IRIS

It takes me a moment, but then I recognize the sounds, the harsh, unpleasant-to-the-ear tones of the alien language. It's the language of the orange aliens that kidnapped me. My skin prickles and I want to turn the channel.

But I don’t.

“You know the lord is angry and wants his toys soon,” one says.

“I know. We're working on it.”

“The lord wants to know if there are any virgins,” the first one hisses. “He's still angry about the last one going missing.”

My skin prickles with awareness, my breath speeding up.

“There's a handful of them. There's bound to be one that hasn't had her cunt ripped apart by every alien dick in the sector.” A crude laugh. “Or you want me to personally check them out?”

“I don't care what you do. I'm just saying that the lord will pay double for a virgin. A docile one. He doesn't like it when they fight.”

“He's missing out, then. That's half the fun.” More crude laughter.

I feel like I'm choking. Like there's not enough air in the ship. Heck, in the entire universe. They haven't said a name. I need to hear a name before I completely freak out. I don't remember the lord's name exactly, but I'd know it if I heard it. Besides, how many lords are there out in the universe looking to buy virgins?

But maybe I'm wrong. Maybe I'm hearing things that aren't necessarily true, that it's all in my head and I'm just piecing things together from my past experience. They might not even be talking about humans.

“Does he have a preference?”

“A preference for what?”

“They come in different colors. Brown, pale pink, or that ugly pasty shade that looks like they lived in a cave all their lives. And the hair—yellow hair? Orange hair? Black hair? No hair?”

“Mmm, what do you got?”

A laugh barks through the line, and I jump in my seat at how loud and rough it is. “Friend, I can make whatever he wants happen. If he likes them with yellow hair, they'll have yellow hair.”

The other laughs. “Just as long as they're docile.”

“Oh, they'll be docile by the time they get to him, never fear.”

Goosebumps prickle up and down my arms. I feel sick. They still haven't mentioned a name and I'm growing more anxious by the moment, because I need to hear it. I don't know what I'll do if I confirm it, but I have to find out the answer for my own peace of mind.

The first one grunts. “Give me a few days to arrange things. You'll be in Sector 7 at the arranged meeting place?”

“Of course. Bring your cargo and I'll bring your pay.”

“Will do. Give Lord Unto'Abarri'Nil Vohs Bekhinto, Lord of Nine Sunrises and Ruler of the Thirteenth Moon my regards.”

“Learned all his names, eh?”

“Naturally.”

“Ass licker,” the other says with amusement. “I'll tell him you're bringing his toys.” He terminates the comm.

I hit the button on the panel that'll notate the time and frequency of the comm and then rip my earpiece out. I'm panting as if I ran a mile, and there's a cold sweat on my body.

“Everything all right?” Sentorr asks in that distracted voice of his. Probably isn't even looking up from his panel.

“Just…a headache. Think I'll skip listening for now.” I just need to get away from this. From the thought of Lord Unto-whatever buying more virgins. More docile girls that he can use and abuse. More girls that might have their eyes gouged out because they're bad at obeying like I was.

I don't know what to do with this information. I think about passing it along to Alvos and the others, but the thought terrifies me. What if they go after him and something bad happens? What if Lord Unto-blahblah kills them? Imprisons them? Catches them and finds me?

I retreat off the bridge, stumbling down the hall toward the chamber I share with Alvos. I run into a wall and smack my shoulder hard, but I don't care. I just need to get away. For once, the quiet of my chamber will feel good. It'll be a place I can hide away from things instead of a place that traps me. I slap my hand against the panel several times, my entire body shaking with terror and anxiety. I think of the aliens that held me down, that brought their knives toward my eyes and laughed when I screamed. “This wasn't our idea,” one told me in a mocking, cold voice. “Lord's orders.”

Lord Unto doesn't think of humans as people. We're just things to be bought and broken in, like horses. He wants a bunch of docile animals for his stable. I loathe the idea. I should tell the others what's happening, let them swoop in and teach Lord Unto a lesson. Steal the other girls away from him.

But…what if something goes wrong and I end up back in his hands? I push through the door of Alvos's room as it opens and move toward the bed, nearly falling over it in my haste. I crawl under the covers and pull them over my head, but that doesn't stop my shaking. I still don't feel safe. I rub the end of my cut-off pinky and touch the scars under my ribbon. Is he doing this to someone else? Hurting them like how they hurt me because I didn't matter? Because I wasn't a person in their eyes?

How do I let this continue?

But…everything's going so well here. I feel safe for the first time in ages. Even if I'm still learning how to be useful, the others are kind and friendly. I like Fran and Cat. I could be happy here.

I could be happy with Alvos. I could love him. He sees the broken parts of me and doesn't care.

Now that I've heard that comm, though, I'm going to worry about who else is trapped with him…and if I can be brave enough to ask the others to rescue them. Or if I'm going to be selfish and say nothing at all.

I don't know what to do.