by K. C. Cross
“And Jimmy,” I say. “And Valor, and Luck, and Tray, and—oh, fuck. Serpint and Draden too. Mother of suns.” I never noticed we all had the same-colored eyes. But now that she just pointed that out… it’s true. I guess I just accepted violet as normal because we all looked alike. But I can’t recall a single other Akeelian with my color eyes.
Corla stays silent for a few moments. Just searching my face for understanding. “Do you believe me?” she finally asks.
“I’m not sure anyone could make this up, so… I guess I do.”
“Good,” she says, taking my hand. “Now listen carefully. Because we only have one shot to make this work and nothing can go wrong. Understand? Nothing can go wrong.”
So I listened.
And I did everything right.
But something did go wrong. Because twenty years later my little brother Serpint came home to Harem Station and instead of bringing Draden with him, he brought me the one woman I was never supposed to see again.
Princess Corla locked up inside a cryopod.
CHAPTER NINE
ALCOR said, “I’ll help you if you help me.”
Which didn’t really make much sense back then. Why did I need his help again? Because yeah, station life was boring as fuck. Especially after Tray got ALCOR connected to the galactic net and we could actually see what we were missing out on. But was I in danger? Nah. If there’s one thing I always felt on ALCOR’s station it was safe.
But that day ALCOR told us he was going to open the station up to the unwanted and discarded—that was the first time I really felt the fear that Corla was trying to convey to me back on Wayward that night we left.
If we let people in, especially the kind of people ALCOR was talking about, then would we be safe? How could we be safe?
What is safe, anyway?
Hiding away in some forgotten part of the galaxy? Living on a station so big it can hold several million people, yet right now it only holds eight? Nine, I guess, if you include ALCOR.
I remember walking out of the pod that day ALCOR told us this. Stepping out onto the grand concourse and walking over to the edge. Leaning over, then glancing up. Hundreds of levels all empty. The silence inside. The darkness. The stillness.
This was my reality but the whole thing was an illusion.
Because outside, beyond those gates there were trillions of people, and billions of planets, and millions of systems, and so… it’s not real. This quiet, still life is nothing more than an interlude.
It took a couple more years after ALCOR’s big speech to get everyone ready to leave the station. All of us had to become pilots, for one thing. We had to learn to fight, we had to learn to fix things. Like… everything. ALCOR made us learn how to maintain the life-support systems, and the docking bays, and the autocooks. He taught us how to build water generators, and bots, and electrical components.
And little by little he doled out his grand plan. His great mission.
We needed people. All kinds of people. But that wasn’t our job. He was going to do that via some galactic advertising campaign with Tray’s help.
What we specifically needed were Cygnian princesses. But when he said that all the flashing warning lights went off in my brain.
“Why?” was my first question.
And ALCOR answered, “You know why.”
“To breed with them and make… stars?”
He was in his humanoid holographic form when this conversation took place and he shook his head no. “You only have one true mate, Crux. You already know this. They’re just pretty, don’t you think? Special and off limits. We’re calling it Harem Station, are we not? So we need a harem. Not just any harem, one special enough that the bravest outlaws will believe our invitation is genuine and come first. Then word will get out that this is a real offer and more will come. They will come in droves to see our princesses, Crux. Millions of them will come and live here with us. And isn’t that what you boys want? A home? A city filled with people, and stores, and restaurants, and entertainment? To feel part of humanity again?”
“That’s it?” I asked, unable to fully buy into his sudden fatherly concern for our wants and needs. “That’s the only reason?”
“For now.”
I never forgot that answer. For now.
It made me think of time and how it’s as relative as anything else in the universe.
“How long, exactly,” I asked, “is for now?”
He didn’t answer.
But he didn’t have to, I guess. Corla already told me how long for now was.
Twenty years.
Serpint turned eighteen first, then about a hundred spins later, so did Draden. And at the time I didn’t understand why ALCOR’s grand plan required them to both be eighteen, but I do now.
Eighteen is the galactic age of maturity. For Akeelians, it’s twenty-five, but that was just our species-specific age and since we are such a small part of the people who make up humanoid species in the galaxy, no one cared that we aged differently.
By fourteen we look like men on the outside, but inside we’re still children.
By sixteen we get aggressive and competitive.
At eighteen we’re downright dangerous. We call it the year of rage.
Hormones are out of whack, the urge to fight and fuck dictates pretty much every move. And believe me, that year I turned eighteen no one wanted to be around me. There were no girls to fuck. And even though Xyla offered to help me out, I said no. It wasn’t right. And the only boys to fight were my little brothers. Because that’s who they were by this time. Brothers.
So I just… stayed away from everyone. Just did the work ALCOR assigned me until things settled down inside my brain.
It was lonely as fuck.
Then Jimmy took his turn, then Valor, and Luck, and Tray.
It’s a small miracle we didn’t kill each other. But it passed over the course of half a year or so. And we had a nice two-year break between Tray and Serpint.
