by Kyle, Celia
A burly Shorcu with his central eye milked over with blindness shuffled out, bearing two heavy sacks full of beer bottles. He glanced at me and then used his hip to keep the door open.
“Hurry up. You’re late.”
Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, I hastened through the door while thanking him. It took a moment for my eyes to adjust to the gloom, and then there was a portly Grolgath tugging on my sleeve.
“You must be Glitter. You were supposed to be here an hour ago.”
I grinned, and tried to act stupid.
“Yeah, sorry boss. I got held up by sumthin’.”
“Don’t get held up again or you’re fired.” He jabbed his finger toward a steel door with a star emblazoned it its surface. “Talent gets dressed in there. What’s that getup supposed to be? Military meets schoolmarm? Never mind, Dolores will get you something better for the stage.”
“Stage?” I had assumed I would be a bartender or something, not a dancer. But there was no way to correct him without blowing my cover.
He put a hand on my shoulder and pushed me toward the door.
“Come on. I haven’t got all day.”
I went through the door and was faced with half a dozen women in various stages of undress. I was not the only human, though the other two were considerably older than me. A Vakutan woman with an amazingly curvy body—most likely enhanced by surgery—came up to me and put her hands on her hips.
“You’re the new girl. Aren’t you? They always put the new girls on my shift.”
“Ah, yes. I’m… Glitter. Pleased to meet you.”
She looked down at my proffered hand and grimaced.
“What’s this for?”
“Ah… never mind.” I forgot that human handshakes were not the normal protocol in much of the galaxy, especially this far from IHC space. “Er… the boss said you could help me with a costume?”
She rolled her eyes, sighed, and motioned for me to follow.
“This is why he always schedules the fresh meat when I’m working. ‘Dolores, do this, Dolores, teach them all your secrets’ blah blah blah.’”
I followed her to a rack of clothing. She started taking various garments and holding them against me to check their length.
“No, no, no…it’s all too long. Don’t we have any human-sized—ah, here we go. This will look great on you.”
Dolores paused, looking at me expectantly.
“Well?”
“Well what?”
“Get out of those unsexy street clothes so you can change. You’re on stage in ten.”
Ten?
“Ah…right here?”
“Yes, right here. Only top tier talent gets their own dressing room, and you’re fresh meat.”
I quickly took off the coat and tech vest before I lost my nerve. Dolores’s eyes ran over my form, but not in a lewd way. More like a cold assessment of my physical attributes.
“Yeah, you’re a busty one all right.” She laughed when she saw my underwear. “What are those? Athletic shorts? That will never do. You need layers to peel off, so I’d recommend this… this… and this.”
I got dressed—if you could call it that. The evening gown had a plunging neckline to display my cleavage, and a slit up to my waist to expose my leg. And the underwear was the variety I would never pick out for myself; all lacey and girly and utterly see through. Of course, I guess that was the point.
“I don’t know if I can do this,” I said as I examined myself in the mirror.
“You’ll be fine. Everyone is nervous the first time. Hey, Clem, come over here and do her makeup. Will you?”
A Grolgath female stood up to assist, and my curiosity got the better of me.
“How come you all have human names?”
“Are you stupid? You see a human woman’s name on the marquee you’re more likely to stop. It’s the tits, you see. Most of us don’t have them when we’re not nursing.”
I allowed them to gussy me up like a common street whore. The sight of myself was unsettling because they spent a lot of effort to make me look cheap.
“She still looks nervous,” Clem said.
“Here, this will loosen her up.”
Dolores handed me a bottle of amber fluid with a spicy aroma. I sniffed the nozzle and it burned my nostrils.
“Come on, you’re almost up.”
Sighing, I put the nozzle in my mouth, intending to take a small sip. But Dolores pushed the bottom of the bottle, raising it up, and spilling half the contents down my throat. Coughing and sputtering, I pulled it away as the liquor hit me. Suddenly I felt warm and giddy, which was a foreign sensation.
“Hey, the emcee is calling her. You’re up, Glitter.”
“It’s Thrase, actually.” Shit, I didn’t mean to blurt that out. Damn alcohol.
“Clem, go tell the emcee it’s Thrase, not Glitter. That’s a sexier name anyway.”
She gave me a wink and shoved me out onto the stage…
Which brings me back into the present. On stage, the music grinding, and absolutely terrified.
I scan the audience and see that Zander is there. His face is creased in a worried frown, his eyes lurking beneath his horns full of recrimination. I sort of shrug, and then the crowd starts to boo.
Shit. Can’t have us thrown out yet, not until we have the information we need. The liquor is really starting to hit me, and I start swaying instinctively to the music. I realize the only way I can get through this is if I pretend it’s only me and Zander in the club.
Something stirs inside of me when our gazes meet. Suddenly, I want him to want me, desperately. Keeping eye contact, I grab the pole and twirl myself about it as I saw the other women do. My movements aren’t as fluid, but the patrons don’t seem to mind. I struggle to ignore their hooping and hollering and focus only on Zander.
