by Cara Bristol
“I’d like to contact my family. Would you take me to the village tomorrow?”
I wanted to fulfill her needs, make her happy, but each encounter with others was fraught with peril. Andrea had been there when the three men of my tribe had drawn chits, but I’d walked away empty-handed. “If it doesn’t storm.” I sniffed the air again. “It’s not prudent to travel in a blizzard. We could become lost or die of exposure,” I said.
She peered at the cloudless cyan sky. “Fair enough.”
* * * *
For dinner, I stuffed a phea with dried dough and nuts and roasted it. Among our mating gifts was an assortment of sweetened treats, which I served as well.
“You are such a good cook,” my mate said. “You could be a famous chef.” I appreciated her words, but her hearty appetite was praise enough. “I’m going to gain weight if I keep eating like this.”
“Don’t say that,” Starr cautioned. “He’ll stuff you like this phea. Men here like their women plump.” She paused. “But, it’s one of their most endearing qualities.”
Sunny looked at me. “Is this true?”
“You are perfect the way you are.” We did like our women with some fat on their bones since it provided insulation from the cold.
“So you’re saying I’m too skinny?”
“I didn’t say that.”
Sunny and Starr put their heads together and laughed.
I suspected those two could create mischief. They’d gone to the bathing cave together and returned chattering and giggling like two kits. Although Sunny had protested the killing of the insects, she had chuckled when she related how one of them had fallen into the hot spring and expired.
“I’m supposed to maintain my weight for the show.” Sunny took another bite of the meal I’d prepared.
“Good thing you don’t need to worry about that anymore,” Starr said.
“Uh, right.”
“What was it like doing a reality show? How did you get started?”
“My sister Stormy did it first. I was in many of the scenes, and viewers loved the dynamic of the two of us, so Apogee Productions recruited me.”
“That’s right! It was called Stormy and Sunny’s Excellent Adventures until your sister left the show.”
“She got pregnant and couldn’t do the adventures,” my mate replied. “Skydiving isn’t recommended for pregnant women.”
“And then you dropped out to come here.”
“Uh-huh.” Sunny bit into one of the sweets.
“So how did it work? Did you have a regular shooting schedule? Did cameramen just follow you from location to location?”
“The producers would decide where to send me, and then they filmed every aspect, from me getting ready to go, through the adventure itself, and then afterward. When I first joined the show, my contract specified six months of filming per year, but, over the years, more and more time was added, and it became almost ten months.”
“That’s quite a commitment. You had production people with you all the time?”
I listened, trying to comprehend. Many of the words eluded translation. Terrans’ lives were completely different from ours.
“Yeah. Cameramen, sound people, makeup, producers, directors.”
“That sounds intrusive.” Starr waved at an insect.
“You have no idea,” Sunny said. “It’s weird. Having people and cameras dogging you is intrusive, but you forget they’re there after a while. That’s usually when you slip up and say something you regret later.”
“I don’t think I could get used to it.” Starr frowned as the insect made another pass. “What are those bugs? They hardly look real, more like insect robots.”
Sunny coughed and covered her mouth.
“So, your job was to let people watch you?” I asked.
She nodded.
“Doing what?”
“Different things.”
“Like working on a pig farm?”
“That’s right.”
Starr wrinkled her nose. “I remember that episode! Was it as bad as it looked?”
“Worse,” Sunny replied. “Fortunately, I was there for only a week, just enough to get some good footage.”
“And you had no say over where you went?” Starr asked.
“None. According to my contract, Apogee Productions has full control. I have, uh, had to go wherever they sent me.”
“So, your contact ended, and you came here,” Starr said.
“Uh huh,” Sunny mumbled and bit into another sweet macha.
“How long was your longest assignment?”
“A year,” she replied.
Starr tilted her head. “You didn’t get any time off for an entire year? What about your contract? Didn’t it spell out work time and nonwork time?”
My mate stopped chewing. Her gaze shot to the insect hovering near the ceiling. “Yeah, what about my contract?”
“Sounds like they took advantage of you,” Starr said.
“It does, doesn’t it?”
Chapter Nine
Starr
“If one more camera is destroyed, we will consider you in violation of your contract,” my producer’s voice boomed from the cambot.
After dinner, Darq and Torg had gone to the bath cave, Starr had retired to put her feet up, and Apogee had cornered me to issue a reprimand. Bring it on! I’d been snookered, and I had some words for my producer. He had the nerve to accuse me of contract violations?
Until Starr had asked about work hours and downtime, it hadn’t dawned I’d be working without a contract. I’d had twelve months remaining when I agreed to this adventure. Getting here had eaten up three months; going home would take another three. That left six months for the on-location shoot. Yet, Apogee had stuck me on Dakon for a year. By the time I got home, I’d be half a year without a contract. Would I even get paid for the time?
I’d been so preoccupied settling medical for Devon, I hadn’t paid attention as I should have, and now my distraction was going to bite me in the butt. I was mad at myself and angrier at Apogee. I had goofed, but I was damn sure Apogee hadn’t. I’d bet all the kel on Dakon they’d known exactly what they were doing. And I’d bet a planetful of illuvian ore Chantelle was in cahoots and had received a kickback. As my agent, she should have pointed out the discrepancy—she could have fixed it. She was supposed to be representing me—but too many contract terms had favored the production company for this to be a coincidence.
