She rubbed her arms as the chill settled in, now that the sun was blocked by the spires in the west. She’d received training in Xenobiology as part of her basic training. She’d missed the unit on Hathori physiology due to a special mission, but Vice training taught her the basics—like the fact that Hathori exuded pheromonal signatures that echoed their feelings—or the way they wished those in their presence to feel. Hathori were infamous for distilling liqueurs and brewing teas from flora native to Hathor which reacted to their natural skin oils to form potent aphrodisiacs. Their culture revolved around the worship of a goddess of pleasure in all its many forms. And in the old Star Empire, the Hathori people had made a very successful industry exporting their natural proclivities through their temples, and acted as diplomats and negotiators when they weren’t having sex. Which, according to rumor, wasn’t often.
She could hear in her mind the exact speech, nearly word for word, given by the instructor. Hathori, Psypaths, and the Excesses of Indulgent Life—the trifecta that had lured the Marauders to the solar system to plunder and pillage, cutting through to the very heart of the Jewel. Vice, loss of control, and permission of excess made the old Star Empire fat and weak and stupid...ripe for the plucking.
Don’t feed me that rubbish. This time the voice that spoke in her mind was Micah’s. No one truly knows why the Marauders attacked when they did, or what drove them to attack.
She drifted through the burnt-out corridors of the temple, not really seeing the decay there. In her mind, she was back on Guerre, in the tent settlement outside Shiba City’s walls, having this conversation with Micah. Again.
Only this time, she didn’t feel like she was winning.
The shadows had lengthened to a deep gloom before she stopped pacing the silent corridors of the old Hathori temple. She still hadn’t convinced herself she was a Hathori. She didn’t know what to think, how to act. Who was the Hathori whose skin she was wearing in increasing obviousness? And what was she supposed to do with her?
She could always bust herself for being lewd and lascivious. She kicked a crumbled chunk of marble facade across the floor. It bounced hollowly and came to rest under a wall that was still partially intact. The wall contained several small hollows in the stone, each niche just perfect for a small knick-knack, or maybe a statue. She crossed the room for a better look.
Incense, her mind supplied as she stepped closer. A tray for burning incense...and an ewer of liqueur for offering to the Goddess.
She stopped in the center of the room. It had to be a memory. An actual memory. If she closed her eyes, she could almost see the sticks of smoldering aromatics filling the room with sensual haze. Her nostrils twitched. She could almost see the curvy form of the ewer, shaped to resemble a female body since this temple housed mostly priestesses, and the grooved channel in which to pour the liqueur. Like the one she’d found in Enlightenment’s junk pile.
A whiff of something came to her. Incense?
Not bloody likely. Not with the temple deserted for a decade. With the onset of night, her mind was obviously having a little fun at her own expense. Fine, then let’s play this out, she thought. So I’m a Hathori, swanking around in a see-through nightdress. She sashayed around the room, throwing her hands out behind her and kicking her legs to swish up the imaginary gown.
Naah, doesn’t feel right. Huh. Maybe if she could remember being a Hathori, she wouldn’t have such a hard time believing she was supposed to be one. She moved closer to the niche and caught that same whiff again. “Such a vivid imagination I have,” she muttered. The niche was empty. A thick coating of dust came off when she traced her finger around the groove where the offering would have been poured.
“This place is dead,” she said out loud, blowing the dust off her finger. She turned for the door leading to the main room, ready to leave it behind. Physiology be damned, she was not a Hathori!
On impulse, she veered to the right of the door leading to the main room. There was a small, narrow archway that she hadn’t seen before. As she passed through the arch, she felt a little tremor of something—maybe another ghost of a memory? The hallway behind the arch was as narrow as the portal, curving around to the right so it ran parallel with the wall in which the niches were located. She patted her belt and unfastened one of the larger pouches. She’d forgotten all about it, but it was still there. Her fingers found the mechanism with unerring accuracy and she snicked it open again.
The lotus bowl.
Clutching the bowl, she investigated the wall some more. She blew gently. The dust erupted into a cloud that made her eyes water, but she scraped the worst of it away, freeing the grooved channel all the way around, from tiny bowl in front to the sloping, snaking path leading to the back of the niche.
Once the small task was completed, she stared at the niche and thought, what the hells? Pulling her water flask from her utility belt, she uncapped it and tipped it up over the shallow hollow. If there were words to speak, she didn’t remember them, but she watched the clear liquid fill the depression, then overflow into the tiny path that led it to the back of the niche.
