Burning Space: The Edinön Trilogy: Book 3

By Mitzi C

A NEW ORDER IS RISING...

Kandi failed to protect Earth, Juan, and her true name. Now she serves under the control of TIME, who wishes to manipulate all mortals into serving him, thereby granting him the power to conquer worlds without end.

Juan is a Hero in some circles and a traitor in others. For over a decade he has been a slave on an alien world, and he has lost any drop of hope he had left after the demolition of Earth. It is not until the announcement of a new Monarch who shall reunite the last Six Worlds that a spark of hope returns within him. When LEISIL, the new goddess of Appetite, chooses him as her Mate, the spark is once again snuffed from existence, and it is all he can do to simply survive day to day.

The galaxy is in peril, and only Kandi and Juan together can save it. Unfortunately, every immortal being is working tirelessly to pull them farther apart. It is only a matter of time before DARKNESS, an entity which grows parallel to the willful depravity of souls, consumes the very source of light in the cosmos.

Will Kandi be able to break the bonds of Time and save all mortal souls? And will Juan be able to muster hope in an ever-darkening world?

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookRix
• Release date: Jul 24, 2019
• ISBN: 9783748710677

Book preview

Copyright

Burning Space

MITZI C

© 2018 Mitzi C

http://mrcbooks.blog/

All Rights Reserved. This book or any portion thereof

may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever

without the express written permission of the publisher

except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

Published by Kindle | Direct Publishing

https://kdp.amazon.com/

Cover Art by Damonza

https://damonza.com/

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This book is dedicated to Mom, Dad, Grandpa Worrell, aliens, the great men and women who have sacrificed their lives for freedom in the United States, and butterflies.

The characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real events or real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

A NEW ORDER IS RISING...

KANDI failed to protect Earth, Juan, and her true name. Now she serves under the control of TIME, who wishes to manipulate all mortals into serving him, thereby granting him the power to conquer worlds without end.

JUAN is a Hero in some circles and a traitor in others. For over a decade he has been a slave on an alien world, and he has lost any drop of hope he had left after the demolition of Earth. It is not until the announcement of a new Monarch who shall reunite the last Six Worlds that a spark of hope returns within him. When LEISIL, the new goddess of Appetite, chooses him as her Mate, the spark is once again snuffed from existence, and it is all he can do to simply survive day to day.

The galaxy is in peril, and only Kandi and Juan together can save it. Unfortunately, every immortal being is working tirelessly to pull them farther apart. It is only a matter of time before DARKNESS, an entity which grows parallel to the willful depravity of souls, consumes the very source of light in the cosmos.

Will Kandi be able to break the bonds of Time and save all mortal souls? And will Juan be able to muster hope in an ever-darkening world?

Prologue

PROLOGUE

Pywan: The First Sacrifice

1000 Earth years before Kanídia

Is it done, then? Pywan rose from the edge of a crystal fountain to meet Deinor, who approached her from her chamber’s primary archway, clad in a simple, multilayered black robe with emerald embroidery. He smiled and dipped his head.

Preparations have been made for our departure. He extended his arm. She took it and followed him through a gossamer curtain to her bed. They sat upon its edge. Pywan, the goddess of Hope, looked into the gleaming green eyes of Death.

No second thoughts? she teased, though there was a hint of doubt in her voice incited by Deinor’s own creeping hesitation.

No... No, Deinor murmured as he took her hands and skimmed his thumbs across them. Pywan felt his devotion and sighed. I can feel its spark, Pywan. He breathed in. It is already so strong.

She looked down at her slightly protruding belly and tilted her head. I felt her the moment she was conceived. Her eyes grew moist. She released Deinor’s hands and stood.

Deinor clasped her arm. She?

Our daughter shall align the seven worlds and restore order to the galaxy. It is time, Deinor. Come with me.

Navigating the world between mortality and immortality was near impossible under Time’s control. Deinor’s and Pywan’s combined power prevented them from falling into an endless, unproductive time loop. Their motivations differed, but they were united in objective: hijack Time’s ship and destroy his fleet.

