by Jenn Burke
“Rest,” he said, giving Zed a tug. “C’mon. I’ll rub your head.”
Giving in with a soft groan, Zed leaned sideways to rest his head against Flick’s chest and closed his eyes. Flick’s mangled left hand stroked his hair while his more dexterous right drew circles against his temple.
“He okay?” Ness asked.
“Yeah,” Flick said.
You’re lying and you know it.
“I have never had the opportunity to visit a human colony before,” Qek stated. “I am quite excited.”
Elias chuckled. “We can tell.”
“I have discovered from various sources that human colonies frequently have odd customs.”
“Sure. Like space stations,” Zed said. His family had made their name, and their fortune, building space stations. The disparate customs of each one was something Anatolius Industries supported and promoted. It made them unique and appealing.
“Right,” Elias said. “Put a group of humans in a relatively isolated space and they’ll come up with particular ways of doing things. Those ways get repeated and adopted into tradition. It’s just our nature.”
“Add in local flora and fauna and their weirdness, and you’ve got a plethora of stories just waiting to be told,” Ness said.
“On Outrock, the inhabitants dressed in white on the first of every month,” Qek said, “in remembrance of a crash that claimed a ship of colonists on their first descent to the planet.”
“I can confirm that,” Zed said. Outrock had been his first posting after officer training. A tiny colony on the edge of nowhere, it had been destroyed by the stin early in the war.
Flick’s hand stilled. “Really? You wore white on the first of the month?”
“No, not the AEF stationed there. Just the colonists.”
“Weird.”
“Made sense to them.”
“Any odd customs on Risus?” Elias asked Qek.
“They appear to devote a significant amount of time to prayer.”
“Define significant,” Flick said.
“According to my research, colonists on Risus visit their ministry at dawn, noon, dusk and before they retire for the evening.”
“Now that is weird.” Zed didn’t begrudge people holding on to the old religions if it gave them some comfort—there were some good lessons in the holy books. But that sort of worship made him uncomfortable. Zealotry had been the source of a great number of humanity’s worst wars, the belief that one group of humans was better than other groups because they thought one set of unprovable teachings was true instead of another. In his opinion, venturing into space had made the old religions moot. The black had proven that whatever gods humans had dreamed up, the truth was so much bigger than any of them could imagine.
Hell, some people believed the Guardians were gods. He wasn’t one of them, but it made just as much sense as anything else. How else could you explain how the mysterious aliens knew when to offer a species a gate to the Hub and a pass to the galactic playpen? Or how they knew just when to step in and stop a war before one side wiped out the other? Logic said it was technology—the Guardians had access to tech that the ashushk, the most technologically advanced species in the galaxy next to them, could only imagine—but if you took logic out of the equation, yeah, it might look like magic. Or divine power. Or whatever the hell gods were supposed to be and do.
Qek clicked enthusiastically. “I daresay not as weird as the tales I discovered of creatures that inhabit the forest. The description of these local fauna varies, but each story seemed to be a morality tale about the dangers of not obeying the law.”
“Any law in particular?” Flick asked.
“Yes. Weapons discharges. Given the number of these tales and the fact that Risus has a ban on small arms, I would surmise that the stories have a basis in fact,” Qek said, clicking slowly. “But the details are so vague and convoluted, I could not say for certain. At any rate, this festival will have a dance that discourages creatures from attacking the colony during harvest.”
“Colonists are so fucking backward,” Flick growled.
“Hey, a little respect goes a long way,” Elias pointed out. “Vinchy’s invitation to join their festival goes above and beyond whatever they’re celebrating. Hot food is a hell of a lot better a greeting than grumbles and indifference, right?”
“Or gunshots. Particularly if it brings out the nasties from the woods.”
“Fixer, really?”
Zed felt Flick shrug. “Just sayin’.”
Qek clicked. “I would rather we partake in a feast than a shootout.”
Elias let out a long, slow breath. “So would we all.”
