Wishing Stars Ch. 04

4.

Thalia woke to the unusual sensation of someone stroking her hair. Groaning, she tried to bat the offending hand away, only to find her arm restrained. She tried the other, and it too refused to budge. When her legs wouldn't move either, panic roused her fully. Her eyes flew open and swept the room in confusion. Her chapped lips parted to scream—

The hand that had previously been petting her hair clapped down over her mouth.

"Easy," A familiar voice said, "You're going to be okay, Thalia. Just stay calm and they will let you stay conscious. I need to talk to you."

That voice was so familiar, but Thalia didn't dare allow herself to recognize it. Her head was restrained in some way, and she couldn't turn to look at the speaker.

When Abigail's warm green eyes appeared above her, Thalia felt tears leak from the corner of her eyes and run into the hair at her temples.

"Shssh," Abigail cooed, and she returned to stroking Thalia's hair. "Everything is going to be fine."

"You were gone," Thalia choked, "They took you away."

"I know, sweetheart," The older girl soothed. "But they let me come talk to you. I told them we were friends, and you would listen to me. Will you?"

"Yes," Thalia responded, and took a deep breath to stop her crying. She tensed each part of her body in turn, pulling hard against each restraint. None of them so much as budged. "What choice do I have, anyway?"

Abigail sighed. "You don't even remember, do you?"

"Remember what?" Thalia snapped, suddenly tired with how calm Abigail seemed. Hadn't they both just been snatched away from the only life they knew? And now they were somewhere, God knew where, with a strange creature that could want nothing pleasant from them! Not to mention being tied to a bed—

"Wait," Her eyes flicked around, seeking out her friend's, "Why aren't you tied down too?"

"I was, for a while," Abigail's voice was further away now. Thalia heard the sound of a door being opened, and her friend whispered something unintelligible to someone Thalia could not see.

Before Thalia could panic that she was being left alone, her friend's face returned above her. The whirring of gearmen was the only warning Thalia had before her restraints suddenly retracted into the bed, freeing her.

"Easy," Abigail pressed a hand onto each of Thalia's shoulders when she would have risen. "You've been lying down for a long time. Take it slow."

With Abigail's help, Thalia slowly rose to a sitting position on the bed. Blood pounded in her head and her eyes went dark for a moment. Then, slowly, the room seemed to stabilize before her.

It was a small, sterile looking room. There were windows set into each of the walls, through which Thalia could see gearmen milling about in a larger room. The bed was more of a medical gurney than an actual bed, now that she could look down at it. Everything was white, of course.

"How long was I out?" Thalia asked, and her eyes fell on a small white table nearby. Tubes of various sizes were laid out neatly. She swallowed and felt the tell-tale scrape in her throat. "They fed me?"

"They had to," Abigail returned, looking almost ashamed. "You collapsed when they brought you on board. Each time you woke, you would thrash and scream. It was terrible. They were afraid you were going to hurt yourself. Sedating you was the best option. I had no idea they were going to put you under for a month—"

"A month!" Thalia screamed. Beeps began to sound from all corners of the room, and a gearman appeared in the doorway.

"Do you require assistance, Lady Abigail?" He asked, and glanced at a monitor set in the wall. The beeping stopped when he pressed a button nearby. "It is important her heartrate does not increase further."

"For my health, of course." Thalia mocked, and laid back down on the bed. "Go away!" She threw the words at the gearman, "I'll be calmer without the sound of you whirring around!"

"Yes, Princess," The gearman responded, and promptly left.

Total silence filled the room for a split second, and then it shattered.

"What?!" Thalia yelled. She bounded to her feet before Abigail could catch her. She stumbled forward, trying to remain upright, and grabbed onto the white table near the bed for support. Her legs felt so weak. "Princess?"

The word was almost drowned out by the beeping coming from that damn panel. The one monitoring her heart. She whirled to face Abigail again, and shouted over the sound of the alarms of various pieces of medical equipment.

"Princess?" She yelled at her friend, "Lady?"

Gearmen appeared in the doorway, but she screamed at them to leave. To her surprise, they did. The last one to exit flipped a small switch near the door, and all of the medical equipment went silent again.

Abigail was looking at her with wide eyes.

"I was trying to explain." Her friend said, and she looked like she might cry.

