by Lula Monk
Samantha shivered and rubbed at her forearms.
“Are you cold?” asked Dredge. “Are temperature fluctuations expected during your species’ gestational periods? I did not read that in the book.”
Samantha took his hand in hers, making his heart flutter. “I’m fine. I’m sure I’ll get very warm later, from all the extra blood and stuff. But I’m fine.”
Dredge nodded, rubbing slow, small circles on Samantha’s wrist with his thumb.
“So, you are okay with what I proposed to Slep?” she asked, looking into his eyes worriedly. “I know we didn’t discuss it beforehand, and I know you like to keep me close.”
“Slep has promised two Ceph guards at all four entrances to the Sectors; besides, there is no way for anyone to hide in the Rim. I feel you and the other Earth women will be safe.”
Slep also mentioned that each pair of women would be chained to their partners, ensuring no escape for the humans. But there was no reason to bring up that part right now.
She smiled at him and pressed her lips to his hand. It was his turn to shiver. An odd sensation.
“Thanks, Dredge. It makes me happy that you support my idea. I was afraid of that, you know. That you wouldn’t like the thought of me going to be around my own kind.”
Dredge furrowed his brow. “I am not afraid of your socialization efforts with your species.”
“I meant I didn’t want you to be afraid that I would leave you behind.”
Dredge squinted his eyes at her. “Where would you go that you would have the opportunity to leave me?”
Samantha’s eyes widened. “Nowhere! I just meant that exercising was supposed to be a thing I did with you, not some random Earth woman. I didn’t want you to feel like was distancing myself from you with this initiative.”
Dredge shrugged. “If you are not too tired, we can take our own stroll along the Breeding Sector corridor. That should be sufficient.”
Samantha squeezed his hand again. “Thanks for being so understanding.”
“I will always be understanding where your best interests are involved, Samantha.”
Dredge saw her flinch and lift her hand to her abdomen. The glow there shone between her splayed fingers. Hesitantly, afraid she would shoo him away, Dredge placed his free hand on top of hers. To his surprise, he felt a sight warmth radiating out from the light.
“How long has the Glimling been generating heat?”
Samantha’s brows crashed together. “I don’t know! I haven’t really noticed it, honestly. I’ve actually been feeling colder than normal.”
Dredge’s hand shot up to Samantha’s brow. “Are you experiencing any other symptoms of illness?”
Samantha brushed his hand away, laughing. “I’m fine, Dredge. I’m pretty sure this is normal. My body is doing a lot of work growing your little bundle of light.”
“Our little bundle of light.”
Samantha blushed, then her face turned serious. “Speaking of disease, though . . .”
Dredge stood and walked to the other side of the room. Samantha followed him. She put a tentative hand on his arm.
“Please talk to me, Dredge. I know something’s been off with you. And . . .”
Dredge felt her fingers lightly skim the crack at the base of his skull. He shied away from her touch, his own hand rising to mask the light escaping from the crack.
“I still know it’s there, Dredge. I know what it means.” Her eyes were sorrowful, her voice soft. “Why are you shutting me out?”
Dredge felt as if a solar storm were building in his chest. Life fluid roared in his ears. His breathing became rapid, labored. He pressed his palm to the portal wall, determined to leave Samantha’s presence before he flew into a fit of rage.
“Worry about your own health, Earth woman,” Dredge threw coldly over his shoulder. “Yours can be helped. Mine cannot.”
He spared a glance behind him as the portal closed, catching a glimpse of the tear snaking its way down Samantha’s cheek.
Chapter 25
Samantha
She had spent the night — well her night, for the Hub didn’t have clear day night cycles — pouring over the papers from Slep, reading by the illumination Dredge put out in his sleep.
The crack on the base of his skull worried her. When he had returned from his outing to the core, he refused to even engage in a discussion on that topic again. He shut her out for the rest of their awake period, only climbing into bed when he thought she was asleep.
Samantha thumbed through the papers again this morning. She did not know why no one would trust her with a digipad . . . She wouldn’t even know how to go about accessing things they didn’t want her to see. At least she didn’t think she would be able to. Their tech had to be way more advanced than Earth’s.
She shuffled the stack of papers, trying to commit everything to memory. Slep had been clear in his instructions to her. She could have one full rotation to study the raw data that she had requested. Where the Earth women were located, their numbers, approximate durations of their stays on the station. One rotation, and then he would take the materials back.
She had stayed up most of the night scouring the documents, trying to commit what she could to memory. Once or twice the temptation to tear out a page or two and reserve it for safe keeping crossed her mind, but she fought the urge. It would be stupid to break the insectoid’s trust so soon.
“Are you ready to return to Chief Officer Slep’s office?” asked Dredge.
No. Nowhere near ready. But she knew keeping the primary owner of Galactic Continuity waiting was probably a bad idea.
“Yes,” she said finally, stacking the papers neatly together and then handing them to Dredge. That was another of Slep’s stipulations; she was not allowed to transport the documents herself.
