Under Different Stars

by Amy A. Bartol

  Picking up a silver box that resembles a viewfinder, I put it to my eyes, pressing the button. A click sounds and dust flashes in my eyes. Feeling blinded, I pull it back from my face and glance in the mirror. The viewfinder has applied some make-up to my eyes. Studying the viewfinder, I gasp as the door opens and Trey frowns at me.

  He pulls me gently from the bathroom. “Kricket, this is the lavare and this,” he steers me to a door next to it, pressing the button on the frame to open it, “is the commodus. What happened to your eyes, they’re all red?” he asks, still looking irritated.

  “I think I was supposed to close my eyes before I pushed the button on this thingy…” I hand the automatic make-up artist to him. Entering the commodus and finding a toilet, I quickly close the door and use it. Flushing the toilet, an automated feminine voice speaks to me from above, “You are calcium deficient. Please acquire a calcium supplement at the commissary.”

  “That’s totally creepy,” I breathe, washing my hands. Rewrapping the towel around me, I step out of the commodus, finding Trey already dressed in his uniform again.

  “I’ve ordered you some clothes,” he says, eyeing my towel.

  “How?”

  “Com link,” he states, pointing toward the door.

  “Of course,” I reply, trying to cover my ignorance.

  “Here,” Trey hands me a paper-thin square.

  I look at it in the palm of my hand and don’t know what it’s for. “Thanks, you shouldn’t have gotten me this cute, little piece of paper. I didn’t get you anything.”

  “Just eat the calcium, please,” he says, ignoring my sarcasm.

  “Oh, you heard that?” I’m embarrassed that my calcium deficiency was broadcast by a creepy fem-bot.

  “I’m a chameleon. I’m always listening.” A reluctant smile twists his lips.

  I smile, too. “I’m rubbing off on you.”

  “You’re doing something to me,” he agrees. “Kricket, I—” he begins to say something, but the door opens while a Comantre soldier waits outside the entrance to our room. Trey retrieves a package from him, bringing it to me as the door closes behind him again.

  “Here, Kricket,” he says, handing me clothes bundled in tissue paper.

  Taking the clothes from him, my fingers dance over the soft, silky fabric. “It’s been a long time since anyone has bought me clothes,” I murmur, hugging them to me. “I’ll pay you back.” I hate the thought of owing anyone anything and I especially hate the thought of owing Trey anything.

  “You’re my consort,” Trey says, giving me a meaningful look. “What’s mine is yours.”

  I close my eyes briefly, knowing I just messed up. “Of course,” I reply, trying to cover up for my slip. Tentatively, I rise up on my tiptoes and give him a light kiss on the cheek. “Thank you.”

  Turning, I go to the lavare to change. After I unwrap the package, I lift a pair of form fitting black pants and hold them up to me. As I pull them on, they fit as if they’re tailored to my exact measurements. Next, I slip on an ultra-stiff, white cami with built-in support that has a corset-like feel to it. It pushes everything in and up, making my curves even more dangerous. A long, tailored white jacket is included. It has two rows of black buttons down the front and a slim black belt at my waist; the collar is straight and stiff, reaching to just below my ears. There is a cowl-like hood that can be worn to cover my hair.

  Looking at myself in the mirror, I whisper to my reflection, “Who are you?” because I look urban glam. Leaving the hood down, I brush my hair again before stepping out of the lavare.

  “Who’s this?” Jax asks when he sees me. His eyes scan me like he’s never seen me before.

  “They let you out!” I say, seeing Wayra next to him as he studies me, too.

  “Kitten, we’ll be able to leave soon,” Trey says, using his nickname for me to remind me that we’re still being monitored. “The consulate has stepped in to facilitate replacing your lost identification. They’ve sent an escort.”

  “That was fast,” I murmur, feeling goose bumps rise on my arms.

  “Yes, it was very quick,” Trey agrees, looking concerned.

  “I had expected it would take longer. We must be very lucky,” I add, thinking of all the bureaucratic red tape humans have to juggle when creating new documentation for someone.

  “We’re more important than we thought,” Trey’s reply makes me shiver.

