I should have waited until dark, but the gnawing ache in my belly was
too strong for
me to ignore. One skimpy meal a day was not enough for a thirteen
year old girl,
especially on a planet as cold as Minotar 3 a. As the hunger pains
intensified,
I threw caution to the wind and crawled through the ventilation duct
into the kitchen. There
was a pot of hot cereal on the stove. I grabbed a cup and a spoon
and scooped up
some of the bubbling gray paste. Though it did not look very
appetizing, it would
ease the ache in my stomach.
I was attempting to crawl back into the ventilation duct with the
bowl of porridge
balanced in one hand when someone grabbed me by the ankles and jerked
me back into
the kitchen.
"So you're the little rat whose been stealing from my mess!" The
chief's breath reeked
of liquor. "I should have known. Where do you think you're going? No
one eats for
free in my camp. If you eat, you work, and there's only one thing a
girl like you
is good for."
As his hands groped my body, I panicked, lashing out wildly with
arms and legs. The
bowl of cereal fell to the floor, splattering the walls with globs
of gray.. My
knee connected with the chief's groin.
"You little shit!" he howled, clutching his injured parts.
I tried to make a run for it, but he caught me. His face was inches
from mine. His
eyes were fixed on my cleft upper lip. "You're too ugly to fuck,"
he snarled. "I
think I'll feed you to the beast."
I fought like a wild thing, biting, kicking, scratching, but it
was like battling
a mountain. The chief picked me up by the scruff up the neck and
carried from the
kitchen, wading through the knee deep snow towards the shelter where
the beast was
kept. "Here, kitty, kitty!" he called. "I've got a treat for you."
He threw open the
door. The light within the aluminum building was dim, but not so
dark that I could
not make out the row of metal cages , only one of which was occupied.
"Open the cage," the chief ordered the young sentry. "I've brought
the beast a snack."
The guard held the prisoner at bay with a stun gun while the chief
attempted to shake
me off. I clung to him as if my life depended upon it, which, in
fact, it did. The
beast had not eaten a bite in the five days it had been held captive.
It was rumored
that it only ate live food. I was about to find out whether or not
the rumors were
true.
The chief finally managed to free himself by slamming me against the
bars several
times. As I dropped to the ground inside the cage, he stepped back.
The sentry slammed
the cage door shut. Both men stood a few paces away, watching to see
what would happen.
The beast was absolutely still, its gaze fixed on the humans
outside its cage.
Its amber eyes were wide with elongated pupils--the eyes of a cat.
The thick golden
fur which covered its body increased its resemblance to a feline,
though genetically
speaking, the wild man was more closely related to an ape than a lion
or tiger. At
seven and a half feet tall, it towered over the chief. Its oddly
proportioned legs
with long,high arched feet and muscular thighs could propel it
forward at a speed
two or three faster than the fastest human runner. Its broad, short
fingered hands were
equipped with two inch retractable claws. Its tail, which lashed
back and forth
as the beast eyed its captors, was tipped with a bony barb.
No wonder the sentry looked nervous. "I--I think I'll step outside
and smoke a cigarette
if that's alright with you, chief."
The commander grunted. He waited a few more minutes. When it became
clear that the
beast was not going to devour me right away, he turned and left, too.
My heart was pounding. Now that we were alone, there was nothing to
distract my
clawed companion. Recalling my mother's admonition never to look a
wild creature
in the eye or let it smell your fear, I gazed down at my own feet.
My boots were
little more than scraps of leather held together by a few, loose
stitches. Would the beast
eat them, too or would it strip me first? Would it devour me in one
gulp or tear
me limb from limb? I began to cry. Snot ran down my chin. Had I been
capable of
speech, I would have called out for help. However, my mother was too
poor to pay for the
surgery that would have corrected my cleft lip, tethered tongue and
deformed larynx.
Being mute, all I could do was sign the words of a prayer a priest
had taught me.
"Praise the Mother, full of mercy. She is blessed among women---"
A broad, fur covered hand grabbed me by the chin and tilted my face
upward. The beast
stared down at me with an expression more inquisitive than
predatory. "You know
how to talk?" it signed.
"That's what I'm supposed to say," I replied, once the shock wore
off, and my head
cleared. "Where did you learn to sign?"
