Chapter Text
Introduction:
From the darkest depths of existence and outer-most edge of consciousness– The Yuatja race are revered, feared and known by all.
For no breathing entity proceeds without the knowledge of their brutality, strength and intelligence.
Yet what is known of their race is but a drop in the bucket– an atom compared to their totality; the whole of their culture, hierarchy and society… the Yautja true way of living.
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For how can cattle view their master in any other light, other-than the small tunnel vision they’ve been given?
They know not of their master’s love of music, nor love of dance and ceremonies filled with flowers and vineyard, each holding their own meaning, scent and importance.
This, the cattle will never know, nor see. All that lays before their eyes are their master’s spears and weapon wielding hands of destruction. Nothing but death.
Therefor, through the sight of cattle– the eyes of all, the Yautja are nothing more than merciless killers, murderers…predators.
Here, we reveal the truth. A society, not comprised of three fractions, as we’ve been led to believe, yet four.
The hunters, bearers, elders and least known– the engineers. The core of the Yautja’s very existence. The center of their power.
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Our story does not begin with them. No. In fact, it begins with a human. One not born of earth, yet amongst the stars– a galactic world of strife, heartache and survival.
Her name is T’aanka. This story is of her own. One that must be told.
Let us begin…
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A faint blinking yellow light, ominously encased somewhere far up, higher than sight allowed, was all that illuminated the sleeping courters T’aanka and her family were encaged within.
A rising ebb and flow of warm waves, covered the floor they’ve come to know as none other than their ‘bed’. T’aanka never knew if the substance was steam, mist, or smoke. She only knew gratitude, for it kept them warm in contrast to the chilly—brisk air above.
A contrasting atmosphere, yet one that allowed both humanoid, insectazoid, and other alien species alike to breath, live.
A middle ground for all the inhabitants of the craft to call home.
At least until you’ve proven yourself useless; one without worth. Then consider the craft your grave, for many had been brutality killed onboard, as well.
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This craft was no ordinary one, yet a traveling stage, hosting a variety of acts and performers, whom would be traded, or paid to perform at various galactic stations.
Some were imprisoned for centuries, forced to forever to do as their owners commanded, until their bodies ceased to do so. While others were used as a momentary means of barter. Their stay was always short.
Yet their exit was not to a better place. No. Often meant their final destination was within another’s stomach. A meal upon a plate.
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Life amongst the stars was harsh. Only the strongest survived, or even willed to try. Yet when it’s all you’ve ever known, hardship becomes the norm, and death– a means to freedom.
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“Mama…please.” T’aanka begged in hushed tones, to not disturb the others onboard during their slumber.
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Although everyone in the sleeping courters endured the same terrible fate, it did not bring about camaraderie– in fact the opposite.
Any opportunity given to underhand a fellow one, or send them to their death, was taken. There were no kinships onboard.
None, indeed.
Unlike T’aanka, at least. She had her parents, who at that very moment preformed suicide by poison, in an attempt to spare their daughter a life of far worse torment.
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“They know no mercy, I’ll still be sold! At least I’ll know you live. Please don’t do this, don’t leave me alone…mama, please.”
She held unto her mother’s hand.
With tearful eyes, T’aanka’s mother whispering back– “With this, we’ll at least try. I will not stand to watch them take you away, without…”
She sucked in her cry, holding onto her mouth to muffle the sound.
“At least giving it my all…forgive me.”
Her mother choked out through tearful muffled sobs, before taking her final sip of elixir, encased within a mossy plant that grew along the grated floor.
Instantly, her mother’s body met the cold state of death. Along side T’aanka's father who’d done so first. Their bodies both silently laid to rest.
With a heavy heart, T’aanka rested her head on top of them both, holding on dearly, as tears streamed down her face. She didn’t care to hide her cry as she’d tried before.
In return, received multiple hisses and shouts of annoyance from her room’s fellow inhabitants. Yet she cared not for their disturbance.
