by Ruby Dixon
"Everyone here at this station is kind of mean," Sophie comments as she rubs my ankle. "They said some really unpleasant things to you."
"They did?"
Her gaze meets mine, and there's a look of surprise on her face. "You don't remember? The men at the dock joked that you got your limbs out of the garbage. And they said mean things about you having an ooli for a wife."
Oh. I shrug, rubbing my arm still. It feels better now, but as long as she continues to touch my leg, I'm going to act like I'm struggling. It's wrong of me, but I don't care. She was concerned about me. She thought the port authorities hurt my feelings? This little human is far too…kind. No wonder she trembles like a broken thing at the slightest provocation. She's probably had a nightmare of a time since she got taken from her planet. "Maybe they did. Doesn't matter."
"You should have made them stop."
I shake my head. "They can say what they want, because they don't matter. I get a lot more done here as Lankham os'Riit, worthless junker. No one looks at me twice. That suits my needs."
"Worthless?" She looks offended on my behalf even as her fingers knead my foot. "Just because your limbs suck?"
"They're a mark of how important I am, just like everything else." The conversation is getting into dangerous territory, and her hands are making my cock twitch despite the pain I'm in, so I pull my leg out of her grasp. "I'm station trash. I come from a poor family, and that meant I was sent to the front lines in the Threshian War. I should have died, but I was captured, instead. When they finally bothered to retrieve me from the war camp, the military was in such disgrace that no one cared what happened to any soldier afterward. We were a problem that they needed to make go away. Some of the guys with better families and rankings got what was left of the prosthetics. The rest of us got what was left over." I slap my bad leg. "They look at me, see cheap parts, and know I don't matter. It's not worth starting a fight over."
Her eyes are big and dark as she folds her hands in her lap and gazes up at me. "It sounds like your people abandoned you when they lost the war."
She doesn't know the half of it. I bitterly want to point out that I was imprisoned for a year after the war was even over, just because no one could bother to save those of us that were left behind, but I don't. She doesn't need to know. It'd probably break her too-fragile human heart. "Yeah, well, now you know why I prefer to be alone."
There's a look of pity on her face as she watches me, and I don't like it. I get to my feet, limping away. "I'm going to shower and use up some of their hot water instead of mine."
"Okay," Sophie says in a soft voice. "Thanks for talking to me, by the way. I appreciate you sharing. It helps me understand things a little better."
I glance back at her, but she's still seated on the ground, her legs folded under her, a gentle look on her face. "Thanks for the massage." I rotate my bad shoulder, wincing at the pain, but the movements are fluid at least. "Helped out."
"Sure. An ooli wife has to be good for something, right?"
I…have no idea what to say to that. Is she hinting that she'd like to be my wife? Flustered, I avert my gaze and rush to the lavatory, slamming the door behind me in my haste to get away.
22
SOPHIE
An ooli wife has to be good for something, right?
God, why the hell did I say such a dippy thing? It sounds like flirting, even to my dumb ears, and I groan, burying my face in my hands. Today must have me rattled. That has to be why I'm acting so stupid. It's just been more than a little terrifying to venture out on the station, wearing a mask and praying no one would see through it. An ooli female seems to be a good choice for a disguise, though I feel bad that everyone's so cruel to them. It keeps me safe, at least, but I don't like hearing the awful things that everyone says to Jerrok, right to his face. He's been good to me today, protective and understanding, and my dislike for him is ebbing by the moment. He's looked out for me. Supported me. Understood my panic.
Little surprise that he hates leaving his station. Everyone's been so cruel to him over his cybernetic prosthetics, as if he had a choice over them. It sounds like everyone that was supposed to have his back abandoned him. That he's been mistreated by both the military and probably everyone in his life. No wonder he's so bitter. No wonder he's caustic and biting and impatient. I want to be angry over my past, too, but I'm too vulnerable—right now I'm just doing my best to survive until the va Sithai brothers return and I can go back to them. Not that I feel like I belong there, but I'm low on options.
