Electra Rex

by April C. Griffith

  “Aw, that’s sad for Om, but great news for us, isn’t it?”

  “Maybe, I think. That’s actually what I wanted to get your opinion on,” Electra said. “As for Om, I’ve always gotten the impression they could make more of their kind if they wanted to but simply don’t want to or don’t think it’s a good idea—or maybe both. I’m not sure our brains are of a significant enough complexity to understand the way Om thinks. They might have a reason so perfect it would make our eyeballs explode trying to comprehend it.”

  “Let’s not ask, in case you’re right about the exploding eyeballs.”

  “Way ahead of you on that one,” Electra said. “Anyway, the census isn’t remotely new, and it doesn’t have any location, demographic information or anything tremendously useful, to be honest. It could be three hundred eight clones of an old man named Doug, spread across an equal number of universes, for all we know.”

  “Or it could actually be just the three of us and a government document that hasn’t been updated in years?”

  “Pretty much. Obviously, we should keep an eye out for more humans while we’re working our way through the Bi-MARP list, and I’ll have Ivy keep digging, but I just don’t know if it’s worth focusing solely on looking for the lost three hundred and eight,” Electra said.

  “I’ll follow your lead on that,” Treasure said. “Now that you mention the Bi-MARP stuff, is what we’re doing strictly legal? You broke me out of a university lab, and I’m grateful, but won’t someone come looking for you or me or both?”

  “I would have thought so, but Ivy’s been monitoring the galactic-net-news, and it’s a big zero,” Electra half-lied. “It doesn’t look like Paul reported you missing or me assaulting him. There’s some stuff about the Glott raiders crashing into an Amphio university, but that’s it.”

  “Cool. No news is good news, I guess,” Treasure said. “What about today’s soda heist?”

  “I’m not one hundred percent sure we broke any laws. Zzyrax gave the Coke willingly to Blix, probably because he wasn’t getting any takers on the drink at that insane price, so that wasn’t a crime. And we didn’t take the soda from Zzyrax. We took it from Blix, who was supposed to give it to us anyway.”

  “I’m glad we’re not going to be arrested for grand theft beverage, but it is a little less fun knowing that was all vaguely legal,” Treasure said.

  “I couldn’t agree more,” Electra said. “From here on out, let’s make sure we at least bend the law a little. I mean, we’re racing against honest-to-goodness space pirates. You just know they’re cutting legal corners every chance they get.”

  “So what you’re saying is we only have to stay slightly cleaner than Sempa and his crew to still be the good guys.”

  “Exactly!”

  “You’re cute when you’re excited,” Treasure said, “and you make a great scam partner.”

  “Thank you. I… You’re cute too and…is the Spatronic free?” She was having a hard time thinking straight and needed a second to regain her wits away from Treasure’s compliments and infectious smile.

  “All yours, Captain.”

  Again, the thrill of being called ‘Captain’ by Treasure surged through her, amplified by the tiny salute and wink added this time. Electra practically floated from the bridge, buffered by Treasure’s praise and the strange news that humanity might still be saved.

  * * * *

  Electra took her turn in the Spatronic next. Her settings were more about cleansing than grooming, since her daily treatments already kept her immaculately groomed to her exact specifications from head to toe. She needed to wash off the feeling of Epsilon Five. The planet reminded her of so many places she’d gone as an Embarker. Shitty industrial worlds where everything was dirty, grimy and depressing… That was exactly where an Embarker found their work and thus spent their life.

  The poverty among the people living on the mining worlds like Epsilon Five always ranged between bad and atrocious. Usually the inhabitants of the world didn’t want to do the mining. Embarkers had come in to take the work the general population wouldn’t do. That was more typical for actual indigenous species. On planets like Epsilon Five, where there weren’t any native species, Embarkers had been brought in to undercut the pitiful wages demanded by the workforce originally transported for the task, and those were the planets where the poverty was most pronounced. After a strike or an original contract expired, the pre-existing workforce couldn’t afford to go anywhere else. The Embarkers, with their own ships, could come in, drive the wages down, then take the money they earned to move on to the next job after the existing workers of the planet were willing to take even less. Electra’s people were a society of scabs and, once she’d realized that, the whole system made her physically ill.