Just now, before her laid all she’d ever known– all who’d ever loved and cared for her, now resting cold. For not even the warm ebbing mist brought warmth to their corpses.
For the first time in T’aanka’s life, the slow blinking yellow light above meant pain– death. She was truly alone.
Hell.
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Oyabt’e, was a Yautja male. 600 earth cycles old, if he recalled correctly. Neither a young-blood, nor an elder.
He hadn’t needed to calculate his age according to the 8th galaxy, that incased earth and its lone sun, in over a century. Not since the passing of his life partner– a human by nature.
He doesn’t speak of her much. Neither shall we.
Standing seven feet tall, just shy of five inches; his stature was that of an elite warrior. Broad shoulders, siding an even stronger chest adorned with scars slashed across, leaving streaks of callused yellow against his dark green complexion. An elegant accent to his piercing yellow eyes. By reptilian standards, he was godly attractive.
He obtained the scars from his chiva, many cycles ago. A period he doesn’t like to speak of, either. Where he was his most violent. The last time he had killed so many, so.
Oyabt’e wasn’t a killer like his blood brothers. He was an engineer. A rare gentle soul amongst his kind, with an even rarer ability he’d kept hidden his entire life.
An ability of spirituality– a science, not often welcomed in the way Oyabt’e was gifted with. Certainly not one his people would accept either, if they’d known.
Another thing he doesn’t speak of.
in general, Oyabt’e doesn’t speak much.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Bright white light misted across the fogged grated floor. This period signaled the time for waking. The day of work was to now begin.
Still cradling her parents form, gently caressing her finger across her mother’s stitched attire. T’aanka made sure to pay the utmost attention to every detail– to never forget.
While the others paid them no mind, going about their business and preparing for yet another endless period of preformance, T’aanka remained apathetic to their presence.
Even the accessional hiss filled with agitation and rage, that once frightened her as a child, fell on deaf ears.
Her family’s forms were blocking the floor, steadily causing a ruckus of annoyance.
T’aanka, couldn’t care less. And neither did they…the seven foot tall akqazu, that ruled this prison. Adorning a head, likened to a snake and form like that of man– skin scaly and moist. They would only come to the sleeping quarters to retrieve the freshly sold, and in this case, T’aanka was the only one of interest.
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Frightened by the Akqazu seven foot presence, the other dwellers cleared way, ceasing their hisses in fright of the masters before them. Cowering their heads low to not draw their attention or to hopefully be spared if they had.
Twelve razor sharp talons, tipping each toe, stopped before T’aanka. The three Akqazu before her were not prepared to find the corpses of their once favorite performers. They’ve kept them for many years.
Unlike their other toys, the Akqazu were very fond of the human duo, and their symphony of tones and rhythm they’d come to know as song. Even much so, allowed them to keep their child, who in time grew with an equally beautiful talent of harmony. Joining beside her parents since she could speak, preforming before many while traversing the stars.
Yet this star cycle had been rough, food shortage was imminent. Forcing the masters to sell more of their performers than they preferred to keep their favorites fed and alive.
Amongst their most favored were T’aanka’s parents, whom they’d found by chance at an auction, in star sector 824. One space warp shy of galaxy 8– inhabiting planet earth.
They knew not of their origin, nor whom captured them. All that mattered was their gifted voices, which the Akqazu revered, greatly. Generating plenty of revenue for them in the passing cycles they’ve been on board their vessel.
Their favor, however, did not pass to their child. The Akqazu intended to sell her. It was this very realization that hatched the plan in her parents mind to take their own life to save her own. If they were no longer present, the Akqazu would have no other choice but to keep the closest thing to them. That being, T’aanka.
It was the only ray of hope they could offer their child. One they had accidentally brought into this world. One they apologized to every moment they could, for doing so. For they did not intend to share their misfortunate life with none other than themselves.
Yet, accidents happen. This one, being T’aanka.