"Then explain!" Thalia demanded.

"It's so much to tell!" Abigail returned, "Please, I'm still trying to get used to it myself. Please, Thalia, just give me a second to think!"

"Fine, think," Thalia responded, her voice bitter. Her legs were shaking, but she did not want to return to the bed they had strapped her to. Instead, she ran her arm across the table top, taking pleasure as all the sterile tubes crashed against the floor. With some effort, she hoisted herself atop the table in a sitting position and leaned her back against the wall. Once settled, she looked to Abigail expectantly.

"When they took me," Abigail started slowly, "There was no one to explain this all to me. I had to figure it out as I went. It took a couple days before I worked up the nerve to ask General Thruk anything. He can be so terrifying." She swallowed deeply.

"But when I finally did, he told me that they had taken me from the ship because they had found a mate for me—a husband I was compatible with. I was given to Thruk by the Arktzirax government, as a reward for his years of dedicated service. It is the highest honor the Arktzirax can bestow, although there is still no guarantee that General Thruk and I will be able to have children—"

"Children? With the--" Thalia interrupted, dumbfounded. "Arka-thoraxis? What are you talking about? You're married? To the General?"

"Yes," Abigail lowered her eyes, and responded in a monotone voice, "It is a great honor to be chosen for him. I am very grateful. Thruk has made sure I am aware of how lucky I am."

"You sound like a gearman," Thalia returned, alarmed. Her friend had obviously been through a lot. She suddenly felt guilty for being so angry with her earlier. "What did they do to you?"

"They," Her friend began, then took a deep breath and started over. This time she sounded more like her old self. "They are called the Arktzirax. They are our sovereign rulers. Our planet was conquered by them many generations ago. We have been kept isolated for our own good, to keep our species alive."

"Why?" Thalia asked cautiously, afraid of the answer.

"Because they need compatible species," Abigail answered, looking down at the fabric of her dress and pulling at a stray string. Anything to avoid Thalia's eyes. "The female Arktzirax went extinct a long time ago. To survive, they have conquered most of this galaxy, searching for mates to bare their offspring. They call us vessels."

"And the races that aren't compatible?" Thalia asked quietly, she clenched her hands into a fist in her lap to keep them from shaking, "And the men? What do they do with them?"

"Eliminated," Abigail returned sadly, "Save a few taken for slave labor, and for breeding purposes."

"Breeding?" Thalia asked, confused, "But you said if they weren't compatible—"

"Not every member of a compatible species is capable of bearing offspring with an Arktzirax." Her friend interrupted. "They have developed testing that allows them to determine which females are the most compatible, but they have not been able to isolate a particular gene that explains why one would be a successful vessel and another would not. Compatibility is more of a spectrum than a simple yes or no. To keep a supply of potential vessels on hand, they must constantly have access to new humans to test."

"So they keep humans locked away somewhere? Force them to breed?" Thalia was surprised by the calm in her body. It seemed that she could only be so frightened before the fear turned to numbness, "Why not just make their own children breed? If they made enough using...vessels... they could restart their species and let us go!"

"Yes," Abigail nodded, "Thruk said that was originally the plan. However, there has never been a female child born to an Arktzirax and a vessel. Their species is still completely male. Without the vessels, they would go extinct. So they search the galaxies and enslave other races, until they achieve the ultimate goal: a female Arktzirax child."

"That's terrible." Thalia responded, after a moment. The entire idea was so revolting, she could hardly fathom it. "So the blood testing—"

"Tests the compatibility and sexual maturity of a vessel." Abigail's voice was monotone once again, she was retreating deep within herself, "When they are deemed to be at their peak of fertility, they are taken and assigned a mate. Either as a gift of the government, or sold to the highest bidder. Those that never reach this point and remain below fifty-percent compatibility, are returned to the breeding program in hopes that the next generation will be more compatible."

"And when they took my blood..." Thalia began, but couldn't bring herself to finish. She remembered the looks of almost-surprise on the gearmen's faces, the beeping of the pen. The General's voice rang in her ears, calling her princess.

"From what they can tell," Abigail said slowly, watching Thalia's face intently for any signs of renewed panic, "You are as close to a complete match as they have ever seen. The King has designated you as a—a gift—for the Crown Prince."

