Eyes scrunched tight, Monda fought down the waves of panic. The stomach-churning spin of their spaceship attempted to propel her from her seat. The harness-style constraint and her death-like grip were the only things keeping her from being flung around the cabin. The two pilots yelled instructions back and forth, but the small ship continued its spiraling descent.
Open your eyes! Fear sat heavy in her stomach as she raised one eyelid, then the other. The flashing lights and perpetual motion outside the pilot’s window made the queasiness increase tenfold.
The metallic taste of blood trickled down her throat as she bit back her fear, and she flexed her fingers to keep her nails from cutting into her palms.
Mistress Teevac, the woman who had raised her and educated her, slumped motionless across the small ship. The older lady’s head hung low on her neck. Had her heart given up already? No, she lived. Her lips moved in soundless recitation.
Many years ago, Monda had been placed into the tutelage of Mistress Teevac, to train for the time when she would be sold to a new master. Her parents—she no longer remembered what they looked like—would finally receive a large and fair compensation for their youngest daughter. But Monda did not want to be sold to a new master, to serve him and be his mate. She cared not that she had been raised to fulfill such a destiny.
She had often seen couples walking the streets, hand in hand. Smiling at each other. Laughing. Touching. Tisla and Loka told stories they had heard of love, and she hoped her two childhood friends would find such a bond with their chosen mates.
Monda dreamed of a love of her own choosing. She had gone to the sacred altar and prayed to be saved from her arrangement. She had wished it, over and over. Was this…death…really her only alternative?
****
“Why is he here, DJ?” Lieutenant Patrick Lancaster whispered to his co-pilot. He glanced over his shoulder to make sure the doctor hadn’t heard. Dr. Green sprawled at the back of the ship, legs stretched out on the opposite seat. He picked at one of his well-manicured fingernails.
“Malory said she was busy,” replied Lt. Demonna Jansen, her voice barely above a whisper.
Normally the three of them—his co-pilot, DJ; the medic, Malory; and himself—carried out these operations. Everything had changed since the smug doctor’s arrival. Everything.
“Really?” asked Patrick.
“That’s what she said. Although she could just be avoiding you.”
“Thanks,” he said.
“Look, Pat…”
“Never mind, DJ. I get it.”
He glanced at the flashing lights on the control panel. The distress beacon echoed its cry of hope and fear. Outside the window, black ash dotted several of the planet’s low rolling hills while tendrils of smoke spiraled into the purple sky.
“The source of the signal is just ahead,” said DJ.
“Good. Let’s set down here.” The small shuttle, Perseus, descended until it rested in a thick patch of red grass.
Patrick exited the ramp first. He inhaled the strange yet machine-free air. The thrill of the unknown hummed through his body. He held his gun poised and ready, his small team following behind.
DJ stepped down onto the dry red grass. “It looks like a picture of Earth in a coloring book, where some kid got the colors all wrong.” She raised her eyes to the open purple expanse above. “I wonder what color their sky turns at sunset.”
“I don’t know,” said Dr. Trenton Green as he descended from the small ship, “but I hope we aren’t here that long.”
The doctor’s presence blistered like a fire on Patrick’s patience. Would anyone miss the doctor if, by chance, he didn’t return to the ship?
“Hey! Hello!” called Dr. Green waving his arms.
Patrick turned to see a robed shape advancing. He smacked down the doctor’s flapping appendages. “What the hell are you doing? We don’t just go announcing ourselves. We don’t know these people. They could be dangerous.”
“We don’t even know if they’re human,” added DJ.
“First off, if you don’t think our shuttle dropping out of the sky is a big attention getter, then we should talk. Second, I’m pretty sure they’re human.”
Patrick studied the approaching figure. The doctor, he hated to admit it, was right. Although only hands and face were visible, the figure did indeed appear humanoid in form. And female. She bowed her head as she got closer.
“Can we shoot him now?” DJ asked. “The doctor, I mean.”
“Flip you for it,” replied Patrick. If the good doctor left today, he still wouldn’t be off their ship fast enough.
“Greetings,” said Dr. Green. He raised his hand and split his four fingers into the shape of a V.
Patrick sighed. The doctor’s reference to the almost two hundred-year-old television show lacked humor.
“Asshole,” murmured DJ.
The stranger lifted her head and Patrick’s breath caught. Porcelain white skin, unmarred by sun or blemishes framed full red lips. Larger than normal blue eyes turned to stare into his own, bright blue eyes, surrounded by long blue lashes, and perfectly arched, thin blue eyebrows.
“Greetings,” replied the stranger, her voice soft and song-like. Their portable language translators would be unnecessary.
“You speak English,” said the doctor.
“I speak the language of my people,” she replied matter-of-factly. “My name is Monda.”
“I am Doctor Green, and these are my…associates.”
“I’m Lt. Lancaster.” Patrick swallowed attempting to rid himself of the dryness in his mouth. “And this is Lt. Jansen. We’re here in response to a distress beacon. Is it yours?”
“Yes, our ship malfunctioned,” replied Monda. “We crashed just around the hill.”
“Are you okay?” Patrick nodded to the red streaks of blood that painted the knees of her shapeless tunic. “Perhaps the doctor should take a look.”
“I am fine for now. A small cut to which I have tended. The pilots are both dead. Mistress Teevac, however, is alive, but she is seriously injured.”
“Okay then,” said Dr. Green, “take us to your leader.”
Patrick stared at the doctor. If looks could kill, buddy, I’d leave your corpse here to rot in the grass.
“What? I’m not joking,” said the doctor. “I mean, okay, maybe a little. But isn’t that where we want to go?”
DJ shook her head. “We’ll follow you,” she said to the other female.
“Certainly. Come.” Monda turned and proceeded back the way she came.
No buildings in sight, vegetation grew sparsely except for the dry grass crunching under their boots. As they rounded the hill, the damaged vessel came into view. Sunk deep in the ground, the small door peeked out like a child covering his eyes for a game of hide and seek.
“How many of you were on the ship?” Patrick asked as he kept pace with the exotic outlander.
“At the time of the crash, there were four. There were two others when we left our planet, but they were both joined. I am the last one left.”
“Joined?” whispered DJ, but Patrick shook his head and ignored his co-pilot’s question.
“And where were you headed?” he asked.
“I do not know. Mistress Teevac does not tell us where we are destined. We were on our way to my new master and mate.”
“But you don’t know what planet he is on?” Jansen asked from behind. “Have you ever met this new master?”
“No, I do not and have not,” Monda replied. “I am a sensor. Mistress Teevac is my guardian, and she managed the arrangements.”
“A sensor? Like an empath?” asked DJ.
Monda stopped and turned to the female lieutenant. “I am sorry, I do not know the term. But here, may I?” Monda extended a slender, pale hand and held it inches from Jansen’s face.
Demonna nodded, and Monda took a deep breath.
