Alien Skin Market by Lizzy Bequin

CHAPTER 12: TRISTN

“Yes, Raksha. I have seen the forbidden species…”

Tristn was standing in the middle of the exotic alien meat market, interrogating a short, bulbous-headed M’nulox auctioneer while others of his species were bustling about, cleaning up the detritus left behind after the day’s meat auction.

Just an hour before, the auction hall had been dark, the only source of illumination coming from the powerful spotlight that shone on whatever livestock species happened to be on stage while a roaring crowd of carnivorous aliens called out their bids.

Now, however, the auction hall was empty, save for the M’nulox workers, and the overhead lighting was turned all the way up, bathing the vast room in a glaring brightness that revealed a floor littered with trash and bloody bones left behind by customers who had devoured their winnings right here in the theater. The cloying stench of gore still hung heavy in the air.

Tristn wrinkled his nose in disgust.

The barbarism of this place appalled him, but it was not the first such meat market he had visited of late. And unfortunately, it would likely not be the last.

Tristn was dressed in the traditional garb of his species, naked to the waist, his muscular purple torso proudly on display. His lower body was clad in a pair of midnight blue silken breeches tucked into a pair of knee-high black boots. A few tasteful rings adorned his long, pointed ears, indicating his home clan and his status as a doctor within the Royal Rakese Navy. In his hand was a small holocube which projected a rotating three-dimensional representation of a human being. It was a species he had never actually seen in person. But apparently this little M’nulox auctioneer had seen one. Tristn switched off the image and pocketed the holocube in his breeches.

“And when did you see the human?” Tristn asked. “The forbidden species, I mean.”

“Only two or three spans hence, Raksha.”

“Today?” Tristn gasped.

The M’nulox simply nodded its bulb-shaped head.

Tristn’s two hearts jolted, and his blood sped in his veins. For nearly an entire standard galactic cycle, he had been scouring every corner of Covenant Space in search of a human female. So far, he had found nothing. Tristn had all but given up hope on his mission. Yet now this meat auctioneer was telling him he had not only seen a human—seen her with his own two oversized M’nulox eyes—but she had passed through his auction house this very same day!

It was too good to be true.

Tristn took a step forward, towering over the little auctioneer. The Raksha growled, but the little M’nulox remained annoyingly undaunted.

“For your sake,” Tristn said. “I pray you did not sell the human to a hungry bidder.”

“Of course not, Raksha. Of course not. Human is forbidden species. I know this. All M’nulox know this. And all M’nulox abide by Covenant Law.

Tristn nodded. As much as he despised the live meat markets which the M’nulox operated throughout the galaxy, he knew from experience they were a law abiding species. But M’nulox lawfulness had little to do with morality. Their species simply had a nearly pathological obsession with following rule systems. As a result, they tended to follow the letter of the law more so than the spirit. And as Tristn had learned, interrogating them was like pulling teeth.

“Very well,” Tristn growled. “If you did not trade the human in your market, how did you see it?”

“Penumbrians bring.”

“Shadowmen,” Tristn flicked his ears thoughtfully. That detail checked out with his own information. The one previous known case of human abduction involved the Penumbrians as well.

“Yes, yes. Penumbrian’s bring,” the M’nulox went on. “Naturally we reject offer. Human is forbidden species. Un-legal. We only sell non-sentient in live meat market. We remain always within the boundaries of the law.”

“And yet you didn’t bother to alert the authorities that the Penumbrians were peddling a forbidden species here?”

The M’nulox spread his hands in an expansive gesture.

“What authorities, Raksha?”

“Fair enough.”

The M’nulox had a point. Gilaamar Secundus was a crude and dangerous frontier world, and Gilaa City Spaceport was like a festering blister on the planet’s ugly rump. The M’nulox meat-traders might adhere to Covenant Law, but that was not to be expected of the other denizens of this vile place.

Tristn’s hearts began to sink. He had come so close to fulfilling his mission of finding a live human, only to fail miserably yet again.

But he wouldn’t give up just yet.

“Very well,” Tristn said. “Do you have any idea where these Penumbrians might have taken the human after you rejected their offer?”

