Arya

I have to squint my eyes as I walk into the blindingly bright room. Soon enough, as I continue to be pushed by that invisible force forward, the brightness fades, and a stunningly opulent setting emerges.

I stand at the threshold of a giant ballroom that is decorated with various colorful tapestries on the wall. There are long metallic tables decked out with luxurious human cuisine. Glowing lights overheard change from a soft gold, to rose gold, to light copper, in repeating sequence. The ceiling is high and similar to gothic style buildings I have learned about in the past, pristine and proper, with archways and art similar to that of the sistine chapel.

“FEAST! ONE AND ALL! FEAST!”

The same foghorn voice booms into the ballroom. The rows of tables all have succulent choices laid on them, the scents of chicken, corned beef, and mint lamb rushing toward my nostrils. It enchants me and fills me with a sense of homey comfort for a place I have literally just left.

The rest of women initially seem just as confused, but the moment one steps forward, the rest follow. Some go immediately for the meat table, while others scour the desserts, carbs, vegetable and fruit trays. I think that it is interesting that the Lorpa’s brought human food, perhaps strategically, an act meant to dazzle and confuse.

It is certainly working.

“Come on, slow-poke!”

Anna grabs me by the forearm and yanks me toward the dinner tables. I have no choice other than to follow, noticing transparent glass oscillating from the art pieces on the walls that show us lifting up from our home planet. I can’t feel the ship moving at all, which both impresses me, and scares the shit out of me.

“FEAST AS MUCH YOU WANT! IT IS ALL FOR YOUR DESIRE!”

Once we arrive at the meat table, Anna claps her hands together. It makes sense that someone as strong as her would be easily taken by the concept of free food, but why are the others so intrigued? Was the mysteriousness of the other women’s disappearance not enough to make them question the Lorpa’s intentions?

I gaze around, trying to find the source of the elusive foghorn voice. I can’t see any more of the creatures, not even the foghorn being from before.

Despite seeming as though we are all alone, food and beverages continue appearing out of slots just below the tables. I know their technology is far more advanced than our own, but I had no clue it was, well, that advanced.

“Come on antelope girl,” Anna says, pulling me closer to the table. “You don’t know how long this trip is going to take! Chow down!”

I am one who easily gives in under pressure, so I pick up a leg of chicken from the table. I stare at it, like the Lorpa’s plan is going to jump out at me like tea leaves.

“Why are they giving us so much food?” I ask aloud, mostly to myself. “I thought the Lorpa’s traveled by the speed of light.”

Anna is already bent over, face first into the mint lamb. When I search the room for the other women, all seem to be forcing the magical food down their throats like it is their last meal.

My stomach flips as the scent of the chicken rises up into my nose. I think about steaming hot summers with my Grandfather. Giving some of the animals a bite of the chicken, while saving the rest for ourselves, was considered such a privilege.

“Who cares?” Anna mutters, with her mouth full. “All I know is that they want us full, so we may as well take it while we can.”

I consider Anna’s words, the grease from the chicken dripping onto the metal surface below. I figure that my new friend is partly right; if the Lorpa really want us all dead, we will be. Whether it happens by food poisoning or something else, I may as well go out with a full belly.

I give in and start eating, thrashing the chicken, some lamb, and various rolls of bread between my teeth. As I do, a thought starts to nag at me. I try to push it aside, but it keeps coming back.

What if the Lorpa want us to be full and fat before bringing us to the slaughter? No one knows anything about their origins, so in my mind, anything is possible. Yet, summoning a bunch of athletes to eat a big meal before being consumed seems like a waste of resources.

I try to put away my hypothesis while I eat and drink an assortment of fruit juices. There is alcohol, but I don’t want to be fuzzy when I try to deal with whatever the Lorpa are about to throw at us.

I need to be as alert and ready as possible.

After what feels like hours, all of the women are full to the brim. Around the edges of the ballroom, beds pop up from the floors for each one of us to lay down upon. I am also feeling sluggish, and would love a nap if the circumstances were different.

