by Mya Robarts
Before I can find a place to hide, the vehicle levels up with me.
“Go away,” I shout, reaching for my knife.
The passenger door opens. I’m ready to throw the knife, but then I hear Aleksey’s deep voice. “Are you coming?”
I suck in a breath, forcing my stress to simmer down. “Where?”
He ignores my question. “Do you want to come or not?”
My head sways in hesitation. Aleksey doesn’t wait for my answer. He slams the door shut and says, “Take care, Lila.”
I watch in disbelief as the ATV rolls away. His manners don’t match his last name.
The vehicle is several yards away. An impulse overcomes me, and I run to catch up. Aleksey doesn’t stop to let me in, just slows down and opens the door again. I sneak sideways glances at his coy smile as we ride in silence. I wonder why he’s in such a good mood.
After an hour, the old highway becomes rugged and bumpy. Trees and rubble force Aleksey to venture off the path, where the terrain is anything but smooth. The humongous ATV was designed for military men, and the buckles that are supposed to fasten me to the seat don’t work as intended. I’m bouncing and struggling to keep my balance.
Aleksey answers my unspoken question without looking at me. “I have business to attend to in Gyges. I thought you’d like to get away from Starville for a while.”
“You could say that.” I grin, stopping myself from bouncing on the seat like a child. I’ve never traveled past Shiloh. Nats aren’t allowed beyond occupied territories unless they have two things I won’t ever get: money and a j-device. Gyges is part of the Californian territories, so it’s only a few hours from Starville. Still, it will be a welcome change from the monotony of my life.
Aleksey stops the vehicle near a lagoon in an arid, almost treeless landscape.
“Why are we stopping here? Isn’t this area full of beasts?”
Instead of answering, he hands me a box. My eyes widen when I open it to find what looks like …
“Patriot clothes?”
He nods and exits the ATV.
I gawk at the lilac halter dress. In pure Patriot fashion, the long skirt opens at the front to showcase the legs. In addition to the dress, there are purple fingerless elbow-length gloves, a purple satin belt, and tights that complement the crinoline dress. In another box is a pair of purple high-heeled boots and, to my embarrassment, white underpants and a corset.
Where did he get his knowledge of women’s garments? I suspect that General Fürst has been more involved with women than he cares to admit. Did that C.N. woman teach him about women’s clothes? Not for the first time, I feel a trickle of jealousy over a guy with whom I’m not even in love.
Getting dressed takes a while, as the corset is difficult to put on. As I fumble with the clothes in my seat, I glance outside the window. The sun is hidden by ominous, gray clouds. Without the protection of the mountains, the winds have become ruthless. Aleksey is standing next to a solitary, leafless tree and his red cape is dancing wildly.
Finally, I open the door and call to him.
Aleksey looks me up and down. His pupils are dilated, and he nods approvingly. “Doesn’t my Lila look absolutely gorgeous?”
I smile and punch his bulky arm. “Your Lila? Only in your most perverted fantasies.”
“Not really. In my most perverted fantasies, you’re naked.” It’s funny how this dangerous man is one of the few people who can make me laugh.
He leans into the vehicle to adjust the buckles, fastening me to the seat. I gasp when his face lingers near mine. I couldn’t get away even if I wanted. Our closeness creates a whirlpool of overwhelming sensations. My heart beats painfully against my chest. I don’t want Aleksey to hear it, so I try to distract him.
“These clothes … they won’t be enough. They won’t let me in because I don’t have an identity tattoo.”
“I’m your identity tattoo.”
“A foreigner and a Nat? They’ll arrest both of us.”
“They could try,” he says, smiling crookedly as he tightens the last buckle. “There. You’re all tied up and have nowhere to run now. Mmm, the possibilities—”
He leans in slowly. His breath washes over my face, and I realize that I’m effectively trapped and paralyzed. I won’t be able to stop him from kissing me. I look up and receive the full force of his penetrating gaze.
