by Corin Cain
Thirty credits. As meager as that is, it’s still five times as much as I’d make as an illegal if I was working as a dishwasher, or a nanny, or a waitress at one of those dive bars that don’t check IDs or scan biometrics.
But that extra hundred would have solved a lot of problems. That extra hundred I worked my ass off for, no less. That extra hundred should be mine – but, instead, it’s in the greasy hands of that Toad; who demands submission and obedience from women in order for them to merely keep what’s rightfully theirs.
I stagger away from Obbit, clutching my earnings.
Twenty of these thirty credits will go towards my escape plan – just like twenty credits do from each days’ earnings. It keeps me broke and hungry, but I need to save that money. The clock is ticking, and I know it’s only a matter of when, not if, the Aurelians will eventually catch up to me.
Their Law Enforcement is the most brutal and effective in the known galaxies – and I have a lot further to travel before I’m finally safe from them.
As I stagger away, I rub my arm instinctively. If any of those huge, seven-feet-tall Aurelians bastards do track be down and try to recapture me, they’ll be in for a surprise. They have no idea what I’ve had implanted beneath my skin.
I head into the change room. There are a few girls in there already, all in various stages of undress. They’re sitting, standing - chatting… I give the girls polite nods and smiles as I pass. I don’t want to come off as rude, but I don’t really relate to any of them – and I’m not here to make friends. I just try to keep my head down instead. There’s a brutal, social pecking order around here – and I have no interest in getting involved in it.
Besides, there’s no point investing in the time and effort to make friends when you need to be able to leave everything and anything behind at a moment’s notice.
I’ve never really had friends, but I can’t say I miss it. The only real friend I ever had was my sister – and she just proved that having friends opens your heart to misery, loneliness and grief.
Gods! If you’re listening - please let her be alive out there, somewhere! Please, let my sister be okay. I miss her so much.
A shadow falls across my path. It’s Brienne – a dark-haired temptress who takes guys of any species back to the pleasure room for the right price; although she charges considerably more for Toads. She stalks up to me, her wavy hair bouncing past her shoulders as she sashays in those five-inch heels she seems to have been born wearing.
“Well,” Brienne pauses, putting her hands on her curvaceous hips. “How’d you do tonight?”
I shrug.
“Fine.”
I’m not going to tell her exactly how many credits I picked up. Brienne takes pride that she’s the biggest earner for the club – and I’ve got no interest in competing with her.
My only interest is survival.
It’s always been about survival for me. I was only eighteen-years-old when I first learned that you have to be prepared to do anything and everything to survive.
Back then, I was working on a mining ship, near the periphery – doing menial jobs with my sister for board and food. The ship itself could barely afford to keep itself running, and so when the maintenance robots had finally broken down, the owners had decided to hire a couple of orphans for the four-week journey instead.
Those orphans were me and my sister. We never had parents – but we’d always looked out for each other.
That was until we were hit by space-pirates mid-journey; and my little sister was taken for ransom.
My little sister. Lilac… Lilac…
I’d had to do what I’d had to do. I would have killed any man or woman in the universe to save my sister – but Aurelians don’t like law-breakers.
That’s why I’d ended up on the Aurelian Capture List. They wanted me to serve twenty years for what I’d had to do to try and save my sister. To those gargantuan, God-like aliens – who live for thousands of years – a twenty-year sentence is nothing.
To me, though, it would be my entire youth. I’d leave jail middle-aged, with nothing.
But the sickest part?
After everything I’d done to get that ransom money – to save my sister – the space-pirates had never even showed up to the rendezvous. They’d not turned up to collect their ill-gotten gains, in return for my sister. I’d never seen her since.
I pray to the Gods – the same ones I barely believe in – that Lilac is somehow safe out there. I wish I had the resources to go and find her, but it’s all I can do to eke out a threadbare existence on this rock of a planet, Bara-KitosE – let alone leave.
For now.
I plunk myself down on a rotating chair and kick off my heels. My feet ache – but they’re far from the only thing causing me discomfort right now.
For example, Brienne apparently isn’t satisfied with the answer I’d given her – and she crosses her arms, staring down at me pointedly.
“I heard your little conversation with Obbit through the door,” Brienne warns me coolly. “Those businessmen are mine. Don’t you try to approach them.”
Businessmen? Ugh, I remember now.
From the Rogue Aurelians to any of the other customers out there tonight, there were plenty of leering men who probably described themselves as “businessmen.” Brienne was probably referring to the man in the business suit who’d shoved that cash between my teeth, and his leering buddies. He was the only one who’d propositioned me with the invitation back to his place.
I shuddered. As if.
But Brienne clearly can’t believe that I’d turn down the extra credits I’d earn by going back to the hotel room of a crowd of visiting businessmen – or, even more conveniently, taking them back to the VIP room here at Spur’s. There, they could be milked out of a fortune for bottles of fancy liquors… but it would be in return for the promise of more than just a private dance.
I’ll never go into that room. I’ll never give up my morals for easy money.
But none of the other girls believe that. They think I’m pretending to be better than they are. Brienne, especially, seems to take offence; as if my refusal to sell my body is a personal slight against her.