“You are brave. You would kill me without a second thought if I were to attempt any harm to this man.” She opened her eyes and studied Patrick, then glanced back at DJ. “For the doctor, however…”
“Okay. Enough,” said DJ as she stepped away. “We get it. You’re what we would call an empath.”
“Or a mind-reader,” offered Dr. Green, with a sneer to the female lieutenant.
“No, I cannot read thoughts. Only emotions and intentions.”
“Well, as for Lt. Jansen shooting you”—Patrick aimed a reprimanding look at his co-pilot—“you don’t need to worry. We’re here to help.”
“It is understandable. None of you mean any harm, although some of you feel your need to display aggression more strongly than others.” She glanced from Patrick to Jansen and back.
His pulse raced as her big blue eyes took hold of him. Why did she seem to stare longer at him? Reading his intentions? Perhaps she lied about reading minds. They needed to proceed with caution, just in case.
“We should take a look at this Mistress Teevac,” Dr. Green said.
“Yes, of course.” Patrick turned to the doctor, forcing himself from Monda’s hypnotic gaze.
The group walked in silence, and when Monda stopped outside the small ship, Patrick flicked his head in the direction of the opening. DJ cautiously entered the precarious craft.
“It’s a bit of a disaster in here, sir,” the co-pilot said, sticking her head out the door, “but I think the doctor and I should be able to get…our patient…out.”
“Do you need my help?”
“No, sir, we can manage.”
DJ withdrew into the ship, and the doctor followed.
Twice the size of the Perseus, the small craft’s design suggested farther travel than their shuttle. A long impression carved into the grass identified the angle of the craft’s approach. The pilots were either very lucky or extremely skilled.
“Where will you be taking Mistress Teevac and me?” Monda asked.
“To our ship. We’ll be able to help you and your friend there.”
Monda glanced back in the direction of the small shuttle.
“Not that ship,” he said. “The Perseus is just a shuttle. Our ship, the Zeus, is orbiting above.”
She peered up to the empty sky and back at him. “Will we be returning here?”
She appeared at once as both a strong woman and a frightened child. The instinct to protect her stirred to his core. “No,” he said, “but we will make sure you and Mistress Teevac are taken care of.”
She nodded. Did she sense the truth in his words?
“Would I be allowed to bring my bag with me?” Monda asked.
“DJ said it is a bit of a mess in there. Think you can find it?”
“I do not believe it will be a problem.”
“Okay then, but be careful.” His gaze followed her every movement until she disappeared into the ship. He surveyed the landscape. Black smoke from the ship’s crash continued to spiral to the sky. Neither bird nor creature stirred. If other humanoid life forms lived here, they remained hidden.
A couple of minutes later all three emerged. The doctor and DJ carried the shuttle’s provisional stretcher on which lay a woman Patrick assumed to be Mistress Teevac. Like Monda, the injured female wore a long beige tunic, but unlike Monda’s, brightly colored geometric designs decorated the older woman’s clothing. A makeshift bandage had been wrapped around her head, and a trail of blood disappeared into her collar.
“She’s bleeding internally, and I’m concerned about the cut on her head,” said Dr. Green. “We need to get her back to the Zeus quickly.”
“Let me help,” Patrick said to his co-pilot, and reached a hand toward the stretcher.
“I got it, sir,” she said.
Lt. Demonna Jansen might have been just over five feet tall, but people who knew her seldom underestimated the petite female.
He ignored the doctor and turned instead to Monda and the large hide bag she carried. “May I carry that for you?”
“Thank you.” She held out the satchel, and Patrick found his gaze drawn to her pouting red lips.
“Sir,” said DJ, breaking his trance.
“Right. Let’s go.” He shifted the gun to one hand and took Monda’s bag with the other. Shocked by the weight, he adjusted his grip.
The small party of five slowly made their way back to the Perseus. DJ and the doctor carried the injured woman aboard the waiting shuttle.
“You are uncomfortable about something,” Monda said as Patrick halted at the bottom of the ramp.
You could say that. What would be the best way not to offend their beautiful guest?
“Yeah, well, we need to search your bag and, um…make sure you personally aren’t concealing anything…dangerous…before we let you board the ship.”
Her bright blue eyes studied him. Hopefully she could sense he meant no harm.
“I understand,” she said.
“I’ll do it. I am a physician after all,” Dr. Green offered as he and DJ came back down the little ramp. Patrick wanted to punch the man. Doctor or not, he seemed a little too eager for the pat down. No, it would not be that prat!
Patrick pulled him aside. “Look, she seems okay and all, but if she is rigged with explosives or something under her…”
Green held up a hand. “Good point. Say no more. You should do it.”
Patrick clenched his teeth. Selfish prick. He doubted the attractive female posed any threat. “DJ, do you mind?”
“No, sir,” she replied. “No problem.”
“Of course she doesn’t mind,” said Green.
Demonna spun quickly to face the doctor, her gun poised at her hip. Patrick shot her an admonishing look, and she wrinkled her nose back at him.
“Dick,” she whispered to the doctor. She lowered the gun to hang from the strap on her shoulder. “Around here,” she said, and guided Monda behind the small craft as the doctor climbed the ramp back into the shuttle.
Patrick quickly searched the large bag. For someone headed to a new home, it contained very little. A few clothing items, a brush, a couple of toiletry items, and several large books filled the bag. Well, at least he knew what contributed to the bag’s excessive weight. Nothing, however, appeared out of the ordinary or dangerous.
He wiped the sweat from his brow as he waited on Monda and DJ. The heat of the planet reminded him of summers in the south. Standing five minutes in the heat, however, won hands-down over spending a single minute inside the small craft alone with the arrogant doctor.
“She’s clean, sir,” said DJ as the two women came back around.
“Okay then, let’s get aboard.”
He extended an arm, inviting their guest to go first. Monda smiled and his chest constricted again.
Monda froze, the smile sliding from her face.
With lightning speed, he released his gun and caught the beautiful alien as her eyes rolled back in her head and she fainted into his waiting arms.
****
Monda woke to a pounding in her head. She surveyed the strange silver and white room. What? Wait! Ahhh, yes. She had been talking to the attractive male—Lt. Lancaster, yes, that was his name.
She reached up to the source of the pounding. “Help! Someone!”
A female, dressed in a short white tunic and white leg coverings, hurried around the curtained sleeping area. “What’s wrong?” the stranger asked.
“My cowl! Where is my cowl?”
The female regarded her quizzically. She wore no cowl herself, nor had the female, Jansen, whom she met earlier.
“My head covering. I cannot be seen like this. If Mistress Teevac were to see me…” A rope of panic began to knot in Monda’s stomach.
“Don’t worry. It’s here. I’ll get it.”
The strange female reached into the small chest next to the bed and removed the cowl.
Monda took the obligatory garment and quickly arranged it on her head, her hair safely hidden away as it must always be if males were present and she were not yet mated.
“I’m sorry. You had a head injury we had to examine. It appears that, along with the heat and all the excitement, is what caused you to faint. We didn’t realize the importance of your…?” The women scrunched her face and searched for the word.