I’m short of breath, and shivers run down my spine. Well, maybe it’d be better to go with the flow. I close my eyes and lick my lips, waiting for his mouth to meet mine.
But our lips never touch. Instead, he runs a finger through my hair.
I open my eyes, unable to hide my disappointment when he leans back. His serious face reveals a hint of smugness.
“For someone so young to have so many gray strands,” he says mischievously.
Bastard! He knows I was eager for a kiss.
We don’t talk for hours as we ride through the solitary highway. Other than soldiers, few people risk traveling on roads full of bandits, tornados, and beasts.
The buildings scattered here and there tell me that we’ll arrive soon. At that moment, the ATV shakes, and a mechanical buzzing strains my ears.
Aleksey looks at me, unfazed. “It’s the Gyges dome. They’re taking it down because the weather is stable.”
When Gyges finally comes into view, my jaw drops.
The skyscrapers shine in the distance, reflecting the blinding light of the sun. A circle of giant firs that rival the height of the skyscrapers form a wall around the city, framing the revision post. A flashing billboard welcomes travelers, warning them to prepare their documents and have their tattoos on full display.
My anxiety worsens as we get closer. I’m dying to go inside those tree-walls. It’d be disappointing to be turned down by the guardians at this point.
To my surprise, the two guards at the revision point look briefly at Aleksey and then wave us through.
“Welcome to the City of Blinding Lights,” Aleksey says, brushing my gray strands aside.
34
New experiences
For a small city, Gyges is breathtaking. I’ve seen Patriot cities in TCR’s old gadget, but visiting one is surreal. The glassy skyscrapers disappear into the clouds, and a bridge passes over a turquoise river that reflects the afternoon light. There are gigantic holograms, almost as big as the skyscrapers, advertising all kinds of products. There’s also political propaganda: a hologram of General Maximilian Kei towers over the buildings, soliciting support for the war efforts against the Nats.
Some holograms advertise the love district: a place full of repose places where couples can have privacy. The ads showcase barely-clad couples kissing and touching. The imagery isn’t too graphic, but it’s erotic and definitely tempting. How many couples are there doing what I long to do before recruitment?
Aleksey appears delighted by my awed exclamations. I’m taking in everything with no dignity whatsoever. He chuckles whenever he hears an “oh!” escape my mouth.
“Enjoying the view, voyeur girl?” he asks in a deceptively indifferent tone.
After Aleksey leaves a parcel in what looks like a UNNO office, he drives through downtown Gyges and parks in an underground lot.
We stroll down an alley in what looks like a commercial district. Gyges has a booming military industry, and the financial benefits are evident. I see nothing that resembles the poverty of the occupied cities. There are luxury stores and game centers. The most recent models of jewelry-devices shine from garish storefront displays.
Gyges people are tall and beautiful in a plastic kind of way. There are plenty of women with crinoline wearing long, open dresses in gaudy shades of blue, orange, and fuchsia. Men wear outfits that resemble the multi-terrain-pattern army uniforms. Our wild, long hair contrasts with their stylized, short bobs, and I suspect that’s the reason they keep staring at us. I hope they think I’m a foreigner. If they thought I was a Nat, I’d be in trouble.
Several hologr
ams show footage of nasty war-related events: a group of Nat women torturing a Patriot prisoner; a bridge collapsing after a terrorist attack, sending thousands of vehicles into the sea; a group of scarred women showing the rifles the Nationalist soldiers used to rape them. I can’t blame these people for hating Nats, but I wish their leaders didn’t use that hate to make them support recruitment.
“Here,” Aleksey says, handing me his red cape.
“If I wear this, they’re going to stare even more.”
“So what? You’re shivering.”
I look up and see that the dome is still down. I’ve been so distracted that I didn’t notice when the temperature dropped. In Gyges, the temperature changes more drastically than it does in Starville. No wonder the Gygeans built a dome to protect the city.
Aleksey stops midstride to scribble something in his journal, before leading me into a well-lit alley.