One of Time’s soldiers appeared behind them. Deinor sensed him long before Pywan was aware of the soldier’s presence and killed him with a glance over his shoulder. They continued up the Life Stream to Time’s space fleet. Below they could observe the planet Bynivul in her smoldering glory, surrounded by flashing lights and glittering stars. If Pywan was more susceptible to pain or sadness, she would be overwhelmed considering the state in which they were leaving their planet. However, all she could see was what Bynivul could become: a blossoming civilization and celestial masterpiece. Her inhabitants would not suffer forever. Pywan knew her plan would succeed.

Time’s fleet was the largest of all the Immortals’ and consisted of over 50,000 ships, which equated to approximately 50 million soldiers, all of which Deinor and Pywan would have to destroy if they were to fly to Vuen. Pywan knew they could not accomplish this on their own. Even Ledyn’s contribution would not push this plan forward. Deinor would have to make a sacrifice... a sacrifice which Pywan was not prepared to witness, but for the sake of Bynivul and the Universe would have to. She hadn’t yet broken this news to Deinor.

They finally made it to the head ship and paused at the gel-like entrance. Deinor had been reading her thoughts and tilted his head. You want to destroy Time’s entire fleet?

We must. Pywan insisted. And destroy Time.

You know his son will take his place and pursue us.

Yes. She bowed her head. And we cannot accomplish this alone.

Deinor blasted the ship rotating to attack them. It erupted in eternal emerald flame. You want me to summon my Ancestor.

He will help us get to Vuen.

You are essentially asking that I sell my soul for a planet I was ordered to destroy.

Pywan smiled and touched his smooth jaw. But if we fail....

Deinor’s vivid green eyes bore into hers. He gently removed her hand from his face and secured her arms to her sides. Whom shall I sacrifice?

I selected two willing souls with no ties to Bynivul. She snapped her fingers, and the mortals appeared, dressed in dark green. One adult female hybrid with dark skin, black eyes, and sleek black hair and a young female Edinön whose entire family was slaughtered in the War. Their smiles fell when their eyes cast upward to Deinor, the head of the Death Bloodline. The child’s eyes were large, round, and brown, gleaming with tears of admiration and resignation.

Deinor waved his hand, and a ceremonial blade appeared in his grasp. Pywan’s first instinct was to turn her back, but a witness was required. She forced herself to watch Deinor slash the girl in the throat and slam the knife directly into the hybrid’s heart. She watched their spirits exit their vessels and fade away. She realized her hands were shaking and clutched them to her chest.

Deinor uttered the Prayer of Summoning and ordered the blood pooling on the ground to float and coalesce into the shape of a man.

Pywan sensed commotion and released a circle of electricity that expanded into a defensive shield. A loud pop followed by 10 seconds of impenetrable silence preceded the appearance of Time, the King of the Adönen. Clad in shimmering robes of ebony and silver, Time was an imposing figure. Even Deinor, the Prince of the Adönen, did not stand a chance alone.

Death and Hope have failed me, Time boomed. They have betrayed their kind and the planet they swore to protect. Their time has ended.

The blood between Pywan and Deinor solidified and began to glow. The light grew and ignited a green flame that consumed the form entirely. Deinor stepped forward to stand beside the Mother of Hope.

Ledyn, God of Appetite, materialized on the Life Stream and released the first blast of energy toward Time and his soldiers to no effect. Deinor and Pywan utilized the distraction to bind Time’s wrists in threads of golden light.

Iden ran behind Ledyn and burst through the invisible entrance of the ship before the battle commenced. Ledyn shielded the door so none of the soldiers could follow, then destroyed them in a single sweep of her arm. Time broke through the bonds and sent her to another dimension.

The First Death answered the summoning with an ear-shattering explosion that rocked the Stream connecting the mortal dimension to their own. The stars flickered out, and the entire fleet ceased to emit light. They were consumed in pure darkness.

The end of Time is coming, Denboïrn prophesied. A new Order will replace the Old.