  It was an unpleasant life to land on a new ugly rock every few months, unsure if her people would be viewed as humble migrant workers taking dangerous, low-paying jobs or invading traitors stealing what little work and wages there were to be had by undercutting everyone. Electra didn’t like feeling pitied or despised wherever she went and that feeling that she’d thought long-forgotten had somehow come back from her short visit to Epsilon Five. Thankfully, the Spatronic seemed more than capable of washing the grime and gross feelings away.

  “Aw, you took them off already,” Treasure complained.

  “Took what off?” Electra asked from within the Spatronic.

  “The panties and stockings. I wanted to see how they looked.”

  “I can put them back on if you want,” Electra offered. She hadn’t thought the request of wanting to seem them modeled had been genuine. Hearing the disappointment in Treasure’s voice, Electra knew she’d made a mistake.

  “It’s not the same as seeing them revealed while taking off the skirt suit,” Treasure said. “Did you like them, at least?”

  “I like the way they looked, and the satin felt okay, but the stockings were weird. Seriously, I’ll put it all back on if you want,” Electra replied. “I didn’t know if the request was for real or if I’d even heard you right.”

  “Maybe I’ve been too coy, so allow me to be blunt,” Treasure said. “I’m interested in you. It’s just that I’ve paid attention to your prominent package in those Utopalex pants and it hasn’t so much as wiggled around me. I assumed the feeling wasn’t entirely mutual.”

  “I usually need a blue pill for everything to work,” Electra said. “Or a red if… Never mind the red ones.”

  “Is the need for the pills from your transition?”

  “I have no idea. The nuts and bolts of how the transition took place wasn’t my primary focus during,” Electra said. “I have felt things around you, and more than just stirring things.”

  “I’d be lying if I said I haven’t felt stirring feelings too, and a lot of staring at you when you’re not paying attention.”

  She had noticed Treasure staring. She simply hadn’t understood why. “I appreciate the sentiment behind the stockings and can definitely see their visual appeal. Clothing from your time feels a little low-tech. If there were stockings made from Utopalex…”

  “That’s it! I have to try this fabric that has the addictive properties of hardcore drug use.”

  “Like I said, I have some old shorts in a backpack in the closet in the guest room,” Electra said. Apparently, she’d left the backpack she’d been living out of at Weisella’s party and the hostess had put it in the ship, possibly to return to her at a future date or maybe to keep as a memento. “They’re from when I was building up to wearing pants. Utopalex is pretty stretchy, so they should fit well enough to try on, at least.”

  “Okay, come find me when you’re done in there.” Treasure scampered away to locate the fabled garment.

  Not everyone could handle Utopalex, and it was time-consuming and draining on the ship’s resources to fabricate the material. It was better that Treasure start with a hand-me-down to see if she could withstand the sensations before actually printing up a full artic
le of clothing. Armbands and headbands were the most common Utopalex garments. Some people could only handle a few square inches of the fabric touching them before dissolving into puddles of euphoric uselessness. Electra was proud of her pleasure threshold. She could withstand a level of amazingness that few others could experience and still function. It was a point of pride that flew directly in the face of all things Embarker, and she’d cultivated it for that very reason.

  She smirked inwardly. No way Treasure can handle it, not with her archaic understandings of pleasure and comfort. The woman actually thinks flannel is soft.

  Letterman loomed in the doorway when Electra emerged from the Spatronic. His foreboding presence gave her heart a little jump that she did not remotely appreciate. She tried her best not to show any reaction, although it was probably a wasted effort. Letterman’s sensors had likely picked up the increase in her heart rate already. Rather than yell at him, which was her first instinct, she decided to calmly get dressed in her Utopalex pants and T-shirt, as if he were nothing more than a large, obnoxious appliance.