“Cowl.”
“Cowl,” the female repeated. “I’m Malory, by the way.”
The curtains surrounding the bed swung aside, and Dr. Green entered the space.
“And how is our patient today?” he asked.
Had her head injury caused any damage to her sensory perceptions? She concentrated on the emotions in the room. No. From the female, Malory, radiated an intense attraction and something close to worship toward the doctor. From Dr. Green came an extreme sense of self-pride and arrogance, with an element of physical desire toward the woman in white.
Not mated, but…involved. Did Malory realize her feelings far exceeded those felt by the doctor?
Leave it alone. It is not your place.
“Malory, maybe you could find some food for our visitor,” the doctor said without glancing at the woman.
“Certainly, Dr. Green, I’ll be right back.”
The doctor studied the machine imbedded in the wall. Colored lights flashed, and a tiny beeping noise echoed repeatedly.
Did his appearance pass as pleasing on this planet? Malory’s emotional projection said she certainly thought so. Monda wrinkled her nose. She did not find the pale color of his hair to be appealing, and the faded blue of his eyes gave him a rather sickly appearance.
Now he, however…
Lt. Lancaster stopped at the foot of her bed. His dark brown hair, cropped close to his head, accented a square jawline, and his unforgettable eyes were the deep rich brown of the sacred swasi tree’s bark. She watched the two men, light and dark, exchange words. They acted as friends, but an air of mutual dislike hung thick.
“How are you feeling?” he asked her when the doctor retreated beyond the curtains, leaving the two of them alone.
“Fine, thank you,” she replied. “I did not get a chance to ask the doctor, how is Mistress Teevac doing?”
“Still unconscious, I’m afraid.”
Why could her own circumstances not be different? This handsome man radiated a presence both safe and strong. Perhaps her future mate would make her feel as protected.
“Do you feel well enough to answer a few questions?” the lieutenant asked.
A heady scent surrounded her as Lt. Lancaster stepped closer. “Yes,” she replied with shallow breath.
“You said you were on your way to…to your new mate, but had no idea where you were headed?”
“That is correct.” She smoothed the front of the crisp white gown she now wore.
“Is Mistress Teevac your mother?”
“No,” she said. “It was discovered when I was a young child that I had the ability to sense the feelings and intentions of others. At that time, my parents fostered me into the care of Mistress Teevac. She raised me and others like me. She worked with us to improve our abilities. We are hers until a suitable joining is made.”
“Your parents sold you to this Teevac?” His brow folded in on itself, and his mouth turned down at the edges.
“No.”
“Good.”
“No currency changes hands until I am delivered to my new master. At that time, Mistress Teevac receives payment. In turn, she will transfer a portion of the payment received to my parents.”
A scowl marred the handsome lieutenant’s face. Her nerve endings tingled as his need to protect grew fiercer. Should she be honored or concerned? “I said something to upset you?”
“People are not bought and sold on my planet.” Although his voice remained neutral, his displeasure rippled through the air.
“Teevac fed me and clothed me. She educated me and bettered my life and that of my family. Do you not pay for such things in your world?”
“Well, yes and no. We pay for education, but not in the same way. And when our education is over, we may choose where we go.”
“And you chose to be on this vessel?” Things did not feel as straightforward as he seemed to be saying. I need to learn more about this man and his strange world.
“Again, yes and no. I chose to be a soldier, but those in command tell me where I go.”
“It does not sound so very different.”
The silence grew. Had she said something to offend him? Maybe that was why Mistress Teevac always reminded her to stay quiet and observe.
“I’m back,” announced Malory returning with a tray of food. The air which had been growing tense, suddenly changed. Lt. Lancaster’s mood shifted from anger to uncertainty.
“Hello, Malory,” he said.
“Hi, Patrick,” Malory replied as she raised a small table next to the bed. She placed the food upon it. “What are you doing here?”
“I came to see how our visitors were doing.”
Lie. Well, partial lie. What had she expected? Of course he had feelings for someone. Please let someone as kind and handsome be waiting for me wherever my new life may take me.
Conflicting feelings of desire and doubt grew within the small enclosure. Monda picked up the long green food item and brought it to her nose. Did Lt. Lancaster know about Malory and the doctor? She dropped her eyes to the tray. Stay quiet and observe.
****
“Thank you for offering to show me around the ship, Lt. Lancaster,” said Monda. She felt much better today. Her head no longer hurt, and Malory had cleaned and pressed her blood-stained tunic.
The lieutenant stopped by yesterday, but the doctor had insisted she remain in the infirmary, and so it was with great pleasure that he had returned today to take her to the evening meal. Of course, her gratitude existed not just because of the outing itself, but due to the company of the handsome male.
She walked attentively, absorbing everything around her as they traversed the many corridors that made up the maze of the ship.
“My first name is Patrick. You can call me Patrick or Pat, instead of Lt. Lancaster all the time.”
She did not yet understand the nuances of the name game among these people, but Malory had called him Patrick so it must be acceptable. “Thank you…Patrick.”
They passed a small grouping of people, and then a second. “There are a large number of inhabitants on this ship. Is this your home always?”
Although she spent much of her time at Mistress Teevac’s compound learning to read, cook, and sew—and of course enhance her sensory gift—the apprentices also spent a great deal of time outside in the garden and playing games. She would miss the feel of running barefoot and the wind against her face. But then, she had no idea what her final destination might be. It, too, could be a space ship, or she could end up on a warring planet where her time would be spent shut away in caverns or rooms.
“It seems that way,” Patrick said, “but no, this is just a job. The Zeus is a relocation ship. We transport people from one planet to another. We don’t need much of a crew when we have no passengers. There are usually about a dozen, twelve, of us. We’re in the middle of a relocation right now which is why there are so many.”
“And your tribe, and that of Lt. Jansen, is identified by your dark shirts and leggings?”
Everyone at the compound dressed in lose fitting tunics and robes, and all the unmated women wore cowls. She had been educated that true beauty lay within one’s self. Appearance—one’s hair or face or body—should be unimportant. Did Mistress Teevac truly believe her own teachings? Perhaps she simply taught it to the younger sensors so they would willingly accept whoever they eventually joined with.
“Tribe?” Patrick repeated glancing down at his clothing and laughed. “No. Jansen, Captain Joseph and myself, we’re soldiers. These dull, monotone clothes are standard issue uniforms. We dress like this to show we are working.”
“But Malory and Dr. Green, are they not working with you?”
“Malory is the ship’s medic. People in medicine seem to wear white, although I’m not sure why with the blood and everything.” He shook his head. “She’s in charge of the infirmary when Dr. Green is not here.”
Ripples of emotion shifted rapidly as he spoke of Malory and then of Dr. Green.
“People do not like Dr. Green.”
“People?”
“Yourself. Lt. Jansen. A few others.”
He laughed, but it lacked any humor. “So it’s that obvious? Well, Dr. Green is not one of the crew. He’s one of the people we are relocating.” He stopped suddenly, a frown marring his brow. “He’s just an annoying ass who can’t stay out of the way.”