The M’nulox shrugged. “Penumbrians are inscrutable as the void, Raksha. One can only venture guesses as to their doings.”

“Venture.”

The M’nulox thought for a moment, stroking its bulbous head with its thin silvery fingers.

“Skin market seems most likely, Raksha. Human epidermis is tender and smooth. Highly sensitive too. And their cranial manes are lustrous and long. Human pelt could fetch handsome sum at auction.”

Goddess.

That thought chilled Tristn’s entrails.

He asked for directions to the nearest skin market, thanked the M’nulox for his help, and hurriedly departed.

He had little hope of finding anything good.

Tristn had come to the Gilaa Spaceport as part of a special mission assigned to him by the planetary government of Rak. Just over two galactic cycles earlier, another human female had been found in the exotic live meat market by a crew of a Raksha merchant ship. Her name was Beh’thani, and her discovery had been purely by chance. It had led to a great deal of hardship for the crew involved, but it had ended well.

Tristn knew the story well. He had studied the official reports of course, but he preferred the informal account which had been written by the human herself, and in the Raksha language no less. Practically everyone on his planet had read the book. Beh’thani was quite a celebrity among his people.

After all, she had pretty much single-handedly saved his entire species.

Many cycles earlier, a plague had befallen the planet of Rak. A biological weapon inflicted by their enemies, the Jrukharri. The plague had no effect on the males of the species, but it decimated the females. Over ninety-nine percent of the Raksha females died from the disease, and the remainder had to be placed into cryogenic stasis until such time as a cure could be concocted. For a very long time it seemed there would never be a cure, and the entire species collectively started to lose hope. The males tried their best to carry on, but with no females and therefore no ability to produce offspring, it seemed the entire species was doomed to eventual extinction. With every passing cycle, the hopes of the Raksha dwindled.

Then the human Beh’thani had changed everything. She had been instrumental in the creation of a cure. She and the child her Raksha mates had begotten.

Even now, the surviving females were being brought out of stasis. Rak still had a long road to recovery, but the Raksha species had a future once again.

There were still some loose ends to tie up, however, and that was where Tristn came in.

The Parliament of Rak was curious about the human species and their origins. Obviously the Penumbrian shadowmen knew the location of the human homeworld, but getting information from the Penumbrians was futile.

Furthermore, considering the princely sum Beh’thani had fetched at the meat market where her mates had found her, it was reasonable to assume the shadowmen might try to sell even more humans to the meat markets. The M’nulox were now aware that humans were an intelligent species, and therefore forbidden for sale. But there were still concerns occasional humans occasionally being traded in the outer rim territories. Tristn had been sent to investigate these rumors.

And now, after nearly a full galactic cycle of searching, he had his first real lead.

Tristn came to a stop in the middle of a crowded intersection and stared around at the hazy, smog-filled spaceport bustling with alien spacers wearing dirty clothes and dangerous expressions.

Damn. Which way was he supposed to go again?

The M’nulox meat trader had given him directions to the skin market, but the spaceport was a veritable labyrinth of saloons, whorehouses, and various other dens if iniquity that rankled Tristn’s traditional sensibilities. And now he had lost his sense of direction.

If only Jrayk were with him.

Jrayk would know which way to go. But the undisciplined bastard had abandoned him not half a span after landing in the spaceport.

For the four-thousandth time on this long trip, Tristn cursed his rotten luck for being stuck with a horrible guide like Captain Jrayk.

The government of Rak had specifically selected Tristn for this mission because of his intelligence, resourcefulness, and loyalty. However, as a naval doctor and highborn member of Clan Karnova, he had no practical knowledge of the seedy planets and space stations of the outer rim.

For this reason, the government had assigned him a pair of guides—a rogue trader name Captain Jrayk and his first mate Vaul. As smugglers, they were well versed in the less reputable sectors of the galaxy, and their small ship The Longshot would attract far less attention than a Rakese Naval vessel.

On paper, this arrangement made sense.

In reality, it was a disaster.

