing Fatima’s warm, genuine smile brought a flood of relief to Murakami. “It’s good to see you’re alive as well. I thought you got burnt to a crisp back on the ship,” she said, unable to hold back a smile. It really had been too long since she last saw any of her friends.

Fatima grinned. “Honestly, I would have been if Vallion hadn’t shielded me...” As her voice trailed off, a far away look took over. “I was lucky Vallion had my back. We were all lucky not to have died.”

Murakami sighed. “Well, who would’ve thought pendulums of death made of mattresses and a Twinkie-oven bombs could do so much damage?”

“Gigi’ish did. He was complaining the entire time we were making it,” she said with the most serious of straight faces, mimicking the face Gigi’ish often made when someone was about to do something reckless.

Murakami couldn’t help, but laugh. “Yes, well, he’s more...”

“Paranoid?” Fatima supplemented.

“...cautious than he should, but he’s managed to survive this far with us.”

“Uh-huh...anyways, why has this kalb brought you here, sir?” Fatima asked as she jerked her thumb towards Mel.

“Meru-kun is unfortunately tasked with getting me to reveal personal information about our crew.”

“Meru? I thought his name was Mel? The leatherhead goons and the other prisoners call him that.”

“Oh, his name is Mel, but I figured this’ll be a fun way of passive-aggressively pissing him off.”

“Good one, sir.”

“Alright,” Mel interrupted, his usual stoic expression had now taken a chilling aspect, “all languages except Standard Galaxic are forbidden.”

Fatima was less than impressed by Mel’s declaration. “What will you do if we don’t comply?” she asked, crossing her arms.

Indeed, what could Mel do to them? He was a slave; and albeit he had more freedoms than most on this vessel, he was still a powerless figure, but Murakami had a sinking feeling that underestimating Mel’s capabilities would be a grave mistake...

“This,” said Mel, managing to make the word foreboding, before he fidgeted with the holo-screen. Within five seconds, Fatima was convulsing on the floor, screaming the most unholy of screams, and clawing the back of her neck.

It was terrifying.

Resisting the urge to grabbing Mel by the shoulders and shaking some sense into him, Murakami forced herself to remain calm, even as Fatima convulsed on the floor. “What are you doing to her, Mel? Why are you doing this? You need to stop this now,” as she spoke, she felt her resolve crumble. Mel was ignoring her and staring at Fatima. “Please stop this. Mel..you’re hurting her! Mel, please. Stop. STOP.” Her voice, becoming increasingly desperate, fell on deaf ears.

Mel kept his gaze on Fatima as he spoke to her. “Col. Fatima Hashim Is’a. Obedience will be learned aboard the Frek’jon before you are sold. The more you comply, the easier it becomes.” Murakami watched with a faltering heart as, despite the excruciating pain she must have been in, Fatima glared at Mel. But for that, he increased the intensity of her pain. “Do you understand your situation yet, Col. Is’a?” he asked.

This time, when Murakami stepped, she shook Mel by the shoulders. “Yes, you’ve made your point. Now, stop this. I’ll do anything―” When the word left her, she immediately clamped.

But it was too late. She messed up.

Mel titled his head to the side, apathetic to them both, before asking her, “Anything?” and sending chills down her spine.

Hanging her head in defeat, Murakami nodded. “Anything, just please...no more. I’ll talk to my crew. I’ll get them to cooperate.” She failed them. She failed her crew. She failed them not just as their captain, but as their friend as well.

“Superb,” Mel said, practically clicking his heels as he turned away from them both and deactivated whatever device was attached to the back of Fatima’s neck. “Col. Is’a, I suggest giving Lt. Gen. Murakami your thanks. She has just secured a comfortable future for you and all your crewmates.” As he moved to leave, Fatima tottered back on her feet.

“MURAKAMI! NO, DON’T!” Fatima cried out. “Wait, please, don’t. I’ll survive. We all will. You know us. We’re stronger than we look.”

“Enough, Col. Is’a. Don’t try my patience,” Mel warned, pausing mid-step, his fingers at the ready to activate the device again.

“Allaena―” Fatima began, but was cut short by Murakami.