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“Tsk.” The tallest Akqazu amongst the three, clacked their tri-formed tongue in frustration. “They wish to control my will.” He spoke in clicks, a language all aboard knew and spoke. “I shall not allow it.”
He waved his left hand in the air commanding attention to the fellow Akqazu standing behind him– “Prepare these two bodies as a gift to our buyer. Alongside an apologize for the mishap. Hopefully the adult male will satiate their hunger.”
The two behind him, nodded their heads.
Together, with frightening ease, lifted T’aanka’s parents, throwing them over their shoulders, awaiting their last order.
To try and fight them and save her parents bodies from their grasp would have been utterly foolish— for to battle them would be idiotic– ending with her at a loss of life, and mere scratches upon their skin. She was no fool.
“As for her…sell it to the laborers.” The leader didn’t give her a second glance before turning on his heels to leave… That was until he had a second thought to share, to further dig in the pit of despair that was now becoming T’aanka’s life.
“Your parents wished to save your life. To keep you onboard my vessel. Resent them for that. For the life you’ll soon have before you, will leave you wishing your death upon my soldiers shoulders, instead of theirs. Farewell, little one.”
T’aanka didn’t dare meet his gaze. His momentary pause was for her, to see his eyes, to meet hers. This she knew, and would not give him the satisfaction of seeing her tears. She chose to keep her glance down.
The Akqazu exhaled a yip, before continuing on his path outwards. Someone will be with T’aanka shortly, to chain her and send her off to the laborers.
A whimper escaped T’aanka lips, once she’d heard the sleeping quarter’s door close shut, with their complimentary ‘hiss’.
As much as her heart willed her eyes to cry, in order to release the immense tension, pressure pocketed within every inch of her form… she did not.
Tucking her knees up, and hugging her arms around herself, every second felt like minutes. These were her last moments of “peace”. All she had left.
Yet, she’ll soon learn, that some misfortunes bring forth new paths, opportunities– even freedom.
Her new found hell, was the gateway to peace. An oxymoron that will soon save her life.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Months had passed since her arrival aboard the Laborers craft. Disgusting, filthy and rancid were particular words she often associated with her new abode.
The laborers were known across the stars, galaxies and planets as opportunistic brutes. They’d capture, (legally and not) humans, greys, reptilians and any other helpless form they could get their grasp on, to sell for contracted labor of varying degrees.
Some were sent to the mines of Daktara– a desert planet, known for its heat. Everyone knew you’d die from dehydration before your contract was up.
Others, to brothels on orbiting moons.
Consider yourself dead if sent to one, for no one has arrived back in one piece.
If you’re lucky, you’re hired to caterer onboard provision crafts, serving its inhabitants and customers alike. At least there, you’d have a chance at life.
Other than that, there were many other odd jobs of shorter labor terms, such as space spore division. An icky job, that required a great deal of concentration, for the spores that stuck to traversing vessels, held the power to melt one’s flesh to the bone, if given contact.
The list goes on and on. There were no rules, constraints, nor order to how the Laborers sold your body for profit. Any way they could, they did. You name it.
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T’aanka’s time on board their vessel had been one of… humor, as she’s so far recalled it. It humored her so, that many of their clients refused her time and time again, when lined up for picking.
It could be due to her appearance– her dark olive brown skin stood in great contrast to the others lined before her, whose pale skin of varying hues, made T’aanka stick out like a sore thumb.
Or… like a rotten root, as she’d once been compared.
She’d heard a few customers liken her to the untouchables on earth. Mentioning something of holy blood? Punishment and wrath from greater forces if disturbed…which piqued her interest.
She often thought of her black hair and unruly curls, that twisted to their own freedom, a curse, unable to be tamed. Yet now, it may have very well been her salvation. She may never receive an answer for how or why. She simply accepted it. Her features, a blessing. Her new means of security for the time being.
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Many of the prisoners were from earth, unlike herself. In their courters they told tales of their past lives, and loved ones they dreamt of one day seeing again. Yet after having been born out here, in the vastness of space, T’aanka knew, their dreams would never be answered.