A door hissed open, and several people came out. One of the females had bright red hair; not as vibrant as Tisla’s, but it brought back memories of home. She missed her friends. Had Tisla and Loka met happiness on their new worlds?
“Come on. In here,” Patrick said, and she followed him through the door which the group of people had just exited. His spicy scent paled at the sudden olfactory assault.
The room held many more people than she expected. Long tables ran in rows, with benches on each side, and people squeezed together along the tables.
“So, what would you like to eat?” Patrick asked handing her a tray similar to the one she had used in the infirmary.
A line of food lay out before her. Except for the white, grain-like substance, she did not recognize anything from her previous meals. At her noon repast, Malory had given her something called a ham-sam-wish. It tasted quite good, but she did not see any of those. She inhaled deeply trying to pick out the smell of something she might recognize.
Patrick chuckled. “Okay, let me help.”
He picked up a spoon. “This is rice.” He put a scoop on her plate. “You will eat a lot of this on the ship.”
Rice. The same grain from last night. Bland but palatable.
“This is meat,” he said, offering up another food item. “I can’t tell you what it is exactly, depends what planet we got it from. But they say everything tastes like chicken.” He chuckled.
Chicken? Whatever that was, it must be funny. Hopefully it tasted good.
He scooped a third item on her plate, but he did not know its name either. A vegetable of some sort, he said. It looked similar to gumwee but smelled much stronger.
“And this, this is ice cream. Or at least something pretty damn close.” He placed a small white dish on her tray. “You’ll like it.”
With her tray full, Monda followed Patrick past several of the tables.
“May we join you?” he asked, and Monda smiled when she saw Lt. Jansen.
“Please do,” said the friendly pilot.
“Greetings, Lt. Jansen.” Monda slid down the bench toward the familiar woman.
“You can all me DJ, if you’d like.”
“Would it be all right if I did not?” asked Monda. She hoped not to offend her new friend. “DJ sounds a lot like deeja which on my planet means to bring back up that which you just ate.”
“Ew, yuck. Ok, how about Demonna then? Demonna…like Donna.”
“Thank you, Demonna.”
“And this is Sergeant Winnie Clark.” Demonna introduced the woman who sat across from her. The two women were dressed alike.
Monda sensed immediate doubt from the stranger. What had she done wrong? Do not let the feelings of others influence you. Be open and approachable. Words she had grown up with.
Like Patrick, the female had dark hair and eyes which reminded her of home and the swasi. Unlike Patrick, however, the deep rich brown of the sacred tree also colored her skin.
“Greetings, Sgt. Winnie Clark. I hope it is acceptable for me to say, but your coloring is beautiful. I have seen no one else on the ship with such lovely skin.”
Sgt. Clark smiled, her bright white teeth breaking the darkness of her complexion. “That is a perfectly acceptable thing to say.” She slid over to make room for Patrick. “Please join us. And call me Winnie.”
Voices, loud and plentiful, rung in Monda’s ears, while dozens of emotions buzzed around her head like persistent insects. If she concentrated on the hum of a particular person nearby, she could focus on their feelings and intentions. Demonna’s air read as open as the woman herself: proud, loyal, and trustworthy. Monda believed the woman’s offer of friendship to be genuine. Winnie’s air suggested someone more guarded, and a little less sincere in her friendliness. Her reading of Patrick, however, came across less focused. Brave and protective, his confidence would often blur with uncertainty, his loyalty with doubt.
And confusion. Did it belong to Patrick or herself? She had never experienced the sensation before and would have to ask Mistress Teevac about it when the teacher healed.
She glanced down at the plate of food. It appeared equally as confusing. The eyes-cream started to liquefy, so she picked up one of the utensils and began to eat. Delicious. Would they let her have more when she finished? She devoured it with a ravenous hunger, looking up when Winnie and Patrick started to laugh. All three of her new friends stared at her.
“So you like it, do you?” Patrick smiled.
“It is very delicious. May I have more?”
“Yeah, sweetie, but you have to eat your veggies before you get another dessert,” Winnie said with a chuckle.
Monda’s brows knit in confusion. She turned to Demonna.
“Dessert—ice cream—is something we eat as a treat at the end of our meal,” Demonna explained.
Monda put the spoon down. Had she offended her new friends? She lowered her eyes to her plate.
Patrick put a light hand on her arm, and she jumped at the contact.
“Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I was just going to say that it’s not usually done, but you don’t need to worry. I know a lot of people who would like to eat dessert first. Especially with some of Chef’s meals.”
She studied Demonna and Winnie through lowered lashes. Both women smiled and nodded in agreement. She relaxed and released the breath she did not realize she had been holding.
Her arm continued to tingle where Patrick had touched her. She tried to forget the feeling and focus on something more important. Specifically, which item to eat next.
Meals were quiet occasions at Mistress Teevac’s, not so on the Zeus. Her dinner companions regaled her with tales of planets they’d visited and the various peoples they met. She listened in fascination and awe, her life boring and cloistered in comparison.
Captivated, she sat riveted by Patrick’s every word. Not just because of her attraction to him. His stories were honest, interesting, and often funny. Winnie and Demonna were likewise amused, Winnie wiping away tears of laughter at more than one of his stories.
Monda told a few stories of her home, but remained quiet for most of the meal, trying to learn and absorb from the conversation.
“Ugh, I can’t stand that man,” Demonna said through gritted teeth.
“Who can?” replied Winnie, and Monda turned to see Dr. Green entering the room.
“Malory seems to be the only one,” Monda answered. “She likes him very much.”
“Really?” said Winnie laughing.
“Oh, yes. She gets playful and extremely aroused every time he comes by.”
“Fuck!” Patrick said.
The word sounded like a curse. He glanced quickly up at her and then back at his tray, but her heart froze in those mere seconds. The previous lightness of the evening, vanished.
“I gotta go.” Without saying another word, he slid off the bench, picked up his tray, and left.
Confusion, both Patrick’s and her own, washed over her. “Did I say something wrong? I spoke only the truth.”
Winnie patted her hand. “Let’s just say everyone on our ship isn’t as open to the truth as they should be.”
****
Patrick stood outside the door and shifted from one foot to the other. Why had he been so rude last night? Monda had not meant to upset him. She’d only spoken what she sensed. Something he knew deep to be the truth. Wasn’t it time he accepted it?
He had acted like a child, running back to his room, and then he sat on his bed unable to concentrate on the report he’d been reading. His thoughts kept returning to Monda. He’d seen confusion in her beautiful eyes immediately following his outburst. She’d done nothing wrong.
And then today, images of her kept popping into his head. He watched for her at evening meal to apologize, but she had been and gone.
He swiped his hand in front of the orb and waited. The door slid open, and his chest constricted. His breath cut short.
“Lt. Lancaster,” Monda said, “how may I help you?”
“First, please call me Patrick.”
“Patrick,” she said with a smile, “how may I help you?”