The water in the bathroom kicks on, and the scent of soap drifts into the hotel room. I think about how his muscles twitched and jumped, and how frustrated he was with them. He dragged his leg a little today, too, and I suspect his prosthetics are hurting more than he's letting on. I look at the hard, awful floor with the thin blanket on it. I can't make Jerrok sleep there. It seems the height of cruelty when there's a perfectly big bed in this room and I'll only take up a corner of it.
I strip the thick, fluffy blankets off the bed and fold them lengthwise, placing them right down the middle of the bed as a barrier. I toss the yellowed, rough pillows atop it, making a small fortress to separate us. Not that it'll matter if he decides he's going to hurt me, but…I know he won't. He could have a dozen times over and hasn't even tried.
If anything, he just wants me to go away and leave him alone.
I smile at that. Irritation is way, way safer for a person like me than anything else.
The shower keeps going, and I grow bored. I wander over to the vid unit, but it's a model I'm unfamiliar with and I can't read the language printed on the buttons, so I don't toy with it. I poke around with the lights in the room instead, dimming them, and tap the switch to open the fold-out closet that emerges from the wall. There's an old, gross tunic in there (ew) but at the bottom of the closet, there's a book. Surprised, I grab it, touching the cover in wonder. It's a very old hardback, the jacket made of a thick paperboard covered with red cloth, the golden embossed lettering faded away to hardly anything at all.
Alice's Adventures in Wonderland, by Lewis Carroll.
Something new to read. Utterly delighted, I clutch the book to my chest and bound over to the bed, sitting down on the edge. Someone abandoned this, so it's mine now, right? Even if it belongs to the hotel, I'm going to sneak it out with me. No one here needs a human book. I'm stealing it. Giddy with excitement, I crack open the cover—
Or try to. All the pages are stuck together by some old, dried up fluid. And given that it's in a hotel room…
I squeal in disgust and fling the book away from me.
There's a crash in the bathroom and the door flies open. Jerrok flings himself out of there, clutching a paper-thin towel to his waist as he drips water on the floor. "What? What is it?" His mismatched gaze scans me, then the door. "What happened?"
I shake my hands, as if that can somehow dislodge invisible cooties. "I found a book…but the pages are all stuck together!"
His mouth twitches as I shudder, and he glances down at the book on the floor. "Yeah…you probably don't want to touch that."
"Gross. Just gross." I cross my arms over my chest, hugging myself.
"Someone left it behind for a reason." He pushes his wet hair back off his brow and sighs. "Don't make noises like that again. I thought you were in danger."
"Sorry." I glance over at him and immediately wish I didn't. The towel is soaked through with water, outlining all of his body. There's a thick ripple of something at his hip—probably more scar tissue—but my gaze is drawn instead to the prominent, unable-to-miss outline of his dick against the flimsy cloth. His cock is clearly thick and long, and I see the spur-like growth above his shaft that every mesakkah male has. I also see the outline of what look like multiple piercings.
I avert my gaze, even as I wonder what he looks like without the towel. I haven't seen many mesakkah naked. Maybe in the occasional vid or in a gladiator game, but now I'm curious…and I shouldn't
be. I absolutely do not want to be curious about Jerrok's dick.
I absolutely do not want to see those piercings.
Nope.
He grunts some sort of response and turns back to go into the lavatory once more. "I'll get dressed and you can have the shower. There's still plenty of warm water. Station circulators here are better than the ones back on the asteroid."
"Okay." Before he can shut the door, I blurt out, "You can sleep in the bed, you know."
Jerrok turns to look at me, his mechanical eye whirring just a little as he looks at me and then at the bed. My cheeks flush because when he stands to the side, I can really, really see the outline of his cock through the wet towel. It hangs down like the world's largest banana between his thighs.
Studded banana, my brain whispers. And he's not even hard yet.