“We understand, Mel. Allow the two of us a final moment,” she requested, head bowed. Seeing Fatima so distraught distressed her. She had to do something about her actions.

Finally, after a brief silence, Mel spoke. “You have five drushes. Use your time wisely.” Taking a step away from them, yet remaining in earshot, Mel motioned for them to begin.

Stepping closer to the barrier, Murakami rested her head against the wall beside the barrier. “I know...” she began, speaking through clenched teeth, “I know you all are amazingly talented, fucking batshit crazy. Sometimes I think a nuclear blast couldn’t even kill you all...but I can’t just stand idly by while you’re tortured. You’re family to me.” She forced herself to face her, even though it pained her. “You and everyone else from the Voyager Moana. You are my second family. And just knowing that when one of you is harm’s way and all the others are susceptible to the same harm...

“Fatima, I just can’t do nothing. I have to do the right thing, even if it doesn’t feel right, but this doesn’t mean I’m giving up. I won’t give up. Not on our crew. Not ever. I’ll figure a way for all of us to escape, I promise...

“Just please, be patient.” It tore her apart. She had fallen for Mel’s trick; she made a stupid rookie mistake. She was unable to save her crew; but she could still protect them to an extent. She had made her mistake, but she wouldn’t make it again.

As she locked gazes with Fatima, Murakami willed her to understand and released a sigh of relief when Fatima reluctantly conceded. “I’ve entrusted my life to you before, and I’ll continue to entrust my life to you.”

“Shukraan, Col. I’sa.”

“Ma salam, Lt. General Murakami.”

Clutching her chest, Murakami turned away and faced Mel. “Just under five drushes. Good. Let’s go. You have work to do.”

Krellion was having a dull gulkib. First, after Zeelot demanded Krellion finish his latest batch of pheromones, they took it from him, and Krellion was now stuck examining Col. Jay’va on Zeelot’s orders. Such dreary, tedious work. Obviously she’s in pristine physical health. I made sure all the injured dulgos were, but why does Zeelot want me to examine her in particular?

She was unremarkable. Her fur was brighter than most females, but it wasn’t abnormal. She was of average height and weight. Average intelligence. Nothing stood out about her except her fiery temperament, which would serve her well in the Arena. “Hhhhnnn...Col. Heth Jay’va, what’s so special about you that caught Zeelot’s attention, hmm?” he asked her, but of course she couldn’t answer. She was still incapacitated due to the influence of his pheromones.

As he turned away from her, he heard the door behind him swoosh open and the familiar tappity-tap of Zeelot’s feet. “How goes it, Krellion? Any progress?” inquired Zeelot as they way their way over to him.

“If I knew what I was searching for, then maybe,” he said, “but since I don’t, no.” His patience was wearing thin and he made it known. “Care to enlighten me on my task, dear Captain?”

Zeelot sent him a freezing glare before reaching a hand out to Jay’va. “Rumor is, Goth Yuyu’ish, the Psi Ken of Zarga colony Luga Fi, is searching for a new carrier for his harem,” they explained, “and Col. Jay’va will be the perfect carrier for him.”

Krellion was unconvinced. “This carrier is a dulgo, Captain; and a volatile one at that. Psi Ken Yuyu’ish will not have the patience for her. He is more likely to skin her alive and use her pelt as a throne rug than keep her as his next mate. She will serve us better in the Arena.”

“I agree,” Zeelot clucked. “She would be serve us better in the Arena, and she will.”

As they spoke, it clicked in Krellion’s mind Zeelot’s plan. “You plan to display her at the Arena and appeal her battle prowess to Psi Ken Yuyu’ish,” he stated.

They nodded, a confirmation. “As Champion of the Arena, she will fetch a far higher price than just as a captured dulgo.”

He gave them a sideline look. “Sir, you believe she’ll become Champion? No dulgo has become Champion. It’s absurd. Their weak-minded dispositions leave them prey to the kulgo of the Arena.” At best, Jay’va could win a few matches against other dulgo and some of the weaker opponents. She could maybe taken down a Pollikon or two if she was enraged enough, but she could never become Champion.