“I…I thought maybe you would like to finish our tour from last night.”
Where had that come from? He had planned to simply apologize. And yet this felt better. It felt right. He would amend for his rudeness.
“I would like that very much, Lieu…Patrick.”
The floral hint of her perfume enfolded him as she exited the room. He shoved his hands in his pockets and forced his cement laden feet to move. He fell into step beside her, a comfortable peace surrounding them. They walked in companionable silence.
When had he last felt so at ease?
“I want to apologize for yesterday, at dinner. I shouldn’t have walked away like that.”
“Why do you agonize over her the way you do?” Monda asked.
“You wouldn’t understand.”
She stopped and placed a delicate hand on his arm, withdrawing it quickly. His breath caught at her slight touch.
“I might if you would explain it to me,” she said, her big blue eyes peering up at him.
“I thought at one point she was…interested …in me. But then that idiot Dr. Green came along…”
“If her heart moved on to another so easily, then it never truly was.”
“I know, it’s just…” Just what? Stupidity?
“You are only but beginning to see what the universe holds. I am sure there are many females out there who would be honored to win your interest.”
“We’ve got a ship full of people now, but there aren’t normally too many of us. It’s not like I’ve got a lot to choose from. What am I supposed to do, start dating an alien or something?”
Two orbs like ocean whirlpools, only brighter, began to swirl. He watched her wipe away the silvery tear.
“Shit, Monda. I’m sorry.”
Her face more angular than most. Her lips, full. A constant pout, like she waited to be kissed. When he looked at her big blue eyes and long blue eyelashes, he thought exotic, not alien.
“Monda.” He reached to wipe the tear. No, it was not his place. He shoved his hand into his pocket. “I didn’t mean you. I don’t think of you as alien. I meant other aliens, like the green guys from Salvador. Have you seen them? About a meter high with pointed teeth. You can’t tell the males from the females except when they have their armor off.” He wanted to pull her into a hug. To comfort her and show her how sorry he felt. But she was promised to another, and while he might be an idiot, his mother also raised him as a gentleman. “Really, Monda, I’m sorry.”
“I know,” she whispered.
“What I mean is you’re an alien but not an alien. You don’t look like an alien. Of course any guy would be honored to have a girlfriend like you.”
“Any guy, but you.”
“No, that’s not what I meant.” He’d be honored to be with her, but the stars had something else in mind. Instead of helping the situation, he made things worse. He’d hurt her. Again. Hopefully her pre-arranged mate…God, he hated that term…hopefully her future husband would see her beauty and cherish her as she deserved.
****
She stared up into Patrick’s eyes. Deep inside she believed him, but her mind reeled with confusion. Why could she not read him?
People on her planet—Mistress Teevac, Tisla, and Loka among them—had always complimented her appearance. Eyes too big, brows too narrow, she did not see the same thing when she studied her reflection. But they all recognized the futility of lying to another sensor.
Strong, with broad shoulders, and a handsome face, Patrick’s deep soulful eyes and tender manner spoke of so much more. She had been taught appearances had nothing to do with love or happiness. Who knew what her future mate might look like? She did not have a choice. She had been taught to accept whatever life presented her.
What would Mistress Teevac do if she knew of Monda’s reservations and uncertainty? Could there be a punishment worse than been mated to someone you cared nothing for and knew nothing about? Fear began to overshadow her doubt. What did life have in store for her when Mistress Teevac awoke?
“Hey, you two, heading for the movies?”
Monda swallowed her apprehension and turned to see Demonna approach from the adjacent corridor. Her friend no longer wore her uniform but instead wore a type of legging that Monda had been told were called jeans. She’d observed no other long tunics on the ship, most women favoring leggings, jeans or panz. Her new friend glanced back and forth between them, and frowned. Did Demonna sense their silent struggle?
“Movies? What are movies?” asked Monda.
“Actually, I’d forgotten about it.” Patrick turned. His smile, somewhat strained, lightened the tension. “Would you like to go?”
“I do not know what this movie is?”
“A movie is something we watch, for entertainment, out here in the middle of nowhere,” he said.
“And it’s a love story, for Valentine’s day,” said Demonna.
“Valentimes?”
“Don’t worry. You’ll love it,” Demonna added. “And if you think ice cream is good, wait until you try buttered popcorn.”
Monda glanced to Patrick who smiled again and nodded. His friendship, although confusing at times, seemed sincere. The heavy weight in her chest released its shackle-like grip.
“Yes,” Monda said, “we would like to movie with you.”
“Well then, come on, kids.” Demonna continued down the hall and Monda fell into stride beside her, Patrick’s footsteps echoing behind.
They returned to the same room where they ate their meals. All the tables had been moved out of the way, and only row after row of benches remained. The aroma of something much more pleasant replaced the smell of the evening’s dinner. She inhaled deeply.
“Popcorn,” said Demonna. She grabbed two small bags off a cart by the door, and handed one to Monda.
Monda lifted the bag to her nose. It certainly smelled good. She picked one of the puffy, pale pieces and tentatively placed it on her tongue. Rice, eyes-cream, and now popcorn. Maybe she would stick to eating the ship’s paler foods.
“So, whaddya think?” Demonna asked.
“It is very delicious.”
“Told ya.”
Demonna raised a hand to wave, and Winnie, already seated, returned the gesture. Monda shuffled along behind Demonna, careful not to bump the knees of those already seated.
“What are these?” she asked, the plastic crinkled in her hand as she picked up one of the tiny packages that were spread along the bench.
“Sweet hearts,” replied Demonna.
Monda wrinkled her nose. She sat down, Demonna on one side and Patrick on the other side. Hearts? To eat? The popcorn smelled much more enticing.
“Candy hearts. They’re good. And they’ll tell you your heart’s desire.” Winnie smiled and twitched a single eye.
Again, the noisy hum of voices surrounded her. Oh, for the quiet of home. And yet, the air of the room vibrated with joyous expectation.
Suddenly darkness enveloped the room. Monda tensed anxiously in her seat, and stuffed the bundle of candy prophecies into the pocket of her tunic. Silence and anticipation, not panic, descended, and she held her breath. What next? Perhaps she did not want to experience this thing called movie.
“Don’t worry,” whispered Patrick. He lightly laid a hand on her arm, and she jumped from the emotional shock of his touch on her skin.
And later, when her hand brushed against Patrick’s as they reached for the popcorn at the same time, her pulse raced to a dizzying speed. She froze rigid while her heart calmed and the blood quieted in her ears. Had Patrick felt it too? She glanced casually at him—his silhouette highlighted by the movie’s bright light—but he appeared unaffected, and she could read nothing from his emotion.
Obviously created to elicit an emotional response, the movie had indeed achieved its emotional goal, both within the audience and herself.
Her head spun. Overwhelmed and drained, she sat surrounded by sensory overload. The polar opposites between her own life and that of the female in the movie did not go unnoticed. Free to choose her mate, the woman sampled relationships with various men until she met the one with whom she wanted to spend her life. The female, however, had been unhappy for most of the movie, anxious to find the man of her destiny. The woman should have been happy she had any choice at all!