"The..." Thalia started, but her voice failed her. She attempted to clear it, but was unable to get the rising terror from building a solid lump in her throat.

"Well said," The General's voice came from the doorway, and Abigail jumped to her feet in surprise. Her friend didn't even look up at her husband. Instead Abigail stood still as a statue, her hands clasped before her. Her head was lowered so that her eyes could study the ground intently.

"You have learned much here," The General continued, although he did not sound completely happy about it. Swirls of grey began to appear on his chest. "Although, I do not remember giving you permission to divulge this information to the Princess."

Thalia murmured something, and his large head snapped toward her.

"Well," He prompted, his dark eyes boring into her, "What have you to say?"

"I...I asked her," Thalia forced out. She tried to meet his gaze, but lost her nerve and returned it to the floor. "And," She continued, voice shaking only slightly, "If I'm going to be a Princess, isn't she supposed to do what I say?"

"No." He responded, and crossed his thick white arms across his chest, "My mate answers only to me. She only stands there breathing because I allow it. I have the right to tell her to stop even that and, under the law, she would obey. Shall we try it?"

Abigail's face had gone as white as her husbands, but she made no sound. Her eyes never left the floor.

"That's ridiculous!" Thalia exclaimed, rising to her feet. Her fury seemed to drown out some of the fear the General inspired. "She is a person, not a puppet that you can tell what to do and say!"

"Is that so?" He asked.

In her anger, Thalia had taken a few steps towards the General. She only realized her error when he reached out and trailed the tip of his finger along her cheek bone. Afraid that he would cut her again, Thalia stumbled backward violently and went tumbling to the floor.

The General let out a deep laugh, and pink rose on his chest, chasing away the grey. Specks of green appeared again as he let his black eyes trail over her. His eyes paused for a moment on her breasts, which were heaving beneath her nightgown with her panic. One corner of his mouth pulled up in a smile, and his teeth flashed a severe white against the black skin of his lips.

"Your words say one thing, Princess," He murmured, still smiling, "Yet, your body already appears to be learning. Human fear is such a handy thing. You should listen to it, instead of trying to defeat it. Like pain, it is your body's way of telling you what is and what is not safe."

He returned his gaze to Thalia's face, and she forced herself to meet his eyes. The fear he inspired was so intense, her mind went completely blank. She had no doubt that this creature could end her. He could crush her beneath his fist and she would be nothing but a streak on the perfectly white floor.

And he would enjoy it.

"I advise you learn to keep that mouth of yours shut, Princess," The General continued, still smiling, "It is the wish of everyone here that you remain as safe as possible until you can be delivered into the arms of His Highness. After that, only he will have to spare a thought in regards to your safety."

He flicked his hand and Abigail came to his side, her head still bowed low. Her entire body visibly shook when he wrapped one thick arm around her.

"Make no mistake, Princess," He addressed Thalia as he ran a hand through Abigail's blonde hair. "You are the slave of a very powerful man. That does not make you powerful."

With that, he balled his hand into a fist, causing Abigail to yelp. He kept his fist entangled in her hair as he strood from the room. Abigail had to walk quickly to keep up with his long strides, her head wrenched to the side awkwardly. The door banged shut behind them.

The sound of the door slamming broke the spell. Thalia lunged to her feet and threw herself against the door, yanking at the handle. Despite her efforts, it would not budge. The terror and anger inside of her broke free, and she screamed as she banged her fists against the door.

"Stand back, please." A pleasant voice came from the other side of the door, and Thalia stumbled back a few paces so that the door could be opened. Instead of releasing her, however, two gearmen stepped into the room and closed the door behind them.

"Let me go," She pleaded, although she knew they would not.

"You are hysterical," One gearman said, followed quickly by the other's stating that her breathing was too rapid.

"My heart's beating too fast." She returned, her tone threatened violence, "My breathing is too rapid. I'm panicking, you idiots! I'm scared! I'm not a damned robot!"

"You are human," One gearman stated simply. "Your heart speeds with fear. Your lungs move too rapidly to let you attain adequate oxygen."

"You will lose consciousness soon." The other agreed. "Would you like assistance?"

"I don't want to pass out," She panted, and wrapped her arms tightly around her torso, struggling for breath.