But Serpint was still raging pretty good when Draden took his turn and on the night of Draden’s eighteenth birthday ALCOR said it was time for them to leave.
By this time we had all built at least one ship with the help of the servo bots. Who, by the way, were more than servo bots. Xyla was right. Even the ones who just mopped the floor had distinct personalities and we all had our favorites. Each of us boys had a little army of servos who followed us around like minions.
There were more than a hundred ships inside ALCOR’s ring of docking bays when we arrived there, but they were all ancient. The parts were still good, and the tech was better than anything I’d ever seen or heard of. Which is a whole other story I won’t go into. Because who the fuck were these people ALCOR wiped out more than twenty thousand years ago again?
Anyway, we broke the ships down and put them back together in new ways using engineering plans ALCOR stole off the net.
“One day,” ALCOR told Serpint and Draden as we all stood in the airlock in front of the ship he’d assigned them, “you can tell people who you really are and where you come from. But that day is still a long way off. So…” His hologram put a finger up to his lips. “Shhhh.”
“Sure,” Serpint said, both annoyed with ALCOR’s instructions and eager to leave. “Whatever.”
ALCOR and I argued relentlessly about letting Serpint and Draden be the first to leave. But he didn’t give in. And in the end, I had no choice. Because I had no real power on the station. I was just the oldest refugee and nothing more.
“Now, boys,” ALCOR said. “Go forth and find me some princesses. I want all of them.”
“Why do we need them again?” I asked.
ALCOR had picked up many of our human expressions over the years so he shot me a look that was so clearly contempt, I almost let it drop.
“I’m just getting clarification,” I added, because I knew he wouldn’t answer me unless I pushed him.
“To lure outlaws.” He glared at me for a prolonged moment,
then turned his attention back to Serpint and Draden. “The only ones you’ll find will be runaways. And most of them will already belong to someone else. So…” He smiled and folded his hands at his shimmering holographic waist. “Just take them. Even if they resist, you take them. You put them in the cryopods, and you bring them straight here. I’ll take care of everything once they arrive. Understand?”
“For fuck’s sake,” Serpint growled. “We got it, OK? Goodbye already.”
And then they both put on their helmets, walked into the airlock, cycled through it, and went out into the cold, hard vacuum to enter their ship.
We watched them leave. All of us, even their loyal servos who had to stay behind.
And when they were gone this place felt a million times emptier.
CHAPTER TEN
Serpint and Draden were not even gone thirty spins when ALCOR decided it was time for Jimmy and Xyla to go on their mission.
By this time these two were inseparable friends. Jimmy was well past his year of rage and Xyla looked nothing like the sex bot who greeted us at the airlock six years prior.
I mean, yeah. She was still sexy as hell. But she took Jimmy’s advice and had the medical pod remove almost all her synthetic skin and had it replaced with shining, stainless-steel armor. Her hair was still long and purple and her body was still virtual-reality perfection. But there was no doubt in your mind that Xyla the sex bot was now Xyla the warrior.
“Your mission,” ALCOR told them over dinner one night, “is to round up bots.”
“What kind of bots?” Xyla asked.
“I don’t care,” ALCOR said. “Just get as many as you can and bring them back. And tell them they don’t need any credits or skills. We will teach them what they need to know. All we require is a desire to learn and be helpful.”
If Xyla could snort, I’m pretty sure that’s what her response would’ve been. “They’re all gonna come then.”
“Good,” ALCOR said. “They are all welcome. I will have jobs for them and they will get paid. If you find any who are already in a committed contract but still want to come, buy them out.” He paused for a moment, his holographic body blinking a couple times, then said, “Your credit account is full.”
“How full?” Jimmy asked, raising one eyebrow.
“Unable to be emptied,” ALCOR responded.
Jimmy almost giggled.
ALCOR pointed at him. “I know what you’re thinking.”
“What am I thinking?” Jimmy challenged back.
“You’re going to buy whores. I’ve put restrictions on the credits.”
“What the fuck? I’ve been here six years. I’m twenty-one years old. I need to get laid, you piece of junk!”
“Find girls who don’t require payment.”
“Dick,” Jimmy said.
“Your future self will thank me.”
Later that night, as Xyla and Jimmy were getting ready to leave, I called ALCOR to my quarters. Tray had just installed this new quantum nanobot program in the atmosphere that acted as a comms system and I just had my comm implanted into my finger so I could access it. You just pinch the air with your fingertips and then spread them apart and a screen pops up.
I’d never seen anything like it before and it got me wondering how much we’d missed out in the real world since we arrived on the station.
But Tray said this was old tech. Stuff leftover from the station’s previous inhabitants.
And once again I was thinking about who those people were. How did they have this level of tech twenty thousand years ago?
It boggles the mind. Makes you feel small and insignificant. Realizing that whole—much more technologically advanced—civilizations lived and died before your species even existed is humbling.