I look up at the dark-haired beauty, and promise: “Brienne – I swear. I don’t do any ‘extra’ credit work.”
Brienne stares me down. It probably wouldn’t be hard to stand up to her – I’ve had a hard-knock life, and know how to handle myself – but I know that adding additional conflict to the already simmering cauldron of this workplace wouldn’t be worth it.
It’s frustrating, though. I know with one punch I could knock that stern look off her face. When you grow up as a dirt-poor orphan, you learn to scrap – especially when creepy men see you as an easy target.
Brienne, at least, seems satisfied by my meek response.
“Good,” she warned. “You better not – or we’re going to have a problem.”
You better get out of my face, I think to myself, or you’re going to be the one with a problem… A dental problem, bitch!
It would be so satisfying to say those words, but I’m not going to get into a fight over nothing.
“I only dance,” I reassure Brienne. “I’ve never done anything more, and I never will.”
Satisfied, Brienne turns – just as the door to the changeroom slams open and Obbit barges his way in.
Some of the girls shriek, but for the likes of Brienne and I, this is old news. We’ve never had any privacy from this Toad. Only the newer girls try to cover themselves up. The rest of just leave ourselves bare, letting Obbit leer at us in resigned silence.
I feel Obbit’s eyes fall on me.
“Allie,” he gurgles, his lips wobbling and spraying spittle. I instantly drop my gaze, trying to look obedient and submissive.
Shame burns me as I do so – because I’m no wuss. I just know when to avoid a battle. If Obbit knew I could handle myself in a fight, he’d stop underestimating me. You have to keep your advantages hi
dden – especially when you have so few of them.
Keep them hidden until you need them.
“Allie,” Obbit repeats, and I nod:
“Yes, Obbit?”
“You’re doing extra credit work in the pleasure room,” the Toad gurgles. “Now! Get those heels back on.” The Toad lumbers forward and warns: “Don’t even think of saying fucking no – not if you want to keep your job. This is an order – coming down straight from Spur.”
Extra credit work?
A knot tightens in my belly. No!
He means the same ‘extra credit’ that Brienne submits to in the VIP rooms… or that I’d walked in on Jenny performing for that disgusting bastard.
The same ‘extra credit work’ that I swore I’d never do.
2
Daccia
I demanded: “Do you sell your women?”
I was asking the question because of her – the woman I’d just seen dancing on stage. She’d been exquisite. I’d felt my cock surge the moment I saw her gyrate those ripe curves up on that stage. I could tell that she wasn’t there in her mind – only in her body. She’d dialed out, going through the motions. She was clearly a woman just trying to survive – just trying to keep her freedom.
Her name was Allie – and while she was dancing to keep her freedom, I was here to take that freedom away from her.
Allie had lied. She’d stolen. As beautiful as she was, that human female deserved to rot in a prison cell…
…but my body betrays me.
The owner of this club, Spur, cocks his head to one side and gives me a shrewd look. He’s got five men behind him. They’re silent – there to mirror the two other Aurelians of my triad, and give him some sense of confidence.
It’s laughable. We Aurelians could cut through Spur’s thugs without breaking a sweat.
My two battle brothers are Kitos and Hadrian – my silent shadows. I’ve trusted them in a hundred battles, and the only worry I have is the thin thread of lust that lurks deep within their minds. I feel it too. There was something about that woman that triggered a deep, instinctual desire inside of us.
“We need to call this mission off,” telepaths Kitos. “She may be our mate.”
Kitos is the smartest of the three of us, and I trust his advice. More than that – I feel it too.
It’s not a certainty – in fact, there’s only a one in a billion chance that this woman could actually be our mate – but all three of us felt it. Felt something.
The suspicion that she could be what all Aurelians spend their lives searching for: Their Fated Mate.
Of course, most likely, she’s just learned how to seduce Aurelians…
…but there’s always a chance, however astronomical.
I take a deep breath.
“We’re one more capture off a promotion,” I telepath back. “We have to take her in.”
The owner, Spur, taps his desk.
“Selling women is illegal,” he warns – a twinkle in his eye.
Of course, Spur isn’t being serious. He’s just trying to drive up the price – and cover his ass. We’re posing as Rogue Aurelians, but the man isn’t dumb. He knows slavery is strictly forbidden in the Empire, and even discussing the subject with any Aurelians – Rogue or not – carries risk attached to it…
But this man is a slaver, if I ever met one. No – perhaps that’s giving him too much credit. Spur is merely an opportunist, who’d sell his own mother for a thousand credits.
“Hiring illegal women is illegal,” I counter. “Your club isn’t afraid to cross that line.”
Spur’s eyes narrow. “What are you? Aurelian Law Enforcement?”
See? Not dumb.
A cowardly, immoral, opportunistic piece of scum…
…but not dumb.
I sneer back: “You think we’d come here, looking to buy a woman for our harem, and be working for the law? The penalty for slavers is death – Aurelian or human.”
I narrow my eyes.
“You’ve got a reputation as a businessman, Spur. Don’t disappoint us.”
