Planet Athion: The Complete Series by Angel Lawson
56
I’ll givethe Tradyrch one thing. They don’t skimp on technology and equipment in the birthing rings. Every surface is immaculate. The tools are beyond anything we have back home. The virtual images of the babies are sharp and in focus, features visible. This is a good thing. It gives the mother a chance to understand what her baby will look like with a father from another planet. They need to know what to expect. The scales, the horns, the tails.
The wards may be amazing, but they’re essentially a baby factory fueled by the wombs of human women and their ability to procreate. It’s slavery. No one is here by choice. I would know. I’m one too—just not for my womb (yet) but for my skills.
Someone has to help these women endure.
I have ten women on my ward, each assigned to me the moment they step into the facility. They rotate, through. Three already gave birth this week and another three replaced them. I’m caught in a quagmire of wanting to perform like I would back home, where I would get to know the women and develop a deep, intimate bond over the experience they’re about to have. But it’s not that easy here. Most women look and listen to me with vacant eyes. Listless minds. And even if that wasn’t the case, the Master is watching me. I’m afraid if I get too close to anyone in my ward, he’ll just use them to hurt me.
Like my men.
Like Kai and Alex.
“Everything looks good,” I tell the woman as I complete her checkup. Her name is Lynn and she’s twenty-three. She’d been seduced back on Earth, in Atlanta, brought here and put into service. This is her second pregnancy.
“How much longer, do you think?” she asks, tugging at her dress.
“Anytime in the next week.”
She nods, neither happy or sad. She’s adjusted to this life, and that hurts more than anything else.
The ward is different from the office on Athion, where we made efforts to make sure the women felt comfortable and in a familiar environment. Here, the women do everything in this ward—which is like a small suite with ten beds in one room, a bathroom to the side, and a small living area. Food is brought to them, as they are on a specific diet for the baby’s welfare. It’s a cell, although substantially cleaner than the one I’d occupied on the auction ship.
Make no mistake, these women are slaves, but they’re valuable. Nothing is more important to the Tradrych than these babies.
I glance around the room at the other women and say, “I’m heading out. Ring me if you need anything.” It doesn’t need to be said. I’m available twenty-four hours a day.
My life belongs to the Master.
This reality is brought home when I step outside the ward. A Trad guard waits for me, he’s in his natural form; red, scaled skin, sharp pointed teeth. If I had it my way I’d live with the women, but the Master has other plans. He’d been clear about them when we met. I’m here to serve and please him, and like all sociopaths, he’s taking his time breaking me down.
The guard and I don’t speak on the way back to my quarters, but just as we approach my quarters he says, “You’re expected at dinner.”
I swallow and say, “I know,” before shutting the door between us. Once I’m alone, I allow myself to fully exhale for the first time in hours. I glance over at the bed and see an outfit has been selected for me. Dinner, like everything else in my life, has become just another thing to dread.
* * *
When these dinnersfirst started and the clothing appeared in my room, I expected more of the slinky Tradrych clothing I’d been subjected to on the auction ship. The Earth clothing took me by surprise, but I think back to the Master’s office and quarters and realize he’s obsessed with Earth; fashion, furnishings, and everything else. The clothing is more fetishizing than anything else, tonight I’m dressed in formal wear, a royal blue, satin gown with heavy beading and sequins at the bodice that tapers down into a tight skirt. I feel like I’m going to a high school prom.
As a mermaid.
After the first night, I’m instructed to wear my hair up and my eye makeup thick. The master likes red lipstick and all of these products are left on the vanity in my room. They’re Earth products, and as I hold the lipstick poised over my mouth, my heart aches knowing the truth.
I’m not just a slave.
I’m a doll.
A replica of my sister for the man that couldn’t have her.
The Master had literally gone to the ends of the earth to bring me here, to groom me, enslave me, and ultimately hunt me down when I managed to escape. He’d fallen for my sister Juliana back home, impregnated her and when she killed herself and took her unborn alien baby with her, the Master shifted his attention to the next best thing: me. Unfortunately for all of us, I wasn’t alone. I have my Custo—guardians that not only protect me during my mission on Athion, but my lovers—dare I say, my mates. Our bond is more intense than anything I could have imagined.
Now the Master has two chained in the dungeon of this hellhole and two others are off fighting for a bigger plan. I’m not sure I’ll ever see Damon and Dimka again. If I do, it may be too late.
There’s a sharp knock at the door. I stare at myself one last time. Red hair, green eyes, pale skin. I’m too thin—my collar bones protrude—and no amount of makeup can take the dark circles of worry from under my eyes. I worry about everything; the pregnant women, the babies, myself, and most of all, my men.
I walk to the door and press the button that slides it open. I see the guard and take a deep breath, bracing myself for the night ahead.