by KS Augustin
"As you saw, I'm out of fuel.” There was no need to tell them that he had squirrelled away a precious and hidden cache over the past four years. And, to keep up appearances, he knew he would need to make that arduous trek to Regulation sometime. They would be watching for that.
"If I don't find what I'm looking for,” B'nen warned, “I'll be back."
Another frozen moment while they drank their fill of the Shapeshifter, bald and pale, standing almost three metres high, with skinny limbs, large dark eyes and ghost-white extremities. Expressionless. Alien.
They enjoyed themselves, whipping sand into his face as they turned, and headed back to town.
Chapter Two
"So what is it you do here, Toh?"
Hoara cut through the savoury custard pastry with a fork and lifted a piece to her mouth. It wasn't the best food she had ever eaten but it was passable. And it was food. Next to her plate, a cool glass full of milky liquid helped quench her thirst. The sky outside the kitchen window was dark. She had slept the rest of the day, and most of the next, waking only after the sun had set. And she was ravenous.
Toh told her that was a side-effect of the dermal generation as he offered her a huge slice of pastry. Much to her surprise, she had finished almost all of it. He also gave her a man's trousers and shirt, after explaining that her own uniform was too burnt and damaged to be used. His trousers and shirt.
Across the table, he watched her with an intensity that reminded her of Hanek and she felt unaccountably nervous. She wasn't afraid of Toh; he had taken almost maternal care of her, anticipating her wishes, helping her to stand and dress. But there was something in his eyes that sent her back to her tremulous teenage years, to nervous waits for arriving boyfriends and the heady anticipation of long-anticipated kisses.
As Sub-Commander with the Republic Space Fleet, Hoara was used to putting her feelings on hold, but there was something about the man sitting across from her that called to that distant, walled part of her. Maybe it was because he was so gentle, in a galaxy of testosterone-driven males. The men she knew always wanted to dominate, to decide. It was a strange—and appealing—change to find someone who seemed so comfortable. She wondered what his skin felt like under the material of his shirt.
"Survive,” he replied.
She looked around as she ate. It was a spartan place, just one room and a bathroom off the major living space. And it was high. She couldn't even reach the upper cabinets in the kitchen and dining room and wondered how Toh, who was the same height as her, managed it. And there were obvious signs of electronic tinkering. She saw small, crude metal boxes that blinked enigmatically on the kitchen bench and the corner of the living space was piled with spare parts.
"Survive?” She attempted a smile, encouraging him to talk. Up till now, he had only given simple responses to her questions. She wanted to know more about him. She wanted to find out if he was a scientist; if he really was as caring as he appeared.
If he had a wife.
"Is it that bad? What is this place? Some kind of research station?"
"In a way.” He changed subject abruptly. “How do you feel?"
She shrugged. “Fine. My body aches a bit."
"I buried your two companions a little way from here. Are there prayers, rituals, you need to complete?"
He mentally kicked himself as he saw the smile leave her face and sadness dull her eyes. How insensitive of him to remind her of her dead friends. Maybe the humans were right; maybe his kind weren't capable of compassion or deeper feelings. But there were things he needed to settle. And soon. He didn't have the luxury of taking things easy.
Hoara shook her head. “Hanek and Sim came from cultures with their own rituals. I wouldn't know what to say or do."
This was none of his business. The death of humans should not bother him, yet he found himself saying: “The sun is hot on this world. It's harsh but it will keep them warm in their final resting place."
And felt something stir within him when she smiled her gratitude, something he had thought long dead. He remembered the feel of her skin against his hands and a rush of desire filled his head.
No!
He had to retain control.
He pushed back the chair with his outstretched toes. It was almost too tall for him as a human. He pretended not to notice.
"If you're finished, you should go back to bed. You need more rest."
Maybe it was pheromones, a scent that escaped her body to tickle at his back-brain. All he could think about was touching her, licking her.
"I may need some help.” Her voice sounded embarrassed. “My ribs still hurt a little when I bend over."
"Of course."
He followed her into the semi-darkness of the bedroom and was suddenly aware of her scent filling the small space.
While she undid the buttons of the shirt, he started on her trousers.
He tried to recall astral charts in his head while he unzipped her and slowly pulled the trousers down to her ankles. Then he made a mistake. He breathed in. He breathed her in and all the pent-up desire of the past years, the slow trudging years of solitude and loneliness, erupted in a choreography of movement.
Swiftly, he pulled the trousers while she stepped out of them, and flung them away from him.
She was still standing, while he was crouched in front of her, and his first kiss was on her thigh. He heard her quick intake of air and ignored it, closing his eyes and kissing her legs, first one then the other. He would not think of rejection, would not think of refusal. He would kiss her and pleasure her and perhaps rouse in her the same kind of passion that she roused in him.
He had never felt such silkiness, such fragrant smoothness. His face brushed her groin then kissed her abdomen, his hands gripping her from behind, pushing her hips against him.
Her legs were almost together, but that didn't stop him. He moved down to her triangle of curls, to the mound of her sex and used his tongue to part her, working their way between her outer lips and curling behind her clitoris, exhaling—hot and steamy with mouth open—before taking her nub between his lips.