His chest puffs up. Humans love to be complimented by Aurelians. Their species will never match up to ours – but they constantly try.
Spur snaps his fingers. A tall, elegant woman with waist-length hair steps forward and fills four glasses with strong, amber liquid. She nods at Spur – as if wordlessly asking permission to leave – and then sashays away. The sway of her body as she strides away doesn’t affect me like it normally would. Normally the sight of a curvaceous human female like that would stir dark desires inside of me – the infamous Aurelian mating frenzy…
But right now? Nothing. That beautiful woman holds about as much sexual allure for me as a chair, or Spur’s desk.
It’s weird - but I chalk it down to being in a tense negotiation – one that will stop us from having to turn this joint into a battleground.
“So,” Spur demands, “what’s your offer?”
“This bastard is a slave trader. We should take him in.” Hadrian’s telepathic growl is deep and feral. His aura is building in anger.
“Entrapment,” I quickly telepath back. That’s true enough – Spur isn’t a slaver by trade, merely opportunity. That would give him legal protection, even within the Aurelian legal system. When we get back to Colossus we can order an undercover operation to take him down. Until then… we have bigger worries.
I growl at the human: “Let us see the wares first. A private dance. If we like her, then we’ll pay two thousand for her.”
Spur laughs. “Two thousand? On this world? You’re out of your bloody alien minds. Six thousand would be an insult. Take your dance, Aurelians – and then you’ll see that she’s worth the price I’m going to ask for.”
“I don’t like this.” Kitos sounds worried. “We’re only authorized to spend three thousand.” He pauses. “Not to mention – she may be our mate. It’s time to call this mission off.”
I listen to Kitos’ telepathic voice as I consider what to do. Something inside warns me that it’s a bad idea to see this fugitive, Allie, up close. If that little temptress could affect us so deeply while she was all the way up on that stage, there’s no telling what she’d cause us to do if she was in close proximity. It’s as though that seductive wench was trained to seduce our species…
In fact, she has a track record of doing exactly that.
But before we can move forward with the arrest, we must confirm her identity. We have to know for certain that this is the ‘Allie’ we seek. Human females can look alike, and plastic surgery and full-face transplants are available for criminals with deep enough pockets.
They can’t change their DNA, though. As I think that, I reach down and gently stroke the pocket of my reinforced pants.
In my pocket is a small testing needle – a device that I need to sink into Allie’s thigh to find out if her DNA is a match for ‘Allie Tabber’ – the fugitive we seek.
The woman who willingly entered an Aurelian harem, seduced a triad, stole a fortune… and then left in the night, like a ghost.
Well, we’re like ghosts too, hot on her trail. On the outside, the three of us look like Rogue Aurelians – wearing sharp business suits unlike togas, or power armor the warriors of the Empire are normally seen in.
But there’s nothing normal about these suits. The new undercover technology can stop small caliber bullets without looking like we’re wearing army grade materials – and they’re just one of the many tricks we have up our tailored sleeves.
That doesn’t tell us anything about Allie, though.
Why would a woman who’d stolen over 200,000 credits be working in a dump like this?
I consider Kitos’ warning and adjust my strategy in light of it.
“We’ll take that dance,” I nod at Spur, “but I don’t want to waste your time or mine. Three thousand will be as high as we’re willing to go.”
Spur gets the glint of money in his eyes. He’s already moved us up from two thousand to
three, and he’s banking on our species’ fabled mating instinct to blind us further when we see Allie up close.
But we won’t be blinded. We’ll keep eyes on the job. If this woman is Allie Tabber, then we’ll confirm it – then we’ll bring her back to Colossus. Justice awaits her there. It’s where she’ll spend the next twenty years in prison.
3
Allie
Shit! Shit!
Who wants me in the pleasure room? Those fucking businessmen pigs who’d shoved money in my mouth? Or one of the other groups of men out there?
And specifically me? Brienne is going to flip.
But, worse than that, whoever the men who’ve demanded me are, they’ll expect more than just a dance, given the prices that Spur charges.
Gods… I’ve never done anything more than dancing for men for money, and the thought of having to do sexual acts with one of those predators disgusts me…
And it’s not just one of them…
I shake my head at Obbit’s order.
“Please,” I beg. “Those businessmen don’t really care if they get me. Let one of the other girls do it – they’d be happy for the money!”
Obbit laughs. His eyes are cruel. He’s always hated that I refuse his advances. I sense he’s getting a sick satisfaction out of watching me wrestle with this.
“Businessmen? Ha! These are no “businessmen”. Come with me – no dawdling!”
There must be a change in my expression, because Obbit doesn’t even wait for my refusal. The Toad surges forward – demonstrating that sickening speed his kind are capable of.
I dart backward, but I’m too slow. Obbit grabs me by the arm, not even letting me get my heels back on, and yanks me out the door. His slimy hand should give me the lubricant to wrench myself from his grasp, but it’s as if he has suckers on his hand. Maybe he does. I’ve never inspected a Toad’s palm close-up. If I can just get my balance, I know I could get away from him, but he’s not giving me a chance.