Yet Zeelot remained confident in Jay’va’s success. “Psi Ken Yuyu’ish will want a fertile mate. If her fertility is low, be sure to increase it. Otherwise, recheck her health and have her prepped for the Arena. Just two and a half gulkibs until we reach the Auction.”

And with that, Zeelot was gone, leaving Krellion to finish his work.

Vallion sat in their cell rereading the same holo-screen with information of kulgo and dulgo H’hish. It included the basic anatomic and cellular differences, their roles in H’hishian society, and more. It explained why Vallion had never reached complete sexual maturation while living on Farla Lai. But it doesn’t explain it all, they thought for the hundredth time, it doesn’t explain why my siblings reached maturation while I didn’t. We have the same parents, so why?

It was a mystery, one that even the unsettling Krellion didn’t have an answer for, or at least one he was willing to provide. Vallion was a kulgo, but they didn’t comprehend why they had to be one. It would have been nice just to be like everyone else, but they weren’t. Instead, they were an immature kulgo waiting to be sold to the highest bidder at an Auction on a planet they had never even known about.

Besides the reading, Vallion had nothing to do in their cell. No fellow inmates to converse with, no guards to befriend...no one. They were isolated. Even their meals were delivered by servant bots. It was frustrating. They had never been so alone in their life. The isolation was as maddening as their identity crisis.

“This sucks...” they mumbled, tossing the holo-screen aside.

“I know, right?”

Vallion turned their head so fast, they nearly sprained their neck. “Lieutenant General!” Vallion exclaimed as they immediately bolted to the barrier and pressed themselves against it to get a better look at her. “It really is you! Sir, how are you here? What’s going on?”

Murakami wore a painful smile as she answered, “It’s really me, Vallion.” She paused, looked to her left, and then continued, “and as for how I got here...I’m now a slave of the Frek’jon.”

“Frek’jon?” repeated Vallion, confused.

She nodded. “It’s the ship we’re on. It’s a mercenary vessel filled with the most distasteful of individuals.” She made a face and stuck out her tongue.

Vallion couldn’t help, but wiggle their ears. Even in the most trying of times, humans managed to find humor. “All that aside, it doesn’t explain what’s going on,” Vallion said, returning to the seriousness of their conversation.

“About that...” Murakami cringed and stepped aside to allow another lifeform to join their conversation.

And that lifeform was...terrifying. Just glancing at them was unnerving in a way differing from being in Krellion’s presence.

“Who are you?” Vallion asked, standing their ground as if that would do either them or Murakami any good.

“You may call me Zeelot, and, as I have said to the others, I am the captain of this vessel. I am here to support our dear Murakami in explaining your current situation and why it is in your best interest to cooperate with us. Right?” The lifeform, Zeelot, wrapped a disgusting limp around Murakami’s shoulders. It was sickening.

It didn’t sit well with Vallion, but they were in no position to make demands or lash out. Instead, they looked to Murakami for guidance.

Sighing, Murakami looked from them to Zeelot with great reluctance. “The crew will be sold at an auction soon and they―we need a list of personal details on them not readily available from their personnel files. I’ve already spoken to Balogh and she’s agreed to help speak to the crew with me―”

“Pardon me for interrupting, but do you hear what you’re saying?! And how did you get Balogh―of all people―to agree?” they asked, unable to believe what they were hearing. “This is utter nonsense. This is―” But they didn’t get the chance to finish speaking because Murakami cut them off.

“I know, Vallion...I know,” she muttered, staring at her feet. “I know, but you need to understand it’s not a matter up for discussion. It really isn’t. Just, just look at your holo-screen and you’ll realize why.” Lamely, she motioned to the discarded device.

Curious, Vallion picked up the device and found new content notice. Tapping it, a holo-vid popped up previewing Fatima dressed in the same ugly clothes as them and Murakami. Glancing over at Murakami, they wanted some semblance of an explanation, but she wouldn’t meet their gaze. Now they were becoming increasingly distressed and decided they had to play the holo-vid.

Tapping the screen, Vallion stood rigid as the sound of Fatima’s sweet voice filled their cell.

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snowwolf1118 · 7 years