She quickly took an inventory of what would be her home for the next three months. A large bedchamber and private washroom, which she assumed hers, with two smaller, adjacent bedchambers that were probably meant for her ladies-in-waiting, were at the rear of the apartment. A wide corridor led forward from the bedchambers, through the center of the apartment, with every room a noble lady would require lining each side, such as a dining hall, sitting room, meeting room, general washroom, and servant's quarters.
In front of her apartments stood a smaller section simply labeled: Alutia Guard Barracks. It was quite obvious that this was where her ever present protectors would be quartered. The idea of having her guard’s barracks, for all intents and purpose, within her apartments, made her squirm, even though she understood the reason behind the design. She glanced to Sir Seb'Losh, who still stood before the lone door leading to the command deck, expression distant, a sign he was using his BC node; being “node locked”.
You knew this would be difficult, she reminded herself, deciding to have that planned discussion with Sir Seb’Losh and his officers as soon as possible.
She turned her attention back to the image of the ABF Princess One, noticing the small seating area she had just exited and wondering about its purpose, deciding to interrupt Xin'Eir before she continued.
“What is the reason for the seating area...here?” She pointed towards the projection, hoping that Xin'Eir could see where she referred.
“That...that is the protected passenger compartment, where you and your entourage are requested to be seated during launch, landing, and during emergencies,” Xin’Eir paused, seeming reluctant, “Much of the shuttle has been converted for your private use, and certain defensive systems are no longer uniformly effective. So it was decided to design a...safe area...within the starship that would also double as an escape shuttle in the event of the eminent destruction of the ABF Princess One. It allows us to eject the seating area, providing you and your companions an opportunity to escape and rendezvous with friendly forces.” The image Xin’Eir’s words called forth sent a shiver down her spine.
“What of you and the rest of the crew, Xin'Eir? Does the bridge have a similar functionality? Or did the designers think your lives worthless?” Venom seeped into her words, not aimed at Xin’Eir, but at the NHA Starship Design and Research Group, or SDRG, who were responsible for all approved NHA starship designs.
“Not exactly, Sasha,” Xin’Eir squeaked, Sasha cursing herself for letting her annoyance show, “there are escape pods in addition to a small ferry shuttle. The crew should be able to escape if we have sufficient time.” Sasha, though relieved the crew had been provided escape options, couldn’t help but frown.
During combat, or emergences that ultimately led to a starship’s destruction, it was a rare for the crew to have sufficient time to reach the escape pods. This meant that survivors from destroyed starships were rarely found, and most crews accepted the fact that starships were inescapable coffins. We will just have to see about that, won’t we? Sasha thought, deciding it best to have a discussion with the flight captain, sooner than later, about emergency procedures in relation to allowing everyone, crew or not, to utilize the seating area during emergencies.
“This area in front of my apartments must be the bridge then, where we are now?” asked Sasha, deciding to shift away from that less then upbeat topic.
“Very perceptive, Sasha...that is indeed the bridge,” Xin’Eir’s tone reminded her of Tiana, who would pepper her sweet words with compliments, but show her real meaning with the mischievous look in her eyes. Xin'Eir's eyes, however, matched her words, showing only honesty.
The image on the CID highlighted the area she had been pointing, the upper bow of the starship. “Now for the lower deck,” Xin’Eir had fully calmed, no longer daunted by Sasha’s presence, “Directly below the bridge we have the combat system station, or CSS. This is where the Electronic Warfare, or EW, Energy Shield System, or ESS, and Laser Particle Arrays, or LPAs, are managed, along with providing redundancy in case the main bridge is incapacitated during combat.” Sasha nodded, trying to remember the information being provided, but knowing she would most likely forget what most of it meant. “This next section is the crew quarters and mess. Nothing special here, except if you need to find the flight captain when he is off duty, he is usually goofing off in the officer’s lounge.” Sasha grinned as Xin'Eir's mind caught up to her mouth, her expression shifting to panicked shock the moment she realized what she'd said about the flight captain.
Sasha couldn't contain herself, bursting into hysterical laughter. The rest of the bridge crew, busy monitoring systems and preparing for the short acceleration to the escort fleet, looked up from their stations to Sasha, then Xin'Eir, who was blushing furiously.
“This is why...I prefer to talk...talk without titles. It makes even the most technical conversations...have a chance to be entertaining,” Sasha stuttered, her laughter continuing to breakthrough her words. “Please...please continue with this next section, Xin'Eir, and I'll keep what you said between us,” she recovered, winking with delight at the still mute flight supply officer.
“Yes, Sasha.” The squeak that touched Sasha’s ears made her realize it may not be wise to let Xin'Eir meet Tiana until she could properly prepare her...the young flight supply officer might not survive the encounter.
“This next section is the hanger bay. This is a uniquely required feature of the ABF Princess One, since most capital docking bays are not meant to handle shuttles of this size. The ferry shuttle docked within can carry six people comfortably and up to 10 in emergencies,” Xin’Eir accelerated her explanation, talking without pause. “Beyond that we have main engineering, the secondary armory, maintenance and tools bays, and finally, the NSD, or Neutron Star Drive Core,” Xin'Eir finished, finally taking a breath. Sasha sighed, winking again at the young flight supply officer whose blush of embarrassment had yet to start fading, thinking it about time to release her from her torment.