Their excitement reminded her of her father, and the tales he would tell her as a child of his past life on earth. The foods, entertainments… luxuries. Oh how he prayed and wished every rest cycle, T’aanka would be given the blessing of seeing her home world, just once.
That dream, T’aanka never shared. Earth was nothing more than a fairytale to her. One she knew better, since the age of 3, to not wish too hard upon. For in outer space, very rarely, if not at all, do dreams come true.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
On course, a vessel-like giant likened to the size of a moon, orbited the surrounding gas nebula– traversing the inky black mass in utter silence, in route towards its destination. This ship was one of many Yautja mother crafts.
Sector B-G27 is where it headed. An even larger station, under the Galactic Alliance. A federal force that kept rule and order. A universal law enforcement; keepers of natural order for all sentient life… or at least the sentient life ‘worthy’ of being registered in their database.
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Oyabt’e sat on board, within his private chambers. He was the reason for this visitation. His medicinal invention would be traded with a once hostile species called the Criye. Likened in stature to the infamous ‘yeti’ or ‘big foot’ cryptic sighted on earth.
In exchange for the Yautja’s medicine, one fourth of the Criye’s vegetation-rich planet was up for barter. Which, the Yautja intended to use for their own discretion– be it hunting, farming, resorting or more. The decision was theirs.
Now, why would the Criye offer a piece of their planet for a mere band aid and neosporin, you may ask?
The reason, far more complicated.
The Criye were dying.
Their women lost the ability to carry children, and their men, the power to yield seed. A decease was spreading throughout their genes– one, even their smartest scientists could not prevent.
They sought help from the very beings they’d once considered enemies. Yet the reason for their war to begin with, was land. Soil. Dirt. Which is exactly what they were now willing to give, in exchange for their life.
Although the Yautja were masters of war and death, the steady growth of their engineering feats and ways of medical healing, had not missed the ears of the multiverse’s inhabitants.
All wished to benefit from their technological advancement, if given the chance, yet only those who offered something worth the Yautja’s while in exchange, would be accepted a glance.
Brutes? Yes. Yet business came first.
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“Sire, your honor has been tested. Have they not disrespected you? Even after your…generosity?”
Kritu’v harshly spoke to his father, Oyabt’e, as they rounded through Sector B-G27’s pristinely reflective hallways and arched entrances.
A guttural laughter escaped Oyabt’e throat as he regarded his youngest son’s frustration.
They’d just exited their meeting with the Criye, signing off on their planet, as promised. The Galactic Alliance sat before them, bearing witness to their exchange.
The Criye, were by no means graceful. The Yautja’s wounds inflicted on their species had yet to fully heal, although the wars between them had passed centuries prior.
Yet far more was at stake than the Criye’s pride. For now they would set that aside. But the frustration of asking your enemy for help, still burned their tongues upon utterance.
Under such conditions, the Criye couldn’t help but make sly and rude remarks when they could during their business transaction.
It was certain, while their treaty looked good on paper, there would still be resistance from their end, once the scouting ship set residence on the Criye’s abode.
This Oyabt’e knew, yet he didn’t mind. The hunters of his tribe were more than capable of setting an example of any who tried to disturb them or disregard their treaty.
What mattered was their good standing, under the graceful eye of the Galactic Alliance. On their behalf they would adhere to the conditions of law.
Order was always to be kept.
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Oyabt’e paused his long strides, turning about-face to meet his son’s gaze, who stood an equal inch beneath his own tall stature. A gesture, unbefitting of someone his age, yet Oyabt’e believed in kindness when addressing his children. Even respect.
Gentle, as always, he told him “Save your anger for the hunt, Kritu’v. For it has no place in diplomacy. The honor of your people demand that of you, if you are to be an engineer.”
He shook his sons shoulder twice, making sure he knew its potency. Kritu’v, lowered his head in respect, speaking lowly, “Yes…sire.”
