by Bobbi Ross
* * * *
As long as I can remember I'd always wanted to travel among the stars. I longed to experience alien worlds, to touch, taste and feel what their cultures had to offer. Ever since the Syalantians made contact with Earth, I knew I'd get my chance.
I was just seven years old. I remember lying on my grandma's floor watching the whole thing unfold, starting with the surreal scene of a huge white and gold ship touching down on the White House lawn. The entire world was glued to a viewscreen of some type. I guess the powers that be had already seen the aliens, but the general public had been kept in the dark. Would they look like us? Were they the standard little gray men that supposedly had been abducting people for years? Were they giant lizards in disguise, come to steal our water and harvest our bodies for food? Even worse, could they be the vanguard of the giant insect army bent on universal domination?
The over-sized hatch to the ship hissed opened, silencing the normally chatty commentators. "You'll hurt your eyes that close to the screen. Come sit by me," my grandmother beckoned me to her arms as we eagerly waited to see what emerged. I knew she was scared, but nothing could temper the excitement that fluttered in my chest. I remember holding my breath as the metallic doors slid open and the aliens emerged. “No wings?” I whined, feeling a tinge of disappointment.
As it turned out, they looked just like us. Well, except for the hair. They all had blue hair of various hues that swept down to their shoulders, or beyond. That is, all except for one. His hair was a deep forest green, and when he stopped in front of the camera his eyes were a haunting jade. The world breathed a collective sigh of relief. However, the most beautiful aspect of these people, who called themselves Syalantians, was that they came in peace.
They shared their knowledge and technology with us freely, generating advances in a matter of years that would otherwise have taken centuries to achieve. Grumbling, I threw off my cover. With all the dexterity of a drunken toddler, I meandered to my disposal closet. Nature and all that.
My mind wandered to where it always went whenever I woke up in a foul mood, which was more and more these days. School. My neck flushed hot at the memory. From the moment I saw the aliens I worked hard. Harder than any of my classmates. I studied day and night, and when it was my turn to go to college I did so on a partial scholarship and a double major in xenolinguistics and extra-human cultural studies. My dream of being an ambassador to worlds both new and wonderful had been within my grasp.
Bullshit.
Splashing some cold water on my face, I caught a glimpse of the bastard clock. Nuts on a hen. I was already late. This morning was shaping up like the rest of my life.
University itself had been wonderful. Sure I was a bit of a loner, but I had bigger dreams and aspirations than getting into the latest party or finding myself in the fumbling hands of some drunken frat boy. I was going to the stars.
Three years into my studies the whole dream came crashing down on me, like a frozen poop meteor from one of our old space stations. Maybe I should've just said yes to that greasy, married and tenured xenoanthropology teacher when he wanted me to do extra credit work for him. Extra credit my ass. No, wait... the extra credit was my ass.
I should've told someone. I should've reported him right then, and if my grandmother hadn't recently died, I probably would have. But I was so wrapped up in my own loss, mourning the woman who loved and raised me, that I just tried to ignore his advances.
At least if there had been a documentation trail, a report — something, then maybe the review board would have turned over the failing grade he gave me. Instead the bastard lied and they believed him, saying I didn't turn in assignments and repeatedly skipped class. Blinded by the memory of this old wound that still felt fresh, I spun to reach for my uniform. My elbow caught my data pad, my only lifeline to the world outside of the hotel. It careened into the air and hit the floor with a resounding crack. My shoulders sunk to the ground.
Bad memories have a way of getting stuck in your mind like sidewalk gum on a hot summer day. Doesn't matter how much you shake or scrape, that stuff's sticking with you. My grade point average tanked after my fake failure, which ultimately led to me losing my partial scholarship.
I couldn't afford to go to school and at the same time pay my living expenses like food and shelter. With no family, no real friends and with no prospect of getting through the xenoanthropology course without whoring myself out, I was forced to leave school. But my story has a happy ending, because I still made it off Earth. Yay, cue confetti and noisemakers.
