Anders: An Auxem Novel

by Lisa Lace

  There was a shift, which looked like a slip you would wear under a fancy dress. I left the corset as loose as I dared. I wasn't going to be squeezing my organs and making myself sick. Still, I tied it tightly enough to keep my breasts from bouncing around. The outfit didn't come with a bra. There was an underskirt, an overskirt, and a dress that went over the whole package and laced up in the front.

  I didn't know the names of all the parts; I just remembered a few things from history class and historical fiction books.

  It all felt very complicated. I was already intimidated, but I had to suck it up. When I went back out, the woman burst out laughing and helped me adjust something I had put on backward. I pressed my lips together as she fixed it, and said thank-you when she finished.

  "There," she said. "I suppose you'll do." She didn't seem sure I would do at all. "Your ride is here," she said.

  "I'm all done with customs, then?" I asked. The process had been arduous. There had been a search and verification of my documents at the space station. Once I beamed down, I was searched again (in case I smuggled something in transit, I suppose) and more documents needed signing. I think they said I wouldn't ruin their world with technology, or something of that nature. I hadn't read them in great detail, but I signed them so I could move on. After changing my clothes, it looked like I was finally finished, and my fiance was here.

  "You're done here," she said. "Good luck."

  "Thank you," I said, smiling at her.

  "He's out front," she said. I nodded, pushing open the door.

  When I walked out of the building, I was astonished at the beauty around me. It appeared to be the height of summer here. The grass was green, the trees were in full leaf, and there were flowers everywhere. I looked up and saw one sun approaching the horizon, one overhead, and one rising on the opposite side of the planet.

  Three suns? That seemed like overkill.

  "You must be Annalee," a deep voice said, and I turned my head.

  "And you must be the man I'm going to marry?" I said.

  He shook his head. "No such luck, my dear," he said. "The name's Porter. I'll be taking you to your fiance."

  In contrast to the customs agent, Porter seemed gracious and kind. He carried my luggage for me and helped me into the carriage. Even so, I had a nagging feeling at the back of my mind that he was laughing at me behind his serious face.

  There was a team of small creatures that looked like goats attached to the carriage, like reindeer to Santa's sleigh. But there were no reins. Porter gave commands, and they obeyed him. They were a native species to this planet that could be domesticated and used their horns like hands. Weird but cute. I was impressed.

  It took us a few weeks to get to my future husband's farm. Porter was a gentleman the whole time. When we needed to sleep, he got us separate rooms at inns on the way.

  I quickly got used to using composting toilets in little huts behind the main houses. I had to scoop some sawdust or grass clippings to cover things up once I did my business. But the places were nothing like the outhouses I was familiar with on Earth. They smelled sweet and fresh, like sawdust or grass clippings. They were kept scrupulously clean and insect-free.

  One thing I wouldn't get used to was the lack of electricity. They only used candles for lights and still did many things by hand. But the food was incredible, and the weak artificial light meant I could see the stars at night.

  No electricity meant no gadgets. I continually glanced at the back of my hand, unconsciously looking for my phone. Whenever I wanted to learn something new about this planet I wanted to look it up on the Internet, and I couldn't. Even though I had traveled through space to get here, I felt like I was living in the stone age.

  All in all, this planet wasn't bad, but I missed modern living. I was also getting nervous about meeting my fiance. Each day that passed only made me more anxious. I tried asking Porter about him, but he hadn't said anything interesting. As we drove the last few miles to the village, I tried again.

  "Porter," I said. "Tell me about Jesse."

  "There's not much to tell, Annalee. I've known him a long time. He's a good man. And you shouldn't believe what people will say about him."

  "What's that supposed to mean?" I said.

  "You're an off-worlder, so you don't know what it's like here. People are particular about things. They think that there's only one way to live. Jesse feels differently, but that doesn't mean that he's bad or wrong."

  I didn't say anything. It seemed like he was avoiding talking about something. It was the first time Porter had spoken with me honestly and not through a polished veneer.