  Gideon arrives then, stepping into the room and saying, “Well, everything checks out now. Your escorts from the consulate have arrived with your identification, Kricket.” He hands me tags with my assumed name and numbers on them. Holding them in my fist, I smile, feeling my heart racing. “Your father must be a very powerful man in Rafe to have expedited all of this.”

  “He is,” I agree, feeling my hands shake, “very powerful.”

  Gideon smiles at me, nodding. Trey intervenes then, “Remember, Gideon, if you’re ever in the Valley of Thistle, please visit my family. Just ask for Trey Allairis.”

  “Yes, I’ll do that, many thanks, Trey. And by the way, I was wrong. You’re a very fortunate Etharian,” Gideon says with a smirk. “Well, this way then.” Seeing Gideon smile at me, I blush, thinking maybe he was listening to us in the shower.

  As we’re led from the room, Gideon shows us to a cavernous main lobby that’s bigger and more ornate than Union Station. Amid all the chaos of really tall people going about their business, five elegantly uniformed men with dark hair and violet eyes stand by the outer doors, waiting silently for us to come to them.

  “Regent secret police,” Wayra whispers to Jax. “What are they doing here?” he asks grimly.

  “I don’t know,” Jax whispers back. “They look like a bunch of knob knockers to me.”

  “Shouldn’t they have sent more Cavars? Why do I feel like I’m about to deliver a sloat to the butcher?”

  They look as ominous as crows to me. Their tunic-like uniforms are black emblazoned with a gray shield. An intricate, violet saer on his hind legs breathing fire is embroidered on the shield.

  Feeling someone take my hand, I look down to see Trey’s warm fingers entwined in mine. He squeezes them gently, but he’s looking straight ahead at the men by the door. As we approach them, they all go down on one knee, using a sweeping arm gesture before rising again. The slender one in the middle says, “Trey and Kricket Allairis. We’re here to escort you back to Rafe. Your transport is just outside.”

  “Fine,” Trey says in a dismissive tone, walking right by them and ushering me through the doors. Just outside the doors, in a diplomatic parking area, sit two gleaming, white crafts that resemble smaller versions of Stealth Fighters.

  Ushering me to one, Trey places his hand on the small of my back as I climb the stairs. Inside, the cabin looks like a posh living room equipped with sofas and large recliners. Trey leads me to a seat near a window. I sink into the large chair and Trey sits next to me.

  Pulling out his communicator thingy, Trey begins barking weird words into it, like a code. Then he says, “Ateur Victus Allairis, message: Need to speak with you. Urgent. Contact immediately.”

  Jax and Wayra sit in the chairs directly facing ours so that we occupy our own area. Ignoring the thinner Regent agent across the aisle, Trey continues to use his communicator, tapping on it like he’s typing something.

  In frustration, the agent by our chairs clears his throat loudly. “I’m Ustus, the agent assigned to the Hollowell case. You are to take the other transport. Your mission is over. You have successfully delivered Hollowell to us. We’ll deliver her to the corrective court for processing.”

  Trey glances at me and raises his eyebrow in question. I nod; the agent is telling us the truth. Trey frowns at Ustus. “I have received no such orders from my superiors, therefore, my mission is not complete.”

  “Your orders are here,” Ustus counters, snapping his fingers. Another darkly clad agent appears, handing him a digital tablet. Trey takes it from the officer before plu
cking a silver bead from the tablet. Placing it in his ear, he touches the face of the computer-like tablet with his hand. It scans his hand and Trey listens to whatever is being explained in his earpiece.

  He pulls the earpiece from his ear. “They said I’m to turn her over to you upon our arrival in Rafe.” He’s not being truthful.

  “Listen again, my orders were clear. We handle it from here,” Ustus replies in a frustrated tone.

  “You know, the thing about these messages is that they only play once,” Trey replies casually, handing it back to the officer.

  “If you refuse to get off this transport, then I’ll be forced to take her to the other one.” Ustus is determined not to back down.

  “You can try,” Trey replies with menace in his tone, standing up. Wayra and Jax stand too, looking very muscley again. “But I wouldn’t recommend it.”

