The General - S01 E03

6 months ago

The General - S01 E03

Read Story: SEASON 1 EPISODE 3

I wake with the sun; my oldest friend on this planet. I've watched it rise many times, wondering how far Earth is from it. This sun glares at me, but its glow is gentle and warm on my skin, and it listens to me as I cry and ask if I'll ever go home.

This morning, I change into a shapeless dress. It used to have elastic at the waist long ago when I found it in a dumpsite, but now it drapes over me in an ugly mass of stitching and miss-colored patches. I don't mind, though. It keeps me cool.

I braid my long black hair and leave it hanging down my back. I see my reflection in my water basin. On Earth, I was considered pretty. My parents were Filipino, but I never picked up the language since I was raised in the States. I don't think I'm pretty anymore. Not only because of the names I'm called, but because of how weathered I've become.

My eyes are dull, my brows are unplucked, my nails chipped, my body hairy, my clothes depressing, and my mouth is set on a fine line like the horizon the sun dips into.

I disturb my reflection by slapping my palm on the water.

After scrubbing my face and brushing my teeth, I push past my tent. I make a mental note to seal the latest patch on the roof. Like most of my belongings, my tent was handed down. It's still my most prized possession. I've kept it standing for ten years, patching dozens of holes. It's still usable. Maybe I can do the same with my invisible injuries.

I pull on my sandals and hurry to the kitchens to clean up any dishes used at night. On my way there, I pass a single Entertainer mating with a Master. I accidentally get a glance at the Master's groin, and nearly trip.

Suns and moons... those guys are built to breed and fight.

After I'm done cleaning the kitchens, I snack on a protein bar and run to do laundry. I'm running late. I still have to wash the clothes of the Entertainers, refill their water basins, check inventory of cleaning products, and clean shoes since the camp gets them muddy.

The second I enter the laundry tent, my cheeks turn bright red. The Entertainer's clothes are... sticky, wrinkled, and stinky. Many of the women had wild nights, I'm sure. I heard little because the Zolano females don't moan and scream during sex like humans do, but the clothes tell all I need to know.

I take a wide, low bucket and dump water into it. This is the hardest part of my job, because the water buckets are heavy. I'm always convinced my arms will fall off my shoulders when I gather water from the river or the well.

After the bucket is full, I dump clothes into it along with a soapy solution. I let the clothes soak for five minutes. Two hours later, my arms and back ache but the clothes are washed and hung to dry.

I walk out of the tent to my next task, and spot the bulk of a male that has me stiffening. The General's back is to me, and it's equally frightening as his front. He's talking with another male. He wears no weapon at his hips, but that doesn't make him look less deadly, either.

Today he wears a fur vest. It's sleeveless, so I can see his thick arms. Maybe he's not weaponless, after all.

His body stands tall, and his legs clad in hide pants are slightly parted. The part of his legs remind me of what dangles between them, and I'm suddenly reminded of when I saw a Master fucking an Entertainer.

"Joan?" the Headmistress calls.

I jump to attention, and a bead of sweat drips down my temple when I see The General turn in my direction in my peripheral vision.

"Yes, Headmistress?"

"Are you done with the clothes?"

"Yes."

"Good, then move onto the clean shoes. Start with mine. They're filthy."

I nod vigorously, and I move away from the spotlight. Eyes follow me, but I'm not sure if they're the Headmistress'.

I move onto clean the shoes, removing the dirt and mud caked on them. This task is easier on my arms. Checking the inventory is even faster, and I'm surprised when I finish my day earlier than expected.

With a rub to my lower back, I walk out of the tent and plan what I'll do now that I've been relieved from my duties. I pick out my book from my tent and walk to the old tree at the edge of the Camp. Not many people know of this place. It's not beautiful, because the tree doesn't produce leaves, but it's quiet. Quiet is all I need.

On my way there, I'm summoned.

"Servant!"

That voice has too much baritone to be the Headmistress.

Oh, fuck me. It's a Master. Wait, no, ignore that thought. I do not want to be fucked by any of these guys. They'd put a black hole between my thighs, turning me into stuffed turkey.

Although looking at his chin would have been acceptable, I keep my eyes on his chest.

It's not broad enough to be The General's.

What does this Master want? Did I offend him in any way?

My grip on my book becomes dangerously tight. I hear the material groan in my suffocating grip, and I feel like I'm suffocating all the same.

"Yes?"

"Where is the Healer?"

His voice is monotone. All Masters sound the same, as if there's nothing in them, as if they're all the same. The Entertainers may think this, but I know better.

"I don't know. I'm sorry."

He frowns. I know because I see his lips pull down from my peripheral vision.

He turns to leave, and I gasp loudly when I see the awful slash on his lower back. He's wearing a top, but I can still see the injury from a hole.

He turns, and for a second, I'm sure I've insulted him.

"Set this on my injury," he commands and raises a small container I didn't notice. Is that medicine?

"I— uh, I'm sorry, but I can only do jobs assigned to me." This is a longer sentence, so I don't pronounce every word well.

"I have no time to waste."

"S— Master, you can ask an Entertainer."

"They are squeamish of blood. Hurry now. I will pay you for your trouble."

This perks my interest. He wants to pay me?

A currency other than money crosses my mind. What if this Master pays me with answers? There are questions I have only dreamt of asking a man like him.

"Perhaps..."

"What?" he growls, irritated that this conversation is taking so long. I'm scared enough that I take a step away.

"Perhaps you can pay me by answering a question?"

Thinking nothing of it, he answers, "fine, hurry."

He snatches my hand, engulfing it in his enormous, abused one. I stiffen instantly. Physical contact with Masters is forbidden. Is it okay if the Master initiates it first?

I jog to keep up with him. I don't know his name; I don't know what color his eyes are; I don't know his triggers, but I follow him.