Impossible, Time growled. Pywan heard a snap, and the ships’ silver auras returned to shed light upon them. Time will always exist. Mortals could not exist without it. Without Time, there could be no Death. He glared at Deinor. Pywan didn’t think his jaw could appear any sharper than it did in this light.

She knew that if their plan was to ultimately succeed, Deinor’s final sacrifice would have to be himself. She wondered if he realized it, too. There could be no Death.

***

CHAPTER 1

Juan: The Hero

~15 years after the destruction of Earth

The Day of Combat (ENTO)

Ento always knew the human hybrid was more than he appeared. Despite his relatively small size and unusual skin tone, Juan (or as many call him, Aun, since his name is difficult to pronounce) is a force to be reckoned with. Ento was the first to reckon with said force when he met him in Jarbakül, the Slaver’s Capital on Bynivul. It was Juan’s first day on new soil.

He looked blearily at his unfamiliar surroundings. The transporter hovered past the trees behind him, blowing his black hair and summoning more moisture to his eyes. He was dressed in common human-wear that drew attention to his skinny legs and left the neck completely bare. The boy appeared unable to breathe. Ento walked across the flat, paved courtyard to shake the human from his stupor. The humans behind the boy backed away in fear, while Juan remained still, carefully absorbing the environment. As the boy watched the transport zip out of sight, Ento noticed the mark on his throat. He has been cleansed, Ento thought, puzzled. This was the first human he had encountered to have undergone the ritual. It was a grisly process that involved slicing the victim’s throat, draining him of all his blood, praying over the blood to purify it, and transferring it back into his system. It was a procedure required for all potential Mates to endure. The gods could not mate with any mortal, after all.

Why was Juan chosen for cleansing?

The courtyard was soon bustling with slave traders and Lords anxious to take their pick of the new meat. This shipment was all human, mostly adult males. One adolescent female was already stolen away by a trader affiliated with a cult known for its unhealthy obsession with the Deioïn Bloodline. The female screamed as she was carried off into the towering marble structure at the opposite edge of the clearing. Like the other new slaves, she was to be tagged, bathed, groomed, fed, and evaluated by the Lords. Once evaluated, a price would be branded into her arm, and she would be kept within the Slave Tower until purchased and shipped to another center of trade.

Ento knew Juan would be singled out in seconds, so he made sure he nabbed him first. The boy was not like the others. He was cleansed, he was sturdy, and his eyes matched the Appetite Bloodline, which led Ento to think he might be a notable figure to humans... Perhaps a prince. He would be expensive.

Ento grabbed the human’s arm and pulled him toward the tower. He wasn’t surprised when the boy resisted. He was surprised, however, by the strength of the resistance.

Ento looked down at the human. There was pain in his eyes. Real, raw, unadulterated pain. It dawned on Ento that Juan would not willingly follow him.

I will not hurt you, Ento promised, tugging the boy’s arm again.

Before he could anticipate anything, Ento was on the ground, the wind knocked out of him.

The human said something in his native tongue and knocked another trader on his back. Other traders gathered to take the human, some with electric rods. Ento feared the boy would be harmed beyond repair, which would knock his price down a notch, so he quickly rose from the ground and rushed between the traders and the human, arms spread. Do not harm him!

You have no claim on the human, Ento, a trader by the name of Rüt said, pointing his rod at the slave.

His value will decrease if a single hair is singed, Rüt, Ento argued.

Suddenly, Rüt lost his electric rod and fell to the ground. The human stood above him, cracking the rod over his knee. He looked crazed now, poised for a fight, and Ento knew the boy was more than human. Humans were generally slower and weaker than Edinön, whereas this particular specimen moved faster than his eyes could track and managed to break an advanced piece of machinery in half with his bare hands.

A burst of light nearby drew the crowd’s attention from the boy to an indistinct, shadowy figure that only took a corporeal form after a few blinks. The newcomer was obviously Appetite itself, disguised as an impossibly attractive Edinön female with golden hair and red eyes. Her garment glittered like the night sky and clung to every feminine curve. She tossed her head back and walked toward the boy, leaving a trail of red flame blazing across the soil.