So, here I am now, in a domed oasis on a newly teraformed slice of Saturn's biggest moon, Titan. Working the last part of the zipper and its accompanying strange three buckle clasps, I finally managed to finagle my way-too-short skirt safely around my hips. Now, I was ready to live the big life in space, mopping floors and cleaning toilets.
As far as school was concerned, it most definitely was not out of the picture. No, no. Even though I left it, it was there with me every day like a bad haircut. The last time I calculated, using my current salary, the useless school loan debt I had accumulated after only a few years in Earth's Premier Intergalactic Gateway University should be paid off by the time my great-grandchildren turned 40. Then maybe one of their children can go to PIG U.
I fought my big girls down into the low-cut top of the other half of my scratchy uniform. Winning the battle, but losing the war I laughed out loud. Great-grandchildren. No one ever came to this resort alone. Only couples. So, the prospect of meeting anyone here, of me having a social life beyond a red, six-tentacled deliveryman that always gave me at least two of his seven eyes, was nil. Zip. Nada. I had a better chance of surviving a swim outside the dome in one of the subzero methane lakes on the moon’s surface.
Chapter 2
"You're late, again," growled the short stubby woman who stood a head lower than me, crossing all four of her arms. Her face wrinkled up like she'd caught the scent of something putrid. I was used to Ms. Hoofsmear's daily bouts of nonsensical ravings and accusations. She and I hadn't gotten off to the best of starts. Grand ambassador to the universe that I wanted to be, the first day we met I had commented on what I thought was the lovely orange hue of her skin. She took great offense at the intended compliment and she’s hated me ever since. Apparently her people, whom I had never heard of before I met her, were supposed to mature into deep red. Some sort of glandular problem had kept her from progressing.
"I don't know what's wrong with you huu-menz," she sneered, going out of her way to slaughter the word. "You're always the slowest and most ineffectual of all my staff." It wasn’t even a minute past 7, my starting time, according to the large Tilaen clock which displayed the time by a series of bubbles suspended in a pink fluid along a curved S-shaped glass face. Screw you Debbie O'Connor, lovely morning my ass.
She stood there towering under me, waiting for a response. I usually found the best way to deal with her was to keep my mouth shut. But this morning, it didn't look like she was going away.
"I worked late last night, Ms. Hoofsmear." I sighed, hoping that would be enough for her and we could move past this and onto my chore list for the day.
"I work late last nights," she drawled. She exaggerated the up-and-down motion of her prominent lower jaw, mimicking my speech with her broken earth-tongue impersonation. What a comedian. She swung large porcupine-like quills out of her face, so she could bestow upon me her full beady-eyed glare. It was like being stared down by an angry krill. "Like that's some kind of excuse," she snorted.
Stalking off, she made a beeline for the guest dining room, expecting me to follow. When she finally decided to grace me with her orders, it was in her usual clipped business-like tone she reserved for lesser life forms. This included everyone. "Well Em-mor-ry, today's your lucky day. We have a VIP coming in from Syalantia, apparently some bigwig head of state, royalty or something, on his honeymoon. And since you're the only one I have on staff who is fluent in native Syalantian
, the job falls on you. I expect you won't completely embarrass this fine establishment," she huffed with an exaggerated samba role of her eyes.
Oh, joy for me. There was nothing I loved more than the unassuming job of playing butleress to a newly married couple on their honeymoon. Like that wouldn't start me thinking about my own lack of someone special in my life at all. An entire week of fetching secret chocolates and Galorian strawberries for the lovebirds. I’d be running so many cocktails and bottles of Antarian champagne to them as they lounged, swam and rutted, that they would be lucky to remember their names let alone a certain someone they were supposed to tip at the end of the week. Can you say loveless and tipless?
Wait a minute. The little angry orange stain said they might be royalty. Did that mean I'd have to do something special? Should I practice my curtsy? Maybe I needed to keep a certain amount of steps behind them or something. I caught up to my boss, just as she was partaking in one of her infamous spot-checks of the pastry table in the general dining room.
"What do they expect me to do?" I asked in earnest.