"From my mother, who learned from her mother. All intelligent beings
know how to
talk." The beast nodded its head in the direction of the door. "I am
beginning to
suspect that the chattering of those monkeys is a kind of primitive
speech, though
I can make no sense of it." His bright, amber eyes examined me from
head to toe. " Why is
that you can speak properly, but they can not?"
I ducked my head self consciously. "There's something wrong with my
mouth. I can't
'chatter', so I talk with my hands."
"Your mouth looks fine to me." The word he used was 'pretty',
however, I assumed
that he was confused about the sign's meaning , or that in the six
hundred years
which had passed since his people were cut off from civilization,
the meanings of
the signs had changed. No one had ever called my pretty. "There are
plenty of empty cages.
Why have they imprisoned you with me?"
I considered lying, but there seemed no good reason not to tell the
truth. "To punish
me for stealing food."
"Poor cub. Are you hungry?" He offered me his own bowl, which was
piled high with
grilled simulated meat and greenhouse grown vegetables smothered in
gravy.
Though the food had grown cold, it was the best thing I had eaten in
weeks, and I
wolfed down a couple of handfuls, before it occurred to me to ask
"Why won't you
eat?"
His eyes narrowed. He growled softly "Because the food may be
drugged. I do not trust
these monkeys. If fall asleep, there is no telling what they might
do to me."
I tried to conceal my surprise. We had been told that the worker
beasts which inhabited
this planet had reverted to an animal like state once their human
masters had died,
but this one had managed to ignore his own hunger in order to protect
himself from
harm. "It tastes alright to me. And I don't feel sick or sleepy.
Do you want the
rest?"
He must have been starving. Within minutes, he had finished off the
contents of the
bowl, going so far as to lick it clean. "I could use two or three
more like that,"
he added wistfully.
"You aren't going to eat me?" I only dared to bring up the subject,
because I was
pretty sure of his answer.
"Eat you? Is that why they threw you in here?" He snarled. "Those
warriors of yours
are beasts to do something so cruel to one of their own young. Why
have they come
to Felign? Why have they imprisoned me? What do they want?"
"Felign?" I repeated the signs to make sure that I had them right.
He had used a
combination of the sign for "feline" and the one for "reign". "What's
'Felign'?"
He stamped his long, furred covered foot on the ground. "This is
Felign. So is this."
He thumped his own chest. "I am Jimson of the Golden Grasslands.
My people are
the Felign, and this land is ours, given to us by the Blessed Father."
"Actually, the land wasn't given to you," I corrected, once I got
over my shock.
"You took it. And it wasn't the Blessed Father who put you here. It
was men like
the chief."
For a moment, I thought that I had gone too far, and that Jimson
would strike me down.
However, he mastered his temper. "Continue."
I told him everything, how just over six hundred years ago, a party
of settlers attempted
to colonize this planet which the star maps referred to as Minator
3 a. The humans
brought with them forty genetically augmented apes---Jimson's
ancestors. The species was created through a combination of genetic
engineering and selective breeding,
and though the final result looked feline, they were simian with a
dash of homo sapien.
Their large size, protective fur and relatively high intelligence
made them valuable beasts of burden.
A year after the colony was established, there was an outbreak of
Jijstu hemorrhagic
fever. The virus wiped out the human colonists. Under ordinary
circumstances, a ship
would have been sent to salvage the equipment and animals--the
genetically engineered apes were immune to most of the diseases which
afflicted their masters. However,
shortly before the plague struck, a meteor storm had moved into
the solar system.
For the next seventy years, the storm raged intermittently, making
space travel
risky. Then, this section of the galaxy went to war, a conflict that
latest almost two
centuries.
By the time it was safe to travel in the Minator solar system again,
no one remembered
the failed colony. Three centuries passed before a scout ship
detected a beacon
left behind by the original settlers. A probe was launched. The
remains of the settlement were discovered, along with something
entirely unexpected. The ape laborers which
had been left behind had managed to adapt to their environment and
multiply. Satellite
images suggested that there were at least six different tribes, each
with a thousand or more members. Given the high demand for
laborers, Minator 3 a was a gold
mine just waiting to be plundered.
"Are you saying that the Felign are monkeys?" he demanded when I was
done. This seemed
to disturb him more than anything else he had just learned.
"Your ancestors were monkeys. So were mine. "
"So your people and mine are brothers?"
