A Yautja's Handmaid

Ch. 3

Dogs and Wolves

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The entire transportation part was a blur. From what I could remember, I couldn't remember a single thing.

A beaming light, sedation, something along those lines sounds about right.

The damn Agent Clark was assigned to the group of women that would be placed with the more, as she said, 'higher ranking yautja.' Those who had lived a good chunk of their lives endlessly hunting, gathering trophies to showcase their success. Those who were more familiar with humans, their inside and outside appearance.

The big, murderous, badass kahunas.

To them, allowing the older yautja to have the first wave of human women was a no brainier. After all, they were the worthiest. Cunning. Fearsome. Dangerous.

To hell with it all.

Funny enough, all of them lived near one another within each clan. A privilege the lower ranked yautjas didn't have. They were known to live most of their younger days aboard ships, ready for any chance to hunt and prove themselves.

The homes of the higher ups were huge. Filled with skulls that gave the pale stone walls life. Skulls and spines of animals one would only imagine in a Sci-Fi movie. Damn dinosaurs. Besides that, there were only stones, stairs, windows, and doors.

It had been 2 days since I arrived and in these 2 days I hadn't seen the aliens who claimed me. For 2 goddamn days I stayed put on the bottom level of the three story castle of a home. Didn't move a single inch. The only thing that would pass the time was a stare off with the empty eye sockets of the skulled beasts.

Maybe it was a blessing. Some fucking blessing.

No hunger came over me, only thirst which Clark made a routine to visit me during the morning to give me as much as I needed. An unhealthy cattle breeder was as good as a dead one.

The fuckers were bad hosts.

"They will be arriving this evening." Clark spoke in the doorway.

Clark was right on time for my daily water and whatever dried up food that was able to travel through space. It all came in some silver packaging that was originally made for astronauts. Who knew it would only take 30 years for us to go from landing on the moon to us being forced across the galaxy by aliens.

What a time to be alive.

Not one of us had grown accustomed to their exotic food. Nor, the goddam heat. Their planet came with two red suns beaming down, one on each side. Twice the size of the one back home.

As was drilled in our heads, the planet is composed of two climates, tropical and or bone dry. You were either were struck in the Sahara dessert or the fucking Amazon.

For me and the rest of the women with me, we got stuck with the Sahara side. Luckily, the material of the houses allowed for limited sun exposure but there was no such thing as AC. The reptilian humanoid yautjas loved the heat.

"Ah, and here I thought I should start heading home." The sarcasm made the corner of my lip curve into a grin.

Clark on the other hand, the sarcasm left her bitter. With each passing day, the stick up her ass grew longer. Her ass kissing tendencies back in Chicago were vanishing and her true self was peeking through. Back then, she needed to convince us, lure us into damnation with her words and promises. Like the devil himself did before his fall from grace.

I had come to learn that Clark's was aggressive and short tempered. On the first day here, while looking out the window onto the houses around, I saw her shoving one woman onto the ground as she cried, begging to go home. Her crying grew so intense I had to find a corner of the house where the sound was the quietest.

Each cry was more heartbreaking than the last, it made my throat burn. The cry of realization; there was no going home, mixed with the sounds of her getting beaten.

I remembered the crying woman from Chicago, Cara was her name. Tall and skinny, reminded me of a greyhound. She was one of the few that actually cared to ask questions, such as why did humans have to go and, will we get to care for our babies? Clark replied with a laugh, I could still read it echoing in my head, "We are the closest thing to them to allow for reproduction. Dogs and wolves can mate, think of it that way."

More like a house cat and a fucking lion if you ask me.

To her second question, I could recall the light draining from Cara's eyes as the Agent bitch coldly spoke, "It's not your baby, it's theirs. You are but a body, a surrogate."

Which of course, would make more sense if the female yautja had any part in it, but they didn't, not a single one. Their infertility rate had grown so high over the decades, some were born with eggs that only lasted them three years. Luckily for them, human women could be baby makers till 40, 50, maybe even 60 years of age.

It was indeed going to be our eggs, our blood, our babies. But, we mustn't say that for we will be severely punished. To say 'our baby' was taboo.

The Agents were drilling this new reality in our heads. But the truth was, our babies were going to be ripped from our hands and given away. We were going to be forced to bring them into this world.

I had always thought I would grow old alone, rocking on a chair on a porch at the age of 80 by myself, let alone bear a child. The thought alone was making me numb.

