Persephone

I am getting off this hunk of rock if it kills me.

Preferably the worst that will happen is a bruise but I’m prepared to die. At least, that’s what I tell myself when my fingers clench tighter around the bag in my hands and a terrified quiver races around my stomach.

It’s evening, or as close as it ever gets to evening on this godforsaken moon with its giant, bright planet and distant sun. The planet has set and the big, dying distant red sun has risen, turning the sky a bruised purple while the air begins to cool. Lights around the loading docks begin to flicker on but even without them it’s still light enough to see the people moving amongst the spaceships while bots haul cargo to and from the nearby warehouses. New Earth never gets truly dark.

I miss the stars and I’ve never even seen them.

But I’m going to change that. Tonight.

I’m tucked into a small mountain of crates piled between a red space cruiser and a black heap of junk that I know could outrace the overpriced bit of flash across from it despite the discolored bolts and haphazard patches covering it. I think it might be the most beautiful bird I’ve ever seen and I’m itching to get my hands on her. But first things first. Before I can start digging my hands around in that magnificent engine, I’ve got to overtake the crew and commandeer the ship. It shouldn’t be a problem, I’ve been planning this for over a year…but I can feel the fear sweat beading below my underarms and the quiver in my belly has now begun a constant loop and I feel vaguely sick.

Focus Persephone. We see the stars or we die trying.

Right. My grandmother always said it was okay to be afraid, as long as you didn’t let it stop you, and I made her a promise. There’s no going back now and nothing to go back to.

I take a deep breath and firm up my spine as I continue to watch the black ship. A couple of Hunerae drones are unloading tightly sealed black boxes that contain contraband melvitae—the thick, viscous liquid from the Hunerae homeworld that can be used as food, fuel, or any number of things depending on how it’s processed. Melvitae is versatile, precious, and highly regulated. In other words, it’s hella illegal.

Which is exactly why it’s my ticket out of here.

The boxes with the melvitae are large and no doubt heavy but the two Hunerae doing the grunt work aren’t even breaking a sweat. Each one has four, well-muscled arms that barely look like they’re straining as each set carries its own box. I watch them with interest for a few moments, fascinated by the prismatic green bands on their forearms that shimmer between the two silver capped spikes on each arm. I wonder if they’re tattoos or if they’re just part of the natural color and texture of a Hunerae drone’s skin and I feel another shiver of anxiety. There’s still so much about the universe I don’t know. Still so much we humans don’t know and I think it’s probably intentional. Beyond the occasional “do-gooder,” we don’t see a lot of aliens on New Earth. I think most of the universe prefers to pretend we don’t exist and the rest wish we had never been saved at all.

Despite having lived my entire life here, I still feel a little bitter about being relegated a refugee species on some backwater moon and treated like a kid with some fish stock. The Galactic Collab says that when we can prove we can take care of a planet without destroying it, maybe we’ll have advanced enough to join the rest of polite civilization.

Maybe they aren’t wrong but I still fucking hate it here. New Earth has never felt right with its red and yellow mountains, lavender sky, and scrubby vegetation. There’s nothing else that lives here—or there wasn’t until the GC’s giant ships dropped us off with the supplies necessary to start terraforming and told us to do better this time around. I think about my grandmother’s stories of Earth, of home, with its huge green forests and endless, mysterious deep oceans and I get homesick for a place I’ve never been. My fingers tighten around my bag again but this time it’s with determination.

I am getting off this hunk of rock if it kills me.

I scan the black ship, ignoring the two drones and find the captain. He’s hard to miss. The Hunerae are big bastards, and he’s bigger than most. Unlike the drones with their four arms and broader torsos, the captain is clearly a soldier class. He’s taller and leaner and instead of an extra set of arms, wings lay neatly folded down his back. As he moves, they shift and one of the underwings catches the light and shimmers. It looks almost delicate, like the thin, iridescent films you use to hold bits of an engine together between more permanent fixes but, just like those films, I know his wings are deceptively strong. Hunerae are made for fighting. It’s probably why they own or control half the known universe.

The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

The captain is standing off to the side of the ramp talking to Sarina Valentine-Whiting, the biggest bitch this side of the galaxy and owner of the city docks. Sarina flips her long, dark hair and smiles and I can feel an answering smile on my own face. I won’t miss much about New Earth, but I will miss Sarina. I imagine cutthroat, clever, utterly loyal best friends are hard to come by elsewhere in the universe.