"Not exactly." How could I explain the subtleties of the laws which
determined which
sentient beings were citizens and which were chattel? Even I did not
understand
them. "Scientists created the---" I almost used the sign for
"beasts." "---Felign
to serve as slaves."
"Slaves? We are taller, stronger, faster than you monkeys."
"Humans," I corrected. "We like to be called humans."
"Names do not change what you are. You are weak creatures. If not
for your weapons
that spit fire and barbs, you would be completely defenseless." He
drew himself
up to his full height. "The Felign are strong. We have fur to keep
us warm. We have
our own weapons." He bared his claws. "If anyone should be servants,
it is your people.
The only useful thing about you is your hands." He took one of my
hands between
his, examining my fingers, marveling at their flexibility. "Hands
such as yours
would be very useful fashioning weapons for our warriors and pretty
ornaments for our women."
I snatched my hand away. "I'm no one's property," I signed angrily.
"I meant no disrespect." He bowed his head contritely.
"That' OK," I replied, embarrassed by my own rudeness. Jimson could
not have known
that my troubled past made me especially sensitive to such
suggestions. I had watched
my mother die an early death from venereal diseases picked up from
the space traveler who had purchased her services. They treated her
like dirt. No, worse than dirt.
In space, fertile soil was considered too valuable to waste, but my
mother was just
another warm orifice for sex starved sailors to use---
I did not realize that I was crying until Jimson put his arm around
my shoulders.
His fur was soft and warm and smelled like sweet musk. Something touched
my
head, combing through the tangles. He was using his tongue, I
realized, to groom
me the way that a lioness would groom her young. For some reason,
this tender gesture only
made me cry harder.
"There, there, little cub. It isn't easy for you, living with these
brutes. How did
you come to my world? You're not a warrior. " He sniffed me. "You're
too young to
be a warrior's woman."
He was right about the last part. I was thirteen and a late
bloomer. However,
youth alone would not have protected me from the sexual advances of
the crewman,
who had no outlet for their pent up desire now that my mother was
gone. It was
my cleft lip which had allowed me to preserve my virtue. As the
chief had said, I was too
ugly to fuck. "My mama signed on as a---a ship's companion.". It
was nicer than
calling her a "ship's whore". "She brought me along. I can't talk,
you see. Not
the way other people do. So they wouldn't take me in school. Mama
didn't have enough money
to pay anyone to look after me, and we don't have any family. The
members of the
crew aren't allowed to bring guests, but the chief looked the other
way. Until
Mama died a couple of weeks ago, just before we landed on the
planet. Then, I became
a burden." I sniffed.
He patted my head. "Poor little cub. Were you a member of my tribe,
you would not
be treated so cruelly. The women would fight to see who would have
the honor of
being your foster mother."
I wiped my eyes. "I wish I were a member of your tribe." A horrible
thought occurred
to me. Soon, his tribe would no longer exist. The chief and his crew
would round
up the Felign and take them to another planet where they would be
sold at auction.
Most of the males would be killed. Those who were still young would
be neutered. "You've
got to warn your people," I told him. "They're in great danger---"
We were interrupted by the return of the sentry. As the door opened,
a blast of
icy wind rushed into the room, making me shiver. The sentry entered
cautiously,
his eyes averted, as if he was afraid of what they would show him.
When he saw that
I was still in one piece, he looked relieved. He fumbled in his
pocket for the keys to
the cage. "Come on, kid. I'll find you someplace safe to hide from
the chief."
To my surprise, Jimson growled and bared his teeth. The sentry drew
his stun gun.
The Felign warrior quickly positioned me so that I was in the line of
fire. When
it became clear that the beast would not give up its new toy, the
young guard left.
"Why did you do that?" I signed when we were alone. "I can't help you
escape if I'm
a prisoner, too."
"I do not need your help," Jimson replied coolly.
"They'll cut off your balls," I warned him. "And drug your woman and
put your cubs
in cages."
He bared his teeth. Blood showed behind his eyes. "If they try, they
will be sorry."
"No," I answered angrily. I kicked the bars of the cage. "You're the
one who'll be
sorry."
He shook his head the way grown ups do when they think children are
being foolish,
so I kicked him, too. Instead of getting angry, he cuffed me
playfully. "You are
full of fire," he signed approvingly.