  Ustus’s nostrils flare, but he takes a step back, nodding to his men behind him. “I will remain on this trift. We’ll take possession when we reach Rafe.” The other agents nod, exiting the sleek aircraft to board the other one. Turning to Trey, he says in a stilted tone, “I hope that your lack of cooperation does not adversely affect the commendation you’re to receive from Skye for this service.”

  Sitting down in their seats again, Trey’s frown deepens as he looks at Jax and Wayra.

  Ustus walks to the front to sit with the pilot. I try hard to smile at the Cavars. Pulling off something just short of a grimace, I roll my eyes and say, “You can try.” All their eyes turn to me as we burst out laughing. Feeling the trift lift off the ground slowly, like it’s levitating, everyone sobers quickly.

  I moisten my lips that have suddenly gone dry. “Once we get to Rafe, you have to hand me over to those Regent guys, right?” I see Trey’s eyebrows pull together.

  “Yes,” he states, almost sullenly.

  “How long do I have?” I ask, feeling anxiety creeping in.

  “It should only take a quarter of a part,” Jax says with what looks like regret. Since a part is a little more than an hour, I do the math and figure I have about twenty minutes until I get handed over.

  “Who are the Regent police?”

  “They’re a special branch that takes care of palace affairs,” Trey says.

  “Palace…as in a royal family kind of thing?”

  “Urr…maybe like Secret Service?” Jax asks, looking at me to see if that’s a good enough explanation.

  “So, this is…no longer military and it’s not a civil court situation, like you were led to believe…”

  “This is completely wacked,” Wayra growls in a low tone, looking between Jax and Trey.

  “Who knows about me…besides you guys?”

  “Our superiors,” Trey replies, looking grim.

  “That phone thing takes pictures, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay, take my picture,” I say, running my hand through my hair. “Then I want you to send it to all of your e-mail accounts or whatever it is you guys have here. Send it to your brother, too.”

  “Why?” Wayra asks, looking at Trey’s smile.

  “Deniability…it’s hard to deny something when there is proof that it exists,” I explain. “Oh, I think we should send a picture of Trey and me to Gideon, too. You know, to thank him for his hospitality.” Seeing Trey’s smile deepen, I hold still for the pictures.

  Snapping a few photos of me, Trey hands the phone to Jax who takes a couple of pictures of us together. Then I still as something occurs to me. “Wait! Uh…wait a second! Don’t send that! Here…can we erase these?” I ask, panicking and trying to reach for the communicator.

  Pulling it back from me, Trey asks, “What’s wrong?”

  “Not such a good idea for you guys,” I reach for the phone again. “You need to erase them.”

  “Why?” he asks again.

  “Because this will get you in trouble.”

  “No, this is insurance,” Trey replies. “We keep it.”

  “You shouldn’t be involved,” I say, thinking about what could happen to him if he uses those pictures to help me.

  “I’m involved,” he states, like that’s the end of the discussion.

  My frown deepens. “Don’t be stupid. This feels like a ‘sacrifice the pawn’ move to me. If that’s the case, then you can be included in that if you have these pictures.”

  “Or, it can elevate me to queen,” he replies, unruffled.

  My lips twitch at the mental image of him as a “queen.” “This is not queen material…knight maybe, but not queen,” I reply, chewing my bottom lip.

  “I’ll take the upgrade.” His eyes soften a little. “Here, memorize this.”

  He holds his communicator up to me; there is a serial number on the back with fifteen letters and numbers. “What is this?” I ask, trying to commit the code to memory.

  “My number.”

  “Oh,” I murmur, feeling myself blush. “Okay.”

  Everyone falls silent then. I gaze out the window at the blue sky dotted with ultra-white clouds. Glancing at Trey, his jaw is tense, like he’s on edge. His hand on the armrest next to mine moves so that it’s just touching mine. The knot in my stomach eases a little and is replaced by his presence and the feeling of being protected.

  From my seat, I watch the trift make a rapid descent and touch down on a manicured lawn. The lawn is incredible; it’s laid out with intricate cascading water features that make the Buckingham Fountain in Chicago look like a birdbath. In the distance beyond the gardens, I can see structures that look like porticoes leading to beautiful, ornately sculptured buildings—like something you might see in Versailles.

