“Hey.” The single word echoed through my sleeping mind until I lazily opened one eye, saw that it was that guy, and promptly rolled over. “Hey! Come on, Richie, wake the fuck up!” Tau growled.

“Go away,” I groaned.

He let out an exaggerated sigh. “I’d love to, but Nova promised me training wages for keeping your ass in line. So get the fuck up.”

“You know cussing doesn’t actually make you cool and interesting, right?” I quipped. I relished in the long silence my words created. Unfortunately though, before I could slip back into my peaceful, dreamless sleep, a bright light shone in my eyes. “Agh! I’m up, I’m up!” When the spots in my vision faded, I saw that the source of the light was a bulb rigged to the device on his wrist.

Tau was fiddling with said device, his brow furrowed as he tapped various spots on its screen. “Wait... come on, shut off you damn thing... Ow ow ow!” The bulb suddenly shattered, sending a tiny spray of scintillating glass fragments across the back of his hand.

I couldn’t help but giggle, but I pinched my lips shut when he shot me a withering glare.

“Laugh it up, gay boy,” Tau growled. “Get dressed. Our first shift starts in an hour.”

I rolled my eyes and dragged myself out of bed, then reached for one of the pills Laurie gave me. It was bitter.

Tau was already up and dressed in red coveralls, his sleeves rolled past his elbows. With his back turned to me I could see the word REACTOR printed in reflective lettering.

“Do I have to wear one of those?” I asked.

“I’m sure it’s not as fancy as you’re used to,” he shot back.

“I was just asking, no need to be snippy.” I searched the drawer beneath my bunk, and retrieved a similar outfit for myself. The material was thick and uncomfortable, and it was way too baggy. I felt a pang of disappointment; after years of being told what to wear and when, I had been looking forward to having the freedom to pick my own clothes.

As I fretted over my life choices, a three-toned chime sounded from the door. Tau pressed a button on the inner control panel. “We’ll be right there,” he called.

A voice that definitely didn’t belong to Nova came back. “That’s lovely, but I’m not interested in you, lad. Would you be so kind as to send out Rook, as I believe we’re calling him?”

Tau mouthed “Who the fuck?” at me, then opened the door for Unity.

“Ah!” they exclaimed. “Taumiel, I thought that was you.”

“It’s just Tau,” he corrected. “And who in the void are you?”

“Good morning, Unity!” I shoved my roommate out of the way to stand before them with a pleasant smile. “I just want to say thank you for-”

“Think nothing of it, my dear.” Their smile was serene, but their eyes were curious and sharp. I felt that my performance was being judged already. “Before you begin working, there is the small matter of your contract.”

I tried not to let the mention of my life debt put a damper on my cheerful facade. “Of course. Maybe while we’re at it, we can-”

They held up a hand to silence me. “It’s best if we converse back in my office.”

“Even better!” I gushed. I was genuinely curious what their suite might look like. “Lead the way!”

I didn’t spare a glance over my shoulder, but I had a suspicion Tau was making a rude gesture at me as we walked away.

The silence between us was uncomfortable as we walked back the way I had come yesterday. It was made all the more unnerving by the presence of others in the halls; workers in blue, green, and red coveralls bearing the words “LIFE SUPPORT”, “FACILITIES”, (and of course I already knew what red meant), fell silent and stared as we passed by. I waved politely, but avoided looking them in the eye.

I paused briefly as the well-spoken stranger disappeared up the gravity lift, then took a deep breath and stepped out into the empty space of the gravity shaft. Rather than plummeting to the bottom, as I briefly feared I would, I drifted lazily up to the top topmost floor, and gracefully stepped out. They gave me a moment to regain my footing before they broke the silence. “This upper deck is primarily reserved for VIP cabins,” they explained as they put their hand to a scanner beside a locked door. “This one is mine.”

Unity’s cabin was easily ten times the size of my own, with digital windows looking out over a city, a bed large enough for two, and a desk that appeared to be made from real wood. Pictures of people hung on the walls, along with various shelves eclectically cluttered with knick knacks. I wandered up to one of the shelves, peering curiously at a collection of human skulls with holes in their left temples.

“I was wondering which of my things would interest you most,” Unity mused. “I didn’t think it would be my skulls.”

“Sorry to disappoint,” I said awkwardly.

“Not at all, dear boy, not at all!” they replied jovially. “In fact, I’d be disappointed if you didn’t surprise me.”

I nodded politely as they spoke, all the while trying to settle on what to ask first. I needed to impress them, to amuse them, to convince them I was worth keeping alive, but I also burned with genuine curiosity. “My being here didn’t surprise you, did it?”

They chuckled, and smiled knowingly. “A shock, your presence was not.” They claimed an office chair by of their desk, then indicated to a cozy-looking arm chair nearby. “Or you may stand. It seems you’re feeling better already.”

The pain in my ankles was all but gone, thanks to the pills Laurie gave me. I shuddered to think how much they would set me back, but I couldn’t work if I couldn’t walk. Still, I took the opportunity to sit in the worn seat, sinking into the comfortable cushion and crossing my legs. “So... thank you for saving my life.”

This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

Unity leaned back in their chair, lacing their fingers contemplatively across their chest. “You said that already.”