Oh, if only she had a choice. She glanced again at Patrick. What good would choice be? His heart obviously belonged to someone else. His breathing and posture tensed as Malory and Dr. Green exited two rows in front of them. She could not have him, but she wished she could help him.
“So, what did you think?” asked Demonna as the room’s lighting returned to its normal intensity.
Monda remained seated with her friends, while others in the room began to exit. With the audience’s departure, her emotions returned to normal. Or at least what normal had become since she arrived on this ship. “I do not understand why it took so long for the players to recognize each other as their true mate; why there were so many obstacles put in their way.”
“Because that is what life and love is. It’s never an easy road,” said Demonna.
“She should have been happy she even had a choice.” Monda bit her lip. She would have to watch what she said and thought when Mistress Teevac recovered.
“Well, I think she should’ve picked Hank,” added Winnie, licking the butter off her long pink nails. She made the act seem intimate.
“He was not very nice,” Monda said, focusing her thoughts on the movie.
“But he was super hot,” Winnie replied. Again she twitched her left eye.
“Appearances are unimportant, if there is no beauty within.”
“What if the person is capital U”—Winnie’s head bobbed as she spoke—“U-G-L-Y?”
Monda followed Demonna’s example and rose to leave. “I have heard some of the women say Dr. Green is attractive, but I find him to be self-centered and of high ego.”
“Well, that is something I think we can all agree on,” chimed Demonna.
“Even you, my little chi-chi?” teased Winnie.
“Who you calling chi-chi?” replied Demonna, her face looked mad, but her voice and air suggested otherwise.
“What is a chi-chi?” asked Monda.
“It’s a joke Demonna and I have.”
“And a lot of people wouldn’t get away with it. When I call Winnie chi-chi it means stylish. When she says it, it means…” Demonna pursed her lips in thought.
“It means she prefers Miss Mary over Mister Buddy,” Winnie offered with her customary laugh.
“I do not understand. Who is Miss Mary?”
Demonna leaned in and whispered. “It’s a term my grandmother used. It means I prefer relationships of the sexual nature to be with other women instead of men.”
“Is that an issue on your planet?” Monda turned to her new friend. She still had much to learn.
“Some people try to pretend it’s not. But some people are still…” Demonna shrugged and tossed another piece of popcorn into her mouth.
“Old-fashioned?” offered Winnie.
“I was thinking close-minded,” said Demonna, “but sure.”
“We are trained to be physical with both males and females,” Monda said.
“What?” Demonna’s hand froze on its way into the popcorn bag.
Winnie’s bright eyes grew bigger. “Pardon?”
Even Patrick, who had remained quiet so far, turned. “What?” he said, echoing Demonna.
Was this one of those situations where she should have listened and not talked? Too late now. “We are trained in ways to pleasure both male and female. We never know what our future roles will be or the preference of our eventual mate.”
“So they could hook you up with another female? I like it,” said Demonna. “Very forward thinking planet.”
“They could, but they would probably arrange for someone who prefers females to be mated to another female. No offense, but for intimacy I prefer males.” She glanced at Patrick and then back to Demonna. “I have never participated in the act which leads to reproduction. I have seen it done, but I have never been allowed to join. Many males like their mates pure and experienced at the same time. There are many other ways to please a man, such as…”
“No, no, that’s okay.” Patrick raised his hand in a gesture she knew meant stop. “I think…I think I’ll leave you ladies here. Good night, all.”
Had she said something wrong again?
“Party pooper,” admonished Winnie as Patrick left the movie room. “This night was finally starting to get interesting.”
Winnie and Demonna did not seem offended by her confession. Perhaps they would help her learn the intricacies of relationships on their world.
“What is the situation between Patrick, Malory, and Dr. Green?”
Winnie laughed. “You picked that up, too, eh? Guess you don’t really need to be a sensor to get that one.”
“He did say something about it before, but…” She followed the two females to the exit. The doors hissed open, and they stepped into the cool air of the hall. She followed them through the bleak, stark passage ways.
“Patrick really likes…liked…Malory,” Demonna said. “And it appeared she liked him too until the good doctor came aboard. Suddenly she didn’t have the time of day for poor Patrick. Seems she prefers the abrasive doctor over the lieutenant. Bad choice if you ask me.”
“I think his interests may be changing,” said Winnie.
“So, you see it too?” said Demonna.
“See what?” asked Monda. Sometimes their conversations left her puzzled. Tisla and Loka never caused such confusion.
“I think Patrick’s feelings may be shifting from the toxic Malory to you, our lovely newcomer,” Winnie said.
“I do not know.” Monda shook her head and sighed. “He is…a blank to me.”
“You can’t be serious.” Demonna stopped and Monda almost bumped into her. “Can’t you sense how he feels?”
“All I feel when he is around me is…strange.” And…and something more, but she could not put a name on it or explain it to her new friends.
“Well, you’re promised to someone else. He’s probably afraid to say anything, assuming he even recognizes it himself.”
“This is you, hon.” Winnie stopped in front of Monda’s room. “Sweet dreams.” She did the one-eye-closed thing again.
Monda would have to ask Demonna about the twitch. It seemed to be something Winnie could control. Hopefully it meant something good.
She entered the strange chamber they had allocated to her. Her single bag, the only remnant of her home world, still sat at the foot of the bed. Her head spun with the emotional turmoil of the movie, the thought of leaving her new friends…and the suggestion that Patrick might be interested in her.
If only she had such a choice.
Few males lived at Mistress Teevac’s, and none had appealed to her in that way. Not that she would have been allowed more than friendly contact. There had been the pleasure-teachers, and while Tisla had found one highly desirable, Monda had been paying too much attention to the lesson to notice the male’s facial appearance.
It was not until the presence of Lt. Patrick Lancaster that her desire for choice—her wish for a different fate—had been substantiated.
Would her new master be as attractive as Patrick? As charming? She would not mind being bonded to someone like the handsome lieutenant. Stop it! You have no control over your future, you silly female. Had she not heard similar words often enough when the teachers caught her day dreaming? She would have to go wherever Mistress Teevac delivered her and she would do her duties, whatever her new master required of her.
The room, like her life, seemed to close in around her. She struggled to breathe.
She waved her hand in front of the monitor, and the door hissed open. She stepped out into the cool, open hall. There were some things she could control.
****
Patrick leaned against the door and studied the bare walls of his room.
What the hell was going on?
He had to accept she was taken. Why did he have to be attracted to unattainable women?
First Malory. Now Monda.
What had he seen in Malory? He knew little of Monda but suspected she would never be so callous with someone’s affections. That would be a lucky thing for the man that waited for her on the unknown planet.
Monda had some kind of spell over him. He felt joy through her eyes, the newness of her experiences. Ice cream. Popcorn. Movies. So innocent. He felt like an anxious school boy around her.