“Why are you always writing?” I ask.
He shrugs. “Maybe I don’t want to forget.”
“Forget what? Is it military stuff you write in there?” Perhaps C.N. is a military term.
“Mostly.”
“Can I see?”
A look of irritation crosses his face. “No way. Not a chance, Lila.”
I groan and look away. I don’t get him. He gives me a bit of human touch by lending me his cape, then he acts like I’m annoying him. If he doesn’t want me to ask about his writing, he should keep the act private.
He stops in front of a three-story building. “Let’s eat,” he grumbles, leading me inside with a hand on the small of my back.
The restaurant is shaped like an octagon and spins around a column of small screens. Each screen projects a live image of the most beautiful places in Gyges. We sit in a private booth near a window. From here, I have a great view of the alley below.
Slices of fresh, sweet, and juicy fruits that are impossible to get in Starville distract me from the meat-based courses. Starville greenhouses produce plenty of fruits and vegetables, but we can’t keep them. I eat avidly and moan appreciatively with each bite.
“Do you always make sexual noises while eating?” There’s not a single trace of humor in Aleksey’s voice.
“No. I just don’t always have enough to eat,” I shoot back.
But as the meal progresses, I realize that my joy brings him satisfaction. Aleksey encourages me to eat more, but I put my hand on my bloated stomach.
“I’m full. Can we take these desserts to the clinic? My family will love them.”
At that precise moment, a round of applause erupts in the restaurant. A group of people wearing spectacular civilian clothes strut toward a booth. A standing ovation receives them. Everyone is beaming, and some people are trying to take a picture of the newcomers with their j-devices. The new arrivals must be celebrities. When I recognize the tattoos on their necks, I drop my fork.
Visitants
Three women and three men, most likely sponsored by the people who are eating next to us, judging from their expensive-looking crinoline dresses and armor. They’re beautiful, tall, and athletic. Visitant job descriptions include military drillings since they travel with the troops. I wasn’t expecting this air of physical power and professionalism that the Starville visitants lack. These visitants look more like warriors than prostitutes.
For an experienced general like Aleksey, dealing with gorgeous visitants must be as natural as breathing. He hasn’t even bothered to look at them, focused as he is on eating his food. Aleksey eats a lot.
“They’re not recruits. They’re enlistees,” I say, frowning.
“How do you know?”
I peer back at them. “They look well-groomed.”
Most recruits become vassals: sexual slaves with no sponsors. Patriots think Nats are less than animals, so troops treat recruits as such. On the other hand, visitants volunteer to satisfy the troops’ sexual needs. They’re war heroes. The government doesn’t pay them. Religious groups don’t want the taxpayers’ money spent on prostitution, but hundreds of donors sponsor them.
“They’re beautiful,” I say in an admiring tone.
“Top-paid visitants are always surgically altered,” he says indifferently. The rest of the men in the restaurant are ogling.
“How do you know?”
He shakes his head as if to say, You really don’t want to know.
I stare at him defiantly. “Oh no, you’ll answer this one, General Fürst. You leave most of my questions unanswered. I’m sick of that.”
He sighs. “Their breasts don’t bounce during sex.”
I blink and then look down at my empty plate. It hits me how little I know about sex, and how much he seems to know about the matter. This disparity between us makes him even more attractive … and dangerous at the same time. I understand momentarily why Starville men are so obsessed with unsullied women. If both of us were inexperienced, we’d learn at the same time. We’d be on equal ground, and I wouldn’t feel the pressure to keep up with another woman’s sexual standards.
I look at the visitants again. They’re receiving the royal treatment. “Have you … um … been with a lot of them?” I immediately regret my words. That’s none of my business.
“Free visitant services are considered a perk of military life, but I don’t have time for those distractions. Besides, I told you. I don’t like to use visitants.”
“Why not? Let me guess. You don’t need them because you have a lover waiting for you in every town.”
