Aspirant: A Sci-Fi Harem Adventure

by Whittaker, Maxx

  Aspirant

  Book 1

  Aspirant is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual places, events, or persons living or deceased, is purely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2019 by Harrison Rexx & Maxx Whittaker

  Copyright © 2019 Saving Throw Ink

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher, addressed “Attention: Publishing Partner,” at the email address below.

  midnightbookworks@mail.com

  First Printing October 2019

  Contents

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  6

  7

  8

  9

  10

  11

  12

  13

  14

  15

  16

  17

  18

  19

  20

  21

  22

  23

  24

  25

  26

  27

  1

  -Before-

  Aspirant #2239

  US Highway 550, Colorado Mountains, USA

  Time Until Cognitive Capture: 00:04:27

  I can’t keep doing this to myself.

  I grip the wheel and I turn just in time to carome around a hairpin curve. Wheels screech, churning up rock and dirt as I come half off the road, dangerously close to a cliff whose bottom I can’t see in the wan light of the half moon. A few more feet and I’d be at the bottom, nothing but flaming wreckage.

  I can handle this.

  Headlights blind me on a straightaway. My lane, theirs? A semi blows past like a train, horns blaring. He’s probably already on the radio to Highway Patrol. And he’s probably the only person hoping they catch me before I make it over the pass, but there are one or two more who should cross their fingers. When your girl takes off with your best friend, it’s bad enough. Jason was my foreman; that means when you punch the sonofabitch responsible, you lose your job. And he leaves for Utah with your final pay in his pocket the day before rent’s due. And she leaves with half your stuff.

  I could probably get over an empty house and an anorexic bank account and everything else they took, but Remington was my goddamn dog.

  The moon disappears behind dark clouds, heralding a storm that I had a vague notion of trying to outrun. Too late for that. The first fat drops of rain spatter against my cracked windshield, and I flip on the wipers. Dog-eared rubber makes streaks. It doesn’t clear the rain, but I don’t slow down.

  Half-jokes about my dog aside, I don’t know why I’m doing this. Driving like a maniac on a fatality highway. I guess I’m fucking tired of feeling tonight, being at the mercy of rage and bitterness. Now I’m in control, both hands around the neck of Life.

  Another semi blows past me, its horn rising and fading like a low tide. Good luck, buddy. Capitalism is the only force powerful enough to get someone to drive in conditions like these.

  Well, that and revenge, I guess. When I’m done with Jason bail money will probably eat up most of that final pay and I’m good with it. I’ll have enough for dog food and gas to get me the hell out of Shithole Colorado.

  My single headlight barely illuminates the next turn through mountain-peak sheets of rain. In my defense, the shoulder is deceptive, spooning the curve and tricking my eye into thinking there’s more forgiveness beyond the pavement than really exists. But I should have suspected. I know this road; I know better than to lay my foot so heavy on the gas.

  This wasn’t premeditated. I thought I had control.

  Instinct and reflexes scramble to save me from myself. Turn, correct; break and coast.

  Too little too late. My truck clears the edge at sixty miles an hour. There’s an apex of weightlessness and darkness and my brain buzzes. This isn’t real. I’m dreaming, or I’ll be suspended like this forever, above a jagged canyon.

  The nose of my Chevy pitches downward. My lone headlight is swallowed by the chasm. Gravity grabs me and shakes me by the shoulders.

  This is going to be bad. This is going to be so bad.

  This is going to–

  2

  Aspirant #2239

  Status: Deceased

  Cognitive Recovery: 99.987%

  Position in Aspirant Queue: 77

  Waiting to initiate…|

  Room 0

  “Get up. Please, please get up.”

  The world swims around me. I don’t feel… inside myself? Or I don’t feel inside this place? It’s too hard to sort out. I turn away from her voice.

  “Please wake up. You have to. Ugh, what is this?” she pants through a vague accent.

  Her panic stirs something, but like a dream versus the alarm I ignore it and ball tighter. There are questions pinging in the back of my mind, bigger worries that haven’t reshaped themselves yet. There’s something I should be terrified of, brace for. This is what I need to focus on.

  A small foot plants in my ass, pushing down with surprising force and sprawling me on my back. The floor is slick, icy against my skin. I come up flailing. It’s preservation, not rage, but my companion doesn’t take it that way.

  “Don’t!” She stumbles back, shielding her face with both arms. “I had to do something. We have to go .”

  “Go wh–” Everything hits me at once.

  This isn’t a dream or a hallucination. My backside aches a little from her foot and the ground beneath my hand has texture and temperature. The space around us is complete and realistic, no purple grass or kids I haven’t seen since high school trying to run me over.

  And there’s her.

  “You have a name?” I ask, glancing around us.

  “Um…” Her chest heaves as she watches me with wide dark eyes like prey would a predator. Her breath comes in little hitches of panic, and tears pool at her bottom lashes. “Mika. It’s Mika.”

  She doesn’t sound sure about that. Maybe it’s that she’s entirely naked.