But I’m not going to miss a single second. I need to stay awake, even though there are a few hours before we arrive on the Lorpa’s planet and my eyelids feel like there are weights attached to them. I feel a sense of doom rising in my gut, one that tells me to trust my intuitive inclinations.

Eventually, we arrive on Ketraxe, the Lorpa’s home planet. I am the only woman who has managed to keep myself awake, sitting up on the pop-out bed with my legs crossed in lotus position.

The foghorn booms overhead to wake the others from their slumber.

“ATTENTION! ATTENTION! TRIBUTES ASSEMBLE!”

All the women rise up, surprised and stunned, coming to their feet rapidly. Fear is a strong motivator.

I still feel lethargic from the food, but I’m glad that I didn’t let myself sleep. I stand at the back of the line once more, lingering in the ship. I want to get a good look at what is headed my way so that I can make a plan of attack.

The door of the ship slides open again, revealing a stifling hot desert environment. All of the tributes wince and groan as we raise our arms in front of our eyes, blocking the intense blazing red sun. We are forced to walk forward, feeling the heat instantly scorch my sneakers and exposed skin.

The place looks like Las Vegas, times a million. It has the dryness of the desert plains, but instead of sand it is covered in dense jungle. I have to squint my eyes as I follow the women out of the ship, walking onto an open field of sorts that is covered in tiny rocks, all in shades of taupe.

Once I mildly adjust to the brightness of the planet’s sun, I peer around and feel that sense of doom lurch inside my gut.

Around the jungle are fences at least twelve, maybe twenty feet high. There are big torches hanging from posts, spaced evenly around us. Each burn with a bright flame, despite the fact that the sun is more than sufficient for both heat and light.

On the tops of the fences are spikes built in all around the top, not a single space in sight. The fence is entirely too high for any human to leap over, and the shape of the metal means it isn’t climbable anyway. So why the serrated spikes?

My heart is jostling between my ribs, and I start to wish I hadn’t eaten so much.

“CITIZENS OF EARTH!” the creature calls out. “WE HAVE SELECTED TEN OF YOU AS OUR TRIBUTES, AND WE THANK YOU KINDLY. HOWEVER, THERE HAVE BEEN SOME CHANGES TO YOUR ARRANGEMENT.”

The foghorn creature is not alone this time. He is surrounded by other beings, Lorpa like him. These ones seem to be some kind of guards, all in matching uniforms. They stand in a row behind the foghorn, observing us sternly.

One of them is turned, instead observing his own guards, and occasionally barking an order at them in a language that I do not understand. It’s almost instantly apparent that the foghorn is in charge of us, while this captain is in charge of the guards. And the guards, of course, are here to do what the foghorn says and keep us in check.

The women are standing in a well-formed line, gazing at each other with worry through narrow eyes. I can feel droplets of sweat already beginning to bloom on my back.

Anna is down the line, is looking at me the way a deer looks at oncoming headlights; with terror and a guttural realization.

“WE ONLY REQUIRE FIVE TRIBUTES THIS YEAR,” the voice continues. “THEREFORE, YOU ARE TO FIGHT FOR THE RIGHT TO REMAIN.”

Everyone scoffs and glowers. A handful begin demanding answers. A mechanical sound interrupts it all, along with something thick and rectangular shooting out from the gravelly ground in front of us. It comes with a WHOOSH sound, shaped like a free-standing closet.

Some of the women cower backward. I stand still, frozen with dread, knowing that what is standing before us is not just some fucking closet.

It is an armory.

The doors of the device pop open and reveal rows upon rows of weaponry. Some of them are bows and arrows, baseball bats wrapped in barbed wire, spears, and several other choices I can’t decipher. I can’t think anyway; my mind is strangled with distress, unable to decide what in the hell I am going to do next.

“What the fuck do you want from us?” Anna cries out.

“YOU ARE TO FIGHT FOR YOUR SPOT AS TRIBUTE,” the voice repeats itself. “YOU ARE TO FIGHT TO DEATH.”

The truth comes up in my stomach like an oil spill. I start to feel light-headed when the women begin darting for the weapon chamber.