  He pulled into the yard, and a young man came out and started unharnessing the cute alien goats. I looked at Porter, but he shook his head. Apparently this wasn't Jesse.

  Porter came around and offered me his hand. I took it and climbed down. At first I had tried to preserve my independence and modern woman status, but it didn't take me long to realize that there was a reason women needed so much help in the past. It had to do with the restrictions clothing put on them.

  That's why being able to wear pants was such a big symbol for the feminists of the late twentieth century. It represented freedom from needing men to help us because of our stupid outfits.

  Here I was, many years after those women had fought for our right to wear whatever we wanted. I was back to needing a man to help me in and out of vehicles. I silently asked my foremothers for forgiveness as he helped me leave the carriage.

  In frustration, I straightened the skirts that made me dependent on a man just to climb out of a vehicle, shaking them out and trying to get rid of the dust which had settled on my clothing. The task seemed impossible, so I settled for brushing them off the best I could. They still looked dirty. I checked my bust — cleavage, yes, plenty of that with the corset and low-cut dress.

  The wife of the most recent innkeeper helped make my long brown hair. A bun was one of the acceptable hair styles on this planet. By this time, the bun had eroded, and my hair was slipping out all over the place. It never seemed to stay where I put it.

  I wore a royal blue cloak with the hood up. It covered my hair and helped conceal my untamed mane. I pushed my glasses back up my nose and supposed this was as good as I was going to look after three weeks of travel. I needed a shower, and I wasn't sure when the next one was coming.

  When a man walked into the yard from the fields behind the inn, I immediately knew he was Jesse. It wasn't just because I recognized him from his pictures from the TerraMates office back on Earth. I felt myself come alive as soon as our eyes met. He had an aura of power about him. And charisma. And he had bad-boy stamped on his forehead.

  Unfortunately, he didn't feel the same way about me. He took one look at me and frowned.

  "Is this the one?" he asked Porter. He didn't even look at me and talked right over my head.

  "That's her," Porter said. "Annalee Beauchene, meet your fiance, Jesse Melnyk."

  Jesse moved toward me. "It's good to meet you, Miss Beauchene," he said. He didn't sound like he meant it at all. "Would you like to come inside and wash up or rest? Perhaps you can get something to eat before we go back to my father's farm and meet him?"

  Meet his father? I hadn't thought that I would have to meet his family. But I supposed it might be possible if we were going to get married. Thank goodness he wouldn't have to meet my parents...not that I really had a family anymore.

  "Nice to meet you, too," I said, trying a curtsy. He didn't smile, and Porter was clearly trying not to laugh.

  "Yes, I'd like to wash up, please. And have a meal," I said, feeling bleak for the first time since my adventure started. I stared at the back of my hand, wishing for the comfort of my phone to distract me from my unhappiness.

  My future husband didn't seem to like me, and he wasn't as much of a gentleman as Porter had been. He made me open the door for myself. Not that I couldn't, I reminded myself. I was a modern woman. Still, it had been nice to feel s
pecial when Porter opened doors for me. I guess I had gotten used to it.

  "Porter, will you join us?" he asked.

  Porter looked back and forth between us, grinning. "Of course, Jesse," he said. "I'd pay to see this show."

  Chapter Four

  JESSE

  While I waited for Porter and my fiancee, I had been checking out the innkeeper's fields. Although he was an idiot in some respects, Myron Dublay was becoming a decent farmer. I stopped when I got to the edge of the yard, surveying all the people. Porter had sent word they would arrive in the afternoon, but I didn't know when.

  At that moment, I spotted him helping a woman out of a carriage. She was here.

  I watched as she descended gracefully from the vehicle. Her form was pleasing. Full breasts, a narrow waist, and wide hips. She would bear children well.

  I supposed I should stop hiding at the edge of the yard and meet her. I felt nervous, which made me irritated. There was no reason to be nervous.