"You have a job," she broke me out of my mental spacing, "you should be honored to be in this position with such a respected, Blooded warrior."

"The word honored doesn't apply to shit, just saying that fucking word makes my skin crawl."

Clark's brows began to narrow, exposing fine lines in her forehead that hid in the depths of her middle aged skin. She said nothing as she made her way towards me, hands behind her back.

"Every one of you ungrateful women should know your place," she spoke through her teeth, "know what this means for humanity, know what this means for the future of our existence. Our earth is dying, with them, we will save it and prosper. Travel the galaxy, have technology, and medicine."

I glared at her, watching closely as she swayed her hips with each step. Her military uniform, a couple of sizes too large, the pants especially. They stuck out on both sides of her outer thigh. Her silky hair pulled back tightly with a ponytail and gel. The bitch could hop on a motorcycle going 200 an hour and not a single strain of hair would buge.

Once she came to be six feet in front of me, she paused, giving me enough time to stand on my feet.

Showcasing another smile, I questioned her, "If it's such an honor as you think it is, why did no one fucking volunteer for this 'job?' Why are the streets of our countries filled with protesters and cries for our women?"

"Because the people don't see the bigger picture."

"Ah yes, since you're the only one that seems to, why don't we switch places?"

"I am already doing my part, do yours."

"We got the same parts, I'm sure they wouldn't give two fucks. Besides, I'm sure they'll love a woman in uniform."

I felt her eyes on me as I made my way to the skulls mounted across the wall, outlining one of the pointy bones on its face. Wondering what types of skin use to cover it. What type of strength and skill you had to have to kill one of these things.

As the silence grew, Clark dropped a small bag I hadn't noticed on her. With one glare, I realized it was her bag of dried fruit goodies I had been rejecting for the past two days.

Who in their right mind would have an appetite.

"Eat." She demanded.

Flaring my nostrils, I shook my head. No.

"You will eat."

There I was, a 25 year old woman, being talked to like a child. Like a dog in a land of wolves, ""I will not."

As the last word reached her ears, she raised her arm from behind her back, revealing a thick baton.

I only saw it for a moment before it slammed me across the face. The sound of it contacting my flesh burst my eardrum. Instinctively, I lifted my hand to the source of pain.

The liquid fire spread across my left cheek, stopping at my nose. The impact forced my head to the side while my body stayed forward.

With eyes full of impulsive tears, I turned to Clark with horror and shock. Ready to lunge at her, ready to attack her with everything in me. The same tugging sensation was in my throat as when I listened to Cara cry her lungs out.

What met my glare back was the small barrel of a silver pistol, Clark's finger playfully stroking the trigger.

"Did you fear death, Beth?" she cocked her head to the side, the veins on her neck thick and visible. She was gripping the gun with everything in her, wanting to use it dearly.

I didn't answer, instead watched as her chest increased in speed and her breathing got louder. As for me, my face felt like it was burning off. I was convinced that if I moved my hand, my cheek bone was going to stick out, and I would blend in with the skulls behind me.

You crazy, fucking bitch.

"Bethany,"

A drop of blood escaped the edge of my hand and onto the white dress we were all given. Since the beasts saw in infrared, there was no need to impress them with a colorful outfit. White was convenient to allow heat waves to bounce off, and a dress was convenient to get quick access to what was beneath. Pants were too awkward.

"My name is Beth."

"Do you fear death?" She asked me again.

I peeled my hand from my face, looking down. My neck grew itchy, the blood was already on the move towards gravity. But from the looks of my hand, it wasn't as bad as it felt.

My mom always did tell me I had a hard ass head.

I slowly opened my mouth, "Death may be the greatest of all human blessings."

Clark's fine lines reappeared as she narrowed her eyes once again, confused nonetheless. The idea of her never having opened a book since her high school years wouldn't have been that much of a surprise.

I straightened my posture, looking at the barrel briefly before looking into her eyes, "Socrates, bitch."

Clark smiled eerily before lowering the pistol, tapping it against her hip, "They will be here soon. Clean up your mess," she nodded towards the small amounts of blood on the floor as she stepped closer to me, our shoulders touching as I stood my ground, "it's easier than me cleaning up brain matter."

Upon spitting out her last word, she shoved me. I didn't need to see her smile to know it continued to possess her cracked lips. She was getting a thrill out of it.

To her, she was among the wolves.

But she was mistaken, for wolves don't cuddle with dogs. And if I know anything about wolves, I hope one of them bites her right in the ass.