The Saffron Malformation

by Walker, Bryan

  They parted briefly, breathing heavily. Her hand slid up his thigh to the groin of his jeans where he was hard beneath the denim. “I want to know what it feels like,” she told him.

  His hand touched her cheek and rubbed her gently. He peered into her eyes and after a moment he said, “You can’t do skin?”

  She looked up at him meekly. “Nope.” His eyes widened as she shrugged then confirmed that, “I’m just strange.”

  He nodded and corrected, “Interesting,” then leaned in to kiss her gently.

  “Will you have sex with me?” she whispered to him.

  He touched his forehead to her’s and looked into her eyes. “I believe I mean to.” His hands ran down her back, around her hips then up to her face again, where he cupped her cheeks and brought her in for another kiss.

  Ryla stood and walked toward the end of the bar, her hand unzipping her dress as she moved. She let it fall to the ground and stepped from it gracefully, without missing a step. Underneath she was wearing nothing. She looked over her shoulder and gave him a lustful glance before moving through a swinging door. Quey stood and followed after her, a bit of haste in his step.

  He found her lying on a sofa in what looked to be a break room. Aside from the sofa there was a round table with a few chairs around it, a sink and some cupboards above and below a countertop.

  Ryla sat up on her elbows and looked at him. “Coming in?” she asked.

  Quey wrestled his clothes off, gazing at her body, long firm legs, flat stomach, the swell of her hips, the V of her torso. Naked and pulsing he moved toward her, she took him in her mouth for a bit but she lacked experience in that department so after a tick or two he joined her on the couch, settling atop her.

  “Damn you’re beautiful,” he whispered as he ran his hands over her skin, settling his palm on the subtle but supple swell of her breast. He leaned in and tickled her nipple with his tongue for a moment and she sighed softly and trembled a bit.

  “Holy shit,” she said and he looked up at her. “Apparently you can’t do tongues either.”

  Quey laughed, but she looked at him with eagerness and pulled him toward her. His smile faded as he finally sunk into her and it felt amazing. She was very soft and wet and warm, so much so that he almost lost himself right off, but he managed to stop thinking about it and focused on her.

  “Oh wow,” she sighed. As he moved he watched her experience sex with a person for the first time. He took it slow, letting her settle into it. As they moved together on the couch Ryla, who’d always spoken with a clinical eloquence was suddenly reduced to groans and cussing. When he playfully asked her, “Are you enjoying my performance of this particular function?” She replied, “Shut the fuck up and fuck me.”

  That particular response elicited something primal in him so he moved into a position where he had a degree of control and obliged her, filling the room with wet slapping sounds and loud groans. Sweat broke over their skin as an orgasm slowly boiled up in Ryla’s loins. She gripped him and pulled him against her and cried out as pleasure shuddered through her and lingered, a sustained sensation she’d never known. He kissed her neck, his hands swarmed over her, his cock worked deep inside her and as meticulously as her programming of boyfriend had been, as another orgasm swelled and burst through her she knew she’d failed.

  At some point he was behind her and then she ended up atop him, rolling her hips to the rhythm of some melodic melody only she could hear, rising and falling and grinding and swelling him to his limit with her elegant dance. His hands moved over her body, caressing her flesh, squeezing her ass and tits as she tightened around him and writhed. At some point she found her groove and it took everything he had to keep from bursting. Ryla spasmed again and sat hard on him, sinking him deep into her, hips rolling while her insides gripped.

  “I’m going… I think,” he said incoherently between breaths and groans.

  Ryla slid off him and laid back on the couch, rubbing the glistening lips between her thighs and said, “Go ahead.”

  He pounced on her, plunging deep and moving with a vigorous need. She rested her hands on his shoulders, ran them down his arms, feeling the tightness of his Muscles as he plunged inside her. Finally he looked into her eyes and kissed her just before she felt him spasm and sigh one final time. He kissed her again before settling atop her.

  “Wow,” she said after a moment.

  He looked at her. “What?”

  She smiled up at him. “I never knew…”

  He kissed her again and they lay together on the couch for a number of ticks, her hands gently running up and down his damp back, his playing in her hair. Finally she asked, “Would you like to do it again?”

  He looked at her and smiled.

  Rachel lay on her bed with pillows propped under her and her sheet computer lying beside her. She was looking down at her belly, which was beginning to show the first signs of swelling. She stroked it gently. Someone was moving around in there.

  She had to admit she was growing more afraid everyday. This path her life had taken was proving dangerous. When it came to her she didn’t mind much but when it came to whoever was trying to form inside her that was another tale. It wasn’t just her baby, it was the last bit of Dusty left to the world and she meant to see it live. To die trying wasn’t an option she was willing to entertain, if any of this was going to kill her it was going to be after.

  The thought unnerved her so she drifted from it and began trying to form a list of names again. She tried to pick ones she thought Dusty might like. She imagined if he was there, lying beside her, he’d start off not taking any of this seriously. He’d be cracking wise, saying things like, ‘if it’s a girl I want to name her facetious, that way boys’ll know not to take her seriously.’

