by KS Augustin
"The supplies that the Republic brings Bliss—and the last transport was two years ago—consists of basic materials but very little technology,” he explained, then indicated an open doorway. “The bathroom's through there, you can freshen up if you like."
She nodded but stayed put, forcing him to continue.
"I think they're afraid that if we have access to too much advanced machinery, we might be able to create weapons or spaceworthy craft."
"So no droids or robots to help any of you with your work?"
"Occasionally we get lucky. I found a gravity sled near Regulation once.” Then he clamped his mouth shut. It was obvious he didn't want her thinking too much of the sacrifices he had made on her behalf. Hoara's heart warmed. “Anyway, as you say, no droids or robots."
Silence pooled in the room. Why hadn't she found a man like this before? Hoara asked herself. Just a regular, ordinary man, who had been willing to give away everything to keep her from a band of thugs. Nobody, in all her life, had done so much and she felt a bud of ... something ... spread open its warm petals inside her.
"I haven't thanked you properly,” she told him gently, walking towards him. “For saving me. Hiding me. Helping me."
He looked discomfited. “There's no need. It was only a matter of time before B'nen-."
The rest of his sentence was cut off as Hoara captured his lips, pressing against him and teasing his mouth with her tongue.
He pulled away, but only enough to pant: “You're tired-."
"No, I'm not.” Humour laced her voice.
"Your muscles must be aching-."
"That's not the only thing that is."
"You-.” He looked deep into her eyes. “You...” he whispered.
She saw the battle going on within him, logic battling desire.
"You don't understand.” His voice was hoarse.
"I do,” she told him. And kissed him again.
It was like a dam burst.
Instead of pushing her away, Toh pulled her close, punishing her for her temerity. Their tongues entwined, a moist battle of exploration, thrusts and stabs. Together, they moved to the bed and tumbled on it. Fingers grabbed for buttons, zips, fastenings, trembling with eagerness. The scent of his perspiration excited Hoara, a musky aroma exuding from his pores. He must not be fully human, a small part of her thought, before she gave herself up to the sensations of being stroked. His hands roamed the chocolate curves of her body. His fingertips, unusually smooth, kneaded her flesh, pulling, rubbing, plucking at her dusky nipples until they hardened to nubs, sending small shocks of cool pleasure through her body.
His tongue explored her mouth, an incredible length caressing her lips, her tongue, inside her, the same way his hands marked her skin, each touch a trail of eroticism that now criss-crossed her body.
Then he was guiding her, sliding her off the bed until she was kneeling, and pushing the front of her body against the side of the mattress. His knees moved between hers, spreading them apart, as he assaulted her from behind. He moved her hair to one side and nuzzled the back of her neck. Hoara moaned and rubbed her breasts against the rough material of the coverlet. Then he moved lower, licking her along her spine, capturing her breasts in his strong hands and pinching the dark tight buds until the breath caught in her throat. She rocked against him, pushing her buttocks against him.
Slowly, he moved his hands down, applying constant pressure. She felt him push against her, front and back, as he roamed over her ribcage and abdomen and finally down to her hips. But even then he was determined to torment her. His hands curved around her mound and down to her legs, now slippery against the juices that glazed her sex with want. He rubbed against the tender flesh of her inner thighs, lifting her weight against his cock until his shaft nestled between the hot cheeks of her buttocks.
"I ... want you...” she panted, grabbing at the mattress with trembling hands. “Inside me ... please...."
With one hand he parted the lips of her labia while he gently stroked her clitoris to engorged stiffness. She felt his fingers glide between her lips and dip into her vagina and then out, coaxing more lubrication with each caress. Back to the clitoris as it strained against his touch, her sticky wetness amplifying the pleasure he was giving her.
She closed her eyes as she pushed her backside against him, feeling an orgasm build. Closer, closer....
She half-screamed with frustration when he stopped, lifting his hand just as the telltale spasms started their inexorable rhythm. Then, in one smooth movement, he lifted her and thrust himself into her wetness.
Hoara cried out as he filled her. She felt herself stretch to accommodate him, the heat of his body against her back, his breath against her ear. She felt anticipation, as one hand, still damp, snaked up to her breast. She smelt herself on his fingers and groaned. No man had ever aroused her the way this potential criminal was doing.
He nudged at her again with his knees, forcing her to spread her legs even more as she imagined her juices dripping down his shaft, wetting the curls of his groin. Then, as he set up a slow carnal cadence with his hips, his hand captured her clitoris between thumb and forefinger, rubbing her as his other hand was rubbing her nipple. She jerked against him and he paused, then glided down to gather more juice and adorn her engorged sex with it. Hoara could feel her clitoris swell against him and she wantonly pushed herself against his fingers. He rubbed against her then flicked, back and forth while he thrust into her.
Her entire body was captive to the beat Toh had set up, and it grew heavy with desire. She shoved her arms against the bed, driving her body onto him until it felt like he had lengthened and thickened, nudging her womb and setting up a burning throb inside her. This time there was no hesitation. Hoara threw her head back and cried out as wave upon wave of orgasm shuddered through her, bucking her against him. But he still wasn't satisfied. His fingers continued their pressure until she convulsed through two more orgasms. Until her throat was hoarse. Until she was mindless with the pleasure that swamped her body in waves. Only then did he let himself come in long, full thrusts, his breathing ragged against her neck as his grip tightened on her.
