Enslaved by Mistake

The light transport ship flew over the region of sightings, where the settlers claimed to have seen the natives responsible for the incursions against their livestock and grazing lands. If nothing was done against this threat, the colonization of the planet would be interrupted once again, and the dreams of a new home for humanity would be indefinitely postponed.

Shaira, the young copilot of only nineteen years, gazed at the dense forest that extended as far as the eye could see, less than ninety feet below the window from which she was observing. She felt tiny and vulnerable in the face of the vastness that seemed to threaten to swallow them, her and the platoon they were transporting to the Centaury fortress.

“Scared, rookie?” asked her commander, Captain Vanor, a pilot hardened by a thousand battles, with a smirk. “There’s nothing to fear as long as we’re in the air. The natives have primitive weapons; they can’t do anything against our ships, and that’s where our advantage lies. As long as we control the skies, it’s only a matter of time before we force them to stop attacking the settlers.”

Shaira nodded, having no other choice, despite the question that had been haunting her since she was assigned to this mission:

Why are the natives attacking the human settlers?

The answer was simple, and it was what truly tormented her. They did it because they were defending their lands, which were shrinking each season due to the settlers’ indiscriminate logging, as they sought to expand grazing and farming areas.

An unsettling noise pulled Shaira from her thoughts.

“What’s happening?” asked the sergeant leading the platoon they were transporting, hearing the alarm sound from the ship’s instruments.

“It’s just a malfunction,” Captain Vanor replied as he checked the transport ship’s control panel. “The instruments are fine. I’ll have this coffee maker checked when we get to the fortress.”

However, even though the sergeant felt reassured by the captain’s response, Shaira caught a glimpse of concern in her commander’s eyes.

Something wasn’t right.

“Take control of the ship, rookie,” ordered the captain, “I need to check…”

Vanor didn’t finish saying what he intended to do. The ship shook violently, and a second later, it was hit by a surface-to-air missile, right in the tail, where the rotor that provided stability was located. Vanor hit his head with the jolt and fell unconscious in his seat, while Shaira tried to stabilize the ship, but she knew she wouldn’t succeed, no matter how hard she tried.

The ship began to spin out of control as it lost altitude. They would crash in a matter of seconds. Shaira tried to bring the ship down as steadily as the out-of-control steering allowed, but despite her efforts, she barely managed to avoid some trees. After the impact, she knew nothing more about herself or the fifteen passengers in the back.

She woke up in the middle of the forest. Aching, her head spinning, barely conscious of where she was. As she tried to stand up, she saw that her clothes were torn, with shallow wounds across her skin, not too deep, but all over her body. She couldn’t remember what had happened or why she was there, in the middle of this jungle, half-naked, battered, and with a thirst that made her throat burn. While trying to recall what had brought her there, she heard a sound that immediately put her on alert. It sounded like the hoot of a bird, but she knew it wasn’t. It was a warning call, a sound of war. Frightened, Shaira crawled behind the nearest bush. Then she saw him, even though she hadn’t heard him approach.

It was...

A native.

Tall and upright, bare-chested, with a defined abdomen and prominent, muscular chest, long, strong arms, and the face of a determined, brave, and at the same time, charming man. He seemed to be searching for something... or someone.

Shaira saw him lift his nose and sniff. She crouched down, fearful, but after a moment, the handsome native leaped and disappeared as quietly as he had arrived.

Shaira let out the breath that had accumulated in her chest. She looked around again, still wondering what had happened. She remembered nothing, only her name and that she was in a dangerous land, on a planet foreign to hers, where men like that young native were her enemies, but nothing more than that.

The silence in the forest was absolute, perhaps too silent...

“Ienchi,” said the man who covered her mouth.

Shaira struggled, but the arm holding her by the waist was too strong, immense, and powerful. “Ienchi,” her captor repeated, still covering her lips with a hand so large it could have covered her entire face.

