Aspirant: A Sci-Fi Harem Adventure

by Whittaker, Maxx

  “You moved away.”

  “I ran away. A few days ago.” She laughs. “Sounds so fucking surreal, laying here with you, in this place. My old life feels… Unreal. As fake as this felt when I first woke up.”

  “I know exactly what you mean.” It’s hard to imagine that less than forty-eight hours ago I was punching out my best friend and losing my shit over paying rent and break-ups. Impossible to believe.

  When did I stop half believing that this was all a dream?

  Right around when I got to know Mika, I think. This place is fucking nuts, but she’s so real, so grounded. Her personality, her past, everything about her is so rooted that she’s a tonic for the insanity around us. An anchor that’s saved my sanity.

  “So yeah. I ran. Aikari paid for a plane ticket, and I went. She met me at JFK, and my amazing adventure began!”

  It’s impossible to miss bitterness in her voice. “I already know it didn’t go as planned.”

  “No. It was a week of my parents blowing up my phone, heartsick. They tried to get the police to come and get me.” Her laugh is hollow. “I tried to ignore it, to explore, but everything felt so huge, so terrifying after years of being sheltered. Aikari snuck me into a bar with a fake ID; I lasted about five minutes before the crowd and some dude who kept calling me ‘waifu’ drove me off. I mostly sat in her apartment, visiting the same fucking sites I’d spent hours on back at home, wishing I wasn’t alone. Eight million people and I still felt lonely.”

  “But you’re not, not now,” I say, leaning up on one elbow. I lay a hand to the side of her face. “You’re incredible, and I’m so fucking glad you’re here.”

  Mika smiles her little shy smile, and I can’t believe she can still manage it after everything we’ve been through. “Anyway, here it is. The only thing I have to show for my big rebellion ,” she says, fingering a long lock of her violet highlights. “That and my ink.”

  “Hey,” I say, closing my hand over hers. “I happen to think this is sexy as hell.”

  She blushes, quite a feat considering the last few hours. “Anyway, by day six I begged Aikari for a ticket home. Her lifestyle was… I needed a middle ground. She said no, said I was being stupid, that I’d wither into an old cunt back home and die alone.” Mika swipes at her eyes. “She wasn’t wrong, but she didn’t have to say it like that. I stormed out of her apartment sobbing. Bad idea in the middle of the night in NYC.”

  “Oh god… Back alley?”

  “No! Nothing like that. Nothing glamorous or dignified. I crossed against the light. And in front of a bus.”

  “Shit,” I wince.

  “I don’t remember it. My last memory is figuring out how to handle that look on my mother’s face. Then, a horn blaring.” She smacks my chest for emphasis, and though she’s laughing, its forced. “Splat.”

  I lay back and don’t answer. There’s so much to feel and I’m not good at that. “That’s all I regret,” she says, voice quiet. “Since coming here… I’ve met you. Had an adventure beyond anything I’ve ever imagined. We might die in an hour, but I don’t care. I love this.” She shifts, laying back so she stares up to the featureless ceiling with me. “But I still want to apologize to my parents. Dying after running away? Like my brother?” A little sob escapes her, and I turn, wrap her in my arms. “It’ll break them.”

  I want to tell her she’s wrong, that things will be okay. Want to take the worry and pain from her, but I can’t lie. “So far, we’ve kicked this place’s ass. What happens when we get out?”

  Mika nods against my chest. “My thinking, too. We get the fuck out of here, and I’ll do my apologizing then.” She wipes away a few tears, grins up at me. “And I’ll bring home a handsome American boyfriend, too.” Her tone is light, but there’s a question in her words.

  “Handsome American boyfriend. I can deal with that.”

  She relaxes against me, sighs deeply. “What about you?”

  “A sexy Japanese girlfriend? Uhh, yeah… I can deal with that too.”

  “Not that!” She laughs, punching my shoulder. She sobers. “No. At the end. What… What happened with you?”

  “Oh. Right.”

  She’s quiet, as patient as I was with her, and I love her for it. I lay silent, wonder where to start. Her story had such a clear beginning, the loss of her brother, but mine… “Well, there’s not much to tell, really. First, I was born.”