He leaned on her for only a few seconds before, with a strength that belied his stature, he picked her up and placed her gently on the bed.
"I suppose I should say thank you for that as well,” she smiled, her voice still soft and raw.
"You are very special to me,” he replied, stroking her hair.
She caught his hand in hers and kissed it. “As you are to me.” And she meant it. Somewhere between being rescued in the Northern Waste and ending up at Justice, Hoara had fallen in—well, if it wasn't love, it was certainly something above lust—with her saviour. How could she not? He was gentle, caring and compassionate. He was strong, decisive and passionate. He was all her wishes contained within the one body. And she had fallen for his charms faster than a planetary body into a black hole. The question only remained, where would it take her?
"I need to go,” he told her.
"Go? Where?” She frowned at the seriousness of his expression.
"It's afternoon. We missed today's sailing. I'm going to find out whether there's one tomorrow and what we have to do to get on it."
Of course. He was right. If B'nen was half as bad as Toh intimated, getting away was their first priority.
"Why don't you refresh yourself?” he suggested. “I'll be back soon."
He gave her a quick hard kiss on her lips. “Remember to keep the door locked,” he warned. Then he left.
Chapter Four
Hoara hummed as she cleaned and dried herself. The facilities in the small hotel were primitive but in good order and she delighted in watching the red dust swirl down the drainage pipe as she washed her hair and body.
Only water was available for the process, not the usual—and far more efficient—mix of water and sonics that was a staple of civilised Republic life. And there were rectangular pieces of cloth—towels!—for drying. The entire
world belonged to a museum, she thought, as she exited the bathroom and wedged open one of the room's windows.
But amid her bemusement was a nagging sense of discomfort. While it was true that she was primarily a scientist, she was still part of the Republic Space Fleet that had sent, and was still sending, people to Bliss.
The windows were stark and covered with a dark film that ensured privacy but Hoara still stood to one side while she looked out at the traffic swirling beneath the hotel room.
She had learnt in those far-off Space Fleet courses that only convicted and hardened criminals were sent to Bliss but, from her vantage point, she could see children, old people and everything in between. Surely the children deserved better than to live in such an inhospitable environment? And, with their faces wrinkled and bodies faded or bent, hadn't the elderly paid for whatever crime they committed?
She had learnt that the majority of beings sent to Bliss were criminally insane but, with the exception of the technology in use, was there any difference between what was happening before her and what occurred every day on every planet in the Republic? There were shops open, tradespeople bartering, even accommodation and transport facilities. Surely commerce was not a strong suit for the criminally insane?
She had learnt that the inhabitants of Bliss understood only the rule of power and brute force. And, yes, from tales of B'nen and people like him, she could believe that was true. But was that necessarily true of all the planet's inhabitants? Had the crash so deranged her that she could delude herself into thinking herself attracted to a violent, insane criminal? Or was there more here than what she had been taught in her sterile classrooms?
She had deliberately put such questions away before but now, in isolation, they demanded answers. Exactly what had Toh, or his parents, done to deserve deportation to such a hostile place? After what they had shared, she couldn't believe he was a murderer. She couldn't imagine him, with his steady broad hands and calm eyes, harming an insect. The only explanation was that he must be the descendant of people who had.
Content with her conclusions, Hoara stifled the last whisper of doubt and pulled a small table next to the window. Fetching her backpack, she unpacked the broken distress beacon, carefully easing off the casing so she didn't jostle the circuitry underneath.
Toh's first priority might be to leave this continent but her first priority was to get off this rock completely and a working beacon was the best initial step in that direction.
She scanned the wiring and circuits, gingerly using her fingers to move micro-panels out of the way. Ah yes, that was the problem, just a couple of loose connections. It shouldn't take her more than thirty minutes to reconnect the circuits and check the rest of the internals.
She started working on the first connection, had even picked the wire up in her fingers, before she paused.
What if she activated the beacon and it did its duty and she was rescued? Then what? How could she leave Toh behind? She knew well enough that besides crash victims such as herself, there were no special cases when it came to Bliss. Nobody who had ever been wilfully sent to the planet, or was born on the planet, had ever been pardoned. Everyone who touched the planet died on the planet. The law was as simple as that.
But the only other alternative—discarding the beacon and living the rest of her life on a backward penal world—didn't appeal to her either. She might only be a xeno-geologist, but she enjoyed her work. How could she pursue such a livelihood here, with only primitive machinery available? Despite her current misgivings about how the Republic used Bliss, she liked travelling to different worlds and solving their geological puzzles. She was used to the latest equipment, almost-instantaneous communication across the galaxy and missions and holidays to exotic off-world locations.
She might be in the first throes of love with Toh but her feelings were still too new to demand so much. That might not be a fair thought, when he had given up everything to keep her safe but, her commonsense asserted, how much of her love was a function of the hostile environment she found herself in, and how much was a function of a pure meeting of hearts? It would be worthwhile to find out but, in all honesty, she didn't want to explore such an important question while still trapped on a world that only wanted to exploit her.
