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They think I'm going to fail at helping this refugee—this Crulden—but they don't know just how determined humans can be. Riffin calls me repeatedly throughout the night, but I know he wants the kiss I promised in exchange for him getting me a meeting with his boss. Ugh. Riffin is sweet enough, and handsome, but he's a terrible kisser and does nothing for me in the slightest. I've never been a particularly sexual creature, and the few rounds of sex I've had were uninspiring, to say the least. That hasn't changed now that I'm surrounded by aliens at all turns. I know some women find happiness with aliens and there are some happy with their husbands. It's one reason why I've agreed to “date” Riffin. I don't want to be a laundress forever and Riffin wants a human mate. We've had a few dates in Port and every time I try to break it off with him because I'm not feeling it (and I'm really, really not), Riffin insists I give him another chance.
I know we're mutually using each other. I know he likes the “street cred” he gets from the other guardsmen that work at Lord va'Rin's estate. They don't like that the port custodians—militia soldiers of low rank sent to police Port itself—have good relationships with the human females and one's even mated. It's a pissing war to see who can get a human mate first, and Riffin is determined to win. I need to shut it down and tell Riffin he deserves better than a mate who gets grossed out by the thought of kissing him, and I was just about to…except I needed to talk to his commander.
And I've promised a kiss. With tongue. I try not to shudder at the thought. Last time we did that, Riffin blasted his tongue in my mouth so hard I thought I'd choke. It was not fun, and I'm definitely not looking forward to this next round.
But that's something to worry about some other time. I'm going to focus on my job with this Crulden guy, and I'm going to rock it. I don't know if he's alien or just a scarred and somewhat feral human, so I try to prepare that night every way I can. I take a long shower using unscented soaps and pull out a tunic and leggings made of subtle colors, in case brighter shades bother him. I braid my hair back and practice smiling without showing teeth. I dig through my box of “human stuff” looking for the only reading material I have—a comic book in French—and write down lists of songs I can remember from Earth. Music is sometimes a good memory cue, and I want to go in with all the tools I can.
I get a good night's sleep, and when I wake up in the morning, I'm rested, recharged, and ready to go. I dress quickly and head downstairs for breakfast. The boardinghouse at Port is fairly empty right now. It's me and one other woman, a new white woman named Melanie with blonde hair and a bright smile. She arrived last week and is waiting for a farm to be prepared for her. Melanie beams at me from the kitchen table when I arrive, handing me a bowl. "Good morning! You look happy."
"I'm starting a new job today," I tell her. "Social work. I'm helping with a test case and then once I ace that, I'm going to see about helping all the new settlers here."
"That sounds exciting." Melanie's eyes go wide. "What kind of test case?"
"Don't know," I admit. "Some gentleman the garrison has in quarantine because he's not adjusting well." I pile my bowl full of the grain-like porridge mixed with fruit. It's the breakfast here every day, and while it's not exciting, it's food. I remember far too many nights in alien “livestock” pens where we had to fight over small portions, and I'm grateful for whatever we get here. I thump down next to Melanie and begin to eat quickly. "Riffin should be here to pick me up soon."
Melanie gives me a dreamy look, propping her chin up on one hand. "You've really got it all coming together, Bee. You're so lucky."
Am I? Or am I just determined to hustle until it all makes sense? I'm not entirely sure, but I know I can't sit around and wait for the universe to do me any favors. It's already shown me that won't happen.
2
ASSHOLE/CRULDEN
I watch the guardsmen skulk around the barracks, my eyes slitted. I pretend to be asleep, because they let their guard down when they think I'm not looking, or when I'm resting. It tells me everything about the soldiers here, and so I pretend to sleep a lot. My arms are stun-cuffed to one of the bars at the front of the cage, and I know it's so they can shock me into submission whenever they want. Thanks to my last master, though, I've built up a good tolerance to stuns, and now I just pretend they affect me.