  And yet I was. I gathered myself and walked toward her. I had met more intimidating people than her, so there was no reason I should be anxious.

  She turned her head and watched my approach. Her eyes widened in...appreciation? I filed that information away in the back of my mind. I ignored the shot of energy that went through me when our eyes met. This woman was a means to an end. I had no desire to become emotionally entangled with her.

  As I got closer to her body, I noticed she was somewhat plain and unkempt. Her hair was a mess, her skirts full of dust, and she wore large spectacles on her face.

  Apparently I wasn't getting a lovely woman to look at over the breakfast table.

  "Is this the one?" I said to Porter, avoiding direct eye contact. I didn't want to have to look at her more than was necessary. I clung tightly to the thought that all women look beautiful in a dark bedroom.

  "That's her," he said. "Annalee Beauchene, meet your fiance, Jesse Melnyk."

  He spoke respectfully to Annalee, but when he turned to me, he smirked and winked.

  I rolled my eyes. Where had he found this wench? I checked out her cleavage — ample. I supposed she would do.

  "It's good to meet you, Miss Beauchene," I said, formally. "Would you like to come inside and wash up or rest? Perhaps you can get something to eat before we go back to my father's farm and meet him?"

  She looked like she hadn't been expecting me to ask her anything, but she recovered quickly.

  "Nice to meet you, too," she said, doing a clumsy curtsy that reminded me she only looked like a Yordbrook woman. She had likely never curtsied before because she was from another planet — a modern world, with modern things. I frowned. It might be harder than I thought to hide that she wasn't from around these parts. The notion hadn't occurred to me when I asked for Porter's help.

  "Yes, I'd like to wash up, please. And have a meal," she said, the light going out of her eyes when she looked at me. It was as if all the spunk had drained out of her. I wondered what had caused the change. She hadn't looked like that when she arrived.

  "Porter, will you join us?" I clapped him on the shoulder and squeezed it tightly.

  "Of course, Jesse." His eyes twinkled with amusement. "I'd pay to see this show."

  The bastard. He would pay for setting me up with this homely lass. She had better be amazing in bed.

  Despite my dreams, after she cleaned up the woman didn't look much better than before she went inside. I wondered if she had a brush. I tried to remember I was doing this for my father so he could die in peace. She was something necessary, and I would have to adjust.

  The three of us sat down at a table. The innkeeper's wife, Isabella, brought us fresh baked bread and butter, along with three plates and a knife. She smiled at me.

  We had a morelia encounter when we were both teenagers, and apparently she had never forgotten it. At least, that was how it seemed to me the two times she tried to get me to have an affair with her. I had turned her down, but she was difficult to resist.

  I didn't blame her, of course. Myron couldn't be much fun in bed. I had certain standards and sleeping with married women isn't something I did.

  Porter offered the girl the bread and butter first. The look on her face when she tasted it gave me hope. I glanced at Porter, and he waggled his eyebrows at me. She didn't notice because she was busy enjoying the bread.

  Her eyes were closed. She let out a gentle moan when she took the first bite. "This is incredible."

  "You've not tasted bread before?" I said. "It's a based on a plant we call 'wheat' on this world." She was from another planet, I supposed.

  "Of course I've had bread," she said, a sparkle returning to her eyes. "But this is the best I've ever tasted."

  Porter laughed then. "That's what she says at every inn," he explained. He liked this girl.

  "Not every one," she said, objecting. "The one with the pig on the sign didn't have good bread." She turned to me. "It really didn't. It's a good thing we only stopped there for a snack and some rest. I couldn't have stayed there overnight."

  Porter buttered another piece and handed it to her. "Thank you," she said, giving him a gracious smile.

  I frowned at him. Was he flirting with my soon-to-be-wife? He lifted his hands to me, palms up, and she looked back and forth between us.

  "So, you two are friends?" she said, addressing the question to Porter.

  "Aye," he said, grinning stupidly at me. I rolled my eyes.

  "For how long?" she asked, taking another bite of bread and chewing.