Not long afterwards, Cook brought more food. Jimson insisted that I
"test" it for
him, which was a sneaky way of making sure that I got something to
eat, too. I
was still full from my last meal, so I nibbled on an artificial pork
chop. When
I did not drop dead or pass out, the Felign warrior finished off the
rest. He showed me where
to relieve myself---since the cages were not equipped with toilets,
he had designated
one corner the "toilet". Afterwards, we curled up in the far
corner of the cage to sleep. His fur was softer than Pyruvian mink,
and that, combined the warmth
he radiated and the gentle rhythm of his breathing, soon lulled me to
sleep.
I woke to the sound of gunfire and human screams. The gunfire did not
last long. The
human screams seemed to go on forever. Jimson held me close to his
chest, with his
hands over my ears, but he could not completely shut out the sounds
of my fellow
humans being slaughtered. Though I hated most of them for the way
they had treated my mother,
that did not stop me from crying for them---and for myself. What
would become of
me now?
The screams finally ended. There was silence, except for the
whistling of the wind
and the steady thudding of my heart. A new worry replaced the old
one. Had we been
forgotten? Would they leave us here to starve to death? Deprived of
food for another
four or five days, would my companion be able to resist the urge to eat me?
Jimson must have seen the fear in my eyes, because he signed
"Patience, little cub.
My friends are coming."
At that moment, the door of the aluminum shelter began to rattle. The
Felign warrior
on the other side must have had difficulty with the catch, because
in the end, he
ripped the door from its hinges, tossing the sheet of reinforced
metal aside as
easily if it was a piece of paper.
He was slightly shorter than Jimson and more lightly built. His fur
was sleek and
black. His eyes were emerald green with flecks of gold. His upper
lip had a pronounced
cleft, giving him an uncanny resemblance to a panther---at least from
the eyes down. His forehead was as broad as any human's.
After a quick glance inside, he entered the building, moving so
lightly on his padded
feet that he did not make a sound. "Jimson?" he signed. "Are you injured?"
"Only my pride." His amber eyes closed in what was, for him, a
smile. "What took
you so long, Willow?"
"We could not remember whether you said to come get you if you had
not come back within
four days or six." Willow examined the cage door. After giving it a
few experimental
shakes, he declared "The metal is too strong for me to break. How do
I get you out of there?"
"There is a key on the wall beside the door. You will have to let
the cub use it.
The lock is too complicated for Felign fingers."
Willow examined me curiously. "So you have found a pet. She is very
pretty for a monkey."
He reached through the bars to touch my cleft lip.
I swatted his hand away. "I'm not a pet!" I signed angrily. "And
I'm not a monkey,
either!"
"You talk!" The beast's eyes widened in amazement.
"Too much, sometimes," Jimson informed his friend with a grin. With
his eyes closed,
he reminded me of a contented cat. "I said four days, but I am glad
that you waited
six. If you had come earlier, I might not have met...I just
realized. I do not know
your name, cub."
I was too busy to answer him immediately. I inserted the key into
the lock and twisted
it. The cage door swung open. "My name's Seventh."
His amber eyes widened. "What an---unusual name," Jimson replied finally.
"No more odd than being named after weeds and trees," I replied tartly.
Willow's eyes met Jimson's. "I see what you mean about her talking a
lot." He seemed
amused rather than annoyed. He glanced out the door. "You should
probably carry
her," he told his friend.
"I can walk just fine," I protested. However, once we got outside
and I saw the bodies
and the snow black with blood, I understood his concern. Stifling a
sob, I turned
and buried my face in the thick, golden fur on Jimson's chest. He
gathered me in
his arms and carried me away to my new life.
I will never forget that night. Though I have lived with the Felign
for many years
and think of them as family, I am not blind to their faults. They
are capable
of great kindness--and horrific acts of violence. Given what they
have been through---cast loose on a hostile world with no one to
guide them, hunted by men who call them
chattel--I can not blame them. I just hope that I live long enough
to see peace
made between them and the humans who created them.
Bio:McCamy is a long time contributor to Aphelion as well as Assistant Short Story Editor. You can find out all about her and herwork by following the link below to her new and improved (Post) Millennium Fiction website.
E-mail:taylorjh@nationwide.net
Visit Aphelion's Lettercolumn and voice your opinion of this story.
Return to the Aphelion main page.