by Poppy Rhys
Lonan made sure my dress was cleaned, Dason showed me how to play a weird pebble game, and Kahn rubbed my feet. Rubbed my feet!
I’d never had my feet rubbed before, and I didn’t know how I’d continue living without having a foot massage at least a few times a week, if not nightly.
How had I never discovered the amazingness of a foot rub?
I curled my toes, already wanting another one. Maybe I could con Preta into doing it for me. It probably wouldn’t feel the same, though. Kahn did this weird staticy thing, and his hands were pleasantly rough, and so warm. Inhumanly warm.
I knew what they were doing: trying to distract me from the new, unwanted addition to my body, but I didn’t complain. Honestly, I needed the distraction.
Thinking about how needy and girly that sounded made me a little irritated with myself, but I just needed a day. One damn day to wrap my head around what was done to me, and then I’d be good. Right as rain. It was my process.
“It’s the property of an Earth company,” I hedged, but it was the truth. When they said nothing, I blurted, “It’s a prison ship.”
Zaid and Lonan shared a look, and I couldn’t read their faces. Were they confused? Humored? Scared?
Ha. Scared. Somehow, I didn’t think these four got scared easily, especially not by a human woman. Mostly human.
“Why were you on a prison ship?” Kahn needled, a squint to his eye that gave me the impression he was entertained.
There it was. The answer to Kahn’s question would get me kicked out of this abode. I took another bite of my alien shrimp, unsure if it would be my last meal for a while.
Swallowing, and taking a quick gulp of water, I said, “Because I did a bad thing.”
They all put down their food and the silence made me ramble.
“I had to get to the Concord—that’s the prison,” I told them, wondering why my mouth didn’t fucking shut, “—so I could get my sister, Preta, because she was being used as leverage against my father by Jackson—the guy I killed... well, the last guy I killed... so they’d send me to the Concord—”
And I just rambled. I rambled until I’d told them what I did for the US government, why Jackson leveraged Preta, what happened to me in the prison lab, why Earth had an orbiting prison station to begin with, what happened after the crash, and basically a lot of stuff that was probably irrelevant.
I told them anyway.
“And now I’m here...”
Gingerly, I set down my half-eaten violet shrimp because I started to wonder if it had chemically altered my mouth to sing like a fucking canary.
My handler would be so disappointed in me right now.
When I swallowed another mouthful of water, the gulp was almost audible. The whole place was so quiet. Or it was in my own head. Probably.
“You’ve killed people.” The declaration came from Kahn, and I was right, it was entertainment I saw in his eyes, because now he leaned against his arms, almost straining toward me. A subtle, interested grin played on his parted lips.
“Not people,” I corrected, because it was important. It was how I’d been able to close my eyes at night all these years, how I’d been able to cope with the fact I ended lives. “Monsters.”
“Human people,” Kahn added.
“No,” I shook my head. “There was nothing human about my targets.” Kahn squinted, and I realized it would be hard to explain to an alien how my targets lost their humanity—if they ever had any to begin with—and that made them Project Nomad marks.
“Normal human people don’t sign orders that murder innocents.” The words kind of tumbled from my mouth as I defended my actions, because I truly believed what I did was right. I had to.
“Normal human people don’t systematically break women down because they believe they’re weaker, that their bodies were only meant for pleasure and population growth, or that their babies are a new crop of free labor to be sold to private corporations.”
I instantly thought of Handsy, and how I neared the point of allowing him to molest me—or worse—in order to get information I needed. And to avoid the lab, which I realized now would’ve never worked.
I rubbed my temple, thinking I’d gone a little crazy. The splinters in my psyche almost felt physical. It’d been a week—a week!—and it chipped away at me, even now, the angst of not knowing how everything would play out.
That place made me doubt myself and my ability to execute the plan my dad and I meticulously prepared for months.
Had we not crashed, I didn’t know what would’ve happened.
When I looked up again, all trace of entertainment had left Kahn’s face, and I stared into the stormy eyes of all four valos.
“Your planet Earth doesn’t sound like a good place,” Zaid’s baritone rumbled.
I laughed. It started out as a chuckle, but then it kind of hinged on hysterical for a good few seconds. “You’re right.”
He was.
“I don’t know why I want to go back,” I sighed, sagging against my chair. “No, I do know. My dad is there.”
“Dad? Father?” Lonan tilted his head, as if he were unsure of the word.
I nodded. “Yeah, my father.”
“And your mother?”
“Maybe,” I shrugged. That seemed to confuse them. “She could be dead. I never knew her.”
Preta and I had different mothers—not that we even knew until Dad broke the news when I turned twelve—but we’d always lived with our dad.
“It’s hard raising kids on Earth for anyone who isn’t a level ten resident or higher.”
I only seemed to be confusing them further, so I explained how cities had levels, and what it meant.
“Food’s expensive, and making enough money to feed hungry mouths can be a struggle.”
With Dad having a military career, he automatically made the salary of a level twenty, and the government made sure he had a place to live.
He kept us safe, provided for, and then some.
“Your mother was a resident below level ten?” Dason asked.