I'm not interested in sex, though. I'm not. I don't want to be touched by any alien, no matter how curious his genitalia might be. No matter how nice he was to me today. My brain is acting against me, I know. It's making me think Jerrok means safety, and I'm probably trying to attach myself to him through sexual means as a way of securing my safety. That's all.
He frowns over at me, his hand still gripping that useless towel to his waist. "You're giving up the bed? You want to sleep on the floor?"
"No, the bed is big enough for both of us." I gesture at the pillow fort down the middle. "It's not an invitation for sex, of course. Just to sleep."
"Of course," he says, voice flat. "Because I've been so unable to keep my hands off you."
And now he's irritated again. I can deal with irritated, I decide. "I'm just throwing it out there because I've met enough aliens that think a human is free game for any dick that gets hard, all right? Just sleep on the floor if you're so bothered by me. But that half of the bed is going to remain empty, all right?"
He grunts again and disappears back into the lavatory, and I wonder why I even bothered.
23
JERROK
Even though the bed is soft and comfortable, I can't sleep. Across the pillow fort, Sophie tosses and turns, still smelling like soap from the shower. I smell like soap, too, and my body now somehow thinks that because we smell alike, Sophie is mine.
Or maybe it's just wishful thinking on my part. Because even though today was a pain in the ass…I still liked it. I still liked Sophie's company. Having someone to talk to on the long flight out to the station. Having her hold onto me as I walked through the station. It made me feel normal…and not quite so alone. It's not a feeling I can afford to get used to, though.
Sophie shifts in the bed again, restless, and my thoughts turn to her lying there. I try to see this situation through her eyes. All of this has been hard on her. It's clear she's as fond of hiding out as I am. That's probably why she's with the va Sithai brothers. She wants to hide away from the universe.
Of course…the best place to hide away is on a supposedly deserted station on an asteroid…
Nah. She'd never want that. No one wants to be around me for long. I'm too unpleasant, too set in my ways. Too many broken pieces, and no one ever wants to bother cleaning up the mess in my head. That's fine. I rub my prosthetic arm, thinking about how she touched it so gently. She wasn't disgusted by it. Didn't look at me as if I was the worst station trash ever just because my parts are junk. She's got a kind heart, Sophie. If the universe doesn't eat her alive, it'd be nice to be around her for longer.
I eventually drift off to sleep, thinking about what it'd be like to have Sophie at my station for a while. To share meals with her. To dig out those books I tossed into a forgotten corner a long time ago and watch her pretty face light up with enthusiasm…
Dark memories swirl. Endless hours, waiting in a cold, damp room with my hand tied above my head. My other one is gone, so I can't free myself even if I want to. Every muscle is screaming in pain, and my back feels like fire from the shock-whips that have hit me over and over again until I passed out. My torturer comes in. He's nameless and faceless, wearing a shroud over his head so he can't be identified, but I know he's threshian. I can hear his mandibles click as he approaches, as if he's smacking his keffing lips at the thought of torturing me. "Where is the rest of your fleet?" he asks in a hissing voice and pulls out a pair of crude pliers.
I swallow hard, because I know where this is going. One. Two. Three.
But the counting doesn't stop him from approaching. He reaches for my good hand, tied high above my head, and the pliers move closer. "Tell me or this could go badly."
Four…five…
"Jerrok."
A soft hand touches my face in a gentle caress. It feels so keffing good that I lean into it, groaning. The threshian torturer pauses before he can do his worst, and the room grows dark.
"Jerrok, wake up. You're having a nightmare." Sophie's voice is sweet and soft, her fingers warm as she strokes my cheek. "You're here with me. Don't panic. I'm here."
The torture chamber fades, along with the pain in my hand. I blink awake, only to realize where I am. I'm in the hotel room on the station, in the soft bed. Sophie's hands are cupping my face and her soft body is pressed to mine, her face inches away.
"I'm here." She strokes my face with her thumbs. "You're not in that bad place. You're with me."