"Anything they require," she sneered through a mouthful of Tarvian mouse eclair, and with that she stalked out. I should've known better than to expect a straight answer from her, particularly if it would help me to do my job. The little orange hind hooves on her scaly bare feet made her sound like an angry miniature Clydesdale. I forced myself not to whinny.
* * * *
Three o'clock rolled around and I still hadn't heard a peep about my VIP's arrival. Screw it, I'm not missing my sun.
Making sure Ms. Hoofsmear was out of sight, I slinked to the front desk spy-style to find Bevrion, a large Zedrovian woman - she could benchpress a Jenarpian rhino one-handed - and the only other humanoid here whom I called my friend. Like all female Zedrovians, Bev was over 7 feet tall and swathed from head to toe in blue scales. Actually, everything about her was blue: both rows of teeth, gums, eyes except for the black of her oblong irises, and what passed for hair down to her long sinuous tail. Even stranger was the fact that her species only had the capability of seeing one spectrum of color, blue.
Truthfully, she was big and scary as all hell. But the biggest thing about her was her heart. Soon after I arrived, she shared her disdain of the little orange demon – light gray to her – a point over which we quickly bonded.
I always sung my sorrows to Bev, and even though I'm sure she must've been tired of my bellyaching she was always there for me with a kind word and a hug. I ended up thinking of her as the big sister I never had.
She was in her usual spot behind the reception desk filing long blue razor-sharp nails, a testament to the bloodthirsty nature of the Zedrovian home world. They were actually the entire ends of what we would consider our phalanges, or finger bones. I shuddered at the sight of them, a stark contrast to my good-natured friend.
"I'm going down to the lake," I stage whispered to Bev.
"Go, child," she piped in a boisterous voice that made me cringe and look around. "Don't worry about that little orange devil. She ate one too many of those Quilaran slugs this morning at breakfast," she quipped, looking up from her finger ministrations and giving me a knowing wink. "She'll be in that bathroom for at least another hour. Go get your light, honey." She flashed me a big smile, then shooed me off with a wave of her hand.
“You are the best,” I blurted out blowing her a kiss. I spun on my heels and burst out the door at Mach 2, eager to fish out my little green bikini from my closet-sized room in the staff living quarters.
Ten minutes later, I was changed, sandaled and wrapped in a blue silk robe that flattered my legs and highlighted my curves in all the right ways. A short, well-groomed trail lined with red, purple and blue Flotorian flowers led to a secluded crystal gazebo at the far end of the lake behind the hotel. I checked my watch. I still had six minutes before full sun.
The artificial dome saw to the perpetual twilight that filled the afternoon, and the proximity of the planet Saturn gave us the eight or so hours of dawn every morning from its orange and pink reflection. Only between 3:17 and 3:27 in the afternoon were we gifted with a pure, natural, actually-feels-like-a-sunny-afternoon kind of light.
The perpetual sunrise and sunset coupled with a mild temperature made this domed resort an attractive honeymoon destination to life forms all over the galaxy. For a sun loving human like me, the situation was less than ideal, especially since I worked every day from seven in the morning to seven at night. If I really wanted to get some sun I was forced to sneak out. You don't realize how much you miss something, until you don't have it anymore. Today I would get my full 10 minutes. The Genarian crystals that made up the walls and roof of the gazebo intensified and focused the light's effect. Looking down at my pale arms, I snorted. My fair skin was up for some punishment. I might even end up burned if I wasn't careful, then Hoofsmear would go insane with jealousy. The thought made me chuckle inside.
The gazebo was ringed with marble stone benches. I paused to let my robe slide off my shoulders and plop unceremoniously onto the bench closest to the stairs. My emerald green bikini, the last gift my grandmother had given me before she passed; and unfortunately, before I had fully developed, wouldn't do much to protect my modesty. It's not like anyone ever came here unless there was a special event like a wedding or some other such nonsense. Since I was alone, what did it matter if some bits hung out, or one of the girls tried to squirm free? The only thing that mattered today was getting the sun my body craved.