Tristn’s two “guides” had turned out to be a pair of degenerates of the lowest order. Okay, perhaps Vaul wasn’t all that bad. The big brute had barely uttered two words the whole trip. But Captain Jrayk, on the other hand. Goddess, that fool spoke enough for two Raksha combined. He was an insufferable braggart, and when he was in his cups, as he typically was, this condition only worsened.

Tristn and Jrayk were constantly at each other’s throats.

And to make matters worse, Jrayk all but refused to help guide Tristn through the various spaceports they stopped in. Every time, as soon as they landed, Jrayk and Vaul would head into the nearest saloon or gambling house for a round of debauchery paid for at the government’s expense.

Tristn would be sure to make a note of this in his official report to the Parliament of Rak.

Still, he could use Jrayk’s help right now.

Briefly he considered calling him via his wrist-comm. But there was no time. If what the M’nulox meat-trader said was true, then Tristn needed to find the skin market immediately and pray the human had not already been sold and skinned alive.

Another shudder of repulsion ran Tristn’s spine.

He was pretty sure the M’nulox had said to go left at this intersection, so that’s what he did.

It turned out to be the right decision. After a few more minutes of weaving through the crowded, smoky streets, Tristn arrived at his destination. It was not much to look at from the outside—a ramshackle building stained black from pollution. But the glowing holographic sign over the entrance clearly stated the establishment’s purpose.

EXOTIC LIVE SKIN MARKET

A spindle-legged Arranian auctioneer stood by the doorway, beckoning.

“Come, Rak’ssssha. Enter. Many beautiful sssskins to be had…”

Tristn stepped forward, drew the holocube from his pocket, and ignited it, displaying the three-dimensional image of a human again.

“Have you seen this species today?”

The Arranian’s multiple eyes flickered and blinked as it studied the image.

“Perhaps…perhapssss.”

Tristn straightened his back and flattened his ears in a gesture of intimidation.

“This is a human. An intelligent species. Forbidden for sale in any kind of market according to Galactic Covenant law.”

The Arranian clucked and rubbed its forelimbs greedily.

“Lawssss? Thiss iss not Rak, friend. Thiss is not a core world. Lawsss are bendable here on the galactic fringesss.

Heat surged behind Tristn’s eyes, and his lips peeled back in a snarl. But the Arranian was right. Tristn’s status as a Rakese medical officer held no weight in this place. It was not as if he could threaten to arrest this alien and have his auction house raided. Maybe if Jrayk and Vaul were here to back him up, but certainly not on his own.

“If you are conssserned for the creature's sssafety, you may come inssside and bid upon it, Raksha. The auction is about to sstart.”

“So you admit to having this creature in your possession.”

“Enter and ssssee…”

Idiot.

With a disgruntled snarl, Tristn pushed his way into the hot, crowded auction hall. There was a wide, curtained stage at the front of the room, and several rows of seats. But all the seats were already filled, leaving only standing room around the back and sides of the theater. Tristn shouldered his way through the crush of alien bodies, doing his best not to breathe in too much of the noxious air. Half the customers were smoking narco sticks, and a wispy cloud of bluish smoke hung over the audience like a vaporous canopy.

Tristn found a spot near the back corner and posted up. He just hoped he wasn’t wasting his time in this place.

Just for the hell of it, he produced the holocube from his pocket again and held it out to a group of aliens talking nearby.

“Pardon me. Have you spacers seen any animals like this one today?”

The aliens just gave Tristn a dirty look before turning their backs on him and continuing their conversation.

“Thanks,” Tristn grumbled sarcastically.

“You know,” a cold voice said from behind. “If you want people to talk, you should try not acting like a cop.”

Tristn rumbled in annoyance. “I’m not a cop…”

He started to turn to face the person who had spoken to him, but before he got all the way around, a sudden realization made his hearts jump. The voice had not spoken to him in Lingua Galactica, the common language used throughout Covenant Space.

No, that voice had addressed him in his own native tongue. In Rakese.

When Tristn completed his turn and saw the source of that voice, his ears flattened in surprise.