  Her body is near voluptuous, all curves and ivory skin. A curtain of thick black hair accentuates the turn of her almond-shaped eyes. Folded arms and legs barely conceal a geisha-like beauty.

  I can’t help how my body responds to her. This is when I realize I’m naked, too. Explains why the floor felt like a glacier against my back.

  “What the fuck…” I fold my legs to hide my embarrassment, but not before her eyes dart low, taking me in. There’s a tinge of blush to her cheeks and her gazes moves past me.

  “We have to go,” she repeats, standing and reaching out a hand. “Get up.”

  My eyes are everywhere but on her now. “Where the hell am I?”

  “That doesn’t matter right now. Please, just get up.”

  “I don’t–” My head still swims. The last thing I remember… “My dog. I need to get–”

  “That doesn’t matter right now.” Mika wrings her hands, a combination of fear and frustration warring across her delicate features. “Look, we can talk later… Just please come with me.”

  Something about her terror, so raw and real, galvanizes me. I stumble up, half trying to hide myself and half so disoriented that I don’t care. Where am I?

  Some kind of hallway. The walls are sterile white and featureless like an Apple store, meant to soothe. Th
ere are no light sources I can detect but the passage is bright as day. At one end, only a dozen steps away, is a door, the same color as the walls. I can only tell it’s a door by its outline, a grey and black silhouette that seems to float an inch from the wall. At the center of the door is a plate with two glowing handprints at its center, like something from a spy movie.

  And that’s it. White hall, weird door, naked woman.

  If I’m dead and this is the afterlife, I have a lot of questions.

  Mika goes from nervous to trembling.

  I don’t see what has her so shaken. Maybe she’s just more overwhelmed than me by waking up somewhere bizarre. Nothing seems that bad. Weird but not bad. “Hey, I don’t think we’re stuck–”

  “We have to go! I don’t know how else to say it!” She’s too scared to hide her nudity anymore. She glances behind me over and over.

  “Why? Can you explain what the hell is happening?”

  “That,” she moans. “That is happening. It’s been happening since I woke up.”

  Some of the light around us fades.

  I’m not sure why I didn’t turn before; the passage runs both ways. But the length behind us is impossibly long, fading off into a kind of horizon.

  That’s not what keeps me frozen right now.

  What paralyzes me is what shares the hall with us. It wasn’t here a minute ago, but I realize now it’s been coming, manifesting as the light recedes. Black smoke expands, thickening. My brain shouts fire, but there’s no source. No flames, no vents or doors letting it in. It’s come from nothing, and it’s growing. This is what Mika saw.

  It’s vaguely manlike now, a shadow of a person, so dark it seems to swallow the sourceless light around it. The ceiling must be ten feet up and the creature hunches to fit its form into the space.

  Only two things about it are distinct: Red eyes blaze, twin flames that gaze at us with purpose so palpable my skin prickles. This feeling is underscored by a slate blade curving out where its arm should be. The scythe-like weapon hangs as long as my body and drags a furrow in the solid floor as the creature begins his approach.

  “It’s moving,” Mika whispers, hands gripped around my bicep. “It’s–”

  “Yeah.” I can’t find more words. This is so far beyond what my brain can grasp.

  This time when she pulls, I don’t resist.

  We run for the door. “What is that thing?” I already know what she’ll say but my brain screams for an explanation. Minutes ago, I was on a Colorado highway, pissed off. Now…

  “I don’t know,” she says as we skid to a stop. “Or why it hasn’t… run us down.”

  I watch the creature. His pace and posture don’t change. “I’m not sure it’s supposed to.”

  “What?” I can feel her staring at me while I study the thing. He’s almost mechanical. Deliberate. A plow or conveyer. “He’s herding us along, I think. So long as we move–”

  “Okay but look at it!” she hisses. “I don’t want to know what happens if we don’t… move . I’m not wearing anything!”

  Like jeans and a t-shirt would stop that blade. But I get what she means; no clothes and no shoes make the odds of winning a fight feel as impossible as they already are. And a high stress situation somehow seems a lot more pants shitting when you’re naked.

  I turn and smooth a hand over the door seam. “How?”

  “The plate, the hand scanner,” she stammers, brushing dark bangs from her eyes. “I already tried my hands, but it didn’t work. I think it needs both of us.”

  “Wait. You tried to leave me?” This rattles me. I thought our Naked and Afraid vibe had built some insta-trust.

  “I don’t even know you.” She gives me a withering look. “I wake up in a strange place and see a monster coming at me… tell me some naked passed-out stranger would be your first real worry.”

  “You must have grown up in the city…”

  “I don’t know you,” she repeats in a more apologetic tone. “I woke you up because I need you. At least I think I need you and you need me.” She raises her left hand to a pulsing imprint that fits her perfectly.

  “What’s that?” Something is implanted into the skin of her wrist, a watch face with hair like dark wires disappearing into the back of her hand. Its edges are fused with her flesh. It displays a single, blinking number in urgent red: 00:00:00… 00:00:00… 00:00:00

  “No clue, but I think it means our time is up.” Scraping underscores her remark.