Ento had already forgotten about the human prince.

This one is mine, Appetite said, gazing at Ento directly. Ento’s throat shrunk.

The human collapsed to his knees, hands shaking. Kandi?

Appetite lifted him up by his arms and caressed his face. She spoke human words to him, which instantly calmed him. Ento could not believe his eyes.

She smiled seductively at Ento and said, Ento, you are coming with me as well.

Ento lowered his gaze to her feet. I am not a slave, Leisil.

She pulled him forward by the golden tassels on his collar. Ento could not tear his eyes away from hers as they changed from red to green. He inhaled a scent manufactured specifically for him. It twisted his insides and rewired his brain. His sole purpose was to please her. He was hers, and he realized she was the piece of him he’d felt had been missing all these years. His life was complete. His soul was whole.

The world darkened around her flawless form. Her ruby red lips curved, and she released a sigh so blatantly sexual he nearly burst with ecstasy. A thread of consciousness insisted that he was not a slave. He was a trader. He was a master.

"Not a slave," he heard himself whisper, even as the heady fragrance weakened his knees. Not a slave...

Appetite hummed. You are to me.

Ten years later, Ento watches the annual Combat competition commence from the slavers’ booth, a platform hovering close enough to the pit that the spectator screens on either end are unnecessary. He is Juan’s handler. His job is to keep Juan alive, healthy, and valuable. With Appetite’s permission, he entered Juan into this annual competition because it would reflect well on Appetite’s slave house and Appetite herself if a slave sponsored by her won. If Juan wins, the slave house will be rewarded 100 more slaves, 50 spools of golden thread, and other delicious prizes. If he loses, he dies.

Ento has grown fond of Juan over the years. He certainly would not enter his name if he thought he would lose.

The pit was created a thousand years ago when the gods left and the War began. Combat began as a way to settle land disputes and gradually evolved into a form of entertainment. Without actual gods to worship, Bynivul-dwellers started worshipping the winners of Combat, dubbing them Heroes. The Heroes of Combat were immortalized in statues, murals, scripts, and monuments throughout the world.

Eventually, as slave trading became commonplace, Combat was used as a form of punishment, then as a game for slave traders, Lords, Ladies, and other wealthy individuals to enjoy every year. The names of each victor are now written on the tablet in the Combat gallery, and the owners they represent are rewarded generously.

Ento doesn’t care for the wealth as much as he does the fame and the possibility that Juan will be freed. If Appetite sees potential in him, she might promote him to soldier or trader. Anything could happen.

He sits on the edge of his seat, anticipating the first contenders to enter the pit via the portal in the center. Nearly 100,000 people are cheering and placing bets in the pods surrounding the arena (millions more watch on the screens at their homes). The weather is perfect – crafted especially for this occasion – dewy, cool, and breezy. The names and faces of each contender are flashing on the curved screens. Ento’s long-term female partner, Weida, grasps his hand and leans forward. What did he say to you before you sent him to the pit?

Weida cares about Juan almost like he was her own child. She resents Ento for giving Juan’s life away so easily. He hasn’t yet been able to convince her that they are about to make a fortune.

I told him he would win, Ento replies.

She rests her face on her pale hands. The pink flower petals in her auburn hair gleam silver in the moonlight.

Ento rubs her back. He will win. I promise.

She shoves his hand away. You can’t promise that.

A voice on the monitor announces the first 10 contenders. Weida whimpers when Juan’s name is listed among them.

Ento peers closely at the pit below. The black light of the portal is spinning more rapidly. It is about to open.

The crowd is sufficiently rallied. Ento uses vocal command to activate the shield around his booth in order to block out the noise. Come on, Juan, he whispers, willing his boy to appear.