  “What if it’s a boy?” she asked the empty room quietly.

  ‘If it’s a boy we should name him Sue.’

  Tears prickled in her eyes as she laughed.

  ‘No to Sue hu? How about Baco Bargoon? I just like the sound of it. It makes me laugh.’

  Reggie asked Botler for some trash to shoot at and the robot had mustered up boxes of old cans and bottles and even some fruits that were on the brink of going bad. The big man set them up on the edge of the rooftop and had Natalie, Arnie, and Amber firing rounds until the sun went down. By the end of the day he felt as if they’d made some real progress, at least enough so as they wouldn’t die easy and without making a fight of it.

  None of them showed the natural proficiency for the rifle that Rachel had, but they handled one well enough, and all of them got control of a pistol better than she had. That was good, because inside pistol range was a dangerous place to be, especially if you don’t know how to handle one.

  Rain and Leone sat together on the sofa in the living room, using one of the holographic interfaces to render a three-dimensional image of the house they’d grown up in. Rain, especially, recalled every detail, down to light switches and plugs and breaker boxes. They worked through it slowly, trying to ignore the reality of what they were doing.

  As they formed their brother’s rooms on the screen Leone asked, “Do you think they’re like him?”

  Rain looked over at him. “You know them, what do you think?”

  “I don’t think they are, but I think they’re convinced they want to be.”

  Rain hugged him and kissed his cheek. “I think you’re right.”

  “Can we save them, you think?”

  Rain shook her head. “It’s all they’ve ever known. I was left alone because I was a girl, and for you it was because he already had his boys.”

  “No,” Leone said, hugging her back. “You saved me from that.”

  The air was getting heavier. “Come on,” she said. “We need to finish this.”

  The brother and sister sat together on the couch and finished forming a tactical map of the house they’d grown up in.

  That night, after a meager dinner, Quey climbed to the rooftop where he found Ra
chel sitting in a chair near the edge watching the Once Men standing around a fire charring something they’d caught. He crossed to her and sat in a chair beside her.

  “Funny place to find you sitting.”

  She shook her head, “Not really. I’m up here a lot.”

  “It is a lovely view.”

  “I’m not here for the scenery. I’m here in case the brood comes creeping around again.”

  “Suppose you mean to put that to use, should that occur,” he said, indicating the rifle resting against the ledge in front of her.

  “I want to kill them,” she told him.

  “Me too,” he replied.

  “I hate them.”

  “I know.”

  She looked over at him and touched his hand. “I hate them. Not you.”

  He smiled at her and replied, “I know.”

  Silence came and for a spell they looked up rather than out. There were no lights for who knew how man kilometers so you could see all manner of stars floating overhead. “He was a good man,” she finally said. Her eyes drifted back to the Once Men’s flickering firelight and the shadows that moved around it.

  “He and I did a lot of bad in our time,” Quey admitted solemnly, then added, “But I believe he was.”

  Rachel looked at him. “You are too.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Is that why you’re taking on all this shit?” she asked him. He looked out at the light. “You think this is some sort of redemption.”

  “Gave up on that a long time ago,” he told her. “No such thing in an existence nasty as the one we find ourselves.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “We live in a place where stomping on others is rewarded with wealth. Where if a man’s greedy and cruel enough he becomes the most powerful one on a planet. Turning your back on the hardships of others is called good business sense, and goes hand in hand with giving a person as little for their pockets as you can for their time, then giving them as little product as possible for what’s in those pockets. That’s why people in the settlements, the ones outside the cities do so much business with roaders, you know.” Rachel looked at him. “Because we’ll give them a fair trade and a bit of quality. All the corporates want to do is undercut and oversell. They can be light on cost but what do you get in exchange, a poor facsimile of what was once a great product.”

  The Once Men howled into the night sky.

  “Sometimes I look at them and think they have the right idea.”

  Rachel glanced at him, a touch of shock in her eyes.

  “I mean we live in a world where even the raiders are corporate. You know, I never agreed with what the brood was or the things they did, but at least they were doing their own thing and keeping clear of all that.”

  “Quey,” Rachel said softly and he looked at her. That was all she said and Quey nodded. He understood. The situation had gotten out of hand, it’d gone too far and now the only way out was through but that was a dangerous road.

  “I keep seeing him just collapse,” she said after a set of ticks. “Like that. Life,” she snapped her fingers, “into nothing.” Quey wrapped an arm around her shoulder and she said, “I don’t want to see that again.”

  He wanted to assure her that she wouldn’t but he didn’t like to lie.

  Everyone was in bed, everyone, that was, save Quey Von Zaul who sat on the couch under the dim glow of Ryla’s elaborate and beautifully painted night sky with a bit of whiskey and the last remnants of a handful of ice cubes melting slowly in a glass. He brought the glass to his lips and took a slow swallow before looking up at a nebula she’d painted near the center of the room. A beautiful blend of pink and purple with hints of yellow and blue and red and it glowed so perfectly that for a moment he thought he saw the gases that formed it churning above him in a slow attempt to form a star.