“First of all, it wasn’t my fault the camera fell into the pool. The steam from the hot spring must have interfered with its guidance system.” A cambot had followed me and Starr to the bath cave. It flew around the cavern for a while, before spinning in a death spiral and plunking into the water. “I pulled it out as fast as I could!” Only to keep Starr from getting a look at it.
And then there were three. Only half of the original six cambots remained operational. As rough as Dakon was on its people, it was harder on electronics.
“And the alien spearing the other one?” the producer asked.
“The alien’s name is Darq,” I glowered. “I had nothing to do with that, either. I told him to leave the insects alone; I can’t control what he does—you’re the one who sent me here. If the insects weren’t so intrusive, it wouldn’t have occurred.”
The misidentification as insects had allowed the cameras to venture into the open, and they’d become exceedingly in-your-face. In my face. In everyone’s face.
“Second, I have an issue to address with you.” I sat up straighter on the kel bed. “I have less than nine months remaining on my current contract. It will take another three months to travel home. That leaves six months on Dakon—not a year.”
“You agreed to a full year.”
“To the extent of my contract,” I said. “If I spend twelve months here, I’ll be working without a contract.”
“The contract can be extended.”
&
nbsp; When cameras fly! Er, no, bad analogy. Cameras did fly.
Had Apogee guessed I’d planned not to renew? Sending me here would kill two phea with one stone—they got a helluva good show, and they could coerce me into re-upping. That damn Chantelle. She had had something to do this.
I had to leave as soon as possible. Darq was becoming too attached to me. If I held him at bay, I hurt his feelings. If I let him get close, I set him up for a bigger hurt later. The earlier I left, the sooner he could forget me.
A pang shot through me. I would always remember him, and wonder what if? What if our mating had been real? What if I’d been like the other women and had come here with honest intentions? Already, I’d become fond of him. And he stirred my libido like no man ever had. All it took was a glance, a growl, a grin, or a pulse of his horns.
“We can discuss an extension when the time comes,” I lied. “In the meantime, I expect you to adhere to current terms.” I had no leverage, but I refused to roll over.
“Well, here’s the thing,” the producer said, “a pickup ship isn’t scheduled for a year. Now, if you were willing to extend your contract, we might be able to arrange one.”
Those…those…assholes! This was like, like…extortion or, or, kidnapping! They were holding me against my will for ransom, except they weren’t seeking money, but a contract renewal.
Steam built up inside, but I had to keep my cool. Blowing up wouldn’t get me off this planet.
“This season is already a big hit,” the producer said. “Sunny Weathers’ Excellent Adventures is the number-one-rated show on the ’net.”
“Wait a minute—it’s streaming now?” I’d assumed Apogee was getting the feed, but the actual season wasn’t supposed to start until all episodes had been recorded. That way, they could shape the story. “Live?”
“Not live, but current. It has beaten out every other show ever aired.”
They weren’t going to let me off Dakon at all. They would dangle the departure until I signed the new contract, which would lock me into remaining on Dakon until they decided to let me off—which wouldn’t occur until the “adventure” stopped making shipfuls of money. I had become Apogee’s indentured cast member.
I squared my shoulders. “I don’t need you to arrange anything. I can catch a lift on the ship bringing the third group of women—or on one of the cargo vessels. In fact, there’s one arriving next week,” I lied.
“If you leave prematurely, your salary and bonus will be reversed and automatically deducted from your account.”
If Devon had had his surgery, the money had been spent. Let Apogee sue me. You couldn’t get blood out of a turnip or money out of an empty account. I’d go public with my story about how Apogee had attempted to pimp me out for the show. After the heat the government had caught for dumping its female convicts during the first phase of the exchange program, they wouldn’t risk more bad publicity. They’d go after Apogee like a shark to an injured seal.
Or cover it up and do nothing. It could go either way.
I had to ensure Devon’s safety. I had to get to the meeting place, access the ’net, and contact Stormy. If Devon was healthy, that’s all I cared about. Then I could tell Darq the truth and arrange to leave.
I needed to avoid antagonizing Apogee until I got everything settled. Let them think they’d won for now. If I’d learned anything on this reality show, it was how to fake it. I slumped as if defeated. “That’s not fair!” I whined.
“You’ve been well compensated,” he said.
If the show was doing as well as they said, the production company was raking in massive advertising revenue. My salary amounted to a pittance, which they’d kept threatening to revoke. The producer was a manipulative, sneaky rat, but I couldn’t afford to get distracted. I had to keep my eye on the ball, ensure Devon got his operation. I pressed my lips together, clenched my hands into fists, and stared at my lap.
“It’s time for you to turn up the heat,” the producer said. “Viewers need more romance.”
My head snapped up. “What are you saying?”
“You seem ambivalent about the alien…”
You think?