She spotted a tiny hole in the rear of the niche, and seconds after the water had soaked the drain hole, she heard the tinkling spatter of liquid hitting metal. A bowl, she thought. There’s a bowl back there to collect the offerings. Then they go to the Reverend Mother’s shrine and—
“I’ve been tailing you for hours, wondering if I could discover the secret to the venerable Huntress’ steadfast loyalty to the Union. And here I find the incorruptible one going through the motions of worship of that which she abhors. What a delightfully ironic puzzle you are.” The voice was silky, feminine, and deadly.
The hairs on the back of her neck rose straight to attention and the canteen slipped from suddenly numb fingers.
“Turn around and let’s have a look at you, darling.”
Treska turned around as requested, her nerves jangling. The voice of the woman behind her was familiar somehow. Inside, she cringed and her body felt used to the idea. She licked suddenly dry lips. “Do I know you?” she asked, very carefully.
The woman wore the barest of skinsuits, molded so tightly to her lush body that the sight of her fully clothed seemed somehow more obscene than nudity. Bright fuchsia skin shone out from under a fall of straight, glossy black hair that she instantly envied. The other woman’s eyes, deep green, pinned her along with the curl of a full lower lip. “You don’t know me at all,” she said. “Even if you recognize me.” The sleek silver blade of a mono-molecular dagger hummed quietly in the gloom and silence between them.
Treska thought longingly of the zapgun she’d tossed away. “You’re a Hathori,” she said to the other woman. It might have been out of charge, but the other woman wouldn’t know that.
“Brilliant as rumored,” Fuchsia retorted.
Treska felt her features begin to contort into a face and stopped herself before her tongue could come out. Horrified on the inside, she blinked away the urge and the half-memories that came with it. If she expected to get out of this, she needed to live in the present. In the very sharp, very deadly present. “I do know you,” she said carefully. “But I don’t know how, and it’s not important. What do you want?”
“Where is he?” Fuchsia asked.
“Who?” As soon as she said it, she knew. “You’re the Hathori I tagged on Tenraye. You’re Micah’s partner.”
The pink woman’s hand twitched. She was on Treska in an instant, closing the distance between them blindingly fast. “Don’t you speak his name,” she said through gritted teeth. The heat of her breath blasted over Treska’s face.
Treska tensed at the hostility. “Back off,” she said. “He’s probably being processed through Executive detention now. A very secure facility. Retinal ID required, and no way in or out without it.”
The other woman’s body shifted. “Which is why you’re going to get me in there,” she purred.
Treska stepped away, an uncomfortable
sensation of wanting to help the woman warring with a feeling of intimidation whose origins felt alien to her. “You know he’s in prison now. He can’t influence you anymore. You’re free.”
“What?” The pink woman’s eyes widened. Her mouth formed a perfect O. Then she laughed. “Oh dear Goddess! You think Micah’s controlling me? Me?” Her incredulous tone dissolved into a sultry laugh. “The rumors are true about you. You really did swallow the party line whole.” She laughed again, the sound beautiful even in its bitterness. “Most of us are fully capable of thinking for ourselves when it comes to who we keep company with. Being so gullible as to believe government propaganda is so—not Hathori. Come on, Madame Denial. You’re going to help me relieve your government of a psypath.”
“I don’t think so,” Treska shot back.
“Yes, you will,” she said. “Either you walk me there, or—” she flicked a switch on the dagger’s hilt and the blade thinned to needle-sized. “—I’ll just carve off the parts I need for access.”
***
With her world shattered and her identity in crisis, Treska’s only ally is the man whose mental powers terrify her. As the lies holding the Union together at the top begin to crumble, so do the thin threads holding Treska’s false identity together. It’s going to take all of Micah’s mental talents to uncover the truth, but her fear of his gifts may make Treska her own worst enemy.
Thank You
Dear Reader,
I hope you enjoyed your stay in the Star Empire, and are ready for further adventures with Treska, Micah, and their friends and rivals. Don’t forget to subscribe to the newsletter at bit.ly/AthenaNews to stay updated.
I thrive on reader feedback—I'd love to hear from you at [email protected] or at www.athenagrayson.com. Connect with me via my Facebook page at www.facebook.com/athenagrayson or send me a Tweet at @Athena_Grayson. And if you're so inclined, I would love an honest review at your favorite retailer. Reviews aren't easy to come by, and I treasure every one.
Thank you so much for reading Season One and for allowing me to entertain you for a few hours.
Warmest regards,
Athena
The Complete Season One
Binge-read with the Bundles:
The Chase (Episodes 1-3)
The Snare (Episodes 4-6)
The Catch (Episodes 7-9)
The Release (Episodes 10-12)
The Catch (Huntress of the Star Empire Episodes 7-9) Page 14