Above him, she groaned and moved her legs further apart, clutching his hair with distracted hands.
"We ... I ... shouldn't...” she gasped, but her body encouraged him to continue.
He sucked on her wetness then, with a small effort, extended his tongue, letting it slip along her labia, forming small nodules to rub against her, until he was inside her. He had dreamed of doing this to a woman for so long. He was along her slick passage now, feeling her muscles clench against him before he finally, reluctantly, withdrew.
"You were,” she panted, “so deep...."
His voice was hoarse. “I want to be deeper."
He pushed her onto the bed so her back was against the wall. She still had the shirt on, the glimpses of her breasts and erect nipples through the material more erotic than he thought possible. With gentle, yet firm, hands he pushed her knees up then outwards.
Her perfume was intoxicating, so elemental, so primal and he saw her cunt glisten with craving. He thought she might still be in too much pain, but her wetness told him she wanted him as much as he wanted her.
With a broad tongue, he lapped at her, a long wide stroke that sent a spasm through her body, then swallowed her musky sharpness. She was thick and slippery against his mouth, against his tongue as he invaded her again, flicking the tip so she jerked with each move.
She was dripping now, a small patch of dark wetness pooling on the sheet. With his fingers, he pried her labia apart and kissed her clitoris, moving his lips as though it was her mouth, grazing her with his tongue, playing, twirling, listening to the tenor of her breathing as it got more ragged, as she started to lose control.
She screamed as she came, clenching fistfuls of the sheets in her hands and bucking her hips against his mouth. He moved his hands to keep her knees apart and continued flicking back and forth across her clitoris, delivering two, three more orgasms before
he let her rest. Then he was out of his clothes and perched above her, moving her so she rested against the pillow while he entered her. She was so wet it took only one stroke.
Hoara clutched at him while he paused, letting the head of his penis expand and form ripples along its shaft. Then, lifting her hips, he slammed into her, throwing his head back while he felt her clench and writhe against him.
No, it was too much ... it had been too long....
It only took another dozen strokes before he too was engulfed by his climax, pumping himself into her with rhythmic spasms before he was released from his body's carnal urgency.
They were both breathing heavily and the air was thick with the aroma of their shared lust.
"I'm ... sorry,” he managed to say. How could he have lost control so easily? And for one who belonged to his persecutors?
But she just smiled. “Sexuality is nothing to be ashamed of,” she said softly, her voice husky with satiation.
For humans perhaps. Not for him.
"You need to sleep,” he told her in the darkness, stroking her. “We have an early start tomorrow."
"Early start? Why? What's happening tomorrow?"
"We're leaving."
Even by the scant available light, the confusion on her face was apparent.
"Your ship was a Republic scout was it not?” he asked.
She nodded.
"And you're an officer with the Fleet?"
"Yes."
"There are people looking for you. They want to ransom any survivors to the Republic."
"Ransom? But why? We have representation on every planet in known space. Except...."
She looked at him with dawning horror and he nodded.
"Welcome to Bliss."
* * * *
He woke her at dawn and bundled her into his flyer with quiet efficiency, while she was still dazed with sleep and the realisation of where she had crashed.
Bliss.
No wonder Sim, even surrounded by short-circuits and death, told her they couldn't head for that planet. But she only heard the unease in the scientist's voice and assumed that she was battling fear after the gravity shear hit their ship. If she had only turned her head, maybe there would have been something else in Sim's expression that would have encouraged further questions.
Bliss.
The notorious prison-planet, named by a sadist for sadists. The deportations had begun long before Hoara was born and were still continuing. The Republic didn't believe in execution. Neither did they believe in rehabilitation, not for violent criminals. So such people were ‘disappeared'—taken away from their home-planet and dumped on a living hell ironically named Bliss—to eke out a living however they could. Or die. The Republic really didn't care one way or another.
Which meant....
She cast a quick look at Toh as he emptied the last of his concealed cache of fuel into the flyer and, with quick look around, got in beside her. He didn't look like a criminal, although she knew that was a simplistic assumption. Some of the vilest killers in history looked as ordinary and reassuring as Toh. Although, if he was such a criminal, why had he rescued her? Why had he made love to her, ensuring her own enjoyment before he had taken his own? Surely a vile criminal would be much more selfish? Maybe he was just one of the descendants of past criminals; that would certainly explain a few things.
"Why are we leaving?” she asked, slightly mollified by her thoughts. “You said I crashed here four days ago. Why do we have to leave now?"
Toh paused in the middle of checking the instruments. “The warlord who owns this territory—B'nen—has been searching for you and your crewmembers. He visited me yesterday. I told him and his thugs that I didn't know anything about the crash."
Hoara felt a frisson of fear dart up her arms. “Did he believe you?"
"Yes.... Maybe not. I know he'll be back. And he'll want to search the habitat. If he finds even a trace of you...” he petered out meaningfully.
"I see."