Oyabt’e gave his shoulder one last shake, then paused…
For a brief second, Oyabt’e scented a familiar flowery aroma, breezing through the ship’s air. It struck him as odd, for that same scent belonged to his deceased life partner, he’d affectionately called ‘ju’dha’, meaning water. For wherever present, there is life.
He noted the odd sensation only briefly before returning to his quickened route to his clan’s mother ship.
Kritu’v waited a few steps, before continuing behind his father…“I expected more from you…again you disappoint me, sire.” Kritu’v thought to himself. Words he’d never utter out loud for his father to hear…
Nor did he have to– for Oyabt’e’s heightened senses afforded him all the range he needed, to hear all who stood beside him most inner, private thoughts.
The spiritual gift he’d had since birth.
A curse in the beginning, but also the reason for his patience. His compassion. For he’s heard the inner workings of all. The good, the bad and worse.
It’s thanks to this ‘gift’ he’d managed to make it this far, amongst a society that values brutality, equally, if not more so than intelligence.
This ‘sixth sense’ was his gentle soul’s means to maneuver through the harsh world he’d been born into. The reason he’d thus far survived.
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Kritu’v mother was a warrior. How his sire managed to woo her he’ll never understand.
Growing up, he’d heard the tales of his sire’s chiva, the hard-meats he’d killed and other foes he’d ruthlessly defeated before pursuing his interest in technology.
Unlike the other hunters in his clan, Kritu’v’s sire, didn’t house his kills on display. In its place, resided the multitude of devices he’d engineered. For those brought him true pride.
The wrist band, was his first creation, after having trouble communicating with the hunting ship’s coms.
Their old primitive means of communication was the first thing Oyabt’e sought to fix, improve and make a-new.
It was during this shift, he made a name for himself in the field of science. Advancing his race technologically, more so than his own personal collection of shined skulls.
In expanding their presence throughout the multiverse– more so for their intelligence and feats of engineering than hunting.
Oyabt’e was the source of change within their race. A change for good.
Unfortunately, not a change Kritu’v, nor most of his children accepted.
All but Kritu’v, took after their mother’s, joining onto the art of hunting before beside their sire.
Kritu’v completing his Chiva first– gaining honor of his own although still young. He’d only recently sought to study under his sire, in hopes of seeing a glimpse of Oyabt’e’s rage and brutality, he’d heard many stories of as a pup. But as of yet, he’d been given no such sight.
This, Kritu’v resented his sire for. He feared Oyabt’e had become weak. Believing more so, with each passing day. Oyabt’e was too… gentle.
Oyabt’e may have been kind, yes. But far from weak. A lesson Oyabt’e hoped his son would one day learn– for not every battle can be won with brutality.
True strength is found in adaptability.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
T’aanka had overstayed her welcome. Group after group came and gone, yet still she remained. Along side a few other unable—bodied slaves. The laborers still made use of them all.
Scrubbing floors, cleaning up bodily fluids, and other disgusting jobs were assigned to T’aanka. She’s seen the worst of existence during those final days on board. Rape, murder, and worst– things she refuse to mention.
Thankfully for her, none of the demons that resided within it, desired her at all. She was mostly ignored.
T’aanka couldn’t tell if it was due to her resemblance to the “untouchables” or perhaps they thought her too disgusting in appearance to bother. Either way she didn’t care. She was quite free in contrast to her fellow unfortunate prison mates. Their remains she cleaned up daily, was a reminder of that.
Yet as all things do, her brief period of “freedom” came to a screeching end.
T’aanka along side other “un-sellables” were taken on board Sector B-G27 to barter with a cannibalistic band of humanoids in exchange for fuel.
**** Who were far ‘too’ earthling in appearance for this trade to be considered fair. Yet many humans on earth were not part of the Galactic Alliance. Trading them as slaves or even food, was legal across many star systems.****
The laborers left no slave free, all were to be profited off.