She rehearsed what she wanted to say as they walked down the Breeding Sector corridor, across the Core, and into the entryway for the Transportation and Administration Sector, her hand squeezing Dredge’s in a death grip.
She could do this.
She had to do this.
If she just pitched this final proposal in the right light, in the right way, she would have access to every single human on this space station. Access was power. With access, she could spread the true plan to all the women, giving them hope and — more importantly — giving her exactly 594 human females to help her take down Galactic Continuity.
Well, those numbers were stable until the next shipment arrived in exactly nine Earth days from now. But that was part of her plan too, one she was going to include in her final proposal to Slep.
As they reached the appointed portion of the smooth wall – how anyone knew here to go to reach their destination in this strange Hub Samantha didn’t know but needed to find out – the portal opened, and the receptionist beckoned them inside.
“Chief Officer Slep has been expecting you.”
Samantha tried not to focus on the irritated way the receptionist had spoken, hoping she and Dredge had not been keeping Slep waiting for too long.
The secondary portal behind the receptionist’s desk opened, revealing Chief Officer Slep’s office where Slep sat in his chair.
To her surprise, there were two additional aliens already seated at the table, one an amorphous green blob of snot-looking material, and the other was one of the horrifying spider-looking creatures. When the latter spoke, Samantha was shocked to discover it was a female.
“I am Arachne,” said the spider-creature, her many eyes blinking at Samantha. “Valx and I,” she said gesturing to the snot alien, “are the other creatures of interest in your proposal to Chief Officer Slep. We share ownership of the remaining fifty-five percent of Galactic Continuity.”
Samantha nodded her head as if she understood. It wasn’t too hard of a thing to grasp. Basic math. But Arachne’s blinking eyes were throwing her off. Samantha hated spiders on Earth, and she had the distinct feeling, albeit probably heavily biased, that she was going to hate th
e spider-like alien before her.
The creature Arachne had introduced as Valx made a belching sound in Samantha’s direction.
“Nice to meet you,” she said hesitantly, not knowing if she should extend her hand for a shake or not. Probably not.
“You can imagine why Arachne and Valx would be interested in hearing your Earth woman’s proposal, Bright One,” said Slep addressing Dredge. The insectoid clapped his mandibles together. “Allowing all human women to freely roam the Hub could have potentially dangerous consequences.”
Dredge nodded gravely. “I understand Chief Officer, but I think you will find that Samantha’s final plan is appropriate.”
The insectoid leaned back in his chair, his claws steepled below his mandibles. “Let’s hear it then.”
All eyes turned to Samantha, which was quite a number of eyes considering the creatures in attendance. The blood rushed to her face. God, she hoped the spider woman wasn’t hungry. Did her kind even eat humans? Probably not polite to ask.
“Well . . .” she began, shifting her hair from one shoulder to the other, a nervous habit she’d had since she was a child. She was stalling, and she knew it. But so did Dredge, apparently. When she went to put her thumb in her mouth to nibble at the nail, the Glim grabbed her hand and held it firmly in his. With a little squeeze from his powdery hand, she felt enough courage to say the words that had been rolling through her mind all morning.
“Humans are social creatures. They need to be around others of their kind, or else they experience extreme feelings of loss and despondency. Hopelessness. They feel depressed.”
No one interrupted her, so she continued.
“It is my belief that this hopelessness, coupled with missing their home planet, is the primary cause of the self-terminations that have been on the rise.”
“I counter your claim,” interjected Arachne.
Here it was. The first hurtle Samantha was going to have to jump.
“The human females in the Entertainment Sector receive ample contact form members of their own species,” said Arachne, “including vigorous and repeated simulation of the sexual organs by members of their own kind. This is something Slep informed us was imperative to the wellbeing and contentedness of Earthlings, and I was pleased to see that our company was already attending to that need.”
Samantha blushed, though she wasn’t sure if it was from embarrassment at the spider woman’s bland terms for repeatedly enforced sexual assault or pure rage.
“Actually, what you are describing is a sin on our planet. A broken law. If you force one person's body to . . . err. . . manually stimulate someone else’s, neither party enjoys the act. The end result of such couplings is shame on both sides, followed by heightened degrees of despondency, further isolation, and depression.”
Arachne merely nodded her head, her fangs dripping fluid onto the metal table. Samantha took that as permission to continue.
“The women in the Entertainment Sector need mutual, consensual social interactions with other humans in order to feel the social bonding all humans require. They need to do so in a private environment, where your clients are not paying to watch.”
“What is the purpose of allowing product to conduct actions in private that clientele would pay to see? That sounds like losing profit, something I have no interest in doing,” interjected Valx. His voice was sticky, bubbly, and the sound of it alone made Samantha feel dirty.
“The key thing to remember here, is that you are looking to provide superior product to the creatures who come to the Hub seeking such forms of entertainment. I have seen one of your live shows, in the Core. The women look soulless. They have clearly been mistreated. They are too thin; their flesh is covered in scars and bruises. They are not treated well. And the performances that they give to your clients . . .”