“Thank you, Xin'Eir. Your explanations were very informative and I appreciate you taking the time to speak freely with me.” The young lady somehow blushed further at Sasha's praise, “Just remember to use proper formalities in the presence of others...it may cause some...confusion,” Sasha paused for a moment, considering. “Actually, Xin'Eir, I would like to dine with you sometime during our journey. Send a message to Gil'Da, my personal servant, with the times you will be off-duty and she will set something up,” Sasha explained as the idea struck her, not wanting to lose it amongst her many other responsibilities.
Before Xin’Eir could respond, Sasha went a step further, accessing her private BAP with her BC node to create a note to herself to arrange casual dinners with the rest of the officers, and possibly group meals with the general crew. They are the precious crew of my personal starship, after all, she thought, knowing they would be working together quite closely in the coming months. It would only be prudent to prepare a casual environment so as to allow her to get to know each and every one of them, while listening to their concerns. It wouldn't hurt their moral either, she realized, knowing that there patron cared enough to invite them to dinner could do wonders.
Sasha could only smile when she realized her thoughts had become those of a ruling noble...or how she always thought a ruling noble should act. Not like the traditionalists, who treated the lower classes like filth. She’d promised herself that if ever provided with the opportunity to rule, she would do everything in her power to provide for all those in which she ruled, and she would not renege on that promise.
Once more she nodded her thanks to the saluting Xin'Eir, the projection vanishing as the private channel close. Sasha began to rise from her seat, deciding to explore her apartments before they rendezvoused with the escort fleet, only to find Tiana's grinning face less than a hand’s breath from her own. She shrieked surprise as she stumbled back into her chair, horrified by the undignified sound that just escaped her lips.
S
asha quickly recovered her wits, ignoring the concerned queries from the bridge crew and Tiana, who had a mischievous smirk spread from ear to ear, and walked briskly to the front of Sir Seb'Losh, who stood stone faced by the door.
“I shall be retiring to my apartments and I am not to be disturbed! Not by you...and especially not by her!” She pointed back across the deck to Tiana, whose smirk turned immediately into a trained pout, exposed as false by her teasing eyes.
“As you wish, Your Grace,” Sir Seb'Losh responded with the utmost dignity, while politely opening the door.
She started through when she caught what appeared to be a wink from Sir Seb'Losh, causing her to whirl about just in time to witness Tiana returning said wink. She glared at Sir Seb'Losh.
“We will be having words, Sir Seb'Losh! We will be having words!” she stamped her foot, staring daggers at her lady-in-waiting, who stuck out her tongue playfully, before turning and walking briskly towards her new life, unable to hold back a cringe at the thought of having to deal not only with the ever playful Tiana...but her own Guard Captain, Sir Seb’Losh.
*********
An oppressive radiance streamed into his tiny, studio apartment, barely diffused by the rose colored shades covering the lone, wall sized window. Trent moaned, burying his head in his pillow, trying to block the hateful sunlight. But even with his sight smothered, it relentlessly beat down upon him, matching the pounding within his skull, a remnant of his latest late night of heavy drinking.
“You win...” he muttered, it sounding like he swallowed a frog.
He rolled over, reaching for his MCD where he always left it upon the wooden nightstand. But something was odd. The nightstand’s surface, normally cool and hard to the touch, was soft, warm, and pleasant, with two lumps on its surface. He found himself unconsciously caressing the lumps, thinking them something else, before realizing, at that moment, exactly how lonely he had become since he’d learned of Samantha’s betrayal.
“Mmm...” a faint, feminine moan rose from the nightstand, “you’re feisty this morning,” followed by a gentle whisper and roaming hands. Beyond confused at the fact his nightstand had, apparently, come alive; he forced his eyes to focus, finding an unexpected face lying between him and the mysterious nightstand.
It was Samantha, eyes closed, breathing lightly, and appearing as gorgeous as he remembered in the bright morning light. His brain ticked like a frozen clock trying to start, but finding a gear jammed.
This is definitely wrong, his instincts screamed, but the waves of pain seeping from his muddled mind kept any semblance of rational thought from forming. He slowly slid away from Samantha and out of bed, trying not to wake her fully, and made his way to the bathroom.
He touched the light activation plate on the wall by the door, splashing the refreshingly cool water over his face that waited in the wash basin, then swallowed a handful of the anti-hangover pills that were standard fair for any corporate worker. When the reflection in the mirror cleared, he found the man staring back at him oddly unfamiliar, clean and shaven, the bloodshot eyes the only feature that felt genuine.
“I shouldn't be here,” he whispered as his mind began to clear and the memories of the last few months started flooding back.
“Why shouldn't you be here, love?” a yawning Samantha asked as she appeared beside him, as if out of thin air, forcing her body close so she could lean over the basin. She splashed the fresh water over her perfectly sculpted features, Trent finding himself frozen in place. He could only stare, wide eyed in confusion, as she seductively flipped her long, brown hair over her shoulder before it could slip into the pooling water.