  “Fascinating. Go on.”

  “Seriously, though… My mom died when I was pretty young. Kind of hope my dad died after he ran off. Spent time in foster care, ran away from a decent family when I was fifteen because I don’t have a clue how to just be happy.”

  Mika winces. “Ouch.”

  “Yeah. I told them they were just in it for government money. Then I grew up and found out how little they got for putting up with my shit. Definitely wasn’t about the money.”

  “Did you ever tell them? Apologize or whatever?”

  “No.”

  “Ah.”

  “I spent the last ten years barely finishing school then taking odd jobs. Drove a truck, flipped burgers, did yard work, poured concrete. You name it, I’ve probably spent a dedicated week doing it. Until I picked up welding.”

  “You like it?”

  “I like money for poker on the weekends, and it pays well. Plus, the oil field is the only place I can get away with half my shit.”

  “Sounds lonely. Have any friends?”

  “Not really. Work folks I’d go out for beers with, stuff like that. I never really connected with people, for reasons I’ve already mentioned.”

  “You’ve connected fine with me,” she teases, tracing my lower lip with a fingertip.

  I kiss it and give her a little bite that elicits a squeak. “I guess dying gave me some perspective. Helped me get over my baggage. And helped me get over myself.”

  “How did it happen?” Mika asks softly.

  “About like it did for you. Not glamorous or even extreme. Just my usual shit magnified. Best friend stole my girl, best friend was my boss. Punched out my boss. He left with former girl, final paycheck, and current dog.” I stare at the wall and try to measure how far away that all feels. “I really loved my dog.”

  “And?”

  Got in my truck way too pissed off to be behind the wheel. Drove up one of America’s most dangerous fucking roads in the middle of the night, in shitty weather. Like a jackass.”

  “Oof.”

  “Yeah. Not much else to tell.”

  “I’m sorry, Sam.”

  “I’m not. Not now. I think I’ve just been looking for life in the wrong places.

  “Ooh, you sweet talker,” she says, slipping her legs over me, settling so I can feel her heat at my belly. “Here we are, trying to have a deep philosophical conversation about death and loss, and you go ruining it with romance.”

  “Sorry,” I say, leaning up to give her lip a little suck. “You make it hard to resist.”

  “I can tell,” she says, wriggling her ass backward until my already throbbing cock parts her. She doesn’t stop, and I slide frictionlessly into a place I’ve come to know intimately in the last few hours.

  By some unspoken agreement, we fuck slowly, taking our time. We both know that this will be our last chance; there’s less than an hour left on the clock, and we have to prepare, to make ready. She paints my face with wet little kisses as I hold her ass, guiding her up until she’s almost free of me, with only my head splitting her wet lips, and then back down, slow passes until I’m so deep inside her I can’t tell where she ends and I begin.

  When we cum, we do it quietly, together, and then we still. She doesn’t lift from me, doesn’t move, we just breathe and exist together. A long time passes. I’m not sure how long. Neither of us says it, but both of us wonder if we’ll survive what comes next.

  I start to kiss her one last time when someone knocks at the door.

  12

  Respite Area 1

  Aspirant #2239
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  Room Timer: 00:42:01

  Knocks is, maybe, too weak a word.

  It sounds more like a boulder slamming into the wall.

  Mika and I spring up, bewildered. The various alcohols we’ve sampled have long worn off; neither of us wanted to be so drunk we didn’t remember every minute of all this. But we’re naked, languid after hours of what we thought was a respite.

  We glance at each other as another smash shakes the world.

  “The Shepherd,” says Mika.

  “I don’t think so.” I scan the room. The pounding is coming from the entrance door, but this feels different than when the Shepherd’s appeared before. “If he could get through, I think he would have the first time.”

  “Then what?” she asks, vaulting our bed and searching for her clothes.

  “Who knows? This fucking place…” I hate being naked in the face of imminent peril. It makes me feel so much more vulnerable. But I’m not interested in clothes; I search for my weapon.

  Thankfully it’s close. I dash to it as the room shudders with another hit, so powerful vases teeter at the edge of tables. I snatch it up and train my aim on the door. I change its setting from shotgun to assault in a move so smooth I can’t help feeling kind of badass.