Here Samantha paused. She was having trouble thinking about the despicable things those women were forced to do, let alone say them aloud. And what she was going to have to say next to sell this proposal made her want to vomit.
“I have seen the way such women do not enjoy their work. They are going through the motions, performing the acts you require them to perform. But they do not enjoy. There is no liveliness to them, no spirit. Imagine the kind of money you could make if clients came to see Earth women perform who wanted to perform, who relished in the things they did with their bodies. There is an aliveness to such things, a renewal of spirit and excitement that I think your clients would pay top credits to see.”
There. It was out.
She leaned back in her chair, feeling like she needed a session in the hydro chamber. She felt dirty down to her very soul. She placed a hand over her glowing abdomen, apologizing in her head for what her Glimling had witnessed.
Shit. She had done it again. She not only called the thing a Glimling, but she had called it her Glimling. And she’d talked to it. In her head.
This motherhood thing was coming at her full-force.
Arachne rubbed one thin arm against the furry hide of her face. “I see that you cradle the life growing inside you. We shall leave the discussion of the Entertainment Sector for another time. For now, I long to hear of your success as a breeder.
“Tell me: why do you happily and willfully carry the lifeform growing in you? How did it come to pass that you enjoy being a breeder for this Glim?”
Samantha’s heart fluttered. She felt Dredge’s eyes on her. She didn’t even have to look. What had passed between them to put this Glimling in her belly was such a personal thing. She didn’t want to tarnish that memory further by repeating it here in this room for a second time.
“I already related my experiences to Slep yesterday.”
The snot alien bubbled. “We have no concept of this ‘yesterday.’ When did you tell our partner of this experience?”
“Sorry. I told him last rotation? A rotation ago? I’m not sure how you would phrase it.”
“Last rotation,” offered Slep. “But please. Repeat what you told me so that they may experience the curious nature of your relationship with the Glim.”
Shit. Samantha really did not want to do this, but she knew she had to. She felt the blush already creeping up her neck.
“Dredge was kind to me, form the moment he purchased me. He did not force me to mate with him. He gave me time. Let me get used to his otherness, his alienness–”
“Not much to get used to,” observed Arachne. “The Glim looks very much like one of your own kind. Do you think that helped your circumstances?”
Samantha gave it a moment’s consideration. She looked across the table and imagined if a creature like Slep had purchased her instead. She wanted to gag.
“Yes,” she said, avoiding looking at Dredge. “I think having a creature who looked similar to my kind did help me cope with my new . . . situation.”
Arachne’s body shivered, and the furry hide of her face began to pale. She lolled her head from side to side, sending a sick sucking sound cascading around the room. Samantha could not hide the horror on her face as the spider creature thrashed her head violently side to side, her fur now gone.
When she stilled, a human woman’s face rested where her arachnid one had previously. She still had her multiple sets of eyes, of course, but they rested above her forehead, leaving her face very human and almost normal. Except where a real human would have a face framed by hair, Arachne had giant mandibles flanking her cheeks.
Samantha blinked at the alien, stunned.
“Do you think a potential breeder would find a face such as this more pleasing if she were to be convinced to mate?”
Samantha nodded, mute. There was nothing she could possibly say. She knew Dredge had the capability to morph his body – she’d even felt his penis shrink somewhat as they mated, though she’d never allowed herself to believe such a thing had actually happened outside her imagination until this moment.
“This is a sound suggestion, and doable as well. Those among our clients who have the ge
netic capacity to alter their forms will be instructed to do so, to help our products acclimate to, as you put it, their new circumstances. Go on,” said the spider woman, her large, dark human eyes boring into Samantha’s. “Continue with your proposal.”
“Uhm . . .” All words left Samantha’s mind, and she panicked. Watching Arachne cast her face into that of a human had chased away all of Samantha’s planning and well-phrased arguments.
The heat from her Glimling radiating up into her palm.
I have to do this, she reminded herself. No matter how scared she was, no matter how many things could go wrong, she had to do this for her people. She rubbed the small bud of her abdomen.
She had to do this for her baby.
“If your client can give their purchase time to adjust to her situation... wait, be kind to them, be accommodating, be gentle–”
“All things that can be worked into the legal contract,” said Valx, nodding his entire gelatinous frame.
“–and the human woman agrees to mate with your client, there is the matter of ensuring she remains happy throughout the course of her pregnancy. It would do your company no good to have a happy product that became exceedingly unhappy during the gestational window, self-terminating before your client’s offspring was born.”
“This has been problematic in the past,” said Slep, echoing the sentiments he had expressed at their last meeting.
“Exactly,” said Samantha. She released Dredge’s hand so she could prop her forearms on the table. Now that she was getting to the meat of her plan, she felt emboldened, confident, and she wanted to showcase that feeling. Hopefully it would make her proposal seem more solid.
“The average pregnancy for a human female lasts around nine Earth months. It is my understand that gestational periods here on the Hub are variant, depending on the genetic code of your clients, correct?”