The portal opens. Each slave is pulled into the arena by half-naked females of every color – blue, violet, green, red, gray, white, black, etc. – with leashes attached to their collars. Contenders must fight in skin-tight armor decorated in gems that represent the color of their sponsor. Juan’s collar and sleeves are encrusted with rubies. His hair has been trimmed to an inch above his scalp and tamed with product. So far, he is the only contender free of face paint and other aesthetic enhancements.

He is also the smallest.

Ento glances at Weida and pats her forearm. "Don’t you want to watch this, ela?"

She peeks through her fingers. Just tell me when this is over.

The devices recording the event zoom in on Juan’s face. The announcer provides a brief background and description for each slave while the female escorts unfasten the leashes and exit through the portal.

Ento rubs his hands together. It has begun.

***

The Day of Combat (JUAN)

The first face that meets my fist belongs to a blue-skinned slave named Adurmaut. He falls, unconscious. I swing my arm, connecting my elbow to the face of a human named Bo. He takes one more blow to the gut before he meets his end on the compact sand.

I am now the target of the remaining eight contenders. Unlike me, they thirst for blood and glory. If I still had a soul, I might laugh. They actually think they have a chance.

It has only taken me about a decade to learn actual moves besides smashing and flailing. I am glad Ento finally gave me this chance to legitimately use them.

I kick the next guy under his ribcage before he can lift his leg to attack. I roll forward, over his motionless body, and lift a red-skinned man over my head. I toss him into the two men reaching for my arms.

After ducking to dodge a kick, I flip and kick another slave in the throat, cutting off his air supply and twisting to punch the biggest contender’s nose. I feel the crack beneath my fingers and pause to shake my hand. That one stung a little.

When the last two see that I’ve knocked out the giant with one punch, they have the sense to hesitate for a moment.

I should feel sorry for them. Their masters forced them into this position. They didn’t know that this would be no contest for me. I shouldn’t be allowed to participate in this game.

But the crowd is roaring, the flowers are falling, and the adrenaline rush is refreshing. I flash to the slave on my left and swing my fist around, impacting his left temple. The last one is just as easy to subdue.

I bask in the victory for as long as the clean-up crew takes to carry the bodies out of the pit. Traditionally there is a ten-minute break between rounds, but I hear the announcer say that since the first round was so short, they are going to send in the next ten immediately.

I crack my fingers. I’m not even sweating.

***

I exit the arena as the sun begins to shine over the horizon. I am immediately met with a swarm of record-makers and escorts congratulating me on my new status. They are calling me the Hero of Combat.

The escort assigned to me reattaches my leash and leads me back into my cell, where my handler is supposed to meet me within the hour. The wall re-solidifies as Beada departs. The brand on my upper left arm marking me as a slave prevents me from using portals and automatic curtains (I don’t know how else to translate the term for walls that liquify and split open) without escorts. I have thought about removing the brand, but the only way to do that would be to chop off my arm, as the brand is several skin layers deep and forms a ring around my bicep.

My cell feels like the inside of a model organ, like giant intestines made of gooey plastic. The illumination is a dull red-orange, and if I touch anything I will receive a healthy dose of electricity. So, I just sit in the center of the small enclosure and pretend the membrane doesn’t seem to be closing in to swallow me.

Ento enters soon enough along with his companion. The two are overjoyed. Weida slaps my chest – her culture’s version of a hug – and insists she knew I would win all along. I act as if I believe her, even though I could hear her thoughts the entire journey here.

Come, Aun, we can talk more on the transport, Ento says, placing his arm behind my neck as we walk out of the cell. Typical buildings on Bynivul don’t consist of hallways, rooms, and doors. Most are fairly open, with padded pathways directing you to enclosed areas, somewhat like an ant farm. This underground building is no different. Cool air blasts through filters in the ceiling, keeping the large room fresh and breathable. The ceiling is about nine feet high, and the room extends about the length of an American football field. Ento leads Weida and me on the red path. The pressure of each footstep triggers soft light from the floor. I used to find this effect irritating, but now I am so accustomed to it, I hardly notice it exists.