“We don’t fraternize with women in the countries we aid,” Aleksey answers, shrugging.
“Don’t you have a sexual partner? Not even in Germany?”
“Not at the moment.”
I purse my lips thoughtfully. At the moment? As if he’s had plenty of flings in the past? He said that he had rejected the visitant from his first night at the clinic. And Tristan mentioned that Accord missions are Aleksey’s first and only passion. Yet, Aleksey doesn’t have a marriage tattoo, and he’s a young, healthy man. He must have needs. I’m sure that, of all the women who have thrown themselves at him in Starville, he must have accepted one or two. Perhaps Elena? The thought makes me uncomfortable.
“How is it?” I ask in a low voice. “Sex with visitants?”
He shoots me a brief look before turning his face to the window. “It’s cold. I’ve received more affection through a handshake.”
That makes me smile.
“How so?” I ask, extending my hand as if asking for a shake.
Aleksey ignores me and takes a sip from his flask. “Visitant services are mechanical, efficient, and satisfactory. In a way. But that kind of sex leaves some people feeling empty.”
“It’d leave me feeling empty,” I say, and his head snaps back in my direction. No humanity, no connection, just pleasure from someone who doesn’t care for you. If it weren’t forbidden, I’d try to save him from his solitary existence. Aleksey deserves to know the joy of sex in a committed relationship. Like Joey and Divine.
He finishes the rest of his meal in brooding silence. When it’s time to pay, he hands over his ring. Jewelry-devices are the only way to access money in the Patriot States. We’ve eaten a lot, so the bill is two thousand Continentals. Accord generals’ salaries must be high if he’s paying such a fortune without blinking.
As we head back to the ATV, I decide to ignore Aleksey’s mood and give more weight to his acts. He’s rough around the edges, but he is the reason my family is still alive. He makes time in his busy schedule to train me. And his bringing me here feels almost like a date.
I grasp his hand as if it were something we do all the time.
He tenses. “I’m not the holding-hands kind of person,” he says warningly—but he doesn’t pull away.
I grip him more firmly. “Neither am I. We’ll learn.”
He hesitates, and then squeezes my hand softly. After that, he keeps a firm clasp on it. It’s evident that neither of us is used to physical kindness. I’ve never walked han
d-in-hand with anyone before, and it feels wonderful.
Next, he drives over to the love district, where the skyscrapers seem to reach the crystal dome. Gygeans aren’t prudes. Flashy holograms and billboards invite couples to come inside and have “relaxing repose time” for an hour. Repose. Sex. It’s all the same. I look at the holograms with fascination. My voyeur side wishes that I could see what they’re doing.
“Have you thought about my offer, Lila?” he asks casually.
From the corner of my eye, I notice that Aleksey is watching me as my eyes move nervously from one repose-place to another. When I gather the courage to look at him, goose bumps cover my skin. Aleksey is looking at me with a greedy expression. I blush deeply. Has he brought me here for my sexual initiation? The thought makes me fidget in my seat.
“Are you ready, Lila?”
He drives the ATV into a discreet, underground parking spot. A repose-place entrance.
35
Exclusivity
“Ah! You promised we’d go slowly,” I say as I try to recover my breath.
“I couldn’t help it. I can’t think clearly when we are this close. And you can’t deny it—going fast can be stimulating.”
He’s demonstrated the correct use of the gear stick through speeds that should be illegal even on a highway. In this empty parking lot, under the metallic repose-place building, his speed is insane.
Following his instructions, I start the ATV.
“You’re ready to upshift now. Depress the clutch again and slot the stick into the second gear,” he says, pressing his hand over mine to move the gearshift. His skin on mine makes me shiver. “Ease the clutch slowly. There it is! Good. Add a bit of gas.”
The manual transmission of military ATVs is easy to master. The military instrumentation that comes with the control table is another matter.
Aleksey’s hand shoots out to stop me from touching the panel buttons. “I never agreed to teach you how to sabotage Patriot vehicles.”