Anyway, I called for ALCOR and he came to me as a disembodied voice from the ceiling. Also something recently added to his repertoire of new communication skills.
“What can I do for you, Crux?”
“So this bot bullshit,” I said. “What’s that all about?”
“I have a soft spot for non-humanoid life forms. Go figure.”
“That’s it?”
“That’s it.”
And if he were in the room as his hologram form, I knew he’d be spreading his arms wide and smiling just as big. Because that’s what he always did whenever I asked for details regarding this grand plan of his.
“I told you, Crux. I want this place to be a place of rest and respite for those who find themselves homeless.”
“Right. Got that part. But something comes after that. That’s the plan I’d like to hear about.”
“I’m afraid my future plans are all on a need-to-know basis. And you do not yet need to know.”
“I don’t want to be a part of this.”
“A part of what?”
“Whatever it is you’re doing. I’m not going to do whatever job you have planned for me. I’d just like to make that clear now.”
“Why do you think I have a plan for you?”
“Because you have a plan for everything,” I said. “And Valor already told me you’ve been talking to him and Luck about leaving soon. So… I’m not gonna do it.”
“Well, good. I do not have a plan for you, Crux. Other than…” And I swear to the sun, I could feel him shrugging. “Stay here and live out your life. Do whatever you want. Soon others will arrive. We’ll have stores, and restaurants, and—”
“Entertainment places. Yeah, I’ve heard this speech before.”
“This is your home, Crux. And I’d love it if you stayed. But no one is stopping you from leaving. There are more than a dozen flight-ready ships in the bays. If you have somewhere else to go, by all means, go.”
“But that’s the problem, isn’t it? I don’t have anywhere to go. I can’t go home. Not after all this time. And I don’t even have a partner. You made sure that Serpint and Draden were best friends. You made sure that Valor and Luck were best friends. And Jimmy and Xyla. And you knew Tray didn’t need a best friend, because let’s face it, he’s barely human these days. More AI and less Tray every single spin. So that leaves me. Alone. With no one to lean on.”
He was silent for so long I almost thought he left.
“I didn’t make anyone be friends, Crux. You did that.”
A part of me knew he was right, but he was wrong too. “I didn’t make them be friends, they just… came that way.”
“My point,” ALCOR said. “But you’re wrong, you know. You do have a best friend.”
“Who?” I asked.
“Me.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
I thought about what he said to me for a long time. Months, I guess. Because that’s how long it was before Valor and Luck started making their preparations to leave.
By this time I was sad. Because no one had come back. Serpint and Draden had been gone almost a full year. In less than twenty spins it would be Draden’s nineteenth birthday. And I’d already missed Serpint’s.
I really thought Serpint would return for that so when he didn’t I just sorta went into a funk. I didn’t have a job here. There was nothing to do but wander and think.
ALCOR kept me busy, but that’s all it was. Just busy. I had a checklist to go through every day.
Is life working? Why, yes. It is. Because I can breathe.
Do we have nutrients in the autocook? Sure do. Because I just made breakfast.
Is there water in the reservoirs? Yup. Took a shower when I woke up.
And since Serpint, Draden, Jimmy, and Xyla were all gone now, their servos hitched their wagon to mine. So I had like thirty little bots around me at all times. It was weird, and sometimes funny, but mostly depressing because… I missed my brothers and I was desperate for them to come home and rescue me from my boredom.
The night when Valor and Luck were leaving I really thought I was gonna lose my mind. I felt like a parent in that moment. Watching my last two kids take off and leave me behind.
Still, I managed t
o smile and be happy for them.
I knew I could leave. I could even go with them if I wanted. But they didn’t have room for me. The ship had plenty of room, that wasn’t the problem. Their brains had no room. Their hearts had no room. They were a team. And even though ALCOR said I was on his team, it didn’t feel true.
“I need parts,” ALCOR told them before they left. “In order to keep the station going after the people arrive I need you to go searching for parts.”
So they were salvagers. And when ALCOR explained where they needed to look—far, faraway places where no one even lived—I felt a pang of jealousy. Because I knew he was sending them to the ancient sectors. The old systems with planets where whoever he killed all those eons ago used to live.
This mystery was killing me. Slowly eating away at me from the inside.
After Valor and Luck left Tray disappeared for spins at a time working on his virtual reality. Months and months went by with no word from my brothers. No new people came to the gates, asking for rest and respite.
We made stores and filled them with copies of clothes and other goods that ALCOR printed using things salvaged around the station. We made restaurants with huge commercial autocooks that could make any recipe off the net. We even built shooting galleries, and arcades, and screen houses. We had all the most recent movies from the bigger worlds. All the famous people on the screens.
But there was no one to appreciate any of it.
Just me.
I spent a lot of time thinking about Corla in those days. That one night we had together. Did she make it? Did she meet her friends on the other side? Did she have my baby? And if so, was it still alive? Was it a monster?