Perseus Gate Season 1 - Episodes 1-3: The Trail Through the Stars (Perseus Gate Collection)
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“Kerstin,” Cheeky said and offered her hand, which Pharis shook firmly. “I won a lottery drawing to be here…well, I was a runner up. One of the other girls got sick, and so I got shuffled onto a shuttle at the last minute.”
“How delightful for you,” Pharis said as she took a step back and looked Cheeky over. “I must say, Kerstin, I love your outfit, you certainly stand out here.”
Cheeky knew that to be true, while all the women from Charlemis were indeed wearing skin tight suits covering them from the neck down, theirs were all more muted in their color and sheen. Cheeky’s, on the other hand, was a bright gleaming pink, with yellow accents, something she had since learned was in vogue decades ago, but not anymore.
So much for Addie’s fashion research being infallible.
“Why thank you,” Cheeky said with a smile and a slight bow. “I know that it is retro, but I rather like the color. Besides, I’m hopeful that it may attract the attention of one of the men from Acadia. They seem to like bright and shiny things.”
Pharis laughed, and gave Cheeky’s arm a friendly touch. “You are positively delightful, Kerstin. I must admit that the current style is a bit drab—a reflection of my mother’s mood for the last while, no doubt. I, for one, miss the more colorful fashions of yesteryear. Perhaps my mother will spot you and it will remind her how pleasant color can be.”
“I would like that as well,” Cheeky said. “Life is too hard not to take delight where we can.”
“Truer words were never spoken,” Pharis replied. “Come with me. I assume, given your late selection, that you are alone here.”
Cheeky nodded. “I am, yes. And thank you. Being alone in a crowd is far more difficult than one would expect.”
“That is something I know all too well,” Pharis replied. “My mother believes there are always those trying to take our place away from us. She fears that the other houses at the High Table still wish to bring back Thermodes, and so she works so hard to cultivate a regal air that it isolates us from the rest of Gallas.
“On top of that, my sisters all hunger for my place at the head of the line, imitate her, hoping to supplant me should mother ever decide I’m unfit.”
“It does sound difficult,” Cheeky said. “I have no such issues in my family. My father owns farms, and believes everyone should work the fields and understand all the machinery. It does, however, have its own downsides.”
“What are those?” Pharis asked, appearing keenly interested as she sipped her drink.
“Well, a woman’s appearance often suffers on the farm, and I’m glad for the opportunity to spend some time in more formal attire,” Cheeky said as she held up her gloved hands. “And thank goodness for these. Days at the spa wouldn’t be enough to smooth out the callouses I have.”
Pharis shook her head. “That sounds awful.”
Cheeky laughed, carefully notching up her pheromone output. “Sometimes it is, but it’s very rewarding as well. To plant seeds in soil and watch crops grow; plants turning dirt into food. It’s really wonderful. We have tens of thousands of cucumber plants, and we export our harvest all over the Ordus. Who knows? Maybe your drink is filled with my cucumbers.”
“That’s a really poetic way to think of it,” Pharis said dreamily. “Plants turning dirt into food. It’s so easy to be disconnected from that truth.”
Pharis looked Cheeky up and down. “Hey, I have some friends here and we’re planning on skipping the next few dances to…you know, have our own little party. Want to come?”
“That would be a dream come true,” Cheeky replied with a brilliant smile.
“Great!” Pharis said and grabbed Cheeky’s hand.
Cheeky laughed.
Addie said.
Cheeky laughed at the innocence in Addie’s voice.
* * * * *
Jessica had taken her time examining the sprawling Charlemis estate while the security team she had traveled with completed their various sweeps, scans, and checks—all while being shadowed by House Charlemis’ own guards.
Because the men of both worlds considered women to be of little concern when it came to evaluating threats, she was able to slip away unnoticed. Or, if she had been noticed, no one cared.
While the guards were concerned with where the elites of House Laurentia would be dining, dancing, and sleeping, Jessica was far more interested in the secondary landing pad used for shipments, the back roads into the estate, and the side passages the servants used as they dashed to and fro, preparing for when the Dance would descend on Gallas in four days’ time.
She was walking the perimeter of the secondary landing pad—which was tucked behind a forested hill and out of view of the estate—when a voice called out to her.
“Hello there? My Lady? Can I help you with anything?”