Something in Shaira’s head clicked, and she understood what the man restraining her was saying. The word meant “Be still.”

Shaira raised her hands in surrender.

“Who are you? What are you doing here?” asked the man holding her.

Although Shaira couldn’t see him, she deduced it must be the same handsome native she had seen a moment ago.

The words were about to leave Shaira’s lips, now slightly less pressed as the native waited for her response, and after feeling a tingling in her head, her voice sounded in the native’s language.

“My name is Shaira, and I don’t know where I am. Please, I’m telling the truth. I think I had an accident because I’m injured.”

The native turned her around, decisively but not too forcefully, as if he feared hurting her. It was him, Shaira confirmed after being able to see him. He was even more handsome up close. The man looked her over, from head to toe, checking the state of her wounds but also her torn clothes, and although she couldn’t say she was naked, it didn’t leave much to the imagination. She blushed under the scrutiny of such a handsome man.

“You’re hurt,” the native said in his language. Shaira felt that slight tingle in her head again. Something there allowed her to understand the native’s language as well as reproduce it. “Come, I’ll take you with me so the wise woman can heal you.”

Shaira was about to nod when they heard another bird call, both knowing it wasn’t one. It was a war cry, the same one the young woman had heard moments before.

“Wait here,” the handsome native ordered. “Don’t make a sound. I’ll distract them.”

Shaira nodded and returned to the spot she had occupied among the bushes. She watched the native leave with a broad, agile leap.

He was so handsome, wild, and strong that Shaira’s heart trembled, and suddenly, she felt she would have liked to go with him.

Who was he?

And why had he treated her so well when she was nothing but a stranger to whom he owed nothing?

She remained hidden, as he had told her to, waiting for him to return. Again, she heard the sound of a bird that wasn’t, and from her hiding place, she saw a group of natives running, hurrying, as if chasing someone.

What is all this? Where am I? What’s happening? The young woman wondered as she waited, frightened, for the return of the handsome man who had wanted to take her to be healed.

More natives ran very close to where she was. It seemed like she was in the middle of a confrontation or a hunt. Could it be a war?

All she could do was wait, hidden.

Then she heard someone else approaching, slowly.

Could it be him? she wondered. She looked up and saw another man, another native, also tall, strong, bare-chested, with large, defined muscles, and a face that, although attractive, had a hint of malice in his eyes.

Something had caught the attention of this new stranger, who also lifted his nose and sniffed the air.

Shaira knew what that meant, and before the native could catch her as the first one had, she mustered her courage and left her hiding place. She tried to run but managed only two steps before the pain in her ankle doubled her over.

“A female, I should have guessed,” said the native. “Come here, girl. But how beautiful you are.”

Shaira tried to free herself from his grasp, but the native was just as strong as the first.

“Don’t resist, girl, or I’ll have to hurt you.”

“No, no, wait, please,” Shaira said as she felt the tingle that transformed her words.

“You speak our language; how is that?” The native turned her around and, like the first one, inspected her. “You’re not a sibu; you seem more like an eteri, a traveler of the stars.”

Traveler of the stars? Shaira wondered in that moment of distress.

“Well, if you’re an eteri, that makes things easier,” said the native as if talking to himself, “I claim you, in the name of Taothi, Goddess of War, I claim you as my prize.”

“Let her go, Omawit,” Shaira heard the man behind them say. She recognized the voice—how could she not, it was the first man who had helped her. “I saw her first. She’s mine.”

“Sorry, Angro, my friend, but I’ve already spoken the words before Taothi; you heard them.” The man called Omawit looked at the girl he was holding by the hip with satisfaction and ran his tongue over Shaira’s wounded cheek. “Now this female is mine, she is my war prize because she is an eteri, an enemy of our people.”

As she resisted being touched again by her captor’s tongue, Shaira saw Angro clench his fists in contained rage, powerless.

If only she had been ‘claimed’ by the one who truly saw her first.