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Shackled by her feet– chains connected to her wrists were accented by a long rigid bar up to her neck, where yet another cuff coiled around her means to breath.
Truly, none of this was necessary. T’aanka was severely underweight, as were they all. There was no way in hell, she’d be able to escape, let alone run with all the weight, even if she wanted to.
She’d accepted her fate, it was time for her life to end. She had plenty of chances to take it on her own accord back on the
Laborer’s craft, yet chose otherwise. Her parents took their own, to give her a chance to live. Thus, with every beating day, she used it. She would live the best she could.
Yet if death came to her from the hands of another, she would accept it too. Maybe then, she’ll find peace, and re-embrace with her parents in the realm of spirits. Maybe then, she wouldn’t be alone.
“With life in space, pain becomes the norm and death– a means to freedom.”
T’aanka repeated to herself with a chuckle, making sure her laughter couldn’t be heard by the head laborer that lead her group of twelve down the pristine corridors of Sector B-G27.
The saying was one she’d heard from a poet preforming on board the craft she had once called home. She especially liked his performance.
His beautiful dark purple skin, made her favor him even more so, although T’aanka had never admitted it.
Makt, was his name. She’ll never forget him. He truly was a handsome soul, both physically– inside and out. T’aanka’s only regret, was never having told him. Makt was now free.
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Corner after corner, again and again. Their commute through the ginormous craft met no end. Surely, they’d all find death from exhaustion before they made it to the bartering rooms.
Despite the stress of being lead to your doom, T’aanka suddenly felt the desire to sing. Just like her mother, music always uplifted her during her lowest moments. T’aanka sung in a dialect spoken in galaxy 16, sector 003. For she was fluent in over 67.
Her song spoke of two lovers, enchanted by the swirling stars seen within one another’s eyes. What an honor, the female would then say, to call the man she loved the most, her beloved.
The laborers oddly enough, didn’t mind her singing. She’d been told before, that her voice calmed even the coldest of hearts. This may be a testament to its truth.
They continued down corridors, catching the attention of all who passed, entranced by T’aanka’s song.
Much like her parents, she held the gift of enchantment, spellbinding all who listened and entrapping any who dared to move closer. Music, a beautiful power known across the multiverses.
A power– a piece of her prayed would save her life, just as it had her parents the faithful day the Akqazu purchased them.
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The more she regarded them and their memories spent together– the more the will to live burned within her chest, daring to burst free.
For the first time in T’aanka life, she sang not for her master’s entertainment, nor the crowds approval…but for herself. She sang to be free. For her life.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Oyabt’e paused once again, after reaching a branching off corridor to his right that lead parallel to the path he stood on, flowers engulfed his senses. This time, stronger than before.
He clenched his fists in frustration. He’d witnessed his lover’s life pass before him. He knew there was no chance she’d be alive, on board this very ship.
Yet still, he stood still. Hoping that by some miracle the approaching set of multiple feet and clanking chains would magically reveal his beloved partner’s face amongst the crowd. For that small inkling of hope, is what kept him there, planted– rooted in his spot.
“Sire?” Kritu’v asked his father, concerned for his odd behavior. This time, Oyabt’e did not answer, nor about-face to his son.
Sharply he turned to look down the corridor’s arching entrance, causing the beaded cuffs around his tubular strands likened to ‘hair’ to clank in their sudden contact and shift of movement.
The footsteps approaching sounded clearer. With it, Oyabt’e heard the faint, yet pleasant sound of singing. Rhythmic like the birds on planet Takhra, elegant as the ebbing tides of Waynatu, and as deep as the forests of Yuyambe.
This woman… Oyabt’e thought to himself. He needed to see. To make sure… he scented the air once more, sending shivers down his spine. He needed to make sure it wasn’t…ju’dha. His beloved, risen from the dead.
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Kritu’v then turned to face the open corridor, fixated to see what it was that caught his sire’s utter attention, so.