“And that’s good. Conflict is good. But we need a more demonstrative display…”
“Darq is a person. He has feelings! He’s not somebody to toy with and then toss aside.”
“You two have obvious chemistry. Go with the flow.”
“Let nature take its course, you mean?” I glowered.
“We can’t tell you to do that,” he said, but that was exactly what he was saying.
“Good to hear,” I said sarcastically, “because that would be illegal.” Prostitution itself wasn’t against the law anymore, but coercing someone to have sex for money was.
“Hey, hey, Apogee operates in accordance with the law at all times. All we’re saying is that viewers have been glued to the ’net, watching the story play out, but it’s time to kick it up a notch. How you do it, is up to you.”
Despite my outrage, at the mere contemplation of “getting romantic” with Darq, my body lit up like a meteor shower. Having sex with him would be no hardship. If the hard-on he lugged around served as an indication, he desired that, too. The producers would be happy, viewers—who wouldn’t see it, but would know it—would be happy, Darq would be happy, my body would be happy.
Only my conscience, the buzz-kill grump, would be unhappy.
Maybe my conscience could get over it.
Be strong.
Reason number two to vamoose asap: I didn’t know how long I could hold out before I caved to temptation. I had to contact Stormy. Once I knew what was happening with Devon, I could plan an escape.
Chapter Ten
Darq
“It looks like we’ll be going to the meeting place,” I said.
“Yay!” Sunny clapped her hands.
To my dismay, Moctad dawned bright and cloudless. The snow I’d scented had failed to appear, and having promised a trip to the meeting place, I couldn’t refuse. I couldn’t fault her desire to contact her kin. If I’d left Torg and my clan to travel across the galaxy, I’d suffer from homesickness, too. The past few days, my mate had seemed distracted. Perhaps speaking to her sister and nephew would relax her.
Maybe then our relationship would flourish. Her behavior confused me. She’d gaze at me with desire in her eyes, but when she became aware of my scrutiny, she would look away and busy herself with some task. I had hoped we could mesh mouths some more, but when we retired to our kels, she bade me a good night and rolled away from me.
She had requested time. Time for what? If she desired me, and I desired her, what was the problem?
Communicating with her family required contact with Andrea. I risked discovery by going to the meeting place, but I didn’t see a way around it.
“Wait here,” I said. “I’ll get us a skimmer.”
“Okay! I’ll get ready.”
I tromped to the shed where we kept the vehicles. I didn’t understand why a skimmer meant to travel through the snow needed to be kept out of the snow when it wasn’t in use, but the Terrans said it did. However, when I got to the shed, both machines had already been borrowed.
I sprinted to the cave. Sunny was bundled up in her kel and boots. Torg and Starr had risen and were eating breakfast. “There aren’t any skimmers available.” I tried to sound disappointed. We won’t be able to go today, after all. I’m sorry.”
Torg snorted. “You are growing soft! The meeting place is two tripta away. Walk.”
Even Starr made a face. “Yeah, that’s about five kilometers.”
Sunny said, “Heck, I walked farther than that through a leech-infested swamp.”
“There are no leeches, but there is snow on the ground. And we will have to hike back as well.”
“You don’t want to take me?” She looked at me.
“No, no,” I lied. I felt terrible. I allowed guilt and fear to supe
rsede caring for my mate. “If you can handle the walk, we’ll go. Do you have your mittens?”
“Right here.” She pulled them from her pocket.
“Let me get a few things, and we’ll be off.” I ducked into the storeroom. Torg and I had made some knives and carved some animal totems. I shoved them into a pack and then entered the main room. “Let’s go,” I said.
“See you later!” Sunny waved and bounded outside.
Smoke wafted from huts. Skimmer tracks exited the camp, but not toward the meeting place. Three insects followed us into the woods, zipping along the tree line. Our footsteps crunched over old knee-deep snow, and our breath fogged the frigid air. “Are you warm enough?”
“Toasty,” she replied. She’d wrapped a cloth around her face, leaving her eyes visible beneath the hood of her kel. “Thank you for taking me.”
“You’re welcome.”
A clump of snow fell from the treetops to land on my head. I shook it off. Sunny’s giggle lightened my mood. My actions had set a challenging course, but I desired to please her, to bring her happiness. Her sacrifice of her home world and family did not go unappreciated. Anything I could do for her, I would do. “Do you recognize any of this?” I asked.
She shook her head. “We’re going the same way, then?”
“Yes. Two paths lead to the meeting place. One is easy; the other is hard. I assumed you’d prefer the easy one.”
“We’re on a path?” She looked around.
“Of course. It’s just buried.” I chuckled. “After you’ve hiked this way a few times, you’ll recognize the signs.” I pointed to a tree trunk split into three forks. “There. That is the one of the markers.
“It is easy to become disoriented and get lost so you must always stay on the trail,” I cautioned. “The ground can be unstable. Many underground caverns are located around our camp. Snow hides the openings, and if you stray off the path, you could fall in. No one would be able to find you.” My heart clenched. Another tribe had lost a kit. His bones were not found until two thaws later.
“I’ll take the path. You can count on it,” she said.