  "A long time," Porter said. "Since we were boys. What was it? Ten, Jesse?"

  "When you came to the village with Uncle Mirek? You were ten. I remember because you wanted to kiss Isabella behind the tree. I said you couldn't until she was ten, too."

  "Ah, Isabella," he said, glancing over at the innkeeper's wife. She was putting down food onto a different table. He sighed as if in remembrance. Well, he'd had Isabella too, probably more times than me.

  "You've known each other since you were ten? I guess that's why you trusted him to find you a wife," she said, watching me carefully to see how I would react to her comment.

  "It's a little complicated," I said, not wanting to get into an involved conversation.

  "No kidding. Apparently it's complicated enough that Porter can't tell me a damn thing about it. It's been three weeks!"

  I wondered why Porter couldn't find me one without a potty mouth. I didn't say a word, but my expression must have revealed my feelings. She looked at me quickly.

  "Oh, shit. I'm not supposed to swear, am I?"

  Porter laughed. "It's not befitting a lady," I said.

  "Why didn't you tell me before? You've been letting me swear the whole time," she said, frowning at Porter accusingly.

  "It was cute," he said. "I didn't have the heart to tell you to stop."

  She huffed out her breath, but I could tell she enjoyed his teasing. Of course she did. Porter had charmed my bride. Great. I never could compete with him with girls. Her eyes cut over to me, and she became serious again.

  "I'm sorry. I'll stop it." But she looked like she wasn't sure she could. "I guess I'm not what you were expecting in a wife."

  I looked at Porter. That was a loaded question. "Like I said, it's complicated."

  "You didn't answer the question," she said, pointing at me with a spoon. Isabella had brought us some stew and more bread. "I've waited three weeks for the answer, so please don't make me wait any longer."

  I sighed. "Fine. It's going to come out sooner or later. You might as well know that they've branded me. I'm a Renegade."

  "A Renegade? What's that?" Porter shook his head when I looked at him.

  "You must be aware that we have particular laws on our planet that ban the possession of certain things."

  "Oh, yes. Things. I had to leave behind a lot of things before I beamed down. I heard about your laws."

  The way she said laws made me think she didn't like them very much.

&nb
sp; "When I was young and stupid, I found some prohibited items. Instead of turning them over to the authorities immediately, I kept them for a bit."

  "You did?"

  "Yes. It was foolish. I was tattooed with an R on my shoulder to mark me as a Renegade. It's what we call anyone who is misguided, messes around with things, and gets caught."

  "I see. I don't agree with everything, but I think I understand."

  "No woman in this village or any other will have me because of the incident," I said. "That's why I needed Porter's help to find me a bride. My father is ill, and I must inherit to ensure the farm stays in our family. To do that, I need a wife."

  She looked at me. "That sucks."

  I blinked at the unusual use of the word. Of course, we spoke Standard. Everyone does. It's the language used throughout the entire galaxy. However, since we had little contact with the outside universe, our version of Standard drifted and missed some vocabulary.

  Sucks, like a baby hundinlark sucks at its mother's teats? She seemed to be implying I was having bad luck. That was partially true, but I had also made an incorrect decision which hadn't had much to do with luck, but everything to do with stupidity.

  "He was lucky," Porter said. There was that word luck again. "It could have been a lot worse. They were lenient because he was only a boy."

  "Sounds like they ruined your life." She turned to me with sympathetic eyes.

  "At least he still has a life."

  Porter was cut off then when a man came thundering down the stairs and into our room, heading out the door. Men in dark navy suits clattered down after him, one of them with a small sledgehammer over his shoulder, the other with a crossbow out and an arrow loaded. He was almost to the door when they started shouting.

  "Bar the door. Don't let him escape."

  Immediately, two patrons stepped between the fleeing man and the door. If they hadn't assisted the Bureau of Purity, they would have been in trouble themselves. No one crossed the Bureau. The poor soul skidded to a stop, and his eyes darted around as he looked for another escape route.