  Nothing happens. No lights on the gun, no humming whir as it powers up.

  Shit. Right. They’re deactivated. “Astra?” I say, fighting nerves as another hit pulls the door partly from its frame.

  No answer.

  Mika’s got her shorts pulled up but has otherwise abandoned clothes. Inferno is loose in one hand, its gem dull and lifeless, and she pulls the knife her outfit came with. It’s short, but looks deadly, the kind of blade where a slip up equals lost fingers.

  Still, in the face of whatever’s tearing the door down, it’s not much.

  “Run?” I ask. The exit is across the room, and the palm pad isn’t lit.

  “I don’t think we have time,” Mika says, voice quiet, grim. But she doesn’t sound scared.

  She sounds pissed.

  I think I understand her. I didn’t go through all this shit and find her just to die naked while our guard is down.

  There’s a momentary sting at Astra’s betrayal. The fact that she didn’t warn us, isn’t here to help. I trusted her about as much as I trusted anything in this place, aside from Mika. But goddammit, I wanted her to be genuine.

  With a shriek of rent metal, something pierces the door. No, eight somethings. Long, jet black, and terrifyingly sharp, they rip through the white metal like it’s paper.

  I cast about for something, anything that might be a weapon. Aside from some various eating knives and utensils at the table, there’s nothing. “Ideas?”

  “Lure it into the water? Trap it?”

  A panicked laugh bubbles up my throat, and I choke it back. “We don’t even know what it is!”

  “Sam…”

  She doesn’t have time to finish her thought. Thunderous rending drowns out all sound as whatever it is tears the door inward, ripping it free of its mooring. It flies backward, dragged by inertia.

  Something flies into the room in a blur of blue and purple, pink and orange. It tumbles across the room like it’s been shot from a cannon, barreling over the food table before falling in a tangled heap of cloth and bottles.

  It doesn’t move.

  I don’t have time to take it in, or even exchange a surprised glance with Mika. The Shepherd steals them from my throat.

  Framed in the torn doorway, its eyes blaze as it stares at us, and though it has no face I can discern, something radiates from its posture, it’s hunched readiness.

  Delight.

  I back up, running into Mika as we move away from the door. The Shepherd brings up its massive, inky blade, presses it into the framework of the ruined doorway. It cocks its head when nothing stops it, nothing repels its pressure.

  It takes a step forward…

  Into the respite room.

  “Oh fuck…” Mika repeats the words, pounds at the tip of Inferno. The gem doesn’t light up.

  My assault rifle is still dead. We have a knife, no clothes, no help at all. But there… “The exit!”

  Mika follows my gaze, behind us near the window. The exit door’s hand plate is lit, ready. “Go!” She shrieks.

  I tear my eyes from the Shepherd as it takes its first long step forward. Scraaaape. We dash for the door, leaving our clothes, everything. Nothing matters but survival.

  We reach it together, slap our hands to the corresponding prints. But nothing happens, and this close… “Something’s different.”

  “There’s another handprint!” Mika says.

  Between our extended palms, lit with dim blue light is a third impression. Four fingered and too long to be human.

  Shit.

  We turn together, backs against the wall. The Shepherd is halfway across the room, moving toward us inexorably, not hurrying. It radiates power, menace, a predator that’s finally trapped its prey and is taking its time with their execution. It’s edges blur and reform, like a picture out of focus. A long table stands between us; with a contemptuous flick of its arm, the Shepherd slices it in two.

  “Mika…” I manage a throat so tight I can barely breathe.

  “Sam,” she sobs, falling against my back, wrapping me with her arms.

  I turn my back to the Shepherd, wrap her in turn. I can’t believe that this is over. In a place that felt like it played by some rules, this is bullshit.

  Scrape.

  “You know this is against the rules…”

  The words come from behind us, soft and unworried.

  Astra.

  She blocks the Shepherd, silver and so tiny silhouetted by his nightmare shadow “You have to wait for your cycle.”

  The Shepherd doubles over and roars in her face. It sounds like the computer noise when you accidentally call a fax machine, but a thousand times multiplied, a discordant note so loud that it feels like my eardrums will explode.

  Its blade swings down, splitting Astra in half.