  She nods at my hand. “You have one, too.”

  I don’t want to look. I can’t take any more crazy right now.

  Scraaaape… Scraaaape…

  “Hurry, the scanner,” she urges.

  I fit my right hand before it occurs to me this could be a trap. I could be zapped to death or go T-1000. The fit is perfect and my hand sinks into a surprisingly warm chrome impression.

  The door flickers and turns pixelated. Its octagonal panel disappears.

  Mika and I charge ahead… and stagger back, clutching bruised shoulders. For a second the door shimmers into existence.

  Correction: It’s invisible, not gone.

  Mika strangles a sound in her throat and swats at the panel. Less shimmer.

  It’s opening but it’s fucking slow.

  Scrape… Scrape… Scrape…

  “Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.” The girl repeats it, over and over, pressing against the wall. Survival instinct surges through me, hammering my mind with images of the road, my rain-smeared windshield, of weightless terror.

  I move in front of her, fists raised. Maybe I don’t have weapons. Or clothes. Or any idea where I am. But I have a few bareknuckle wins under my belt. Probably not much good against a ten-foot tall monstrosity with a blade that could cut a truck in half. Even so, I’m not just going to stand here.

  Screw it. A few minutes ago, I thought I was dead. Maybe I am. Going out again, fighting, standing between Mika and that thing? Looks better in an obituary than ‘Died driving like a jackass’.

  Her hands rest on my back, almost uncomfortably reassuring. I can do this alone. I’m fine on my own.

  “I’m really, really glad you were here to help open that door,” Mika whispers.

  I groan. So maybe I can’t do this alone. That means I can’t let her die.

  I won’t let her die.

  “Come on, you son of a bitch!” I yell, adrenaline powering shaking limbs. “Come on!” I have to admit, it sounds kind of cool. Like Ripley screaming at the Alien Queen. I have the wild urge to yell Let go of her you bitch!

  I think I’m losing it. Maybe I already lost it. I should be dead and I’m not. What if I’m a Hulk now or something? The idea is definitely going to my head a little.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Listen,” I whisper, as it measures another step toward us. “If the door is too slow, I’ll rush it. Try to stop it so you can get away.”

  “No!” Mika’s hands ball into fists against my back. “Don’t leave me alone here…”

  “Sam.”

  “Sam. I can’t… I can’t do this alone.” Her words are hot and desperate against my skin.

  Scrape…

  I guess it’s already been made apparent I probably can’t do this alone, either. “You run through. I’ll train it until I can run after you.”

  “What?”

  Scrape… His blade arcs. Ten feet away but given his size that’s practically face-to-face.

  “You know… train it. Lead it around?”

  “Ohh. You mean kite.”

  “What?”

  “In games it’s called kiting.”

  “Makes sense, I guess. I don’t play a lot of games though.”

  Mika’s gasp makes me think this is the most shocking revelation of our time here. “Get ready…” My legs tense under a ready spring. I plan my route– not hard given this is a hallway . Maybe there’s another door, an opening at the far end. Some way to get the fuck out of here.

  Scrape… The blad
e raises high, seconds from coming down.

  Now or never. “One, two–”

  I lunge and Mika’s arm wraps me. Actually, she has me in an impressive stranglehold. We collapse through the now-clear doorway, no heroics required.

  And no dignity left. We’re a struggling, flailing tangle of limbs.

  “Just… here…” she pants.

  “Trying… Could you move your…”

  Mika freezes. Her back rests against my chest, my thighs against her hips where she holds between my legs.

  The shadow thing. It lurks, watching us from the other side of the doorway. It doesn’t cross the threshold for some reason I won’t question. Its furnace eyes never waver, never blink. “I think… we’re good?”

  His blade zips high, hanging above him like a guillotine’s blade.

  Mika’s breath comes in low pants. She moans and burrows into me. I wrap her tight.

  If it comes through the door, we can’t escape this time.

  His blade comes down, splitting the air.

  I squeeze my eyes shut; his blow doesn’t land.

  When I dare to peak, the creature is pivoting on the trajectory of his swing. A blinding white explosion of cracks appear in thin air, lines dancing across the doorway. A smell of burned ozone assaults my nose. Mika and I shove away in unison.

  It’s an unnecessary move. The creature moves back down the hallway, on and on until he merges with its pinpoint on an all-white horizon.

  “It couldn’t break through,” Mika murmurs.

  “But we could. Weird.”

  Her answer is a breathless sob that shakes me.

  A shriek echoes from beyond the door, a sound like my grandma’s old dial-up internet layered with some primitive predator.

  Mika shivers. I’m not ashamed to admit the hair on my neck prickles.

  Red eyes flash small but burning from the hall’s vanishing point, measuring us one last time. Marking us.

  What the fuck.

  3

  Convalescence Field 0

  Aspirant #2239

  Room Timer 00:15:00

  Our door reappears, solid and secure and maddeningly faster than it opened.

  My laugh sounds crazy in my own ears. “Couldn’t have done that before?”