Jessica turned to see a young woman standing at the entrance to one of the buildings alongside the pad. She wore the muted silver livery of House Charlemis, though hers was smeared with black and yellow grease. For some reason Jessica found the stains on the woman’s skin-tight uniform rather appealing, and approached the woman with a smile on her lips as she extended her hand.
“Hi, I’m Jessica, just taking a look around.”
“Uh, Terry,” the woman said as she peeled the glove off her right hand and extended her digits sheepishly. “Sorry. Don’t have a clean glove.”
Jessica took Terry’s bare hand anyway and gave it a firm shake, but didn’t let go. She turned it over and nodded. “You have a good hand, a worker’s hand. You don’t wear your gloves much of the time, do you?”
Terry shook her head, her eyes lowered. “No, my lady, it’s too hard to work on starships and the other vehicles in my care while wearing gloves. I like to feel the components, touch what I’m working on. Plus, I drop stuff all the time if I wear them.”
Jessica gave Terry a conspiratorial grin. “I almost never wear gloves. Today is an exception.”
Terry met Jessica’s eyes. “What do you mean?”
“Well, I’m not from Gallas. I’m just doing a security sweep and it’s nice to blend in.”
“Where are you from? Acadia?” Terry asked.
“Nope,” Jessica replied. “I’m not from Serenity. I’m here as an independent observer for the OFA. Make sure everything is on the up and up. We don’t have an official presence in Serenity—outside of the embassy on the Perseus, of course—but we like to make sure our citizens are safe and well cared for.”
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“I guess that makes sense, I’ve not seen anyone on Gallas with glowing skin before, though I can think of a dozen ways to achieve it,” Terry said hesitantly. “However, I don’t really think of myself as an Orion citizen.”
“My dear Terry,” Jessica said as she swept an arm back. “This is all Orion. And Freedom is the OFA’s middle name.”
Terry laughed and shook her head. “Not here it isn’t.”
“I had noticed,” Jessica said. “You have a bit of a feudal setup in Serenity. Not a lot I can do about that, but I can at least keep an eye out for you. Perhaps one of these days the High Table will slip up enough that Praetor Kirkland will be forced to bring them into the ninetieth century, or maybe at least the eightieth.”
“My Lady Jessica! You must be careful. To speak thusly is sedition. It is not tolerated.” Terry looked about as though she expected some House Charlemis guard to leap out from behind the cargo stacked along the edge of the pad.
Jessica clasped Terry on the shoulder—a gesture that made the poor young woman jump with surprise. “Fear not. I have technology which prohibits my conversations from being overheard. Speaking with me is the pinnacle of safety.”
“Well, that’s good,” Terry said. “In this place, everything has ears.”
“Just a minute ago you asked if I was from Acadia, though I’m not dressed as they. Why is that?” Jessica asked.
“Well, you’re speaking a bit like they do,” Terry began, and Jessica chuckled. Terry was right—it was a hard habit to break. “And a shuttle full of men and women from Acadia came in this morning.”
“Just one woman,” Jessica corrected.
“What? No, there were four women. Hard to miss in those tiny dresses they all wear. They stand out a bit from the men.”
“Wait, they landed here? Not at the other pad?” Jessica asked.
“Yeah, that’s why I was surprised. I knew another shuttle was touching down over there, and then a different group of Acadians showed up here. Caused a bit of a mixup for ATC, they had to reroute the other shuttle to the regular pad.”
Jessica pondered that. There had been no mention of a change of course for her shuttle.
“They’re both parked back there, now,” Terry said, jerking a thumb over her shoulder, and paled. “I’ll take you over,” she said as she hastily pulled her glove back on.
Jessica wondered where ‘back there’ was, but Terry led her around the back of the building, and through a grove of trees. In their midst was a wide hole—over two hundred meters in diameter. Inside, racked neatly around the perimeter were a wide assortment of shuttles and pinnaces.
“You can see them there,” Terry said, pointing down four levels. “One has the Laurentia crest on it, but the other doesn’t have any markings. I put them together because I figured it would be handy.”
“Would you mind if I go take a look?” Jessica asked.
Terry looked over at Jessica, an expression of worry crossing her face. “I’m responsible for all those ships, you know. I only have your word that you represent the OFA. How do I know you’re not up to no good?”
Jessica sighed. “I suppose you don’t, but don’t fret, that was just a test to make sure you’re keeping an eye out for any suspicious behavior. Good job.”