~~~
“ Marvelous, marvelous, the most marvelous of all, calling you my love.~”
~~~
With that final piece, T’aanka opened her eyes, having not realized the laborers had suddenly stopped moving. Standing still before the large corridor to their left. They visibly shook with fear, keeping their eyes lowered towards the ground.
T’aanka didn’t know from what, until she trailed her eyes upwards, then even further up to reveal the full hulking sight of two Yautjas standing before them.
The enormity of weight brought down upon T’aanka from the Yautja’s gaze, nearly made her knees buckle.
Onboard Sector B-G27, the Yautja didn’t wear their masks. The board, viewed it as a sign of hunting and aggression. Therefor, when dealing with intergalactic diplomacy, masks were stored onboard their mother ship.
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Oyabt’e’s deep golden eyes, burned straight through T’aanka’s soul. Feeling both flustered and frightened, T’aanka’s knees felt even weaker, daring to give out any moment.
It took seconds too long, for her to remember, eye contact with this species meant a direct invitation to die.
T’aanka quickly, shifted her glance to the ground, hoping she hadn’t enticed a battle, all knew she’d surely lose.
How long was the silence going to last? Why were the laborers standing around? “let’s get going!” T’aanka screamed internally, she frantically wanted to escape. But the chains kept her stilled. Perhaps, her weak legs aided in her stillness as well.
Oyabt’e chuckled deeply, releasing what sounded like an alligator bellow, rumbling out in rhythm though his chest. Oddly, it made T’aanka, blush…?
She’ll have to figure out what that was about later, for now she wanted nothing more than to meet the cannibalistic humanoids. Even they were better company than the seven foot five, killing machines that stood before her.
“A’slout’eh’… I bid you a humble greeting, great Yautja.” The laborer finally worked up the courage to speak, after an eternity of silence.
“If I may ask, g-great ones…have my cattle caught your interest?”
Oyabt’e stayed silent for a beat. Then turned fully taking only two steps to close the distance between them both. Standing tall, within the corridors arched entrance.
“Yes, laborer… they have.” Oyabt’e calmly spoke. His nerves were rattled beyond repair, he only hoped his unease could not be detected in his voice. Thus he spoke clear, and slow. Evening out his breath.
There she was, before him stood, T’aanka. Her dark-smooth voice, skin, hair, eyes… and godly aroma of flowers, nearly shut down Oyabt’e’s motor function completely.
In an instance, Oyabt’e knew who she was. She was… his ju’dha. Reincarnated. Before him, alive once again. Yet he’d never dare say those words out loud.
Instead he continued his focus on the Laborer, for if he stared at T’aanka any more, she’d melt to the floor in fear. He smelled it, the moment their eyes met.
The once enchanting floral scent became clouded with fear and terror– both from T’aanka and the others around.
He knew then, she will smell her most delectable when overjoyed, or even perhaps, during moments of immense pleasure. That, he promised to find out, with given time…
The thought alone made Oyabt’e lick the inside of his mouth, envisioning the most lewdest things possible, before stoping himself from lusting any further. Where were his manners? He’d yet to ask her name.
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T’aanka knew ugly, she’d seen plenty of it. She also knew tall, lanky and that she’s seen far too much of as well. Yet the Yautja that stood before her was neither. He truly was an enormity of a man… if you could consider him that. The biggest, and strongest form she’d ever witnessed.
Under his burning sight, T’aanka couldn’t help but feel a weird coil in her stomach, knowing his predatory eyes were fixated on her and her alone.
Be it because he wished to eat her or not– T’aanka, didn’t exactly ‘hate’ the idea entirely, if it meant she’d get a chance to touch hi– “what am I even thinking!? Oh please, let me faint where I stand…embarrassing…”
T’aanka cursed her self for thinking such things. Since when was she ever this longing? Absolutely desperate is what she must’ve been. Lusting after a predator was… disturbing? Right? Yes, disturbing, she convinced herself.