  “You are nearing the default hour and have resources in your possession capable of liquidation for a significant number of units,” Letterman said, after being ignored for too long.

  “The Coke recipe?” Electra asked, knowing full well that was not what he meant.

  “The two items you acquired on Amphiorae.”

  “One of those items is actually in your possession and the other isn’t an item at all,” Electra said.

  “The data crystal, since it is currently in an approved lien enforcement collection chamber, can give a temporary hold based on assured future earnings,” Letterman said. “The same cannot be said of Treasure.”

  Electra wanted to scream at him that she wasn’t going to turn in Treasure, that she’d sooner die than give her up. To do so would have…well, she didn’t really know what Letterman would do if she said that, but she knew it wouldn’t be good for her or Treasure. Letterman couldn’t know her plan, not until she had enough items from the Bi-MARP list to discharge her debt without Treasure knowing.

  “She’s invaluable to earning units off the Bi-MARP list,” Electra said. “After all the compounding interest I’ve accrued, I’m going to be short, even if I liquidate all my current assets, right?”

  “Currently, that is accurate.”

  “Then what sense does it make to offload when Treasure could help me earn more units to make up the difference?” Electra asked. “She’s on the ship, as safe as we both can make her, and she’s already proving invaluable in finding and obtaining goodies.”

  “I can submit a formal request to the Lien Enforcement Bureau,” Letterman said. “I make no promises about their response.”

  “I have every confidence in your rhetorical capabilities,” Electra said rather snidely.

  “If the request is denied or other circumstances dictate, this will no longer be a discussion.” Letterman cleared the doorway then rumbled away. She let him get fully out of earshot before she let out a nervous sigh. There were happier thoughts to occupy her mind and they pushed out the implied threat of a discussion ending. She picked up one of the stockings Treasure had given her and ran it between her fingers. Much happier thoughts.

  Chapter Ten

  Butterflies recreated great aerial battles in Electra’s stomach while she waited for Treasure to emerge from the walk-in closet. Not the bioluminescent butterflies of Rigel VII or the lovely extinct kind from Earth, but the big, angry, heavily armed ones from Appdar.

  She’d thought Treasure would try the Utopalex shorts on before Electra emerged from the Spatronic, declare them too intense and they’d have a good laugh. Instead, Electra found Treasure in the guest room, waiting. She’d found the shorts but hadn’t put them on yet, because Electra was going to get a little show. Between the impish grin and flirty wink Treasure added to the promise, Electra was excited for what came next, despite not having the faintest clue what might be involved in a ‘little show’. She’d decided to play it casual and not get her hopes up yet. That was a solid plan until the butterflies kicked in.

  “Don’t laugh,” Treasure called from the cracked door.

  “Why would I laugh?” Electra said.

  “Because you laugh at almost everything.”

  “Okay, I swear, no laughing or may Letterman manage my wardrobe for a week.”

  “Can you even imagine the drab rags he’d punish you with?” Treasure asked, possibly rhetorically. “I hope you can, because if you laugh, I will hold you to that promise.”

  The door slid fully open. The lighting pod in the ceiling backlit the glorious curves of Treasure’s body, clad only in Electra’s old Utopalex shorts and her two-tone Lilith Fair concert T-shirt. The dark blue shorts made of the glossy material were meant to expand to accommodate the wearer only up to a point, Electra had heard, although she’d never seen the garment stretched quite to that point before. Evidently, Treasure’s ample hips and curvaceous backside would not be so easily contained by the most advanced fabric ever conceived. The Utopalex tried, strained, adhered to her mocha skin like wet paint and ultimately failed when Treasure took a couple steps toward Electra and the material slid up to expose two-thirds or more of the voluminous flesh of her backside. The mirror on the back wall of the walk-in closet she’d emerged from gave Electra a reflected view of the entire unexpected erotic event.

