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The gym is packed with aliens this afternoon. Not that I mind, of course, because these aliens actually remember to re-rack their weights, unlike my fellow Terrans, who also can’t be bothered to wipe down the equipment when they’re done. I’m not sure what it is about my species that makes them feel so damn arrogant all the time, but it’s fucking annoying. Especially when I want to get a solid workout in and they’re all over the place, dropping their weights on the ground and grunting so loudly I can hear them over my music.
Working out today reminds me of how out of shape I’ve gotten. I’ll probably never get back to my Terraball body days, which sucks to think about. Back then, me and the guys were working out and practicing constantly. If we weren’t asleep, we were in the water. If we weren’t in the water, we were at the gym. Every day was predictable, even if the games weren’t. But once I was in the water, nothing else in the world mattered. It’s painful to admit, but I miss it.
A lot.
Grabbing a couple weights from the rack, I find a spot in front of the mirror. As I’m setting up, a Slitheron slides past behind me, carrying a dumbbell with its tail. Thoughts of the Slitheron Aiken killed in the alleyway flood my mind, and suddenly, it’s all I can think about. The way Aiken crushed that guy’s windpipe like it was jelly. The way we just left his body there to rot. Bile rises in the back of my throat as I work through my reps. My taut muscles flex as I keep count, trying to push that guy’s corpse out of my mind.
That isn’t me anymore. That isn’t who I am. It will never be who I am ever again.
One. Two. Three.
But I wonder if anyone found his body?
Four. Five. Six.
Did he have a family? Fuck, I can’t keep going like this.
Seven. I set the weights down and groan, but not from the tension leaving my body. It’s not lactic acid that’s got me wincing, it’s the damned guilt from that night. Yeah, I may have gotten out of that line of work, but I’m afraid my soul’s been blackened to the point it’ll never scrub clean, not in a million years. I could run into a burning building and save a bunch of orphans plus a basket of kittens, and it still wouldn’t be enough.
But what’s done is done, right?
I can’t take any of it back.
I can’t take back any of the killing I’ve done. It doesn’t matter if it’s always Aiken who pulls the trigger or … or crushes their windpipe. I’m complicit. And I have to take responsibility.
But they were bad people who did terrible, terrible things, a tiny voice in my head whispers.That Slitheron Aiken killed? He was wanted in sixteen different star systems for Human trafficking. Sixteen!
Okay, fair. The universe is a touch brighter without that asshole in it. But everyone deserves a fair trial, right? Again, another reason why it was good I got out when I did.
How many criminals have gotten off with a slap on the wrist in the past five years, only to re-offend? Remember that Acara who was arrested, then went on to slaughter an entire preschool?
Fuck’s sake. These intrusive thoughts are getting bad. I wonder if Gabbor Entertainment’s insurance covers mental health? I haven’t looked at the policy closely enough, but I should probably talk to someone about this.
Lifting the weights again, I catch the eyes of a Gorcian in the mirror. He’s similar in stature to Aiken, but instead of the meaty jowls my roommate sports, this guy’s got spiky horns all along his head. It’s enough to distract me for a moment, because damn. Aiken would be so jealous if he saw this dude. Even I’m jealous of this dude.
As I go through my reps, my thoughts finally simmer down and drift lazily to everything from grocery lists to upcoming bills, which leads to me thinking about her again.
Kallista’s been on my mind a lot lately. More than I’d care to admit. Yeah, she’s got an attitude, and sometimes I can’t tell if she even likes me or not, but she’s been fun to work for. Margot, on the other hand, is a huge pain in the ass. Yeah, our industries are different, but I know what it’s like to work with a manager, agent, publicist … the works. They’re not supposed to treat you like dog shit. Kallista doesn’t let anyone but her team—the team that’s supposed to be working for her, not against her—push her around. It’s frustrating to watch.
I don’t think she deserves any of it.
As superficial as she seems, she’s actually kind of funny. I was so sure I’d get sick of this job within twenty-four hours, but I actually look forward to seeing her. Working with her. Protecting her.
Part of me wonders what she’d be like if she wasn’t a pop idol, though. What sort of woman was Kallista before she became the celebrated star princess?
I grunt as I drop the set of weights back onto the rack and turn to go use one of the machines. Distracted by thoughts of Kal, I nearly bump into the Slitheron from earlier. His lizard-like yellow eyes meet mine, and I swallow thickly before muttering an apology. But the Slitheron is evidently having a bad morning, because he doesn’t let me pass.
“Terran shitheeeeeel,” the Slitheron hisses at me.
I roll my eyes and push his bony shoulder, excusing myself in the process. This is not how I want to spend my free time—but evidently this is exactly how my new friend wants to spend his.
“Don’t you knoooow this hour is reserved for otherrrrs?”
I stop, turn, and glare down at the Slitheron. At six-five, I’m a lot, lot taller than this guy, who only comes up to my torso. I’ve got about a hundred pounds on him, too. But sure, it makes perfect sense he’d want to try his luck with me. Why not.
“What do you mean by that?” I grind out.
The Slitheron coils into a pile in front of me like a snake readying its attack. We have plenty of snakes on Terra. They sometimes ended up on the beach during practice, though not often, and we’d have to escort them away by prodding them with sticks. Most aren’t venomous, although if they bite you, it hurts like a bitch. But Slitheron males have enough venom in them to take down a horse.