Except for her comment. She’d been trained in sex. When she said that, he felt all man. His body’s response immediate. Something else she would share with another man.
He banged the back of his head against the door. Okay, that hurt. And it didn’t resolve anything.
He squinted at the foreign object under his bed, and bent to retrieve the tiny plastic package. It must’ve fallen from his pocket.
Women often turned to chocolate and candy to help with their moods, maybe they knew something he didn’t. He undid the ribbon and the tiny candies tumbled onto his bed. Two pink hearts faced up. He read the tiny print. Soul Mate and New Love. He reached for the blue heart, and flipped it over. Love Her.
Okay, that didn’t help. He needed to clear his brain. He quickly changed into shorts and running shoes.
He set a steady pace. His steps resonated in the quiet halls while his thoughts echoed in his brain.
Well, it wasn’t like he was a virgin.
And it wasn’t like he was ever going to be with her.
But damn! He’d been sneaking peeks at her during the movie, her big blue eyes focused on the screen. And yet, soon she would belong to someone else.
He came into the large open sky deck, the roof an expansive and uninhibited view of space above. Sometimes the view took his breath away, but not tonight. Instead, his breath caught because of her. He froze.
Monda turned, and his chest constricted again.
“Hello,” he said and walked to the bench by which she stood.
He saw the silvery tear sneak out of the corner of her eye. Was this his fault? He reached up to brush it away. This time he didn’t stop. His hand caressed her cheek, and she turned her face into his palm.
“What’s wrong?” he asked. How useless the question sounded.
“I am lost. I feel like a tiny speck floating in an unending universe.” She peered up into the open sky above. “Not knowing where I am from or where I am going, and unable to control the path on which I travel.”
“What can I do?” What could he do? To protect her? Comfort her?
He leaned in and kissed her. Certainly not what he had in mind, but when she kissed him back, nothing else mattered. Her lips were indeed as soft and inviting as he imagined. Her body melded to his, and he crushed her tightly to his chest.
She parted her lips slightly, and his tongue sought the sanctuary of her mouth. When she moaned, all the air seemed to be sucked from the room.
Her hand pressed gently on his chest, pushing him away. He took a deep breath to replace the air that had been stolen.
He turned at the pounding footsteps of another midnight runner, and then turned back to Monda. A small smile tugged at her lips—and at his heart.
“Thank you, Patrick,” she said, as if the kiss had provided the answer to an unasked question.
He stood and watched her leave. If only there was something more he could do.
****
She perched on the edge of the small chair, her hands clenched tight in her lap, her eyes following the dancing lights on the monitor behind Mistress Teevac’s head.
What would Mistress Teevac do if she knew Monda’s feelings? Would the elder sensor read her doubts and fears? Her desires? Could she read them now from her current state? Dr. Green called her condition a coma.
And if not her mind, would her body betray her? She could not control her sweating palms or staggered breathing when Patrick was near, nor the strange shock that raced through her when they touched.
Would Mistress Teevac know that Monda had awakened last night to dreams of Patrick, her hands feverishly touching her pleasure spot? Would her mistress know about the kiss?
Mistress Teevac once so large and powerful now looked fragile and weak. On their planet, no such machines existed. When it was one’s time to leave the physical body, one was not forced to stay. If not hooked up to these machines, Mistress Teevac would have likely succumbed to her injuries.
If she were not hooked up to these machines, Monda would be free. Free to live her own life. Free to choose.
****
Monda believed death to be the only salvation from the path that life had chosen for her. But she had always assumed it would be her death. Instead, the sudden passing away of Mistress Teevac had granted her the freedom she desired.
When Captain Joseph, stern yet fatherly, stopped by her chamber, she had been fearful. She had no idea whether the Zeus travelled closer to or farther away from her home world. What if they wanted to return her to Uuripita? What if they thought she had a part in the Mistress Teevac’s sudden passing? But, no. He offered his condolences and then made her a proposal she had not expected. Since they had no idea of her original destination, she could choose to be relocated with the ship’s current passengers, or if she wanted, she could stay on board. He might have use of an empath.
She stopped and passed her hand in front of the monitor. An electronic eye toggled back and forth, and the door hissed open. Demonna stood on the other side.
“Hey, I just heard. Sorry for the loss of your…friend,” said Demonna.
“She was not my friend, and I…I am not sorry.” It had been the wires and fluids keeping Mistress Teevac alive. It was better this way.
When she sensed no judgment from her new friend, she continued. “This is the first time in my life when I am truly free to do what I want and make my own decisions.”
Monda stepped back and let her into the room.
“Do you have something in mind?”
“I would like to borrow clothing.”
Demonna let out a short laugh. “Well, you’re too tall for any of my clothes, and except for our quick pat down on the planet, I don’t even know what size you are under your tunic.”
Monda lifted her hands and removed her cowl. She shook loose her long wavy hair.
“Wow!” exclaimed Demonna.
“That is good, right?”
“Your hair. It’s blue. And it’s beautiful. It sparkles. I mean, literally. It really sparkles.”
Monda ran her fingers through her hair. The strands caught the light and threw back shimmering waves. She warmed at the expression on her friend’s face.
She undid the ties and shrugged out of her tunic, letting it fall to the floor.
“Holy shit!”‘
“Shit is bad, right?” Monda looked down. Was her body really that offensive to these people? Based on the actors in the movie, she had not thought herself much different physically from the females on board, but maybe she had overlooked something.
“Usually, it’s bad. In this case, it’s good.” Demonna smiled, and Monda relaxed. “I’ve got an idea. Put all your stuff back on, and let’s plan your unveiling for tomorrow night.”
“Pardon?” She stepped back into the discarded garment and pulled it up over her shoulders.
“I’ll get you clothes for tomorrow, and it will be perfect. We’ll be arriving at Neroon in the afternoon. It’s a planet like you’ve never seen. Like Vegas meets Disneyworld.”
Monda’s brow knit in confusion. Would she ever understand these people?
“Don’t worry. Just plan to be here tomorrow after lunch.”
****
“Who did you get those from?” Monda studied the garments spread out on Demonna’s bed.
“Winnie lent them to us.”
“I was not sure if she liked me. Her air…” How could Monda explain something so complex? It had taken her years to learn the subtleties of people, and yet she still found herself confused sometimes.
Demonna laughed. “She doesn’t like anyone who might be more attractive than her, but she isn’t interested in Patrick…”
“I did not say anything about Lt. Lancaster.”
“Uh-huh.” Demonna rolled her eyes. “Anyway, she dislikes Malory, that’s for certain.”
“Why?”
“Aside from how she hurt Patrick, Malory used to date Winnie’s brother or something. Winnie always refers to Malory as Maleficent, after an old story book witch.”
Monda picked up a small triangle of thin black cloth. Made of fine fabric and full of tiny holes, the beautiful workmanship could not possibly offer any warmth or protection. “What is this?”
“That’s a thong. Underwear. You wear it under your pants.”