Few rooms are lit by anything but the floor lights, since Edinön possess night vision and are generally nocturnal. Other species, however, such as the Zedihz (black-skinned mortals) and the Sidüns (red-skinned), are not so lucky, so accommodations have been made for them in more populous places. Many other species lacking the ability to see in the dark unaided wear lenses that grant them that ability. The lenses look like tiny gemstones when initially placed in the corner of each eye. When activated, the stones expand to cover the eyes. The covering is invisible to everyone but the wearer. I have worn these before just to test them out, and they work quite well as the opposite of sunglasses.

At the end of the red path, Ento presses his status symbol (a brand on the back of his hand that indicates his occupation) to the eye-shaped scanner on the gray wall. The scanner buzzes, clicks, and a female voice says, Ento Vid Mintat Ergondes, your transporter is ready.

The wall parts, and we enter a five-seated pod with a glass casing. As soon as we are buckled in, the pod blasts out of the room through an opening in the ceiling. For a brief moment, I take in the wide view of our surroundings: blue, green, brown, cherry-red foliage blankets the landscape. A small volcano lies dormant in the middle of the dense forestry. The Combat arena is huge. Pods of various colors, classes, and sizes are zipping all around us, some taking off, some landing, and some hovering.

Ento’s pod slows and halts as mechanical arms latch onto its shell and pull it into the transport. The light in the pod dims and flickers, then shuts off completely. With a loud clank and a hiss, the glass casing opens, and a metal platform extends from the main floor of the ship to grant us access.

Ento rises first to assist Weida across the short bridge, then returns to unlatch me. I could break these bonds without help, but I’d rather not cause any unnecessary trouble. The belts aren’t supposed to unlatch unless masters grant permission.

Weida, summon an escort. Aun needs to get cleaned up before the feast.

I stop and turn to watch the pod sink into the ship’s floor. Soft, synthetic fibers grow over the metal to form a thick carpet that covers the entire deck. Two hover pads on opposite ends of the deck (width-wise) lead to the raised platform where the navigators control the ship. Weida taps her ear to communicate with the escort in charge of my appearance, or a stylist who tells me what to wear and bathes and grooms me whenever called upon.

The escort appears via a portal straight ahead. She is a tall, thin Edinön with buzzed turquoise hair and sun-tanned skin. Her hazel eyes are shadowed with black powder and green liner. Clothing is a measure of status on Bynivul; the more one’s body is covered, the higher the rank. Calwen, my stylist, typically covers everything but the front of her thighs, elbows, neck, and midriff. She is an escort, sure, but escorts with special skills are paid more. Her rank is just below that of slave trader.

Calwen smiles at me. Congratulations, Aun, she says in monotone Gídnei, nude lips permanently pursed. She has not had an easy day.

Calwen, please prepare Aun for tonight’s festivities, Ento orders, dipping his head before he and Weida take their leave through the portal.

I am now alone on the transporter with Calwen and the navigators on the upper deck.

Calwen attaches a magnetic leash to my collar and leads me across the deck to the shower stall. Once we’re inside, she pulls the satin curtain shut and commands the water to run.

Edinön showers consist of smooth, water-resistant floors and walls, two water jets on either side, and a soap jet on top. The jets spurt water in all directions and are programmed to thoroughly wash whoever stands in the center. No scrubbing required.

I undress and step inside. Calwen presses the pad that closes the shower space, activating the program. I hold my breath and close my eyes. The first time I used one of these, I thought the combination of boiling water and extreme pressure would shear my skin off.

When the shower is finished, air blasts in the place of water, drying me in thirty seconds. Lastly, a gentle, moisturizing spray settles over my skin.

Calwen unlocks the door and presents a new outfit for me to wear. Male slaves aren’t allowed to wear shirts except on special occasions. This time Calwen is requiring me to wear a black, one-piece suit that covers pretty much everything, including my feet. It feels like cotton.

In addition to the suit, Calwen presents a single-layer robe with sleeves and a gold chain connecting one shoulder to the other. The gold, which usually denotes a venerable status, conflicts with the brown hue and coarse texture of the robe. It feels nice to have an extra layer on anyway given how often I am practically naked.