Her movements drew his gaze to her exposed flesh, her thin nightgown having fallen open, providing a clear view of what lay hidden beneath. Samantha notice his hungry gaze, providing him a playful wink while further exposing her bosom. But the lust the sight called forth was muffled, like it existed beyond a frosted wall that instantly cooled the heat of passion before it could take control of his mind.
This is wrong, the words echoed in his mind as he view her in the clear, artificial light. Though no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t grasp exactly why he felt that way. The reason, though vivid, seemed to fade...as was common with dreams.
“I had the strangest dream,” Trent started, thinking that must be the most logical explanation as to why he was having so much trouble piecing together his fractured memories.
“Oh...tell me about it. Tanya was going on about dreams during lunch the other day. According to her boyfriend, they may hold the key to a person's soul...or some gibberish like that. She's always been interested in that machine psychic healing nonsense that the corps have pushing lately,” responded Samantha impishly.
Before he could continue, she moved away, letting her thin, silky nightgown roll to the floor, fully exposing her naked flesh. Seductively, she brushed her fingers over the shower activate plate, seeming to beckon him with her gaze before entering the shower tube, leaving the screen open. Trent's lust forced its way through the frosted wall as the water coursed down her glistening curves, but it still wasn’t strong enough to fully wash away his rational mind.
“In the dream, we broke up,” a gasp of disbelief erupted from the shower tube, Samantha staring at him incredulously.
“Why on earth would we do that? I love you more than anything and...and you still love me? Right?” The strength of her conviction threw Trent off guard.
“Yes...of course...” he responded, though as the words left his mouth, he found himself uncertain if they were true.
No, she was right, his mind slapped away the uncertainty. He loved her and she loved him. There was no way they would ever break up. But the uncertainty persisted; growing larger within the back of his mind the more he believed she made sense, becoming a voice of its own that warned him, screamed something unintelligible that he knew was important, but couldn't quite grasp.
“You...you're right. But it was still so...so strange...and felt so real,” the memory of the dream suddenly become solid, “....I...I found out you had a fiancé, then I lost my job, became a hobo, and I think I....I fought with some giant insect? The whole thing's a blur,” he explained with disbelief, scratching his head as he glanced from his glistening girlfriend, to the mirror, still having trouble believing the clean shaven face staring back at him was his. It felt like he hadn't seen it in months.
“You know, love, that's what happens with dreams. The longer you're awake, the fuzzier they become. In a few hours you will have completely forgotten it all and we can get on with our happy lives,” she turned towards him, placing her hands on her hips. “Why don't you let me help? Join me in here so we can start the day with a...bang,” her soothing words cleared most of the doubts from Trent's mind.
Why worry about the dream when he had something so beautiful beckoning him? The unease in his mind, which had become a dull throb, flashed piercing pain as the last thought took hold. He gritted his teeth, the sudden shock clearing after a moment, he thinking the pain must be a side effect of the hangover medicine. He removed his shorts, ignoring Samantha’s playful whistle, and proceeded towards the inviting sight beckoning him from the shower tube.
Trent's glance slid once more to the mirror covering the wall. He froze, glimpsing for the first time the recently healed scar that stretched from his triceps to his bicep.
The painful flash returned, worse than before, but this time images followed. Scenes of a giant insect-like creature smashing a blade like claw into his side, nearly cutting him in half. Images of old abandoned railroad tracks followed, a dirty man whistling while skipping along, drinking from an unmarked bottle without a care in the world.
The images increased, flowing faster and faster.
A scene of a man in a suit waking in a dirty alley covered in vomit and filth, an angry boss screaming at the same man moments before being escorted away by corporate security, confused and in a daze...and then a crying man on his knees, seeming to ha
ve heard the worst news of his life. Next to the man in the final image stood Samantha, looking down upon him with pity in her eyes, and a little regret...but no love.
The visions ended abruptly. Trent's eyes flashed opened to find Samantha staring down upon him with wonder, his naked body strewn across the bathroom floor. He quickly recovered to his feet, waving away the words of concern on Samantha's lips before she could voice them.
“This is wrong,” Trent said with the strongest tone he could muster.”This place is strange. It looks like my apartment, feels like my apartment...but...but I don't think it's my apartment,” he chose his words carefully, trying to let the absurdity of the realization he’d made settle in, while feeling his confidence in their truth grow stronger.
“I don't know what's going on here, Samantha, but you lied to me and...and we broke up months ago. Why are you here and what's going on?” he question her. No longer uncertain, knowing full well this was wrong.
Samantha gazed at him with a fascination that he could not recall having witnessed before. A small smirk settled, appearing bemused, as she grabbed a clean towel, wrapped it loosely around her shapely curves, then proceeded to glide out of the bathroom, beckoning for him to follow. Trent, reluctantly, followed close behind, forgetting his towel and clothes.
Alutia Rising, Anniversary Edition (Alutia Rising Series, Book 1) Page 6