  After a long sigh he looked away, his thoughts as lost as the hope he’d clung to until that morning. There had to be a way. There was something Richter Crow, mad and meticulous as he was, had overlooked.

  Another thought had occurred to him hours ago. If they made it to Richter Crow’s terminal and managed to send their messages, what then? It would take years for the rescue ships to arrive and there was no doubt that the man would spend his remaining time in power hunting them down. To be certain of that all he had to do was look to the Angels of the brood, skulking about ravaging the planet looking for their scent.

  Quey’s eyes drifted across the mural above until finally they settled on something not far from the folded planet in the corner of the ceiling. Eyes lingering on the small bit of metallic grey and black and the energy tail streaking out behind it, his thoughts swirled not unlike the gasses of a nebula and when they finally came together rather than a star they formed an idea. “He has to have a way off,” he said softly to himself.

  A brief moment passed while he lingered where he was, then set his drink on the table as he shot to his feet and started down the hallway across from him.

  Rain woke to pounding and was instantly annoyed at being roused from such a deep and wonderful sleep, especially considering the effort it took her to get there. She pulled on clothes and crossed to the door as the second series of bangs erupted, those woke Arnie who sat up on his elbows and snorted himself awake.

  “Alright, alright,” she barked as she made it to the door and opened it. She was greeted by a wide-eyed Quey. “This can’t wait?” she asked.

  “No,” he said bluntly then added, “Get Arnie and come in the living room,” before hurrying away.

  Rain closed the door with a soft grunt and looked at Arnie, eyes half open and hair shooting up from the back of his head. She started to laugh a bit as he asked, “What’s that about?”

  She took three swift steps toward the bed and jumped onto him. “Who knows,” she replied, her face close to his, then she kissed him.

  “Should we go see?” he asked then kissed her.

  She settled on him for a spell, feeling his warmth wafting up and over her, listening to his heart and the gentle breaths he took. Finally she said, “If we don’t he’ll just be back.” She hopped to her feet and started for the door. “Might wanna fix your hair,” she told him before opening it and stepping through.

  Arnie looked over at a mirror and saw what she meant; it was sticking up here and there. He tried to mash it back into place with his hand. It was a futile effort.

  After rousing Rain and Arnie Quey made his way down another hallway and knocked on Ryla’s door. “Enter,” she called and so he opened the door. Across the dark room she sat before the dull glow of a holoscreen in one of her thin cotton slips. Given the dullness of the light he couldn’t tell its shade.

  “Could you come out here a second? Had a thought I’d like to run by you.”

  “Sure,” she replied and got to her feet. She was halfway to the door when she stopped. “Should I wear more clothes?”

  He chuckled, “I don’t think it’ll matter.” He started away and she followed. In the living room Rain was sitting on the couch in pajama paints and a tank top, hugging herself for warmth and yawning. Arnie stumbled in a moment later, his hair still askew.

  “Alright,” Rain said, slightly annoyed as Arnie sat close beside her and Ryla sat at the end of the couch. “We’re here. Wanna tell us what this is about now?”

  Quey strolled close to where the ship was painted and looked up at it for a long moment. The others watched him. Rain and Arnie exchanged a glance.

  “I’ve been giving some thought to what comes after.”

  “After what?” Rain asked.

  “After we get to Richter Crow’s terminal and send a message,” he replied, turning to face them. “I was thinking, in those records you stole from his hard drive, did you find anything regarding his escape plan? I mean, we know he means to get off planet but I’m curious as to how.”

  Rain’s brow furrowed and she shook her head, “Not that I saw.”

  He looked to Ryla and asked, �
��What do you think?”

  “No.”

  “He has to have a ship though, right? Probably a few.”

  “I suppose so. But what’s that matter?”

  Ignoring the Question he looked to Arnie and said, “You can fly right?”

  Arnie began to laugh and Quey stared at him. When his fit was over, grinning, he replied, “Sure, I can fly.” Quey nodded thoughtfully. “I can’t fly in space.”

  After a shrug Quey wondered, “Why?”

  Arnie shook his head.

  “What? How different could it be?”

  “Wait,” Rain said, raising a hand toward Quey. “You mean to tell me you got us out of bed in the middle of the night-”

  “I wasn’t in bed,” Ryla informed her.

  Rain glanced at her and went on. “You got Arnie and I out of bed in the middle of the night to hear some cockamamie scheme in which we steal a space ship and fly away to… where exactly?” she asked in her most animated of ways, complete with flaring eyebrows and flailing hands.

  Quey shrugged, “Hadn’t given it thought but I don’t think it much matters. One of the other corporate settlements, preferably one not belonging to Blue Moon.”

  Silence lingered over the room until Arnie turned to Rain and said, “So, Quey’s gone bye-bye?”