After my escort fiddles with my hair and face, she nods approvingly and lets Weida know I am ready by her invisible ear piece.

The transporter arrives in Melidön, the capital city of Appetite’s region, a short time later. Melidön is famous for its diversity. It houses every type of mortal that exists in the galaxy. At the center of the city lies Appetite’s palace and slave house, enormous structures that would have made the Empire State Building look small. That is, if it still existed...

Once off the transporter, a cluster of soldiers marches me through the Victory Parade to the slave house. Common citizens wave from their balconies and hovercrafts. Plenty of women throw themselves at me and praise me as their hero.

I am wearing a slave’s robe, a collar, and a leash. I am not a hero.

***

My best buddy, a fellow slave named Yuter, greets me in our shared quarters on the fifth floor with a forehead touch – which would definitely be an overly intimate gesture if he did not look like an oversized lizard. Yuter is an Imitun, so he possesses rough, gray skin, yellow eyes with tiny black pupils, no hair whatsoever, and a forked tongue. He is like a creature straight out of Star Trek, and that fact alone made it easy to befriend him. He speaks a little Gídnei (enough to understand the soldiers, escorts, and masters) but his native language is Veirditumu, which is one of the most difficult languages in the universe. There are no standalone words, just phrases, and depending on the context in which you use certain phrases, they can mean completely different things. "Edumekizahd, for example, means how are you, when used as a greeting. But if you use it after jetifuevnar, which means bring to me, it translates to a specific midday meal served on Yuter’s home planet. I still don’t have the language down enough to call myself fluent, but Yuter is patient with me. He has even learned a few English phrases while I’ve practiced pronouncing the Veirditumu term for hello."

Our quarters are not quite spacious enough for us to lie down at the same time, so we sleep in shifts. The toilet is a hole in the corner connected directly to the sewage pipes. Our bed is a thick fur mat that could sharpen a knife.

How was your trip? Yuter asks, habitually brushing his hands on his threadbare trousers.

Long overdue, I answer in Gídnei, adjusting my metal collar so it stops pinching my Adam’s apple.

I heard you won. Yuter attempts to smile, and I laugh. Imita express themselves primarily with their eyes. The rest of their facial features don’t move at all without practice. Yuter tries to communicate his emotions like I do, unaware that I already know exactly what he is feeling all the time.

I shrug and gesture to the plastic curtain dividing our room from the lush green yard. Let’s go.

Where?

Appetite is hosting a feast in my honor. I slap Yuter’s arm.

And I’m invited? Yuter says excitedly.

Don’t be an idiot. Come on. I shove the plastic curtain aside and make my way across the yard, fenced by other rooms just like ours. We walk underneath a marble arch guarded by naked statues in compromising positions and follow a cobblestone-like pathway through a grove of tall yellow bushes. The air in Melidön is clean and only occasionally moves since the weather is controlled, so it always feels like I am indoors. I suppose conditions could be worse.

It is late in the day. I haven’t eaten since last night. I cannot wait to stuff myself until I feel bloated and pass out on the hard floor of our tiny room.

The feast is to be held on palace grounds, so we are going to require escorts to fetch us a pod. I locate a communicator on the wall next to the white stairs leading down to the fourth floor and request their services.

Juan, your handler is here. He will meet you at the West Gate, the com controller says.

I raise my brows. She pronounced my name correctly. She sounds human. "Gracias. What is your name?"

No response. I turn the ‘terminate call’ key and relay the message to Yuter.

Where is my handler, Aun? he asks, wringing his hands. He does not like stepping out of his comfort zone. He thought attending a party on the palace grounds sounded exciting until he realized he would be faced with possible conversations in which he might have to participate.

I don’t know. We’ll ask Ento when we meet him at the gate. I start down the stairs.

Are you sure it is safe?

No. Not really. Of course.

Who else is invited?

I’m not sure.

At the bottom of the stairs, I make a left turn and navigate through many stone paths and circular patches of grass before finding the next set of stairs. Several