She should instead be thinking of a way to escape her upcoming doom— a freshly cleaned platter, served up to beings that look just like her own! Cannibals.
.
.
.
If Yautja were capable of blushing, Oyabt’e would surly be doing so. He found T’aanka’s rambling beyond adorable and inviting. A stark contrast to the stoic thoughts of his clan brothers and sisters. Even their thoughts were… disciplined. Boring.
He couldn’t help but glance repeatedly at T’aanka with every insane cluster of thought that blasted off in her mind. He’d never wanted to laugh more so now, than ever in his life. She’d already won him over, without even uttering a single word.
“What is the fate of… this one?” Oyabt’e calmly inquired, doing his utmost best not to sound too interested.
Kritu’v stood behind him, in disbelief. Whatever small piece of respect he had left for his sire, was now no more. “An ooman!?” He cursed in silence, especially since… the Yautja eat them, as well.
The laborer, while maintaining his sight to their feet, answered “this one, is to be sold to the Wiknaqpa. Cannibals of the the dogdti system. They’ve already purcha–“
Oyabt’e cut him off–“what ever their price, I’ll pay triple.”
The laborer was silent then nodded his head. He knew better than to reject any offer from a Yautja. They may be cordial on board this ship, yet once alone in space, nothing stopped them from hunting down and killing them if the desire arose. A battle with them, was one you’d avoid at all cost.
“Y-yes, of course.” The laborer bowed his head even lower than T’aanka thought possible. She would have laughed at the sight, had her very life not been signed over before her very eyes.
Well… it would have been sold to the Wiknaqpa any way, but something about the Yautja’s interest in her, brought on an entire new level of fear she’d never thought possible.
“Does he truly wish to eat me… that much?” T’aanka thought, while fighting off tears that threatened to surface from the realty that was before her. Her head hung even lower.
As if on cue, Oyabt’e knelt down on one knee, reaching eye level with T’aanka, who stood a mere five foot four.
Regarded her in silence for a moment, before gently clasping her chin, forcing her face upward to meet his own.
Oyabt’e skin was warm, far warmer than T’aanka had expected, and oddly smooth, despite its scaled appearance.
Their first skin on skin contact sent a welcoming chill down her body, one not entirely of fear…yet of something else, instead. One T’aanka had never felt. Which made her feel even more so… weird.
Oyabt’e eyes were looking straight into hers once more. He gently turned her face from side to side, observing her features intensely. Before returning her face to center, commanding her to look at him. He needed not tell her for her to know. She sensed it.
She obeyed.
The first thoughts that crossed T’aanka’s mind were of his eyes.
They were intense, piercing almost painfully so, sending a sudden flush of heat to her cheeks. Their close proximity and his unwavering, flaming stare made T’aanka hot.
For how long is enough? He’d kept her there, frozen for what felt like eternity.
Finally breaking the silence, Oyabt’e leaned in close, softly speaking into her ear– “I will not eat you. You are safe.”
He whispered, for only her to hear.
And for some bizarre reason, T’aanka believed him. She exhaled a breath of relief she hadn’t known she’d held. She trusted him. She will…live.
.
.
.
In one swift motion Oyabt’e rose to his feet, returning to his son’s side– “I will return in two star cycles to retrieve her from your ship. Have her cleaned and fed properly. Unharmed.”
The laborer bowed once again.
“As you wish, great H’yjautu… If I may ask… for what purpose do you intend her use? Slaved labor, experiments, or perhaps–“
“My Bride.” Oyabt’e curtly answered, needing not hear the rest.
….. Gasp*….
Oyabt’e fancied one last glance to T’aanka before swiftly turning to continue his path towards the mother ship. Kritu’v followed close behind.
.
.
.
That very moment felt like blur, a weird dream, she’d soon awake from. Although she’d ever rarely dreamt, T’aanka sure as hell wished this was one.
The sharp pain she felt, as her knees contacted the floor, was all she needed to know, this was in fact reality.
.
.
.
This was the beginning.