by Jay Allan
She couldn’t help feeling resentful about it. Was who she was so bad? Who were they to judge her?
Alara grimaced. She’d been told to fight these feelings, but it was so hard. When she tried to remember her previous life, it swam before her in an indistinct haze and gave her a headache. The memories were vague and only half-remembered, as if she were trying to recall a dream. But in her dreams those memories did occasionally surface. More than anything she remembered a man—he was tall and handsome, about forty years old, with salt and pepper hair, green eyes, and a grin which warmed her blood in a way that no other man’s ever had. . . .
Alara allowed her eyes to drift shut and she tried to bring his face into focus in her mind’s eye. At first nothing happened, but then she began to see blurry shapes swimming out of the void, and then words, half-remembered and muddled. Her breathing and heart rate began to slow as she concentrated on the blurry parade of memories. After an indeterminable amount of time one shape swam into focus, and there he was, his face sharp and clear like crystal. She felt a surge of joy.
“Who are you?” she asked.
“I’ll be back soon, Kiddie,” he said.
She watched him turn to leave, wanting to call out for him to stop, but instead she said, “I love you!”
Now he did stop, and he turned around to say, “I love you, too, Alara.”
Her eyes shot open as if loaded on springs. Her heart pounded in her chest. She sat up in the chair and looked around quickly to get her bearings. She was . . . where was she?
Then she remembered—Aurora’s. She must have fallen asleep in the armchair.
Alara closed her eyes again and tried to bring the dream back into focus, but she couldn’t. She opened her eyes and shook her head slowly. Whenever she saw that man in her dreams, she felt safe, happy, and at peace. Upon waking, however, those memories only brought more confusion. Who was that tall, dark-haired man? She could still hear the echoes of his words to her in the dream: “I love you, too, Alara.”
He loved her. Whoever that man was, he loved her. She tried to cling to that, to use it as an anchor about which she could keep herself rooted despite the swirling storm inside her head.
Her head began to pound again, and Alara pressed both hands to her temples and squeezed. Tears burned behind her eyelids, but she fought them back. She should just go to bed and bring an end to another awful, tormented day, but she was afraid to go to sleep and never wake up again, to have this other person, this stranger inside of her wake up instead and begin living her life.
Alara shook her head, her violet eyes springing open once more. No matter what anyone else said about who she really was, she couldn’t listen to them. She would have to pretend to listen just to shut them up, but she couldn’t let them try to “fix” her. If they succeeded, everything she knew would disappear. She would disappear.
Alara stopped bouncing her knees. She’d come to a decision, and with that decision she felt a measure of peace. She stood up from the chair and made her way over to the pair of men sitting at the bar, swaying to the off-key melody of their drunken spacer’s songs. One of them would agree to be hers, she was sure of that.
If she couldn’t sleep, at least she could make the best of the night.
* * *
Atton picked up his cocktail with a grin and snapped his fingers at the bartender. “Hoi, beauty!” The red and yellow mixture sloshed over the sides of the fluted glass as he accidentally tipped it first one way and then the other. “What say you join us for a round? I’m buyin’!”
Ithicus elbowed him in the ribs and gave him a mock serious look. “I saw her first, brua.”
“Well, we’ll just have to see who the lady prefers!”Atton said as the bartender walked up to them with a patient smile.
Aurora planted her elbows on the counter and leaned toward them, giving a teasing view of her cleavage. She was probably 40-something, but she looked like a young 30. “Don’t you boys think you’ve had enough?”
Atton deferred the question to his drinking buddy. “Have we—hic—’ad enough, Ithy?”
Ithicus was swaying on his barstool with a black maverick in one hand and a plasma grenade cocktail in the other. “There’s only one way to find out.” A slow grin spread across his lined face.
“What’s ‘hat?”
“Another drink!”
They both laughed raucously.
Aurora frowned at them, and her gaze slipped away to see a fresh face approaching her bar. “Finally, some intelligent company! What’ll you be having?”
