J McKenna - Slave Planet

She asked, tentatively, feeling a little ridiculous and was surprised to hear Sulala confirm that women here also bled regularly. They even had a name for PMS, horanga , which roughly translated into “slave’s anger.”

As they sat, Kate thought of ways she might ask them to help her understand how backwards people like the Baktu could overpower one to three people armed with phasers. She couldn’t explain the weapons to the women; they wouldn’t understand. Yet she knew the answer would be key to helping her rescue her crew instead of ending up just another prisoner.

“Besides their size, what makes men have such control over women?”

“They are very strong. We can’t fight them.” Sulala said.

“Don’t they ever fight amongst themselves or with men from other tribes? How do they overcome them?”

“Oh, they expert at paratan ,” Lilani said.

“Pa-what? Paratan? What does that mean?”

“Hunting. Throwing rocks,” Sulala put in.

“What? They hunt by throwing rocks?” Kate was dumbfounded.

“Yes, many are quite good. That is why they are better hunters than we are. We throw like girls.”

“They throw rocks hard enough and accurate enough to knock down an animal?”

The native women nodded.

Jeez, no wonder Ally and the others had trouble. And I had to send her down alone!

“But we are learning,” Sulala said. “That’s how the hunting party you saw captured the tomlatka.”

Kate remembered the small, furry animal that had looked like a raccoon. It wasn’t much of a meal for the entire camp. “You don’t use spears?”

“If we can,” Sulala said. “But animals too fast. Rocks work best—if you can hit them in right spot—like in head.”

“So the men can hit a small animal in the head while it is on the run?”

“Yes. I have learned some. I show you.” The camp chief gathered up a few small rocks and stood. “That tree with the broken branch? See it?”

Kate nodded. The slender tree was about forty feet away. The trunk looked like a soda straw from this distance. Sulala whipped her arm in a sidearm motion. Kate watch the rock whiz past the tree, missing by a couple of inches.

“Ahh. I’m out of practice,” she said. Her next rock thumped into the center of the trunk.

“May I try?” Kate had to see just how hard this was. She had skipped many a rock with her father at the pond behind their house in San Antonio. Taking a rock, Kate tried to use that same sidearm motion that she recalled from her youth. The rock missed the tree by three feet.

“Shit! That’s hard.” She tried again, adjusting her aim. The second shot missed on the other side, although by a closer margin.

“Not bad for first try,” Sulala said. “Keep practicing. You will do better.”

“The men are really good at this?” It was hard for her to believe.

“Yes. They have contests. There is one slave trader that travels through woods. He can hit a bird on a branch from fifteen lumniks . Many of my girls have been recaptured by this man and his partner. He hits them in head, foot—wherever he wants.”

Suddenly, a light went on in Kate’s head. “That’s why you wear the helmet, uh, the hat. To stop them from hitting you in the head with a rock.”

She nodded, reaching up to touch the hard bark shell. “Yes. I will not go back as slave. This might let me escape them. Not everyone likes to wear them.”

“Too hot,” Lilani complained. “I see men coming, I run. Get away.”

“That’s a good plan. I’ll have to make one.” Kate checked the sun. It was getting late. They had many more kilometers to cover before she would be in position across from the village they called Lakapit. She had to arrive there during the night to put her plan into action. “OK. I’m ready. Let’s go.”

Keltar called practice to a halt just before dusk. Jorja, soaked in sweat, felt like a wet rag. The heat made her bones too hot for her skin. “What I wouldn’t give for a cold shower,” she gasped.

“What shower?”

“Um, rain. A cold rain.”

“Ahh. No rain here until Makesa . Two more shatlaks from now.” The Ute still seemed to have some trouble with their measurements, she noted. “Come. We have way to wash up, like shower.”

“Thank god.” They left the other fighters and headed toward the dormitory. “What time is the fight tomorrow?”

“ Jamala . When sun is high.”

She guessed he meant noon. The hottest part of the day. If she had any chance to win, any at all, she’d have to do it quickly before the heat sapped her strength.

They went through a doorway, then walked down a corridor to a small room with a drain in the floor. A rope hung from the ceiling. “Take off clothes,” Keltar said abruptly.

Jorja had just gotten used to wearing clothes again, but her need to clean up overpowered her sudden modesty. She stripped off the sodden garments and tossed them into a corner. She was surprised to see Keltar take off his loincloth and footskins as well. She couldn’t help but stare at his large cock. She allowed herself a thin smile, remembering her efforts on board to make the computer generate the native hologram naked. Now I’ve got the real thing and it’s everything it’s supposed to be. Her libido reared its horny head for a moment. Down, girl. He’s not really a man. At least, I don’t think so. But parts of him are a reasonable facsimile.

Keltar picked up a bucket attached to the hanging rope and dipped it into a larger bucket of water in the corner of the room. He hauled on the rope and the bucket rose up toward a pulley. The bucket had holes on the bottom, allowing the water to dribble out. Keltar tied it off and waved Jorja under the water. She relished the crude shower. There was no soap, so she just rubbed the sweat off her body as best she could.

When the bucket emptied, he indicated she should return the favor. She filled the bucket and hauled it up, then admired the well-built man’s efforts to rinse off the sweat and dust. Despite herself, she felt a heat in her loins, a familiar wetness that had nothing to do with the water dripping off her body. You horny gal, she told herself, seven months in space and you’re seriously thinking about fucking an alien.

There were no towels. In this heat, they weren’t really necessary. They padded naked back down the corridor, carrying their sweaty garments. Keltar appeared completely unabashed. He turned to the right and led Jorja to a door set in adobe. “Here my quarters,” he said, opening the door.

It was a small room, about eight by ten. The only furniture it contained was a wooden chair, a box, and the bedding area taking up most of the back wall. Jorja turned to him. “Where am I supposed to sleep?”

“There,” he said, pointing to the bedding.

“Then where will you sleep?”

He cocked his head. “There also. You afraid I sex you?” Damn these ignorant Utes!

“Um, no.” Then why am I acting indignant? She felt the blood rush to her labia, causing more fluid to leak from her. I’m afraid he won’t , she realized. She was sure he could smell her by now. His eyes locked onto hers for a moment before dropping down over her nakedness. She looked down as well and saw his cock swell slightly. A blush crept into her face and chest. She turned away.

“Come,” he said abruptly, “we go eat.” His cock drooped. He reached down into the box for another loincloth.

Jorja, grateful for the distraction, almost ran past him, then stopped short at the door. “Wait. I need clothes.”

“Why? You woman.”

“No, I’m a fighter. And fighters wear clothes.”