The drones have finished their unloading and after a brief nod from their captain have begun to stride purposely off the dock. They move as a unit, completely in sync with each other in a way that’s a little unsettling to watch. They’re headed towards the Temple of Ashise and I snort, because of course they are. I turn my eyes back to the captain and Sarina and watch as my friend leans forward and runs a teasing finger down the Captain’s arm. I hold my breath waiting to see if he takes the bait and, sure enough, he pauses, one big dark eye narrows for a moment, and then he shrugs and begins to follow Sarina as she slips his arm through hers and leads him away. I almost giggle in relief even though I never doubted Sarina. No man says no to her. She’s got the property deeds to prove it.

I wait until they’re far enough away and this corner of the docks is quiet. When I stand, my knees pop in protest and I can’t help wincing. My body aches from having been crouched down and cramped for so long but I shake it off.

This is it. The moment I’ve been anticipating for over a year. Carefully I check the docks around me, listening hard for any sign that I’m not alone and when I’m confident there’s nobody around but me, I wiggle out from between the crates, my wide hips catching a corner and making me grunt with pain. So much for avoiding bruises. Once I’m free, I pause in the low light of the red sun and take a deep breath of warm, muggy, smelly air. Another thing I won’t miss. I sling my pack over my shoulder and with a final glance around, run fast and low toward the ship.

I’m panting for breath when I get to her but that doesn’t stop me from reaching out to stroke the smooth sides as I let out a deep, longing sigh. My fingers trace over the name stamped on her side,

Alvarium

“Hello, beautiful,” I whisper and the soft, gentle hum of her engines feel like a welcome home.

Zohail

My wings quiver impatiently and for the hundredth time I wonder why I agreed to leave my ship and go with the small human woman. I watch her as she pours tea from a finely crafted clay pot into even finer, more delicate cups, her dark hair falling prettily over her shoulder, and I remember.

It’s because it has been many, many months since I’ve felt the warmth of another and for a moment I was tempted by Sarina’s flirtatious smile and teasing touches.

Unlike many other races in the Collaboration, I do not find humans ugly. They share many of the same features as my own people, eyes, ears, nose, mouth, arms, legs. They are just small and weak and hungry. It is a wonder their fragile species managed to survive on their deathtrap of a planet long enough to zek it up so badly. It didn’t matter though, in the end they still needed saving from their own mess.

Sarina passes me a cup that feels dangerously small in my big hands then sits down beside me. She carefully places a hand above the gold-capped venomous spikes spaced between the three yellow bands on my forearm and leans close. I can feel the press of her breasts against my side and smell the sweetness of her breath but looking into her eyes I see only cool calculation. Instead of feeling lust, I feel nothing but restlessness. My wings twitch again.

“I have enjoyed our partnership these last few years, Zohail. Of all the questionable types I’ve worked with, you’ve been one of the only ones I haven’t needed to find an answer for. I suspect there might be a good man hidden beneath that stern mouth. I’m tempted to find out.”

Her hand slips from my arm to my thigh and it is clear what she is offering.

My lips tighten and internally I flinch. This woman does not know me at all. I am not a man and I am not good. I am Hunerae and she would do well to remember that.

I stand abruptly, hot tea splashing over my fingers but I ignore the pain and deliberately, carefully put the cup on the table.

My lovely friend, I begin to sign, my hands moving quick and smooth despite my agitation, but a small, quirked smile comes over Sarina’s face and she shakes her head.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know Hunera.” She says and I almost groan with frustration at myself. Of course she does not, humans for all their own many languages, have been remarkably slow to pick up on the rest of the languages floating around the universe. I do not know if it is stubbornness, laziness, or if they simply are not clever enough. I switch to Russian, the humans’ common tongue.

“My apologies, dear friend. It is merely that I have also enjoyed our partnership and think it would be unwise to complicate things.”

The small smile on Sarina’s face spreads wider and her eyes, strangely, seem to warm.

“Are you refusing me?” she asks, and I get the sense that Sarina Valentine-Whiting does not often hear the word, “no.” Oddly enough, that makes this easier. She doesn’t need me. There are many who would no doubt gladly join in what she is offering.

I nod my head. “I am. You are lovely but it grows late and I would not risk either of our businesses by lingering on New Earth too long.” I smile at her because once, long ago I was charming and because I truly do like Sarina, and add, “And you are clearly a woman that deserves to be savored.”

She laughs and it’s a low, throaty sound. Her shoulders relax and once she has finished laughing, she looks up at me. She taps her chin with one well-manicured finger, her eyes narrowed and considering.

“Yes, a good choice after all, I think.” She waves me off dismissively but there is still a smile on her face. “Go then, I will see you in six months with the next shipment.”

I touch my chest and arc my fingers out toward her in a gesture of respect. “May the stars shine brightly for you,” I say and turn to leave. I am almost out the door when I hear her murmur something so softly behind me that I barely catch it.

“That’s what she’s counting on.”