Gouyen: A Narrative Fiction

“What do you mean, ‘not the first to have been here’?” demands Maxx, suddenly sure of himself. The lead female reptilian’s spinal plates click together in distaste. “Did they really tell you that you were the first?” she hisses. I look at Dahteste, who’s perched on her heels in the corner. Her eyes meet mine and I remember what she said about it having been a while since she introduced herself in English. “We were recruited to scout this planet for a suitable construction site. All we were told was to find one and build the new society. Daniel asked about any current habitation and all the scientists said was that they believed it was uninhabited,” Rhoda explains. Gouyen chuckles - a bloodcurdling sound reminiscent of a Velociraptor snort
“You mean, you’re never getting out?” “No, son. Even if I could, I wouldn’t want to. Bloody hands are ostracized.” “What about the others who fought?” I ask. “Surely they killed as well.” The full measure of how strange it is to talk about the slaughter of my race falls on me. Shame churns in my gut. “Only grown men. Dahteste and her troops evacuated all of the women and children. Or so she thought. Poor child I dispatched was trying to free his baby sister’s leg.” Nascha chucks the half-eaten fruit into the stream beside us. If I’m not mistake, a giant tear rolls down her sunken cheek. “Had I only looked around I would have known.” “I’m so sorry,” I tell her. What guilt must she have carried all these years? Bitterness clouds her face as she rolls over to sleep. Three weeks into our captivity, Dahteste comes to the gate and calls Rhoda up. They’re up there a long time. Rhoda’s voice mingles with the occasional chortle of Dahteste’s laugh. By the time our crewmate comes back down, she’s beaming. “We’re out!” She shouts, pumping her arms into the air ecstatically. “Thank God,” Maxx groans. “I’m sick of this
The creatures are walking weapons. One round with any of the towering males and I’m minced meat. “As for you,” Dahteste addresses Rhoda. “You’ll start off preparing the carcasses from the latest hunt. Do well, and you and your crew might end up with me on a scouting.” Rhoda nods and accepts the scaly aprons she’s handed. “Rise with Helios. Don’t be the last ones there.” With that, Dahteste pads on silent Raptor toes to her bed niche and curls up, wrapping her tail around her top leg. A pull of a string by her head and the opening at the top of the mound flaps shut, leaving only the warm glow of the fire to illuminate the