  She felt a tightening, a swelling and skin sliding across Utopalex. Her legs trembled, and it happened before she was even to full length. Electra’s member let loose—hot, wet and embarrassing against her thigh. She leaned back against the bedpost and turned her head, desperately willing away the sudden burst of pleasure that came to a sticky, warm end in a matter of seconds.

  “What just happened?” Treasure asked.

  “Nothing.” Electra fought her entirely understandable urge to cover her crotch with her hands. Treasure would definitely notice that and she was too smart not to piece things together. Electra’s natural impulses overrode her will and her left hand twitched toward the front of her pants before she could call it back to casually rest at her side.

  “Did the galactic traveler and highly practiced pleasure-seeker Electra Rex just cream her jeans?” Treasure teased.

  “I can only guess at what that phrase means and it’s not my fault. It’s the Utopalex,” Electra argued. “It can…”

  “But you wear it all the time,” Treasure said. “You’ve built up a familiarity or tolerance, as you called it, and you said you needed a blue pill to… Is that from just looking at me?”

  “In the mirror, I can see the way it slid and…”

  “Did you take a blue pill?”

  “No. I wouldn’t presume.”

  “Seeing my ass in booty shorts was more than enough to make you go from zero to explosion in a few seconds?”

  “Apparently.” Electra’s face was on fire from embarrassment and her body tingled from the shocking orgasm that still hadn’t entirely left her system.

  “That might be the most oddly flattering thing that’s ever happened to me,” Treasure said. “To reciprocate your candor, I have to admit something. I think I’m stuck.” She bit her upper lip and crinkled up her nose. “I’d walk back into the closet and take them off so you don’t have that problem again, but, when they slid, there are, um, friction issues right now.”

  “Are there?” The butterflies were back after temporarily being banished by the surprise-attack orgasm. There were things she could say or do to help or make things worse or turn everything down a different road or make a complete fool of herself. After no careful consideration whatsoever, Electra decided. “Walk to me.”

  “What?”

  “I said, walk to me.”

  The moment of panic came. Would she reject, accept, laugh, deride…then the moment was gone. Treasure took a step, then another. It would only take five or six to cross the room, yet it only took three to bring her to climax. Moaning, breathing heavily, a beading
of sweat rising on her forehead, her nipples straining against the cotton of her shirt, Treasure took a fourth step and squirmed to a stop.

  “Keep coming,” Electra whispered, delighting in the double entendre only after she’d said it and realized it was one.

  Treasure took another step. She gasped on the border of a scream of pleasure and took one final step before collapsing into Electra’s arms. Her body was positively thrumming, and although their embrace was more functional in the way Electra held her, arms hooked under her armpits to keep her from falling to the floor, it felt intensely intimate.

  “I can’t wear these shorts one second longer,” Treasure whimpered.

  “I… What do we do?”

  “Get them off me, please.”

  To say Electra had dreamed of such a moment for a long while would be a monumental understatement. Her older brothers had spoken often about that first moment of removing a girl’s pants and undergarments—the majesty and mystery revealed, the sense of wonder. She’d always taken their stories with a grain of salt, as her brothers had been largely full of shit. Still, she’d hoped their description was true and had never thought she’d truly get the opportunity to find out, since she’d believed for a long while that human women, aside from herself, were extinct. The possibility she’d get to remove Treasure’s underwear was a dream so fantastic and unlikely that she hadn’t even allowed herself to entertain it.

  Electra pressed down with her hands, reverent and careful, at the top of the Utopalex shorts that couldn’t even rise over the curve of Treasure’s hips. The shorts reluctantly slid away. Electra could empathize with the shorts in not wanting to yield such an intimate connection to Treasure. The shorts rolled down farther. Electra sat on the edge of the bed. In a rush, the shorts fell below the cusp of her hips and ass. With a quick sway of her hips, and a walking-in-place motion, Treasure was free of them.