I ran up the seven steps of the gazebo with all the excitement of a child escaping school for the summer, right as a tall figure stepped out from behind one of the Corinthian columns that filled the structure. I smacked headfirst into his muscular chest, bounced off like a tennis ball and landed hard on the floor. Umph!
-Pop-
Chapter 3
Under the sky of the perpetual dawn, a solitary figure leaned against the ornately carved railing of the crystal gazebo. His head tightly wrapped in a dark blue sherratt, commonly worn by people in the desert regions of his planet, coupled with dark optics that shaded his eyes allowed him the freedom to step outside and not be instantly recognized for who he was.
As Crown Prince, and future King of the Syalantian Empire, it was imperative that he not expose himself until the joining. He let out a wry chuckle. His Asanti had been haunting his every dream for the last two months. Not an uncommon event, particularly for those of royal blood. The only problem; he was running out of time.
Syalantian Royals were used to the dream dancing or "Aska-louw" as his grandmother had called it. After the age of maturity, when one of the royal bloodline quested for his or her perfect mate, their unique physiology allowed them to make first contact in the dream realm. Most often, it was with another Syalantian. In these cases, both parties were fully aware during their waking dream and it allowed them to explore each other in ways that circumstance and distance may not have otherwise allowed.
His first experience with the "Aska-louw" was breathtaking, but quite a surprise. After the first dream, he knew his Asanti wasn't Syalantian. No Syalantian had such a unique and lovely shade of hair: brown, like the great Sheitalk mountain that shimmered in the summer sun like a finely cut jewel, even visible from orbit. Such differences as a planet of origin mattered little to him. His stomach clenched at the memory of their first few dream dances. The inexplicable bond and unquenchable desire he felt for a creature he could barely see, had plagued his every waking thought. Their few brushes in the dreamscape were a mere ghosting of what the true Aska-louw was supposed to be. Their nightly rendezvous often amounted to little more than whispers on his skin — whispers that haunted him.
As the crown prince, he was afforded many resources. The moment her face was finally revealed to him, he was ready with paper and charcoal, which he had secured next to his bed the night before. Every morning as he woke from his Aska-louw, the first thing he did was sketch her face. For a week he struggled to get it right until he was sa
tisfied he had created a good likeness of her. Then he set the royal guards to the task of finding her, confident in the knowledge they would search every corner of the Syalantian Empire.
Using the advanced facial recognition computations available to not only his guards but the Syalantian Senate, the guards carefully peeled through layers of licensing photos from hundreds of planets. Both computer and highly trained Syalantian eyes scanned security images of market crowds, town halls, stadium attendees and transportation depots, but to no avail.
It wasn't until last month, as the dreams intensified and he could finally hear her voice, did he realize she was Terran or human, as they called themselves.
With time running out, his network refocused its efforts on Terra, a planet new to the Empire, and on every Terran settlement listed on their database. He had even picked this tiny moon oasis for his honeymoon due to its proximity to the Terran home world.
Letting out a deep sigh, his shoulders slumped. Only four days away from the obligatory royal joining and he still hadn't found her.
Others would still consider life to be good for him. He was to be king after all. But he knew very well that true happiness would remain forever out of his reach like a shining star from a distant galaxy.
Clenching his fist his palm ached and burned, he begrudgingly relented. The universe couldn’t be that cruel to him. Why show him ultimate happiness, only to snatch it away? He had to have faith, there was still time and he would find her. He had to find her. He pushed off the railing with a renewed resolve and spun toward the stairs of the gazebo in one swift motion. As he rounded one of the large Corinthian columns, at least that’s what he believed they were called—
—BAMM!
Momentarily stunned by the creature crashing into his chest, optics knocked from his face, Rohn was forced to take a moment and reorient himself. A young woman was on the ground in front of him, apparently knocked on to her backside by his girth. Instantly he apologized, holding his hand out to help her to her feet. At the point his eyes met her face, words failed him. He felt as if the air had been sucked out of his lungs, the only sound he could hear was his heart pounding like a wild animal in his chest – it was her!