His grimace fades, and his mouth goes slack as I finish my spin. Slowly, I unzip the side of my dress—convenient, that—and peel it off my body. Now clad only in my rather translucent underwear and gloves, I turn about and thrust my hips as the other dancers did. Again I’m sure my motions aren’t nearly as graceful as theirs, and again the crowd does not mind.
When I turn about, Zander has sweat beading on his golden-skinned brow. He drains what’s left of his beer in one go and continues to stare intently. Dropping to all fours, I crawl toward him, keeping eye contact the whole time.
He’s right at the edge of the stage, and I take a leap of faith—literally and figuratively. I land in his lap, straddling him, and put my arms behind my head and gyrate my hips. Twin bumps press up against my body through his trousers, which spurs me on to greater efforts. I’ve forgotten that I’m even in a club, and for the moment only the two of us exist in the entire galaxy.
Zander’s hands close on my arms, and he drags me toward him, lips moving in for a kiss. I eagerly move to accept it, desperate for this moment to finally happen.
That’s when the Odex bouncer’s fist closes on Zander’s shoulder and peels us apart.
“No touching the girls. This is a respectable joint.”
Zander is dragged out the front door and tossed into the street. Damn it all. I rush backstage, eschewing the hard currency tossed onto the stage for my benefit, grab my clothes—including our weapons—and run back out the front door after him, causing the owner great consternation.
“But you just started.”
“And I’m just quitting. Thanks for the opportunity.”
It’s only when I come outside and stand next to Zander as he picks himself up that I realize I didn’t dress yet.
“Thrase… for the love of… cover yourself, everyone can see your, see your… see your everything.”
I quickly don his brocade coat, buttoning it closed.
“I was worried about you.”
“I’m fine… that was some… I mean… where did you even learn to… I didn’t know human females were so bendy…”
“Necessity is the mother of invention.”
I grin at him, blushing but also glad I’ve had such an effect on him. Strange, for so many years I wanted men to appreciate me for my mind first and foremost, and now I get a deep thrill from the fact that he’s openly lusting over my body. “Did you find anything out at all?”
“About the men who attacked us, no, I did not…but I picked up a very valuable clue. The Starcorp building, supposedly abandoned, has armed guards. Armed guards who are particularly trigger happy and wearing IHC Marine uniforms.”
I grin happily.
“That sounds most promising, Zander. Excellent work.”
“Yes, thank you. Shall we return to the ship and make our report?”
I can’t help but notice the awkward way that he walks. Poor Zander, dealing with localized swelling in his lower abdomen.
I berate myself for thinking how much I want to help him relieve it.
Chapter Nine
Zander
By the time we return to the Ancestral Queen, I am no longer suffering under the “affliction” brought on by Thrase’s impromptu performance at the club. Which is most fortunate, considering what passes for a sense of humor on this ship.
However, that doesn’t mean I escape unscathed. Montier, our ship’s steward, is working in the cargo hold when Thrase and I come up the gangplank. He looks at Thrase, who is wearing my jacket and precious little else other than garish cosmetics, and starts laughing.
“I have to hear this story.” He puts his hands on his hips as we enter. Thrase’s cheeks turn red in the human way, and I move to interpose myself between her and Montier’s line of sight.
“You don’t have to do any such thing. Have the other teams returned?”
“As a matter of fact, they have. You’re the last ones to report in…what’s that all over her face?”
“None of your business. Now stand aside. We must make our report.”
Once we are out of the cargo bay, Thrase gestures at herself and points down the corridor to her shared quarters.
“I’m going to just…”
“Yes, of course.” I lean against the wall outside her door. “I will await your convenience.”
“Thank you.” She shoots me a smile, pushes up the glasses on her nose, and exits the corridor. I spend the next fifteen minutes trying hard not to think about her gyrating all over me at the club and failing miserably. I would expect such behavior from many human women on board, but not the cerebral Thrase.
I hate myself because I like that side of her so much. My wildest fantasies of late have involved a similar scenario, albeit in the privacy of my own abode.
Quantum flux shift… condensed particle emissions… radiation shielding… oh, what’s the use? She’s crawled into my head and signed a lease to remain indefinitely. Back in the club, we were so close to kissing and finally confirming our fated mate bond. Or confirming it’s all in my head. Either way would provide some measure of relief, though I know which outcome I would prefer.
At length the door to her quarters slides open, and she appears dressed in a knee length black skirt and white button up blouse, her face washed clean of the garish cosmetics. However, she’s added a bit of color to her lips, and some smoky shade about her eyes. I find my tongue is as thick as leather in my mouth, useless to form speech.
“Thanks for waiting.” She brushes her rich yellow mane back away from her face and smiles. Still unable to speak, I gesture for her to accompany me and we walk side by side through the twisting corridors until we reach the bridge.
The doors slide open, and only Kelk is in attendance. He’s supposed to be Swipt’s understudy, but if he displays the same lack of attention to detail here on the bridge that he does in my command, his stay will be short indeed.
