Chapter One
Achelle peered out of a small, circular window as the
limping spaceship finally docked for repairs at an ancient space station that
proclaimed itself Ploice Two in flashing blue block letters. The seal on the
circular port door opened with a hacking cough that turned into a wheeze,
allowing the stale, sanitized air from the ship to mingle with the thick,
polluted air from the station. The resulting smoggy smell forced Achelle to
hold her breath until she was out of the port and into the connect tunnel.
The ship hadn’t stopped at a station for over a month so
Achelle and her fellow travelers, all exhausted, appreciated the opportunity to
disembark—even for a few short hours while one of the ship’s engines was
repaired. She watched their wan faces and stiff frames as they shuffled like
the walking dead into the busy station’s vibrant shopping ring.
As happy as she and the other space-fatigued passengers were
to leave the limping ship, they didn’t have the energy to explore and mingle
with what had to be thousands of other travelers from dozens of foreign
planets. Shoulders sagging, they found what they needed, made their purchases
and shambled back to their tiny rooms onboard.
Achelle forced herself to remain alert, tucking her chin
into her small chest so the long neck and too-large eyes that she’d inherited
from her Rane father would not set her apart from her mother’s people, the
humans she traveled with. She forced her feet to do a slow slip and slide on
the station’s shiny walk surface while her heart pounded out a fast and furious
rhythm made for running.
Unable to hear due to an industrial-sized exhaust fan
whirring a few yards away, Achelle glanced over her narrow shoulder, checking
to see if anyone followed her.
Ploice Two was the lucky station she fixed her hopes on now.
On the last six stations, the only available positions were strippers and
prostitutes. Achelle had nothing against the women who took such positions, but
just weeks ago she had promised her prostitute mother on her deathbed that she
would not follow in the family tradition. This was why she needed to find a way
off the damn ship and away from the obsessed captain who had become
increasingly difficult to fend off.
Flattening herself against the knobby side of a low,
fluorescent-yellow building, she watched with narrowed eyes as two greasy
crewmen from her ship sauntered into the one blue-black bar crammed in among
the expansive yet polite shops. No way was she going into that waste of space.
She could smell the bitter scent of gut-rot alcohol and the bleak smell of
cheap latex and lubricant from her hiding place across the wide walk.
She rubbed at her watery eyes. After so much time on the
spaceship, which employed low, energy-saving lighting, it felt as though the
bright, fluorescing illumination on the station was searing her retinas.
After counting down from ten, she peered around the corner,
anxiously holding her breath until her lungs burned. Finding the way clear, she
took a breath and waited for a small human family of four to draw near, then
stepped in behind the father and blended, pretending to be the eldest daughter
as she decided where to go next.
The squat, spherical clothing store up on the right was as
good a place as any. She pictured herself walking inside the bubble-shaped
building, head held up, hands folded calmly in front of her, a confident smile
plastered on her otherwise desperate face. She would impress the owner with her
sales experience, energy and intelligence.
As she approached the wavering shield doors, her chest
tightened and her hands began to shake. So much rode on her finding a job. Last
sleep cycle, she had barely escaped the large, grasping hands of the infatuated
captain to run and hide the rest of the remaining five sleep hours in a tight
cubby in the grungy children’s play area on deck two.
She shivered in fear just thinking about the towering,
muscular man who she’d
Achelle peered out of a small, circular window as the
limping spaceship finally docked for repairs at an ancient space station that
proclaimed itself Ploice Two in flashing blue block letters. The seal on the
circular port door opened with a hacking cough that turned into a wheeze,
allowing the stale, sanitized air from the ship to mingle with the thick,
polluted air from the station. The resulting smoggy smell forced Achelle to
hold her breath until she was out of the port and into the connect tunnel.
The ship hadn’t stopped at a station for over a month so
Achelle and her fellow travelers, all exhausted, appreciated the opportunity to
disembark—even for a few short hours while one of the ship’s engines was
repaired. She watched their wan faces and stiff frames as they shuffled like
the walking dead into the busy station’s vibrant shopping ring.
As happy as she and the other space-fatigued passengers were
to leave the limping ship, they didn’t have the energy to explore and mingle
with what had to be thousands of other travelers from dozens of foreign
planets. Shoulders sagging, they found what they needed, made their purchases
and shambled back to their tiny rooms onboard.
Achelle forced herself to remain alert, tucking her chin
into her small chest so the long neck and too-large eyes that she’d inherited
from her Rane father would not set her apart from her mother’s people, the
humans she traveled with. She forced her feet to do a slow slip and slide on
the station’s shiny walk surface while her heart pounded out a fast and furious
rhythm made for running.
Unable to hear due to an industrial-sized exhaust fan
whirring a few yards away, Achelle glanced over her narrow shoulder, checking
to see if anyone followed her.
Ploice Two was the lucky station she fixed her hopes on now.
On the last six stations, the only available positions were strippers and
prostitutes. Achelle had nothing against the women who took such positions, but
just weeks ago she had promised her prostitute mother on her deathbed that she
would not follow in the family tradition. This was why she needed to find a way
off the damn ship and away from the obsessed captain who had become
increasingly difficult to fend off.
Flattening herself against the knobby side of a low,
fluorescent-yellow building, she watched with narrowed eyes as two greasy
crewmen from her ship sauntered into the one blue-black bar crammed in among
the expansive yet polite shops. No way was she going into that waste of space.
She could smell the bitter scent of gut-rot alcohol and the bleak smell of
cheap latex and lubricant from her hiding place across the wide walk.
She rubbed at her watery eyes. After so much time on the
spaceship, which employed low, energy-saving lighting, it felt as though the
bright, fluorescing illumination on the station was searing her retinas.
After counting down from ten, she peered around the corner,
anxiously holding her breath until her lungs burned. Finding the way clear, she
took a breath and waited for a small human family of four to draw near, then
stepped in behind the father and blended, pretending to be the eldest daughter
as she decided where to go next.
The squat, spherical clothing store up on the right was as
good a place as any. She pictured herself walking inside the bubble-shaped
building, head held up, hands folded calmly in front of her, a confident smile
plastered on her otherwise desperate face. She would impress the owner with her
sales experience, energy and intelligence.
As she approached the wavering shield doors, her chest
tightened and her hands began to shake. So much rode on her finding a job. Last
sleep cycle, she had barely escaped the large, grasping hands of the infatuated
captain to run and hide the rest of the remaining five sleep hours in a tight
cubby in the grungy children’s play area on deck two.
She shivered in fear just thinking about the towering,
muscular man who she’d
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