Atton turned to see Alara walking lithely up to the bar, her hips swaying, her eyes finding first him and then Ithicus and giving each of them a long, up-and-down look.
“Hello, boys,” she said, ignoring the bartender.
“Hoi,” Atton managed despite a suddenly dry throat.
Ithicus just grinned. When she came close, he reached out and grabbed her by the waist. She smiled and squealed, allowing him to draw her into his lap.
“What are you doing, Lieutenant?” Alara asked in a coy voice.
“It’s Lieutenant Commander now.”
“Mmmm,” Alara purred. “A commander. I suppose that means you like giving orders . . . taking command . . . being obeyed. Very sexy.”
“That’s right,” Ithicus nodded. “Hoi! Aurora, get the lady a drink! It’s on me.”
“I like a man who knows how to give orders,” Alara went on.
“Well, you’re really gonna like me, then.”
Atton sat watching the exchange with a rising complaint stuck in his throat—at first because he’d imagined Alara sitting on his lap, but then because he remembered who Alara was. This was his father’s copilot, and she had a slave chip implanted. She’d have sex with anyone, do anything, and like it—if they had the Sols.
Atton felt a hot surge of anger building, but he clamped down on it. Ithicus couldn’t have known. He opened his mouth to explain, but Aurora was back. She frowned at the cuddling couple which had somehow taken the place of the old drunken pilot who’d been sitting at her bar a moment ago.
“Well, that was fast. You must be more charming than I thought, Lieutenant.”
He smiled thinly at her. “Get the lady a plasma grenade, would you?”
“I think the lady should order her own drink.”
“No,” Alara said, looking up. “I want him to order for me. That way it’s a surprise.”
“You sure?” Aurora asked, her eyebrows drawing together. “You look like you could use your inhibitions a while longer.”
Ithicus slammed an open palm on the bar counter, his eyes flashing at the bartender. “Just get the lady her drink, okay?”
Aurora’s eyes hardened. “I think you need to leave my bar, Lieutenant.”
“It’s lieutenant commander, and I’ll leave when I frekkin’ feel like it!”
“Then I’m afraid I’m going to have to call the ISF.”
Ithicus barked a laugh. “That’s a joke! There’s no such damn thing! You think we have ISF on board? We barely have a crew. Go ahead, call them!”
“It would be easier if you’d have some self-control and stop embarrassing yourself and the uniform.”
Ithicus glared at her. “You know what,” he said, rising from his barstool and lifting Alara off his lap as though she were a child. “I think you’re right. It’s time for us to go. Maybe we can continue this party where we have a little more privacy.”
“Sounds good to me,” Alara said, with one hand on Ithicus’s broad barrel chest as she looked up at him with wide, innocent eyes.
Atton finally managed to come to his senses enough to speak. He rose unsteadily from his chair and smiled at Alara before turning to Ithicus. “Could I have a word with you, LC?”
“Not now, Adan.”
“Yes now, and that’s an order.”
Ithicus glared at him, and the pulsing tongues-of-fire tattoo on his forearm seemed to flare a brighter blue. “We’ll talk in the morning.” It
hicus turned to leave, taking Alara by the arm.
She waved to Atton and blew him a kiss over Ithicus’s shoulder.
Atton grimaced and caught up to Ithicus in one quick stride, grabbing him by the arm to stop him. “Ithicus. Have you forgotten I outrank you now?”
Ithicus turned to him with a sarcastic gleam in his dark brown eyes, and Atton heard Aurora speaking in hushed tones into the comm at the bar.
”We’re all about to die, Adan. Everything we knew is gone—again—and frek it if I care anymore. You know how many people we lost aboard the Valiant? Do you even know their names? Does anyone know their names? They’re just gone. They’re not coming back, and neither are we. So frek your rank, Adan. It doesn’t mean krak. We’re all going to be space dust, so excuse me if I don’t give a flyin’ frek what you say. You want to give me orders?” Ithicus’s chest rose and fell quickly with pent-up rage. “You can give me orders in the netherworld.”