Monda examined the item. “Do you wear thongs like this?”
“My undergarments have a little more to them. Winnie pays a lot more for her undergarments and gets a lot less.” Demonna picked up another item of similar material. “This is a bra, it goes with the thong.” She held the garment to her chest and Monda understood its purpose.
“It goes under your clothes, too?” Monda asked. She had never owned or worn items of such beauty.
“Yes.”
“Why would anyone want to hide anything so lovely?” Theirs truly was a confusing world. “Does everyone wear them?”
“Well, most women do, although perhaps not this pretty or expensive. It’s kind of expected. Don’t worry, it won’t go to waste completely. Winnie’s given you a sexy sheer shirt for over top. Go ahead and try them on.”
Monda reached for the ties on her tunic, and her friend turned to face the wall.
“You do not need to turn around, Demonna. I feel no shame for my body.”
“I wouldn’t with your body, either. Just let me know when you’ve got them on.”
Monda held up the thong and twisted it in several directions, trying to figure out the correct way of wearing the garment. This appears right. She stepped into the thin triangle of cloth. She picked up the second piece. A bar. No…bra. She slipped her arms into the item, and pulled it up to her breasts.
“Okay,” she said.
Demonna spun around. “Turn, and let me do it up for you.”
The two straps pulled tight as Demonna hooked the item behind her back.
“Finding pants was a little harder. Give these a try.” Demonna held up a pair of leggings. “They have some stretch to them.”
This item was much more familiar. Although Monda herself never had need of leggings, many women on her planet wore them, especially while working. They fit well.
She reached for the black top Demonna had referenced. It was indeed sheer. She could see her new friend through the insubstantial cloth.
She slipped it over her head. “I am done.” I think.
Demonna turned once again, and smiled. “Perfect.” She picked up the discarded robe and tossed it on her bed. “Take a look.”
Monda turned to the reflecting glass mounted on the wall.
“There is a gap between the top and the bottom.” She pulled on the short tunic.
“No problem. Lots of people dress that way.”
Really? She pursed her lips and tried to recall if she had seen anyone on the ship in such attire.
“Captain Joseph has a few dress code rules we adhere to when on board and out of uniform. An effort to limit the fraternization between the crew. You’ll see women wearing a lot less on Neroon, guaranteed.”
“Will Winnie not want these clothes for tonight?”
“You don’t think Winnie would give you her best stuff, do you? She has plenty to choose from. She’ll be fine.”
Monda glanced again at her image. A strange yet lovely likeness reflected back at her. Please let there be others dressed the same.
“And for the finishing touch, Winnie is lending you these.” Demonna held out a box, and slowly lifted the lid.
“Ohhhh,” Monda purred, “just like in the movie.”
“Yes. And because they are sandals, we’ve got a bit of leeway if they don’t fit.” Demonna put them on the floor. “Go ahead, try them on.”
Monda slipped the high sandals on her feet. Assuming they were to fit her feet exactly, they were a little too long.
“Try walking. Can you do it?”
It took a little effort to balance, but after a couple of stumbles, she figured out how to hold her feet and ankles in such a way as to support her use of the shoes.
“Okay, I’ve got one more thing,” Demonna said. “Come on. Sit down.”
Monda sat at the small table and chair positioned below the reflecting glass. Demonna had pushed aside her books and papers to make room for the tiny tubes which now lay there.
“Turn around and close your eyes,” said Demonna. “And trust me.”
She had no reason not to trust her new friend, and she did as told. Open your eyes. Close your eyes. Purse your lips. Something Demonna called “blotting.”
Whatever Demonna had put on her eyes made them feel sticky and heavy, but she said the liner and maskair would dry soon.
The waxy stick she had rubbed on her lips smelled nice, but tasted horrible when she licked her lips.
“Okay, turn around,” Demonna ordered.
Monda stared, stunned by the image reflected back at her. She’d noticed many of the women on the ship used similar items to highlight their features. Demonna had enhanced her eyes and lips, and somehow lengthened her lashes. She leaned closer to the mirror and blinked.
“Sooo?” Demonna waited, her air anxious.
“I look…different.”
“Good different?”
“Yes, good different.” She blinked her heavy lashes again. That must be why Winnie did the one-eye thing. “Thank you, Demonna.”
“Any time. Now let’s go find Patrick.”
Monda started to argue, but Demonna sighed and shook her head.
Careful not to trip in the borrowed sandals, Monda followed her friend.
She struggled to keep up as Demonna marched purposely through the corridors. Not until Monda stumbled for a second time, did Demonna shorten her stride.
A large crowd had gathered in the loading area, but Monda quickly picked out Patrick’s dark head. The rapid beat of her heart in her ears drowned out the excited voices that surrounded her. She inhaled a steadying breath.
“Relax.” Demonna patted her hand like a child.
Monda stood frozen as Demonna walked ahead to Patrick.
Go on, silly girl. She followed slowly behind.
“Hey DJ, did you talk to her? Is she com…?” He looked past Demonna’s shoulder and stared at Monda, mouth open.
Her fluttering heart froze. Remain calm. Read the air. You can do it.
And suddenly, she smiled. The happiness and attraction Patrick aroused in her came back on the waves of the handsome lieutenant’s emotions. “Hello, Patrick.”
“Monda, you look…beautiful.”
Her heart swelled, not just at the words but at the emotions which rolled through the air with them. “Thank you,” she managed.
“I’m sorry to hear about Mistress Teevac.”
She felt no sorrow from him. Then again, her feelings were not much different. “It is better this way,” she said. “She did not suffer.” That, at least, was true.
“What will you do now?” he asked.
Now she read sadness. Not at Teevac’s passing, but at what? The thought of her leaving?
“The captain has asked me to stay. I said yes.”
“I’m glad,” he said.
Relief and…something else she did not understand…radiated off Patrick and washed over her. Feelings of safety and contentment and belonging surrounded her once again.
“Would you do me the honor of letting me escort you around Neroon?” he asked.
Her heart swelled. She nodded, afraid her voice would fail her.
Patrick reached over and took her hand.
“Well, it looks like my job is done. You kids have fun.” Demonna hugged Monda and scurried away.
Monda stood blissfully happy next to Patrick and waited. She reveled in the feel of his cool, strong grip. He felt safe, like…like home.
The doors to the shuttle slid open.
“Let’s go,” he said.
The previous confusion, gone, she laced the fingers of her left hand with his and boarded the small craft, ready to begin a new life of her own choosing.
Her right hand rubbed the words on the tiny candy heart she clenched tightly. All three of her candies had said the same thing, Real Love.
A word about the author…
Charlotte Copper lives in Stouffville, Ontario— that’s in Canada, eh—where she is suffering from a recent case of empty nest syndrome. When she isn’t working at her full-time job, Charlotte likes to craft, read, go to movies, and, of course, write. Charlotte hopes to have all of her stories published some day because, as a romance writer, she believes in happy endings!
http://charlottecopperauthor.com
charlottecopper.author@gmail.com