I let out a deep breath, swallowing hard as it sinks in. I'm not on Thresh III. I'm not being tortured. I'm so relieved that I grab her and clutch her against my chest, gulping air.
She lets out a squeak of distress as I grab her, but then she lets out a small, breathless laugh. "I'm glad you're back with me. That sounded…bad."
"It was," I manage, voice thick.
"It's okay." Her hands stroke my arm and she leans her head on my chest, still petting me. Her voice is rich and silky, so pleasant I want to wallow in it. I know she's being deliberately sweet to calm me, but I like it far too much to point it out. I don't want her to stop. "I'm just glad you're back and I managed to wake you up without getting a punch in the face."
That's why she's touching me. She's calming me. I feel bad for using her, knowing she probably hates this, but I can't seem to let go of her. Part of me feels like if I do, the torturer's going to return with his pliers, and I'll have to live through that moment all over again. "I wouldn't hurt you."
"I wasn't saying you'd do it on purpose." Sophie keeps petting my chest. "You're not yourself when you dream."
She's right. I'm not. It's why I don't like to sleep much. The dreams always come. I'd rather just work myself until I pass out from exhaustion.
Her hands move over my arm in tiny circles, and I realize she's massaging the fake ligaments and musculature of my arm, like the thoughtful creature she is. "I'm sorry you can't sleep," she continues. "I've always looked forward to sleeping. It was my way to get away from where I was, you know? My last master used to complain that I slept too much. That I was always dropping off during parties or when he wanted to show me off. He didn't realize it was the only place I could go to get away from him." Her fingers glide down my arm. "I'm sorry you don't have that comfort."
I grip her sleeping tunic tightly, half-afraid she's going to pull away from me again. I don't want to let her go.
Ever.
The thought is a stupid one, and I immediately push it out of my head. I'm not that needy. I can get along just fine without a female to cling to as I whimper about my keffing dreams. "Don't think about the past. It's done. You never have to go back."
Sophie says nothing. She doesn't get up, though. She just keeps stroking my arm, her head resting on my chest, and as the silent moments tick past, I wonder if anyone has ever comforted her? Has she been completely abandoned by the universe after it's chewed up and spit her out? Something tells me yes, she has. She's as broken as I am, just in different ways.
Hesitantly, I lift my hand to stroke her hair. I want to tell her that I won't let slavers touch her again. I want to tell her that she'll always have her freedom with me on my asteroid. It's not the best of p
laces, nor is it glamorous. And I'm not the best company. But she'll always be free there, and no one will hurt her. She can stay with me as long as she likes, even if the va Sithai never come back. Even if she keeps that keffing beast that shits everywhere and eats too much. I'd just sell more scrap to make it work.
I touch her hair and it's as soft as anything I've ever felt before. Like silk. Of course it's soft. Sophie is the softest, most beautiful of creatures. That's why she lives in such fear. She knows that anyone that sees her for what she is—an attractive human—will try and steal her. She's worth a fortune in credits—and I've been entrusted to keep her safe.
She's vulnerable out here in ways I've never been. Even as Lankham, I'm left alone. She's been so brave today, though. I open my mouth to tell her so—
The door to the hotel room jiggles.
Sophie jerks up, her eyes wide with fear, just as I hear the beep of the lock being overridden.
24
JERROK
I leap from the bed as my parts groan with protest. My arm creaks as I touch the weapons panel I had installed and a blade shoots out, just over my wrist. I touch Sophie's arm and I can feel her trembling as the second lock on the door beeps, and then goes quiet.
"Get behind me," I tell her. "I'll protect you."
Sophie does so immediately, her hands on my back as she shrinks down. I mentally go through my modifications on my prosthetics. I have a shock-blade in my leg, but it'll take longer to get out. I can use my cybernetic arm as a shield, since the pain there would be phantom instead of real.
I can protect Sophie. I'm good with knives. This is likely just some station alley thief that has a deal with the hotel and robs guests, sharing the take with whoever hands out keys at the front desk.