*
“Is it normal for humans to share sexual partners?” Qek asked, tilting her head.
“Uh…” Zed paused. “What?”
Qek waved a blue-skinned hand at the crowd spinning about the open-air square dedicated to dancing. Garlands of vines had been draped here and there. Instead of looking festive, it just looked kind of sad. Zed wondered if the decorations for the festival would’ve been more impressive before the war.
“Each time I believe I have identified a paired couple, they have chosen others.”
“It could just be the dance.” Zed hadn’t been watching it closely. All the spinning bodies made the ache in his head that much worse and he didn’t even have a beer to dull the pain. Risus was a dry colony, which was just a bloody crime, as far as he was concerned. He directed his gaze upward, wishing he had a blanket to lie on and a lack of noise and light pollution. How long had it been since he’d taken the time planetside to stargaze?
“Possibly, but I have observed at least two of the women giving different men ‘bedroom eyes,’ as you say.”
“Hell, I don’t say that.”
“It is a saying, is it not?”
“I guess. You think that means they’re sharing? They could be single and looking for someone.”
“This is true. But it is a question I have often pondered.”
Ness and Elias returned to their table as the music ended, smiling and out of breath. Flick sauntered up a moment later and slid onto the bench beside Zed, nudging a cup of clear liquid in front of him.
“Just water,” he said. “Good dance, you two?”
Nessa’s grin expanded. “He only stepped on my feet twice.”
“Hey!”
Zed sipped his water, giving Flick a smile of thanks as Qek continued. “Nessa’s favored fictional books mostly portray monogamous couples. Does that not impact the genetic diversity of the next generation?”
Elias frowned. “Wait, what are we talking about?”
“Humans sharing sex partners,” Zed said.
“Oh. Of course.”
“Humans tend to form pair bonds, Qek. And it’s not necessarily based on procreation.” Ness nodded at Flick and Zed. “See Exhibit A.”
“It is a psychological attachment, then.”
“Yes, but also a physical one. Attraction can be breathtaking. Literally. We feel it on an instinctual level that we don’t really understand.”
“How do you know that it is a valid and worthwhile pairing? It does not sound very logical.”
“Honey, logic has nothing to do with it.”
Qek blinked and stayed silent for a moment, considering. “Humans are so strange,” she said, sounding a little defeated. “Every time I believe I have a solid comprehension of your species, I discover something new that challenges my perceptions.”
“If it’s any consolation,” Flick said, “I’m human and I don’t understand humans.”
“Same.” Zed shrugged.
“That does not offer adequate reassurance.”
Nessa smiled. “Getting back to the question…just because we’re programmed to pair up, it doesn’t mean humans can’t find other meaningful relationships. My sister has two partners, a man and a woman, and they are quite content as a triad.”
“Damn.” Elias whistled. “Is that why I ca
n only get you into my bed a third of the time?”
He laughed as Nessa smacked his upper arm—laughter that faded as pain obviously sank in. Rubbing his arm, he whined, “Ow.”
“The ashushk do not form such attachments,” Qek said. “We treasure our friendships and hold them close, but I suspect it is not the same. We do not experience attraction or sexual need as humans do.”
“Even the ashushk who have had a gender manifest?” Nessa asked.
Like most humans, Zed found the ashushk’s lack of gender a difficult concept. Qek had chosen to be referred to as female in order to better relate to humanity, but in truth, she had no gender. Only a small percentage of ashushk developed sexually, and those individuals were sequestered on Ashie Prime in order to breed and ensure the continuation of their race. From what Zed had gathered, the life of a gendered ashushk was posh and lush with care—but boring as hell because they weren’t allowed to leave the planet or pursue any interests that could interfere with their biological imperative.
“Yes. Our procreation is…not like that of humans.” Qek squirmed slightly in her seat. “I know that it is generally based on compatible genetics, but beyond that…”
Uh-oh. If Qek was embarrassed about it, did he really want to hear the details?