“I don’t think my dad ever knew her status,” I mused aloud, because I never thought about it before. I just assumed that’s why my dad raised us, and he was all the parent I ever needed. “I don’t know much about her, except my dad met her when he was stationed on the coast, she’s from Cuba, and I’m named after her.”
“Charlie?”
“Technically, Charlene Elena. Everyone just calls me Charlie, though.”
The turbulence in their eyes had finally died down, and they didn’t look like they were about to call on Poseidon to rain terror.
“Charlene,” Zaid echoed, like he was tasting it on his tongue, and the rich tone to his voice made me shift in my seat. The way these guys said my name did weird things to me.
“Yep.” I cleared my throat. “That’s me.”
Everything stayed silent while they stared at me, or the middle distance, like they were processing all the shit they found out tonight. They didn’t even have to pry. I just blabbed like I’d never gone through training that instilled into me to do the opposite: not blab.
“So...” My hands clenched in my lap. “Are you kicking me out?”
That got them to reanimate, and they all spoke at the same exact moment, so I was barely able to figure out what each of them said.
Kahn: “What?”
Lonan: “No.”
Dason: “Why would we do that?”
Zaid: “No.”
I thought it was funny Lonan and Zaid were so to the point, and had very little to say—ever—while Kahn and Dason both had a more curious nature.
I smiled, nodding my head. “Thank you.”
“I have another question.” Dason rubbed at his chin, and I waved a hand, giving him permission to ask, even though he didn’t need it. “What does ‘grandpa’ mean?”
I could feel my eyes widen and my face heat as I sat there, still as a statue. Immediately, the other three got that stormy look in their
eye, and the static in the air rocketed. Dason’s mohawk started to stand on end, and he quickly brushed a hand through it and elbowed Kahn.
Kahn looked like he was struggling to keep a relaxed posture in his chair, which I found extremely strange, and slightly humorous, because he appeared constipated.
“Uh,” I bought time, trying to push my thoughts into line and not think about riding Zaid’s fingers. “A grandpa would be the dad of my dad. Usually an old guy.”
For a beat, it was so silent I was afraid to move, and then...
Laughter.
Gut busting laughter from the guys. All of them except Zaid, who looked as if he was experiencing a particularly annoying level of hell.
Their laughter, and Zaid’s flat expression, had me chuckling.
Kahn leaned forward once he recovered, reheating my shrimp, and like I hadn’t confessed all my sins, we went back to eating and chatting about much happier things.
They laughed easily, even though some of it I didn’t quite understand. Valos jokes, I guessed, but I didn’t care.
I was oddly happy in that moment just to exist in their little quad.
FOURTEEN
KAHN
“She’s doing it again.” My teeth clenched and my current sparked, roving over my arms and itching to discharge. I paced the area in front of the couch where she lay, her delicate fingers clutching the fabric.
“Please,” Charlie whimpered.
Lonan crouched beside her. He had always been able to control his current better than I ever could. It never bothered me before—Ghishwy used to love my volatile current—but being unable to touch Charlie right now infuriated me.
She choked on the air, her chest shuddering, and her throat working. If I couldn’t see her with my own eyes, I’d swear she was being drowned.
“They hurt her,” Zaid growled, hovering over the back of the couch, his grip tightening on the frame. “It’s the same thing every night.”
We thought it was a one-time night terror. We all got those now and again. By the third night, we realized it was more than that. Charlie was reliving something—something awful—and there was nothing we could do.
We understood now. She’d told us many things about her duties on her planet, and of her short time on the prison ship.
“It’s your turn, Kahn,” Dason reminded me, throat bobbing, and his hand stroking Charlie’s dark curls that we were all fascinated with.
We’d been rotating turns taking Charlie to our beds. It was the only thing that stopped th—
She shrieked, the piercing sound making all of us jump even though we expected it.
That sound!
Lonan’s current flared to life for a blink before he suppressed it and took a deep breath.
That sound unnerved us all in a way nothing else ever had. I wished there was a way we could eat the memories for her. Erase it somehow. None of us had that ability, only Ghishwy, but I could wish.
“I’ll hurt her,” I ground out between my clenched teeth.
“Concentrate,” Lonan coached, and I hated that he had to help me calm down enough to control my own damn body.
I tried hard, concentrating on relaxing so my urge to fry something didn’t override my mind. I could feel Dason manipulating the humidity around us, making sure my charge didn’t build enough to start a small electrical storm inside our home.
It wouldn’t hurt the others, but Charlie wasn’t valo or Ghian. Her flesh was susceptible to many things. Easily hurt.
Rezz sat beside the couch and laid his head at Charlie’s feet. Her screeching upset him too.
My current died down until it was completely gone. Quickly, I scooped Charlie off the cushions before she had time to scream again and force me to lose focus.
Her slender fingers curled over my chest, her hair tickling my arm, and her soft body molding against me. This was the first time I’d held her, and it felt good.
I stared down at her dark, uneven pigment patches, trying and failing to see a pattern. They were random with no symmetry. A chaotic smattering that I loved looking at.
Lonan gripped my shoulder, peering down at Charlie’s face as it went peacefully slack, no longer creased in pain.