“Where is everyone?”
Kelk turns around and can’t keep a brief grimace off his face when he sees it’s me.
“Solair decided everyone could use a good meal, so they decided to hold the meeting in the mess hall.”
My belly rumbles at the thought, which elicits a girlish chuckle from Thrase. Even though her mirth is at my expense, I join in.
We head down to the mess hall, which is midship, and find that at this late hour it’s mostly empty. Jax is in the kitchen using the sonic sink to scrub dishes clean while Marion empties the contents of a pot into a flexible container for storage. She glances up as we enter, and gestures to two plates sitting under a glass dome.
“I saved you some dinner.”
“Thank you, Marion. As always, you’re too kind to us.”
Marion smiles at Thrase, and then arches her eyebrow.
“Wait a minute… are you wearing lipstick?”
Thrase stiffens up, and some color comes to her cheeks.
“What of it? It’s hardly any of your concern.”
“It’s just that I’ve never seen you wear it… ever.”
“Perhaps you haven’t been paying sufficient attention.”
Marion looks pointedly at me and chuckles softly.
“Yes, I’m sure that’s why… and not some other reason.”
She offers me a wink as Thrase and I take our plates and move to join Solair and the others at their table. I try to keep my feelings off my face, but my heart is beating a rapid tattoo in my chest. Could it be she’s wearing it for me?
“Here they are.” Solair waves us over. “Come, sit down. This mashed swamp nugget compote is purely divine.”
“Thank you, sir.” I sit down near the end of the bench-style seating and Thrase slides in next to me. Our hips are very close, almost touching, and I can feel her body heat across the short distance separating us. As if it weren’t hard enough to concentrate just having her present.
“Grantian was just about to tell us what he discovered.” Solair gestures to our first mate, who sets down his eating prong and addresses the table.
“Precious little, Captain. We were unable to find any leads regarding our quarry. However, we did find out that the slavers guild we robbed on our last mission has hired assassins seeking any from our crew to punish.”
I chuckle at that.
“We ran into them already, or at least two of them.”
Solair frowns and sets down his own fork.
“What happened?”
“I guess you could say they just fell to pieces.”
Thrase and I enjoy a laugh, which of course no one else gets the crux of. Solair arches his brow, a slight grin playing at his lips, and gestures to me.
“So what did you two find on your… mission? By the way, Thrase, that shade looks lovely on you. Don’t you agree, Zander?”
“Ah…” why is it so suddenly warm in here? Thrase turns her face slightly away from me, but a soft smile stretches her painted lips. “That is… pertaining to the mission, Captain, we may have struck upon an important lead.”
“Do go on.”
“The Starcorp building, long abandoned, has armed guards out front. Armed guards dressed like IHC marines.”
Swipt gasps and jabs his fork in the air at me.
“Hey, way to steal our thunder, Zander.” Crumbs shoot out of his mouth and onto the table. Ilya takes a napkin and dabs at his face. “Thanks, hon.”
“I take it you, also, came across a similar lead, Swipt?”
“You got that right, Captain. Nobody seems to know what’s going on inside of it, however. Guess that means the armed guards are doing their job.”
Solair glances over at Fiona, who sits next to Montier.
“This sounds like your department, Fiona.”
The pale complexioned woman taps on her tablet, bringing the screen to life. Her eyes narrow in concentration as we all give her the time and quiet she needs to work. I’m most of the way through my compote when she finally deigns to speak.
“I can’t tell you for certain who owns the Starcorp building now. It’s changed hands a dozen times since the company folded, and at least two of those owners were dummy corporations who don’t even have a physical office space.”
“Cheer up, Solair, I did find something very intriguing, something that may give us a way inside.”
Fiona’s fingers tap on her screen, and she clears her throat before speaking loudly enough the whole table can hear.
“While I can’t tell you for certain who owns the building any more, I can tell you a research firm is renting space on the sixth floor. Azure Visions, according to this.”
She turns the screen around so Solair can see.
“And they’re hiring.”
“Hiring?” Solair strokes his golden chin in thought. “For what? More guards?”
“No, they want more scientifically adept help in their research department.” Fiona frowns as she goes over the proffered contract. “Wow, there’s a lot of fine print on this… non-disclosure agreement, confinement on site for six-week periods at a time… and total ownership by the company for any breakthroughs achieved. Honestly, with this type of draconian contract, no wonder they can’t find decent help.”
Solair grins down the table, not at me, but at Thrase.
“I can think of one person who might be both qualified and willing.”
Thrase nods, much to my chagrin.
“I’m willing to do my part, Solair. While I hesitate to ascribe the title of ‘friend’ to Lokyer, the thought of him being in the hands of those diabolical cretins Blue Dawn makes me angry.”
“Good, then Fiona will help you fill out the…”
“Absolutely not.” I stand up and slam my fist down on the table. “This will not stand. How can you even think about sending her into a viper’s nest like that?”
“Zander.” Thrase’s voice is low, but has a harsh edge. It gives me pause enough for Solair to interrupt.