“Maybe it’s a free-for-all, one big pile of—” Flick broke off as Qek’s expression smoothed in distress. He coughed. “Yeah, maybe I don’t want to know, either.”
It was kind of sad. As soon as he thought that, Zed pushed the thought away. One of the things he’d learned since joining the Chaos crew was that for all Qek’s friendliness and eagerness to maintain good relationships with her crewmates, she was completely alien and should not be judged by human standards. Besides, there was something to be said for not being ruled by one’s dick. Or boobs. Though boobs didn’t really rule women, did they?
He didn’t often consider how lucky he was to have been born a human, but right now, that was all he could think of. He leaned in to brush his lips against Flick’s, needing that reconnection. Flick’s gaze met his, eyes that he knew were hazel but, thanks to his chemically altered vision, looked brilliantly, vibrantly green. The kiss wasn’t as deep as some they’d shared—despite the desire that never seemed to ebb, Zed couldn’t lose himself with the ambient noise of the crowd surrounding them or the ever-present ache in his skull. Still, it was a comfort, as warm as a hug and just as needed.
Elias’s throat-clearing encouraged their lips to part. Zed blinked at Flick for a moment, trying to orient himself. Flick’s gaze cast around, then focused on something, growing flinty. Zed followed his gaze and spotted the reeve of the colony watching them with a concerned expression.
“Religious colonies have weird ideas about sexuality,” Elias murmured.
Shit. Right. That was the biggest difference between colonists and spacers—in the black, sex was all about comfort and companionship, or just something to do on the long jumps between stations. On a colony, sex meant procreation, and some settlements had adopted old, outdated attitudes toward sex that had no possibility of creating life. The man standing next to the reeve looked decidedly more put out than the reeve himself. He took a step forward, only to be halted by Vinchy’s hand on his arm and a few words in his ear.
Okay. No more displays of affection with Flick until they got back to the ship.
“Pardon me,” Qek said. “I must powder my nose.”
“Powder your—” Flick frowned. “What?”
“She means she’s going to the bathroom,” Ness stated, rolling her eyes. “Hold on, I’ll go with you.”
Flick watched them weave through the crowd in the direction of the toilets, his head shaking slowly. “Why do women take a piss in groups?”
“Marnie used to say the secrets of the universe were contained in the women’s restroom.” As always, memories of the Academy and the friends he and Flick had made there brought a smile to Zed’s lips. He wondered if Marnie’s tendency to deliver such hyperbolic statements with a straight face was still intact, years after she’d become a spook for the AEF. Probably. And probably more refined than ever.
They watched the dance some more. When the reeve approached, all smiles, asking if they were enjoying the party, Elias turned on his charm and led the man into a lively conversation about trade between colonies and stations. Zed tuned it out, thankful that he didn’t have to be the one smiling and rubbing elbows. He didn’t have the patience or the energy for it tonight.
The reeve eventually left and Zed couldn’t say how much time passed before Ness reappeared at the table. Her eyes were wide and her hands were clutched together tight enough that her knuckles were white.
“I can’t find Qek.”
Flick straightened. “What do you mean? She was with you.”
Ness shook her head. “She finished first and said she would wait, but when I was done, she was gone. You haven’t seen her?”
“No,” Elias said.
“I’ve looked everywhere. Walked around the bathrooms twice, asked a couple of ladies waiting in line if they saw where she went. Nothing.”
Zed’s heartbeat tripped into a faster cadence. It was probably nothing—Qek was short, like all ashies, and there were a lot of people crowded into the square. Maybe she’d stepped away from the toilets for a minute, distracted by some minutia of colony life.
No—Qek was nothing if not considerate. If she had told Ness she would wait, she would’ve waited, or left Ness a message on her wallet.
Unless someone prevented it.
*
“You tried pinging her wallet?” Felix rubbed his left wrist, fingertips trailing across scar tissue before finding the smooth edge of his new bracelet. He hadn’t heard a general hail and he usually left that channel open.