"We have just enough fuel to cross the sea and reach the next continent,” he said, changing the subject as he started the engines. The injectors finally came online on the third attempt. “The warlords on this planet are its rulers. If we can reach the next landmass, we'll be out of Old B'nen's territory. I'm hoping that will mean greater safety."
"I have to get back to my ship,” she interrupted.
"Impossible.” He shook his head. “That will be the first place they look. And the detour will eat up too much fuel."
"It's not open to negotiation,” she countered firmly. The look he sent her showed a faint trace of alarm, as if he had never considered any dissent from her. Contrarily, it made her feel better than she had for the past couple of days, as if she had finally managed to find a small foothold on a situation that had been spiralling out of control for days. “My ship contains a distress beacon."
He lifted the flyer into the air and they skimmed the ground. Beneath them, the ripples of sand beneath the twin moons of Bliss looked like waves on a peaceful ocean.
"The distress beacon was destroyed when your ship hit the ground,” he said.
"There's a backup beacon. And, there are a few other things I need."
She knew he was thinking it over and thought he would refuse, then the flyer changed direction.
"Thank you,” she said.
The rest of the trip passed in silence.
Chapter Three
Hoara only half-believed Toh's confirmation that she was on Bliss, despite the intimacy they had shared. Sex was one thing, but that didn't mean he wasn't capable of lying to her—she had lived through enough heartbreaks in the past to know how true that was. And the quickest, and best, way to find out exactly where she had crashed was still on her wrecked ship.
When they approached the crash site, she caught her breath. A huge gouge had been carved into the earth, littering scraps of metal along the way until it ended with the main body of the scout ship.
It was called Odyssey and it had been one of a common pool of small vessels but, during the past six weeks of her mission, she had considered it her ship, almost her own personal possession. And now it lay, twisted and broken, beneath her.
He set the flyer down expertly but kept the engine running.
"You have five minutes,” he told her curtly. In the east, small tendrils of faint light started stretching to the horizon.
She nodded and got out, picking her way along the wreckage. To her dismay, she found the weapons gone, along with the computer's core. Someone—perhaps the warlord B'nen that Toh mentioned?—must have already been here on a scavenging mission. Frantically, she searched for something—anything!—useful, then sighed with relief when she spied the backup beacon. It didn't look in very good shape but she tucked it under her arm and continued looking.
"Hurry up,” Toh's voice called to her.
Scrabbling in the bank of exposed wires, Hoara's fingers found a thin, flat shape. The secondary core! And it was still attached to a viable-looking battery unit. She picked it up and headed back to the flyer. It lifted off the moment her feet were clear of the ground.
The sky grew lighter as they continued flying and she felt Toh's tension ratchet up with each passing minute.
"How are we doing?” she asked.
"We won't make it.” His voice was terse as he checked the instruments. “I've had to alter course. We'll touch down at Justice."
"Justice?” It must be the name of a town, but a name on a planet already drowning in irony. She felt a twinge for the inhabitants of this penal world, surrounded by the self-righteousness of the Republic. Bliss, Justice, Intervention, Regulation ... names she was starting to recall from old Space Fleet courses. Names that, at the time, were nothing more than dry words ephemerally etched on her display panel. How things changed.
"It's one of two ports on this continent,” he explained. “We might be able to board a ship there before anyone catches us."
The sun was hot and high in th
e sky when they reached the outskirts of Justice. Toh brought the flyer in low and scanned his surroundings, finally setting down along a wide dusty alley full of vehicles in various states of repair.
"You're selling your flyer?” she asked.
He nodded. “Stay here. I won't be long."
It was only at that moment that Hoara realised exactly what Toh had sacrificed for her. Not only had he hidden her from the local warlord, but he had effectively given up his entire life for her safety. Because of his actions, he could never go back to his habitat and now he was selling his only means of transport.
"What will they do to your home?” she asked him as he led her to another part of the town. The backpacks he had fished out of the flyer before they turned their backs on it were heavy but not uncomfortable. Around her, people went about their business, only a few pausing to watch them walk by. Humans, heavy-worlders, multi-peds, they were all here. Even children. They looked happy enough, although some eyes held a tinge of wary suspicion that made her heart contract. Even if their parents had been criminals, surely the children deserved better? She angled a look at Toh. Had he grown up in such surroundings, with such cynicism in his young eyes?
"You mean B'nen and his thugs? Probably thrash it. They delight in destruction."
She laid a hand on his arm, trying to express gratitude and sympathy with her touch. “I'm sorry."
He grinned but it looked strange on him, as though he was unused to such an expression. Only one side of his mouth curved upwards while the other remained straight. “It was time to move on anyway."
She let her hand drop. “What do we do now?"
"All the ships leave in the morning so we've obviously missed today's launch. I'll find us a room somewhere then go looking for information."
The two-level hotel Toh finally chose was down a side-alley and not too far from the small port that was Justice's claim to fame. And, Hoara was surprised to note, the front desk was manned by an actual person. In fact, now that she thought on it, there were many more beings involved in manual labour than she was used to seeing. She mentioned it to Toh while he paced the room, checking the small suite for cleanliness and facilities.