Atton scowled, and what he said next came through gritted teeth. “She’s chipped, Ithicus. You can’t take her to your quarters, or anywhere. She isn’t who she thinks she is.”
Alara stepped between the two men before Ithicus could even reply, and she jabbed a finger in Adan’s chest. “You know what, he’s right. Frek you! Why don’t you just frek off and mind your own business?”
Atton blinked, startled by her outburst. “Alara . . .” he began, but she was already turning away.
“Come on, Ithy, let’s go. I have some ideas about how we can relax.”
Atton winced at the implication of her words, but he didn’t try to follow them this time. He just watched helplessly as Ithicus led Alara to the lift tubes and his quarters waiting below decks. He would use her roughly, and she was going to let him—even encourage him.
One of the lift tubes opened just before Ithicus and Alara reached them, and out stepped a pair of guards, holding their rifles at the ready, followed by the overlord.
“Good evening,” Ethan greeted as they approached. The guards stepped forward and seized Alara by the arms.
She kicked one of them in the chins, but her foot bounced off his armor, and she yelped. “Frek you! Let me go!” she said.
Ithicus’s gaze found the overlord’s and he gave a sloppy salute. “Sir,” he said, swaying on his feet.
“At ease, Commander,” Ethan replied. “I’m afraid your date is out past her curfew, and we’re going to have to return her to her parents now.”
Ithicus frowned, but he nodded slowly. “Yes, sir.”
Ethan turned to watch as his guards dragged Alara kicking and screaming toward the lift. “One more thing.”
“Sir?”
“Did you know that prostitution is illegal in the Imperium, and that soliciting carries a two to five year sentence?”
“Yes, sir, but—”
“You didn’t know she was chipped. That’s fair, this is just your first warning. I assume I won’t need to issue another one.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good night, gentlemen.”
With that, Ethan turned to leave and he followed Alara and his guards into the lift.
Atton watched the lift drop away, and then he breathed a sigh of relief. Hopefully his father’s warning would keep Ithicus in check, but Ethan would have to issue a similar warning to every man on the ship if he was going to keep Alara safe.
Ithicus caught Atton’s eye and jerked his chin. “What’re you lookin’ at?”
Atton shrugged. “I told you she was chipped.”
“Frek you, Adan.” Ithicus turned and continued on toward the lifts.
Atton frowned and shook his head. “I’m going to dismiss that insubordinate remark as the alcohol talking. Go sleep it off!”
Ithicus gave no reply as he stepped into the next lift tube and rode it down to the flight deck. Atton shook his head. “Dumb brute.”
He felt a hand land on his shoulder, and turned to see Aurora standing behind him. “Next time you’re here, your drinks are on me.”
Atton smiled. “Thanks. You sure I can’t buy you one now?”
She shook her head. “I think we’d both better hit the rack.”
Atton nodded. “Rain check then.”
“It’s a date.”
Atton laughed and made his own way to the lifts. Turning and walking backward, Atton said, “You’re almost twice my age, Aurora.”
“Which means I have twice the experience.” Her amber eyes glittered as she smiled at him. “Think about that.”
“In your dreams.”
“No, in yours,” she said, winking at him.
The lift returned and Atton walked inside. He punched the crew deck and the lift dropped swiftly away before their banter could turn serious. He smirked to himself and shook his head. Sometimes a forward woman could be very sexy. Then his thoughts turned to Alara, and his smirk turned to a frown. Sometimes.
He hoped that Ethan found a way to rein her in.
* * *
Ethan took Alara back to his quarters instead of her parents’ so they could talk. He left the guards posted outside his door. She noticed that and shot him a lurid smile as they walked inside. Ethan locked the door behind them with a frown. She had obviously misunderstood his intentions.
“Mmmm, now I get it,” she purred, coming up behind him and touching his arm gently as she whispered in his ear, “You just wanted me for yourself.”
Ethan turned to her with a grimace. “Alara, that’s not—”
She was backing away, her hands already popping the buttons on her blouse. She shrugged the blouse off and it fluttered to the floor.