I carried her to my bed, sliding in behind her. I looked up, nervous all over again. “Dason—"
“I know,” was all he said. Without having to ask, he already knew to keep the air heavy with moisture, just to keep my current in check.
I nodded my thanks and slowly fit myself against the human.
THE NEXT MORNING, I woke in a bed. Again. A firm arm wrapped around my middle, tight enough for me to feel the pressure, but I could still easily breathe.
For fuck’s sake.
I peeked over my shoulder.
Kahn.
I was in Kahn’s bed, in Kahn’s arms, and he was spooning me. I’d never been the spooning type. Not big on cuddling in general, but it wasn’t... bad.
However, that wasn’t the point.
I peeled his fingers from my stomach only for him to hook his leg over mine. An irritated groan gurgled from my throat. I just woke up and already I was facing the first challenge of the day.
Why was I even in Kahn’s bed? I told them all I was sleeping on the couch and that was that. They all had a severe case of selective hearing.
If it were Dason, Zaid, or Lonan, this would be easier. It didn’t escape my notice that Kahn had a bad habit of lighting up like a Christmas tree with the slightest provocation. The burnt bed sheets were proof.
I didn’t want to get fried, else I would’ve given him a good kick.
It took another two tries before I effectively slid from the bed and onto the floor.
The air was heavy, and my body was slick with moisture. It felt like a jungle in here. My hairline was soggy, and my skin was sticky.
“Ugh.”
Dason chuckled, drawing my attention. His bed was right beside Kahn’s, and he peered over the edge at me.
“Had to raise the humidity in here.” He sat up. The sheet thankfully draped over his naked lap when he rested his feet on the floor in front of me. “The air is too charged when Kahn is near you.”
I canted my head, looking up at the slumbering valo. His brow pinched in his sleep.
“Thanks, I guess?” I kept my voice a whisper so I didn’t wake Kahn. “But none of that would be necessary if you guys would just let me sleep on the damn couch.” I didn’t even feel guilty that last bit came out grouchy, because I was.
Grouchy, that is.
Dason only grinned wider, scrubbing a hand through his mohawk. It didn’t help. That front lock sprang back over his brow.
My fingers twitched, but I ignored them. I was convinced he couldn’t take anything seriously.
“I feel disgusting,” I lamented, tearing my eyes from his rogue lock of hair and picking myself up off the floor.
“Lonan brought more clothing for you.” His voice was hushed to match my own. I peered to the side, seeing the other two beds were empty, Lonan and Zaid already gone.
I got the impression they were the older ones of the four or the more responsible, being early risers. I was unsure why my brain made that connection. Somehow, what time a person got up in the morning being an indication of their level of maturity seemed like an inaccurate science.
Regardless, I’d bet money Dason and Kahn were the younger two.
I spotted the folded pile of clothes on the edge of Lonan’s bed and made my way over to pick through them. These clothes were... nicer. They were softer than the hemp-like dress I had on.
Two more off-white dresses identical to the one I had on, but silkier, and the shell designs more intricate, and colorful. At the bottom, there was something else. Two sheer, willowy tanks —one yellow, one red— and two pairs of white shorts with drawstrings.
Shorts! They didn’t look very long, but I’d have something covering my crotch! Walking around naked under my dress was getting to be a little drafty.
The prison
was supposed to issue me a bra and underwear, but I’d never received those before the crash. There’d been some big thing going down with the warden the day I arrived, and I guess getting my proper supply of underthings wasn’t important.
Would’ve been nice to have.
I guess my saving grace was I’d never been top heavy—something I’d never been thankful for until now—so I could cope without support.
Once I was in the bathroom, a light tap rapped at the door. I opened it, peering around at Dason. “Yes?”
He held out a small, palm-sized pot, and a four-pronged, pearlescent comb. I gasped, stifling the sound behind my hand and shooting a glance at Kahn’s bed. I didn’t wake him.
“Holy shit,” I whispered excitedly. “You don’t know how much I need this!” I snatched the comb from his palm and blurted, “I could kiss you right now!”
Dason perked up, leaning forward, but I placed a hand on his chest to hold him off.
“Not literally.” I pursed my lips to keep from smiling. Sneaky alien. “Just another thing humans say.”
He momentarily looked disappointed before I jabbed a finger at the pot in his hand. “What’s that?”
Dason looked down, his midnight-blue brows rising as if he forgot he was holding something else. “For your hair.” He fingered one of my matted curls. “Will help soften.”
My mouth dropped open. Did he just say he brought me fucking conditioner?!
I had to bite my cheek to keep from professing my undying love for him. Momentary undying love. Love that wasn’t really love at all, but gratitude.
Easier to keep my mouth shut, because after last night, I didn’t trust my traitorous tongue anymore.
My mood plummeted when reality hit me. This was Dason giving me this stuff. “Did you steal these?”
That playful grin of his kicked up, and I was instantly more suspicious. “I don’t steal, I borrow.”
“It’s only borrowing if you ask first.”
Silence. He scowled. “I’m unconvinced.”
I sighed, completely bummed that I was going to have to part with a precious comb and conditioner—aka a curly girl’s liquid gold.