Before him stood a Raksha warrior like himself. He was a few tvkts taller than Tristn, and broader of shoulder. In traditional Raksha fashion, he was shirtless, but instead of silk breeches, his lower body was clad in the scored leather trousers of a common mercenary and boots that hadn’t seen polish in many cycles. Tristn hardly noticed these details, however. His attention was locked on the Raksha’s face.

He had never met this Raksha before, but he knew him.

Daggoth.

“I didn’t say you were a cop,” Daggoth answered. “Only that you are acting like one.”

Tristn struggled not to shiver or look away as Daggoth’s eyes studied his features and the rings adorning his ears.

“Curious,” Daggoth said quietly. His voice did not require volume to sound menacing. “This is not a setting in which I would expect to encounter a Rakese medical officer.” He sneered contemptuously. “Much less a highborn son of the house of Karnova.”

Tristn stood his ground.

“And it’s not the kind of setting where I would expect to encounter a war hero,” Tristn countered.

Daggoth’s expression remained unchanged, but his eyes clouded with barely restrained rage. Those eyes held Tristn’s a moment longer, then dropped to the flickering holo-image of the human.

“I hope you find what you are looking for, Raksha. But do you have enough money to win her?”

Now what in the Goddess’s name did he mean by that? Had Daggoth also seen the human female who was supposed to be here? It seemed that way, but before Tristn had a chance to question him further, Daggoth turned and melted into the crowd. A minute later, the Raksha reappeared near the very front of the auction house and took a seat. A comm-orb hovered near Daggoth’s shoulder. A means of communicating with an employer, perhaps? And if so, who?

Tristn felt a chill between his shoulder blades.

Daggoth was infamous among the Raksha. After his self-imposed exile from his homeworld, he had disappeared into the criminal underworld of the galaxy. From time to time, reports of his dealings cropped up, but it was difficult to separate fact from fiction.

What, Tristn wondered, was Daggoth doing here in this skin market today?

Whom was he working for?

As for his remark about having enough money, Tristn was not concerned. For the purposes of his mission, he had a direct line of credit from the Rakese Treasury. He could outspend anyone in this auction house ten times over.

He deactivated the holocube and replaced it into his pocket.

The lights in the already dim theater dimmed further.

The auction was beginning.

The first creature brought onto the stage was a blue-scaled xektul. The hall erupted into chaos as the greedy aliens called out their bids. The noise was enough to give Tristn a headache. He looked on with contempt at the proceedings.

This spectacle was a far cry from the order and organization of his homeworld of Rak. Goddess, he couldn’t wait to return.

But he didn’t wish to return empty-handed.

The xektul was quickly sold to a fat Leerik merchant, but the raucous crowd only cheered louder, demanding the next animal be brought on stage. There seemed to be some delay, and soon the crowd threatened to break into a riot.

Finally, one of the auctioneers returned to the stage.

The multi-legged auctioneer was pulling a lightrope behind him, and on the other end he was dragging a flailing, soft-skinned creature with a long mane of dark hair. As the spotlight targeted this poor creature, the audience fell silent.

It wasn’t until the creature struggled to its feet that Tristn realized what he was looking at.

It was a human.

A female human.

The artistic depiction contained in his holocube had not done the species justice. Yes, all the basic anatomy and proportions were correct, but it did not prepare Tristn for the overwhelming beauty he now witnessed.

His eyes traced the curving lines of her little body. She was small compared to a Raksha female. Small and soft. There was not a hard angle anywhere on her anatomy. From her long tresses of dark hair to her trembling knees, every bit of her was composed of smooth, flowing curves. The swell of her pink-tipped chest mounds made Tristn’s mouth water, and the sumptuous flare of her wide hips made his cock instantly extrude from its sheath and stand at full attention, tenting the front of his breeches.

Every molecule of his being was screaming out with the urge to obtain this creature. Mission be damned, he needed to claim her for himself. He needed to make her safe, to protect her, to make her his own.

Across the dark expanse of the auction hall, Tristn’s eyes locked with those of the nameless human female. Her eyes caught the light like amber jewels.

For a hanging moment, time slowed to a halt.

Then someone near the front shouted a number, and the bidding for the female’s skin began. Tristn’s heart burned with jealousy when he realized who had called out the first bid.

It had been Daggoth.