“Alara, put that back on.”
She giggled as she began working on her pants, her hips swaying to a silent melody. “Make me.”
Ethan started after her as her pants fell off and she kicked them away. She was backing toward his bed, leading him there. She unclipped her bra to reveal two perfectly rounded breasts just as she stepped into the leafy shadows cast by the ferns growing up along the dividing privacy wall between Ethan’s living area and his bedroom. Ethan felt an answering stir inside of him, but fought to push it away as he followed Alara to the bed.
Now she worked her panties off, one corner at a time, teasing him with partial glimpses before sliding them slowly down her thighs and legs to bare all. Ethan stopped before entering the bedroom, and now he looked away, holding one hand over his eyes and another up between him and Alara in a vain attempt to preserve her modesty.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, sounding hurt. “Am I not pretty enough for you? You don’t want to look at me?”
“Alara, it’s not that, it’s—”
“My name’s Angel, she interrupted, and then she walked up to him and grabbed his hand—
And placed it there. Ethan flinched as he felt something warm and wet graze his palm. He opened his eyes to see where she’d placed his hand, and he recoiled from her. “Alara!”
“Frek me!” she said, her violet eyes wild as she pulled him close and kissed him firmly on the lips. She forced her tongue past his clenched teeth, and he gave her a rough shove away from him. Alara tumbled to the floor with a yelp of surprise and pain. She sat looking up at him with genuine hurt now.
“I—frek, I’m sorry, Alara. He held out a hand to help her up, but she slapped it away and pushed herself off the floor.”
“Hoi, if you like men, you could have just told me instead of wasting my time by bringing me here. I don’t know why you bothered.” She went to pick up her panties, and Ethan found himself watching as she bent down. He shook his head and looked away again as she pulled her underwear back on. He absently felt for his wedding band to give himself strength, but it wasn’t there. He’d taken it off long ago to avoid giving himself away. The overlord wasn’t married, after all.
Alara brushed past him into the living room to hunt for the rest of her clothes. She pulled on her pants and then snatched up her bra and blouse. “Good night old man,” she said with a smirk. She was now a
lmost to the door. “You’d probably better see a medic about that prostate before it explodes.”
“Alara!” Ethan said, taking a deep breath to still his racing heart.
“What?” she looked up at him with hard, angry eyes.
His lips twisted in a miserable frown. “I love you, Kiddie.”
Suddenly, she stopped buttoning her blouse and her expression went from angry to shocked. Then her eyes began to glisten with moisture in the low, night-cycle lighting of his quarters. “You what?” Her breath hitched in her chest.
“I love you,” he repeated, now walking toward her. “That’s why I’m not going to do what you want.” He reached her side in a few short strides and led her gently by the hand to the nearest couch in his living room. She sank into it gratefully, her eyes wide and blinking as she stared at the opposite wall. A solitary tear slid slowly down her left cheek.
“You’re not well,” he said, holding her hand in his lap as he sat down beside her.
Alara slowly turned her head to him and he wiped away that trickling tear. She began to shiver.
He noticed and placed his hand against her forehead. “Are you okay?”
“You called me Kiddie.”
Ethan saw the spark of recognition in her violet eyes and his own eyes grew wide. “Well, to me everyone’s a kid, so—”
“Don’t do that to me.” Alara frowned and shook her head. “Everyone’s been telling me I’m not who I think I am, and that what I remember isn’t real, but this is real, isn’t it? Are you him? Am I remembering you from my childhood? When you were younger?” She searched his eyes, but then that spark of recognition and hope he’d seen abruptly died, and she shook her head. “Never mind.”
“I’m sorry?”
“Your eyes are the wrong color. They’re blue, not green.”
“Oh . . . well, there’s not much I can do about that, I’m afraid.”
Alara gave him a broken smile. “I suppose not.” She withdrew her hand from his and clasped it together with her other one, as if she were about to pray. “You don’t know what it’s like,” she said, staring down at her hands, “To be caught between two realities and two different lives and to wonder which one of them is really yours.”