The wire in her fingers trembled as she tried to think of a third option. She couldn't stay but she didn't want to leave, not alone. What could she do?
It was the roughness of the voices outside the window that interrupted her thinking and caught her ear, speaking a melange of tongues that was galactic slang, commonly called slangtik. It was a useful dialect to know and, as a scientist who sometimes landed on planets well off the trade lanes and had to communicate with the natives, Hoara had learnt it many years ago.
"...did you say?"
"One plasma coil, stupid!"
"Oh. I thought you said two."
"We're after two people but they shouldn't be too difficult to find, so the bounty is one plasma coil. The first person's a Republic officer. Female. Dark-skinned. Hair on her head. Pretty enough if you're into humans."
Hoara could almost hear the other conversationalist think as he digested the details, word by word. “It would make it easier if I knew how tall she was."
"Don't know. Warlord B'nen only picked up some of her details from her ship's core."
So that's where the primary core had gone! B'nen and his thugs had found it. And, Hoara thought with growing dismay, it would have contained the video-logs of all three of the scout's crew. Hence, they would know what she looked like. She grimaced. That was not good.
"We know there were three people who landed on the planet,” the smarter of the two continued. “But two are dead. We found their bodies buried on the Shifter's property."
"Whose property?"
"The Shapeshifter, you idiot! We think she's with the Shapeshifter. He calls himself Toh."
Hoara's blood ran cold.
No.
Anything. A reformed murderer. A thief. An unrepentant espionage agent. But not a Shapeshifter.
Please. Not a Shapeshifter.
"That's why we're concentrating on the woman. Who knows what the Shifter looks like now? I'm about to scout the buildings around the port but I want you to ask around the inns and hotels. See if anyone's seen two strangers. There's a coil in it for you if you find them."
"Uh. Okay. When should I start?"
"Now!” There was a sound of flesh against flesh—the second, smarter one must have hit the first—then they moved on.
Shapeshifter. The word echoed in Hoara's head.
For generations, parents throughout the Republic frightened their children with threats of Shapeshifters. As a species, they were discovered four hundred years ago and had been a thorn in the side of humanity ever since. In every expansion conflict that the Republic had fought in the past four centuries, Shapeshifters had been there, and always on the side of the enemy. They hated humans, hated everything about them—their lifestyle, their commerce, their laws. Their one goal, Hoara had been incessantly told, was the complete destruction of the humanity-led galactic Republic.
And now, if her eavesdropping was correct, she had just found out that the person she had shared her body with, the person she thought she was falling in love with, was worse than the worst kind of insane murderous criminal she could imagine. He was her sworn enemy. He was a Shapeshifter.
But what could she do? Run away by herself and be caught by a warlord? Or stay and become part of the inscrutable machinations of a true alien?
Just then the door pinged and slid open and Hoara's breath caught in her throat.
It was only Toh, holding a bag, except there was no ‘only’ about Toh anymore.
He smiled, that strange not-quite-sure-how-to smile that Hoara had thought charming until it dawned on her that it was a Shapeshifter trying to emulate what he thought a human smile should look like.
She backed away as he stepped forward and the door hissed shut behind him
.
"Bad news, I'm-.” He stopped, watching her. Hoara knew she should have acted as if nothing had happened, that this was just her lover returning from a task. But—it made her skin crawl—he was a shapeshifter. And she had let him touch her. She swallowed convulsively.
He took a quick look around but it was obvious he couldn't find anything amiss.
"What's the matter?” he asked and if she didn't know any better, she would have sworn there was concern in his eyes.
"What plan did you hatch when you found me?” she asked him bitterly, a lifetime of prejudice spilling from her lips. “Is it true that you saved me from being ransomed? Or is it that you wanted the entire ransom for yourself?"
He stood there, arms loose by his side. “I don't understand."
"And did you really find Hanek and Sim dead? Or did you kill them?"
"Hoara, what's the matter? What happened?"
She moved swiftly to shut the window so their conversation could not be overheard. The last thing she wanted was to deal with a Shapeshifter plus a warlord's gang.
"I know who you are, Shapeshifter.” She couldn't control the venom in her voice.
Even then she only half-believed the overheard words ... until she saw his reaction. A human would have drooped or exhaled or reacted in some way, but not Toh. He remained still and impassive, his very silence and immobility more alien than any betraying movement. With anguish, Hoara admitted the truth of it.
Her lover was a Shapeshifter.
"Why?” she asked, unaware of the pleading tone of her voice. “What do you want of me?"
"I...” Toh faltered then fell silent. Finally he said, “I will tell you, but not here."
"What do you mean, not here? What makes you think I would want to follow you anywhere?"
"Because B'nen and his allies have moved quicker than I expected. They are watching all sea transports and are already combing the town's buildings. We will be found."
"And why should I trust your word?” She was testing him, she knew. After the conversation she overheard, leaving Justice by ship was now nothing more than a faint hope.