“Yes. I used both channels. I even tried locating her, but there’s no positioning tech active on this colony.”
Man, Risus was backward. No booze, straight sex and low tech. With a half dozen worries crowding out his sense of humor, Felix failed to find a joke in it all, though. The most gentle member of his crew was out there, somewhere, wandering a barbarian wonderland alone…or worse.
He half rose from his seat, only to have the movement arrested by a hand on his arm. “What?”
“We shouldn’t panic,” Zed said.
“I’m not panicking, I’m going to look for Qek.”
“What if her disappearance isn’t a coincidence?”
“What do you mean?”
“Shit. Zed’s right, we need to assume this is something more.” Elias tilted his head to the side, indicating the reeve without actually turning toward him. “Vinchy has had his eye on us all night. Might not be because he was worried you and Zed might do more than kiss.”
Felix glanced at Zed. “Did you notice it too?”
“Sure.”
Felix felt the lie. Zed’s expression was all wrong, and he’d have said something earlier, wouldn’t he? Security was his job.
Shit.
Nessa had her wallet out, display open to the ripmail interface. The holo screen was familiar enough that Felix could read it backward. No connection. She looked up. “Should we alert colony security?” Such as they were. A bunch of farmers armed with nothing more than shock sticks. Risus had a seriously flawed view of technological advancement.
“If the reeve’s in on it, so are they,” Elias said.
“In on what?” Felix tried to shake Zed’s hand off of his arm.
“Everyone take a breath.” Zed’s tone was calm, measured. He’d found his game face. “We’ve got two possibilities here. One, the colony thinks we’re worth shaking down.” It wasn’t unheard of for a colony to separate a crew from their ship and hold one or the other to ransom until a “mutually” beneficial agreement could be reached. “Two, they’re being coerced.”
No one asked by whom.
Felix grasped at a straw anyway. “Qek is the curious sort, she could just be lost.”
“Qek doesn’t
get lost. She’s an astrogator. She could navigate her way through a black hole.”
“This isn’t exactly—”
“If we’re making a plan, can we get on with it?” Nessa snapped.
“Ness, Eli, head back out to the dancing area. Circle the perimeter.” A brief smile visited Zed’s mouth. “Make sure Qek hasn’t found a dance partner.” Standing, he slid an arm around Felix’s shoulders. “Flick and I will sneak off behind the privy. If the reeve really is concerned we’re going to compromise the values of his colony, he’ll intercede before we can get our pants down.”
Warmth uncurled in Felix’s gut. Zed had been distant over the past couple of days—coming to bed late, leaving before Felix woke. They had exchanged little more than a kiss, and even the thought of an illicit moment alone was enough to get him hard. He easily shook off all thoughts of distraction—getting into Zed’s pants wasn’t as important as finding Qek. But a tendril of something akin to fear remained firmly rooted, refused to be brushed aside. Felix did his best to ignore it as he rose to his feet.
Elias spun Nessa back onto the beaten earth of the dance floor. Taking Felix’s hand, Zed strode toward the low building that housed the privy. Felix scanned the tables scattered around the grounds. Many were occupied only on the side of the square and bonfire, folks using the tabletops as backrests as they watched the party. He looked for signs of agitation or confrontation, but found none. Everyone he saw seemed intent on the dancers.
The privy resembled a shower block. During settlement, the block would have been surrounded by prefabs and pavilions. Now, the outbuilding simply served as convenience to the festival grounds, and perhaps a reminder of the colony’s origins. As they drew close, Felix noticed a line of women circling one side. Their shadows flickered along the plasmix bricks like poorly transmitted holos. Zed tugged him around the other side of the building. As they left the light of the central bonfire behind, the sky seemed to open up overhead and stars twinkled into being. Cooler air kissed the back of Felix’s neck and cheeks. He looked up and blinked, dizzied by the vast expanse of nothingness. It was weird how he could feel pressured by the open sky, though the pinprick stars seemed so far away.