Terry let out a long sigh. “Thank the stars, you had me worried that you were going to press the issue.”
Jessica clasped Terry on the shoulder once more, causing a startled jump.
“Nope, you did good work.”
* * * * *
Jessica spent the rest of the day trying to find the group of Acadians from the second shuttle, but there was no sign of them. Whenever she inquired, everyone directed her to Martimus and the security team she had flown in with.
It was as though the second group had simply disappeared. Had Terry not been such an honest woman—confirmed by Jessica’s ability to visually scan vitals—and if not for Terry’s testimony and the suspiciously unmarked shuttle, she would not have believed a second group of Acadians had arrived at all.
She took her evening meal with Martimus and the guards from her shuttle, in the guest house reserved for the Acadian staff. There were several other Acadians present, various assistants who were making sure that all of their betters’ needs would be met when they arrived.
Several of the Acadians looked at her askance, the combination of her Gallas outfit and glowing skin clearly marking her as an outsider.
However, since Martimus and the other guards accepted her, no one questioned her presence.
Iris snorted…as much as an AI residing in one’s mind could.
Jessica laughed in her mind.
After the meal, the guards ventured out of their accommodations—along with several of the other Acadians—into the courtyard bordered by the servants’ quarters from the various houses.
Men and women from the other houses were already outside, laughing and sharing beer, and wine, and other drinks. Before long, instruments were produced, and a lively dance began.
Jessica was contentedly watching from the sidelines when Martimus swept by, seizing her wrist and pulling her out into the dancing square.
She had seen him coming, and let out a delighted laugh as he swept her into the swirling mass of bodies. They danced for hours as night set in and she could see the glow of her skin reflected on his face.
“I didn’t mention it before—because I didn’t want to appear uncouth—but your skin, how it glows…it is quite enchanting,” Martimus said at one point during the dance.
Jessica smiled as they spun away and then back into one another’s arms. “It’s a rather pleasant modification, though it does make it a bit hard to blend in sometimes.”
“You’re doing a truly admirable job. Even dressed as though you are from Gallas, you have my fellows quite besmitten,” Martimus said, his eyes darting away for a moment before meeting Jessica’s once more. “As am I.”
Jessica said, choosing her words carefully.
“Martimus, we’re enjoying the dance and the company of friends. Perhaps some other time,” Jessica said kindly.
Martimus pressed himself closer to her, his hand sliding from Jessica’s waist to her ass, his breath hot on her cheek as he leaned in a
nd whispered in her ear, “It’s your company I want more of, Jessica.”
She pushed at him gently, careful not to make her dismissal apparent to those nearby. “And you are a fine friend, Martimus, but tonight let us just enjoy The Dance. We can speak more of this later.”
Martimus wrapped his arm around Jessica and clasped her hand firmly. “No, now is the time for you and I.”
She didn’t resist as he led her away from the dance square and around one of the nearby buildings. Jessica longed to put Martimus in his place in front of everyone, but she needed to minimize the extent of his negative reaction to her dismissal. That much she was willing to do for the mission.
Once behind the building, Jessica pulled her hand free of Martimus’ and spun to face him.
“What do you think you are doing, Martimus?” she asked, not having to fake the anger in her voice.
“Jessica, my soul burns for you. I cannot resist your calling, and I know you cannot as well. Would you deny this to me, dressed as a Gallas woman, taunting me with your body, a body clearly modified for sexual pleasure. Are these not the pleasures you clearly excel at?”
As he spoke, he took a step forward and Jessica stepped backward, her back meeting the building’s wall.
“Do not press this issue, Martimus,” Jessica said, her voice dripping with ice. “My answer is no. I am in a committed relationship, my affections are not yours for the taking.”
“Is he here? This man. Will he know? Come now, Jessica,” Martimus began. As he spoke, he pressed forward, placing a hand on Jessica’s breast and sliding his thigh between her legs.
Jessica caught his wrist in a vice-like grip and pulled it away from her body, her other hand flashed out and pushed Martimus back.
“No means no, Martimus,” she hissed. “This is your last warning. Return to the gathering with your dignity still intact.”
“My dignity? You’re the trollop who clearly wants it. Who are you to talk? You’re begging to have me slide between your legs.”
Jessica was still holding his wrist with her right hand; she spun him around, pressing him into the wall, her left forearm against his throat. She pushed hard, giving him just enough room to breathe, but not enough to scream.