Alien Brute's Captive - Aya Morningstar Page 0,37

but feel like I’m my character. That I’m ‘his human,’ and that I’m just there to look good. To do as he says. When I met him, he was a charming hero. Then he was a pirate. Then he was this wilderness survival guy, and for a brief moment I thought I saw the real Krakon. But that brief moment passed by in a single night, and then he was a pirate again. And now he’s Dathros Mi Eukarion.

How easily he slips into each different role. His face is even changed. An arrogant smile, but not the charming and playful arrogance from before, this is a more steely and prideful arrogance.

“You’re good at this,” I say.

“We had better hope I am. We can’t mess this up.”

Through the elevator window I can start to really see what the habitat is like. It’s mostly green. There are a lot of fields and forests. There are some lakes and streams, but there’s not really any city like I expected.

The craziest thing is the sky, or lack thereof. Where I’d normally expect a horizon, I instead just see the grass and trees and buildings--the whole world--going up and up along the curve of the tube. If I look up where clouds should be, I instead just see buildings miles above my head, seemingly hanging off the ceiling. The weirdest thing is the lakes above my head, the water is just being held there by the tube spinning? And any fish or ducks in that pond have no idea they’re not on a real planet?

The buildings are sparse; it’s so much more green than I expected, like some kind of nature reserve with only enough buildings for humans to be comfortable.

“It doesn’t look like too many people live here,” I say.

“It’s a rich people hab,” he says. “The less densely populated a hab is, the more it costs to live there. Having a big estate with a ton of land is the ultimate “fuck you” to people who live crammed together in arcologies on Old Cygnus.”

“What’s that?” I ask, pointing at a cluster of buildings.

“That’s one of the towns. No cities, just nice little villages. Quaint and peaceful. Everything here is just perfect, a city would be too chaotic for them. You can’t hunt in a city, or play golf.”

“Aliens play golf?” I ask.

“Cygnians had no native ball sports,” he says. “It was among the greatest gifts humans gave to us.”

“Golf?” I ask, laughing.

“No,” he says. “Basketball was the greatest gift. All Cygnians can play basketball, but golf is only for the aristocrats.”

“Just like on Earth, basically.”

I get a mental image of Cygnians playing basketball. They are all so tall, it probably ended human basketball.

“We actually made the baskets higher,” Krakon says, as if reading my mind. “It was too easy otherwise.”

We reach the surface, and we’re greeted by a pure Cygnian woman in a purple robe.

She fawns all over Krakon, even when asking him for his I.D.

I guess this is like customs, but since this is such a rich people’s habitat, we won’t be frisked down by cops or bureaucrats.

“Dathros Mi Eukarion,” she says, handing the I.D. back to him. “Welcome to Summer’s Breeze. You have only one human with you?”

He nods.

She studies me for a moment, then smiles and hands my fake I.D. back to Krakon. A Cygnian holds all the possessions of his human.

A car picks us up, driven by someone who is not pure Cygnian. He’s the first hybrid I’ve seen, which I suppose is ironic, considering that most people in this system are hybrids, and purebloods of any side are rare. He bows to Krakon and gives me a tight-lipped smile as he holds the door. He keeps his eyes down as Krakon helps me into the car.

It looks a lot like a car from 2020, but the tires aren’t rubber. I don’t know what they are made out of, it’s some kind of shiny and metallic material. The engine makes no sound, and when it starts to drive, I hear no sound and feel no vibration whatsoever.

The driver doesn’t make small talk with us. I get the feeling that he’s not really meant to talk to the aristocrats, at least not unless spoken to first.

We drive through fields of grapes, and eventually over a bridge that leads to cobblestone roads. I can’t stop looking up at the part of the habitat miles above us. The people living there could look up with a pair of binoculars and see the