“I wanted you to know I mean it. I don’t like lying.”

“And yet, that’s exactly what you must do to survive, isn’t it?” They raised an eyebrow quizzically.

I shrugged uncomfortably. “I’ll do anything it takes to survive.”

“I believe you,” Unity said seriously. “Your resolve has already been tested, has it not?”

I hesitated.

They saved me having to respond. “Keeping your cards close to the vest, hm? I respect that. We have, after all, five years.”

I cocked my head to the side curiously. “You measure time in Terran years?”

“Come now, my boy, I’m sure you can think of a more interesting question than that. Go on, try again,” they encouraged in a patronizing tone.

I considered for a moment, studying their youthful, wrinkleless face. “How old are you?” I finally asked.

Unity laughed once, slapping their knee gleefully. “Much better! I’m afraid it isn’t one I’m prepared to answer, however.”

I tried again. “What does your implant do?”

“You’re on a roll now! Go on, try one more!” They were grinning ear to ear, as if my questions were meant as nothing more than entertainment.

I tried to suppress my frustration, but it seeped into my words. “What’s the point of asking questions if you won’t give me answers?”

“Now that, is a perfect question.” They paused dramatically, then leaned in close to conspiratorially whisper “Because, if I give you the answers, you may no longer be curious.”

I grabbed my tail, and laid it across my lap before it could betray my ill temper. “I see.”

“Do you see?” Unity challenged.

I thought about it for a moment. “No, not really.”

They waved a hand dismissively. “I’ll explain more in time, dear boy, you have my word. We will have quarterly check-ins. For now, however, there is the matter of our contract.” They turned back to their desk, and opened a drawer, retrieving...

“Is that paper?” I asked incredulously.

“Quite so! I prefer important documents to be signed the old fashioned way, if that’s alright with you.” They passed me a short stack of papers and a stiff plastic board with a clip to hold them, along with an ink stylus to sign them with.

“May I read it first?” I asked.

“You won’t understand it, I’m afraid. There’s a synopsis of the legalese on the final page, however.”

I tried reading it anyway, but found myself going cross eyed and yawning after only a paragraph, and even then I couldn’t understand what it said. I had never wanted to speak to my family’s lawyer before, with his long-winded advice delivered in perfect monotone, but I found myself wishing he was with me. Finally I flipped to the last page, and found clear, easy to understand bullet points.

1. Signatory will faithfully perform the duties assigned by Frontier Federation management, subdivision FFE-1313, and remain in good standing with said management

2. Signatory will accrue no more debt than can be repaid by two quarters’ labor

3. Failure to comply with above will result in contract forfeiture, and signatory will be subject to reassignment by the Unity corporation

“Reassignment? What does that mean in this context?” I asked.

Unity steepled their fingers, choosing their words carefully. “If you break the rules too much, or you fall behind on payments, I will have the legal authority to do with you as I please. Essentially, if you prove to be a bad investment, I will have generous leeway to ‘reinvest’ you.”

I felt sick to my stomach. “That’s... you would own me?”

They nodded solemnly. “I assure you, these clauses are part of nearly every contract these days.”

“It’s disgusting and wrong, and I refuse to sign it.” I thrust the contract back to them forcefully.

“Keep reading,” they insisted calmly. “There’s more.”

I swallowed my feelings, and begrudgingly obeyed.

1. Signatory will be protected from capitol punishment for the duration of this contract, while in good standing

2. Upon completion of contract timeline (GATE ACTIVATION), and total repayment of debt, signatory will be free to choose their path

“Why are the negative terms explicit and the positive ones ambiguous?” I challenged.

“It’s all very explicit in the text, I assure you. This document will protect you from Harlyle as long as you behave, and when this trip is done I will personally see to it that you get to where you need to be. However, neither you nor I know where that is yet.” Unity reclined once more. “If you don’t sign, I can’t protect you.”

“Can’t, or won’t?” I snapped.

“Another good question,” they sighed, “can’t, unequivocally.”

I chewed my lower lip. “Do I have to sign with my real name?”

“Nobody will see this document but you and I. You have my word.”

My hands shook as I stared at the document that could strip me of my freedom. But then... what freedom did I have, anyway? The freedom to be kidnapped? The freedom to be murdered?

The paper felt strange, more resistant than the crystal screen of a tablet as I traced the familiar scribble onto the page.

“Good lad. I advise you to continue to keep your cards close. Your true identity is best kept a secret, for more than your personal comfort.” Unity accepted the document, signed it, and tucked it away in their drawer. “I will speak to you again in two hundred fifty days. Good luck.”

I blinked rapidly, trying to keep tears from forming, and took calming breaths. “I told myself I would never sign something like this,” I said, my voice shaking with emotion.

Unity sighed wearily. “In life, we must make choices that go against our own character, or at least the character we believe we embody. I suppose you never thought you would gouge a woman’s eye out, either?”

I looked up sharply. “How...?”

They placed a gentle hand on my shoulder. “I’m on your side, truly. You may hate me now, but one day you’ll see the wisdom in my actions.”

I shook them off, and abruptly stood. I sniffed, wiped my eyes aggressively, and put on a brave face. “We’ll see about that,” I replied curtly, and confidently strolled out of their office.