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Because Jimmy’s right.
He’s just a little fucking kid.
It takes almost an hour to actually dock with the station. But eventually the green light appears on the airlock, letting us know it’s safe to open the door.
There’s a long, narrow window in our airlock and we’re all looking out of it when the door slides open. On the other side is just a small receiving bay, then another airlock. The readouts all say there’s breathable atmosphere, but we keep our helmets on as we wait for the next door to open.
I’m carrying Serpint and Luck is carrying Draden, because there’s no hope of them walking in their too-big suits.
The ALCOR airlock has no window, so we have no idea what waits for us on the other side.
And I don’t care if I live to be five hundred—or hell, live a thousand different lifetimes—the one thing I never thought could be on the other side of that airlock when it opens is exactly what we see.
A sex bot.
“Welcome to ALCOR Station,” she purrs, stretching out her hand towards Jimmy. “I’m Xyla.”
Jimmy looks over his shoulder at me, grinning like an asshole who just accidentally found the Promised Land.
CHAPTER FOUR
WAYWARD STATION
I didn’t sleep at all that night.
I couldn’t get her out of my mind. I couldn’t get that feeling out of my mind.
What was that? That shudder, that chill, that light?
And a breeding ceremony?
“What do you mean?” Jimmy asks me the next morning at breakfast. We’re in the same dining room. She was just over there. We were just over there.
“I mean… like… we’re supposed to…” I nod my head a little and shrug my shoulders. “You know.”
“Fuck?” Jimmy asks, squinting his eyes at me. “You and her?”
“Yeah. That’s what she said. And when she touched me, Jimmy, when she touched me it was like… I don’t know. Like the station was gonna explode or something. Did you feel it?”
“Feel what?”
“The shaking, you asshole. Aren’t you listening to me?”
“I’m listening,” Jimmy says. “It’s just you’re not making sense. Are you trying to tell me that the Cygnian king brought his daughter-wife all the way here to Wayward Station so the two of you could make babies?”
Then he bursts out laughing.
“Laugh all you want, that’s what she said.”
“OK,” Jimmy says, putting up a hand. “What did your father say?”
“He didn’t say anything. I didn’t tell him. But there is a ceremony today at noon.”
“Hmm.” Jimmy huffs. “We’re not invited.”
“Of course you are. Your father’s the fucking ambassador.”
“I know, but… we’re having lunch with some delegations from Cetus System. So unless your little mating ritual is supposed to be public, you’re on your own.”
“What am I supposed to do?”
“Do?” he says. “You fuck her, what else do you do? And”—he points his finger at me—“you enjoy it. Because you’re never gonna get this chance again, mark my words. There are no Cygnian princesses in your future, brother.”
His father came looking for him after that and I was summoned by my father’s security team to meet him in our apartments.
When I got there the place was crazy busy with people all coming and going and wearing special ceremonial costumes.
“Good,” my father says. “You’re here. Your suit is in your room. Get changed.”
“Hey, uh… so what’s going on today?”
My father, who usually turns his back on me when I have a question, stops and smiles. Puts a hand on my shoulder, squeezing it as he says, “Just a small welcoming ceremony for the Cygnians. Princess Corla will be there. I think the two of you will really hit it off. In fact, I’ve arranged for you to take her to the star bridge and show her around. Then have a nice private lunch in the park bubble. She’s very nice. You’ll love her, trust me. And you have all day, Crux. So just enjoy yourselves. You’ve earned it.”
Trust me? I’ve earned it? It’s not the fact that my father hasn’t said this many words to me in my whole life that bothers me most. It’s the way he says them. Trust me. Earned it. Smiling. Squeezing my shoulder.
“What the hell is going on?” I say.
My father looks around nervously, still smiling. It’s only then that I realize not all these people are our people. Some of them are Cygnian people. “What do you mean?”
I decide there’s no answers coming. Not from him and certainly not here, with them looking at us. So I say, “I better get dressed.”
And I catch him glancing over at the Cygnians and nodding to them just before I turn away.
There’s a suit inside a nyla-silk zippered casing hanging on a clothing tree in the middle of my closet. A tailor has followed me in, but he doesn’t speak my language and I don’t speak his. He unzips the casing and removes a ceremonial suit of red, and black, and gray.