  “Where are we?” I ask.

  “The palace,” Jax says, looking nervous.

  “Oh.” I feel ill. “Okay, I have something for you guys.” Reaching inside my sleeve, I pull out two small packages wrapped in the tissue my new clothes came in. Handing one to Wayra and one to Jax, I smile at their startled expressions.

  “What’s this?” Wayra asks. He opens the tissue paper, and grinning, he holds up my pink underwear.

  “Pinky promise.” Debt paid, I think.

  Jax opens his, seeing my pink bra inside, he laughs like I’ve never heard him laugh before. When Jax looks at me, I say, “I’m denying all knowledge of this transaction.”

  Glancing at Trey, his jaw is still tense. Ustus, arriving at our seats again, motions to me to follow him. The other agents have opened the doors to the trift, boarded it, and are waiting by the exit. “And as for you,” I say to Trey in a teasing tone, rising from my seat, I lean down and whisper in his ear, “I want a divorce.”

  Trey’s jaw tenses, like he finds no humor in what I just said. I straighten then and move to follow the soldier in front of me. “Kricket,” Trey says my name, grabbing my wrist tightly. Seeing the grim expression on his face, my heart twists in my chest.

  “Don’t worry, your job is over now and I’ve been here before—in this situation,” I say softly, but his hand only tightens on my wrist. “I’m stone, remember? Nothing touches me.” My smile is the plastic kind—fake. I say it more for me than for him. For some stupid reason, I let him into my world of one, but I’m better off alone...I’m always better off alone.

  The pressure on my wrist eases as I pull my hand from his. Turning away and walking to the exit, I try really hard not to cry, taking deep breaths as my hands turn to fists. A dark clad agent approaches me with a metal collar. My heartbeat picks up as he clamps it around my neck, snapping it into place.

  “That’s not necessary. She’s not resisting—she’s going with you willingly,” Trey growls from behind me, his voice sounding deadly.

  The agent ignores him, pulling out a gadget that looks like a garage door opener. Smirking at me with a glint in his violet eyes, he says, “Test in four, three, two, one…” Depressing the button, the collar around my neck tightens instantly, squeezing my throat painfully while cutting off my oxygen. Wide-eyed, my hands fly to the collar,
trying to pull it away from me, but it won’t ease. Feeling light-headed and disoriented, black spots form in my vision, right before the collar eases, allowing me to breathe again.

  As I take my first gasping breath, Trey’s fist smashes into the face of the Regent agent holding the remote to the collar around my neck. Jax is next to me, demanding the code to release the collar, and Wayra is backing Ustus and his agents up so they can’t get near me.

  CHAPTER 12

  PROCESSING

  Removing the collar from my neck, Jax holds me by my shoulders, looking in my eyes. “You knob knockers!” Jax says harshly toward the Regent agents being held back by Wayra. “She’s smaller than us. She can’t take the kind of pressure that a restraint exerts on a normal adult—is it even calibrated for a female? You need to recalibrate a collar for her if you plan on using it!”

  Glancing over at Trey, he’s holding the agent who had put the collar on me by his uniform, looking like he’s ready to hit him again at the slightest provocation.

  “You’re violating our orders!” Ustus says from behind Wayra. “This is standard procedure.”

  “No, we’re ensuring that our prisoner is protected. We didn’t spend half a floan tracking her to have you kill her during the prisoner exchange,” Trey replies. When he looks back at the agent he’s holding immobile, Trey snatches the metal identification tag from the agent’s belt. He studies the tag and says, “If she has one little scratch on her when you bring her to court, I will find you, Fex Theda, and we’ll discuss it just as we have here.”

  “If we agree to take her unrestrained, will you turn over the prisoner now?” Ustus asks Trey.

  Easing his grip on Fex, Trey lets go of the agent who immediately backs away from him. “Why are we here?” Trey asks Ustus. “You said that you were taking her to the court for processing.”

  “And I will. We’re here because she needs to see a physician before processing. She needs vaccinations before she can join the general population.”