One gearman stepped forward and held his hand out toward her face. She instinctively flinched. Instead of producing a needle, the end of his finger flipped open. The golden tube that made up the bone of his finger extended and, with an audible hiss, began to produce a mist.

"Inhale, please, Princess," He instructed in his cheery voice.

Although doubting their motives, Thalia had few options. Spots were already forming in her vision. Her legs were becoming heavy beneath her. She leaned forward and inhaled the mist.

Instantly her vision cleared. The tightness in her chest relaxed, and she took a deep breath as her thoughts began to fall back into order. She blinked a few times and looked back at the gearman. He had stepped back to stand beside his colleague.

"Thank you," She said, and her voice was clear. "I didn't know you could do that."

"You are welcome, Princess," The gearman responded politely, "We can assist in many ways, but it is in our programming to ask first."

Thalia thought of all the times the gearmen had offered her assistance. She had always assumed they were offering something forceful and unpleasant. She wondered now how many unnecessary hardships she had suffered, always refusing them.

"If I asked you to stop calling me Princess, would you?" She asked.

"No," The gearman responded. "It is your proper title."

"But I'm not married yet." She said, and was suddenly baffled that her nerves stayed quiet within her. Married, she was going to be married. To an alien. Now, of all times, was the time to panic. Whatever it was the gearman had given her, it definitely had worked.

"His Majesty has ordained that you will mate with His Highness, the Mighty Prince Xieol," It was the other gearman's turn to speak, "As the King has ordained it, it will come to be. You are our Princess."

"We must go now, Princess." They said in unison. Without another word, they turned and headed toward the door.

Thalia stood by the bed, confused at their sudden departure. For once conversing with the gearmen had almost been pleasant. Although her nerves had been steadied, she was still uneasy to be left alone. A part of her was relieved when they opened the door and stood back, waiting for her to exit.

"Oh," Thalia said, "You meant, me too?"

They confirmed this in cheery unison, "Yes, Princess".

When she approached the door, one gearman took his place in front of her and bid her follow. As she stepped through the doorway after him, the other gearman took up a place at her back. Although they were each a few paces apart, Thalia felt slightly uncomfortable with the arrangement. It was crowded, and she wanted to look around.

"We must stay together, and move swiftly, Princess," The gearman behind her said. "For your safety, of course."

"Of course," She mimicked dryly. This, at least, was not completely new. The gearmen back on the Quarantine Ship had always carried on about her health in the same manner. It was oddly comforting.

They marched her quickly through what she came to understand was the medical deck of the ship. She didn't see much aside from the typical white walls and gearmen milling about. As they passed down a white-walled corridor, a thought occurred to her.

"That crea—man," She caught herself just in time, not wanting to insult him in front of what could only be his robotic minions, "He wouldn't hurt Abigail for something I did, would he?"

"No," A Gearman responded, although she wasn't sure which one it had been. She supposed it didn't really matter.

"General Thruk is one of very few to be assigned a mate," The gearman continued. "If she died, he would not be given another. We prize our vessels above all else, Princess."

"But would he hurt her?" Thalia pressed.

"I do not know, Princess." The gearman responded. "Each man treats his mate differently. Humans are very easily harmed by the Arktzirax, even unintentionally."

While this was intended to comfort her, it didn't. Thruk could do whatever he wanted to Abigail, as long as he didn't kill her, and no one would stop him. Thalia felt the first true pang of anxiety since she had breathed in the relaxing mist.

After that, they walked in silence.

They turned a corner and walked into what appeared to be a dead end. Before Thalia could question them, the gearmen walked forward and rapped lightly on the wall at the end of the hallway. Rustling could be heard, before a hidden door snapped open and a woman appeared.

"Welcome!" A portly woman appeared in the doorway, her arms flung dramatically to the side. "I must say it is such an honor, an unbelievable honor, truly, to meet you, Princess!"

Thalia stood where she was, very much taken aback by the woman.

She was human, as far as Thalia could see. Her skin was the pure white of a life spent indoors, but not opaque the way the Arktzirax's had been. Her eyes were a milky grey, set under thick brows. As the woman spun and flounced, unable to contain her joy, Thalia noticed the sagging skin of her underarms bouncing along with the rest of her.