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Beside her, a frock coat draped over the railing. Free of the stifling thing, she enjoyed the feel of cool air on her bare arms.
Below, the party continued. Music, conversation, and laughter drifted up. Normally, during the night cycle, a quiet fell over the station, and the usually busy corridors emptied. The lights followed a program to mimic day and night cycles, and while some station operations were around the clock, most everyone followed the day and night schedule with a nine-to-five grind in space. Life was strange and oddly mundane in that way.
Laughter drifted up and grew increasingly louder as the person approached. Lenore didn’t have to turn to know who it was. She recognized Lydia’s overexcited laughter.
Lenore sighed, wishing she had returned to her room instead of taking in the view. Well, it was too late now.
A twenty-something brunette in a red dress came up the stairs, accompanied by a smiling Arcosian soldier in dress uniform. He had an arm slung over her shoulder, holding her close to his side. He stood a good foot taller than her and had a solid build.
“Lenore! What are you doing up here? You’d better hurry up and grab yourself a soldier before all the good-looking ones are taken.” Lydia growled playfully at the man, miming a cat raking imaginary claws in his direction.
Lenore liked Lydia, she did, but Lydia was a lot. Like a lot a lot. She was very much a party girl, which sounded harsher than Lenore meant. Lydia was having fun in college when she got portaled, and the good times hadn’t stopped. She did everything with an enthusiasm that exhausted Lenore. For a few months after Lydia had been rescued, she took an interest in Lenore’s work and appointed herself as Lenore’s assistant. She didn’t have any medical qualifications, but she had a way of putting people at ease that Lenore lacked. She was like having a bucket of pure sunshine and puppies dumped over your head.
“I just needed some air,” Lenore said. “I think I’m going to turn in for the night.”
“Boring.” Lydia rolled her eyes. “I want to study some alien anatomy. Make sure those diagrams are accurate. Right, honey?” She wrapped an arm around her soldier’s waist, gave a comically exaggerated wink, and giggled. Lenore knew exactly what diagrams Lydia referred to, and she was reminded of an old comic about a greedy snake trying to eat an alligator.
Good luck to her. I hope her jaw unhinges.
Lenore took her tab out of her skirt pocket and snapped a picture of Lydia and the soldier.
“What was that for?” Lydia asked.
“In case you get murdered,” she answered.
“I would never harm her,” the man protested.
“Yeah, well, no one announces their murder plans to their victims,” Lenore replied.
Lydia wrinkled her nose. “You’re so square.”
“It’s called being a responsible adult,” she said, slipping her tab back into her pocket. “Have fun.”
“Oh, we will. You should have some fun yourself. You’re too serious,” Lydia said, already walking away.
“Use protection! No one will know what to do with an alien baby on Earth!” Lenore called after her.
Lydia raised her hand in a gesture that might have been rude but also might have been the equivalent of Yes, Mother.
She had to admit she was curious about the anatomical differences. Specifically, one major difference. She studied the same diagrams, listing the differences in Arcosian and human anatomy, from four eyes right down to the two dicks. That was surprising, but she was a professional. All bodies were kind of weird when you got down to it. Arcosian and humans were surprisingly compatible in that regard. She had a handful of patients in relationships with Arcosians. Asking about sexual health and activity was just part of the job. She hadn’t seen an alien dick—or dicks—in person, though.
Maybe she should, for science. Tonight would be her last chance.
Lenore dismissed the idea. Hookups held no appeal to her. She needed to know a person before jumping into bed with them. Not even for science.
Another set of footsteps approached. Not the return of Lydia. The tread was different. She really should have gone to her room. The observation deck was too popular a destination.
Lenore spoke before glancing at the person joining her at the railing. “I believe you owe me an apology?—”
Baris did not look well.
Terrible, actually. Terrible enough to make her regret her demand for an apology.
“Your Majesty,” she added, bowing her head politely and trying her best not to stare. She kept her gaze on the stars.
Since their encounter, Lenore had seen him on the news outlets and in the media. On the screen, he looked fine. Stressed, sure. In-person was a different matter. That night, in the thick of the party, she only caught glimpses from a distance. Tonight, he was dressed in finery, a shirt with delicate lace cuffs probably made from an eye-wateringly expensive fabric spun from spider silk harvested on the night of the summer solstice. The pants were doing their job and looking amazing. His boots were polished to a shine. He was elegance personified, down to the soft black leather gloves.
His silvery gray complexion, however, appeared washed out. The harsh overhead lighting certainly wasn’t doing him any favors. Lines aged his face. He looked ill. Fashion could only distract so much. The difference between the man who carried her through the rainforest and this exhausted man was startling. Lenore wanted to dart forward and demand to know how long this had been going on and what was being done about it.