  Her pieces slough to the sides. Except, before she hits the ground, her halves puddle and flow back together. Her slim figure reforms in a beat of my heart. “Really now,” she says, sounding bored, “you know better.”

  Mika and I stand poleaxed, helpless to do anything but watch. With another frustrated roar, the Shepherd crouches on the balls of his feet, blade high.

  Astra sighs, raises one hand just as the Shepherd propels itself forward.

  I shout a warning and start forward as Mika claws to get around me, to help somehow.

  When the Shepherd reaches Astra’s upraised palm he stops , from terrifying speed to utter stillness in a millisecond. He strains against her, swiping its blade through her body over and over, but his efforts are fruitless. At the same time, Astra doesn’t seem to be gaining ground.

  “We have to do something!” Mika yells over another shriek of rage.

  I take her outstretched knife. “Stay behind me!” I start forward, intending to… I have no idea. Hamstring it? I can’t even tell if it has legs.

  This is a bad idea.

  “Stay back!” Astra shouts. She sounds strained but commanding in a tone that stops me in my tracks.

  The Shepherd pushes, lunging toward us with its blade. Astra raises her other hand, adding to whatever invisible shield she’s erected. “You… Will… Follow… The Rules!” On the last word she heaves forward and the Shepherd tumbles back, bouncing off the far wall.

  Its form glitches, fades in and out of reality like TV static. With a final, agonized growl he disappears.

  Mika falls back against a nearby table, hand to her chest, heaving huge breaths. I squeeze her hand and then walk to Astra, who’s turning to us slowly. Her form is soft, like putty that’s slowly melting. Her arms and legs are shapeless, part of her torso, though her face is still sharp, beautiful.

  “Thank you,” I say.

  Astra seems to take a long breath even though I c
an’t imagine she breaths, and flows back into shape. Her dress comes last, almost an afterthought, before she opens her eyes. “No need,” she says, and if an AI can sound exhausted, she does. “What happened was… Unexpected. He was not supposed to be here.” She looks around, takes in the wrecked room.

  Before Mika or I can respond, she waves her hand. The room shimmers around us, fading to blank white for a split second before reality reasserts itself.

  The broken table, smashed chairs, spilled food; everything is as it was before. It’s as if nothing happened.

  Astra is gone.

  The creature that cut through the door is not.

  A low moan raises from across the room. Clearly not quite human, but definitely feminine, and definitely in pain.

  Mika stars forward instantly, drawn by the sounds of something suffering. I put a hand to her wrist. “Careful,” I mouth.

  She doesn’t respond, but her mouth quirks. Duh, her expression says.

  “Can’t blame me for being protective,” I whisper.

  Her wry expression softens. She pecks a quick kiss to my cheek, then starts toward… Whatever it is. Now it’s rustling, still moaning, and sounds as weak as a newborn kitten.

  I sigh, follow Mika. No time for clothes, not yet. Getting really tired of this place putting me in uncomfortable places when I’m naked. But if this creature is dying, and we can help…

  Mika stops suddenly, and her hand goes to her mouth. Whatever’s making the sounds of pain is hidden behind a table covered with an ivory cloth, so I have to catch up to her to see what’s stopped her in her tracks.

  When I do, I understand.

  It’s an alien.

  Humanoid, she lays prone, her trim body writhing. And it’s definitely a she, judging by trim breasts and wide hips. She’s got full, too wide lips, and though her eyes are clenched shut, they’re also just a bit too big, even if her face is close enough to human that it’s not too jarring. Short, bluish blond hair is thick, scattered around her head like a halo. That’s where the similarities between us end, though. Her body is lithe, almost catlike. She’s almost entirely covered in beautiful scaling, so fine that the individual segments are almost indistinguishable from those next to them. They’re a riot of colors, from violet and blue at her torso and crotch, brightening as they travel her long arms and legs. Her breasts are dark magenta, lightening to her unscaled face, which is almost human pink, but not quite. She has no nipples, and the scaling at her crotch is smooth, featureless, with no genitals. She only has three fingers and a thumb on each hand, long, powerful digits with an extra knuckle apiece. “Like the exit plate,” I say, pointing.