Content Warning: Incest
*
The emergence of a ship from whitespace can be felt a million miles away.
Sol Station
would shiver every time as the shockwave passed through. Ripples in the fabric of space and time, the M-dimensional equivalent of a stone thrown into a lake. After a while, there is calm again, but the stone has passed from the air of whitespace to the water of real space. To travel through whitespace is to fall, and the sensation is like that instant between precipice and climax.
There is no corresponding climax on reemergence into real space, only the yearning for one. No matter that the fall lasts the merest fraction of a second, it leaves the body crying out for that moment of ecstasy. Like a cruel, cosmic joke.
But if, in the privacy of your quarters, you can bring yourself to that precipice of pleasure at the very instant of transportation, then ahh... Words cannot describe.
*
Space gets you in funny ways. I don't mean major things like the yearning to hear English spoken or the hunger for Earth-grown fruit, or even the simple desperation to see a face that isn't in some fundamental way alien. All of that is inevitable, and a sacrifice I had been willing to make. I don't even mean the punishment your body takes just
existing
in high gravity (with the added frustration of an environmental corset and the extreme effort of sex with a whole crew of horny, curious and very well endowed aliens).
No, it's things like realising that you've run out of clean underwear and there's no handy shop where you can get more, and no preexisting designs in the ship's library for easy autofabrication, and you're faced with negotiating with a mostly unfamiliar species for a laundry service, because it will take more than a scrub in the sink to clean your delicates of oils and other sexual fluids.
It's watching a movie (yes! they have actual movies!) with your fellow travellers and finding that even with real-time translation that none of it makes any sense. It's gaping in wonder at a planetary system with three stars, and having no one to share that moment of awe. It's wondering if anyone appreciates just how damn sexy your new shoes are, and just how challenging it is to wear stilettos when you're twice your normal weight and shaking with fatigue - call me a fool for wearing them at all, but I love my designer (regulation-compliant) heels.
Part of a trinary system, Uko'Atala-Baki is a red dwarf in distant orbit about a pair of orange dwarfs. So far away, in fact, they are no more than bright stars, light itself taking more than a solar day to span the distance, but they are visible during the day from the surface of Mendar, an Earth-like planet in close orbit about its star. Uko'Atala-Baki may be a lot smaller than Earth's Sun, but it is huge and red in the skies of Mendar.
For the first time in my life I was on a truly alien world. The gravity was higher than I liked, but it was a blessed relief after a month aboard the Dakstra vessel. The atmospheric pressure was higher than I was used to, and the oxygen-nitrogen ratio too, but it felt like freedom - and the exotic scents of the native vegetation were a constant astonishment.
Uko'Atala-Baki - or, to give it its designation in Earth's astronomical catalogue: Gliese 667 C - was the first stop on my grand interstellar journey. It is the nearest major trading hub to Earth, being a mere twenty-two lightyears away, and acts as a form of interchange for travellers such as I. An obvious first place, in other words, for Humanity to establish a presence outside the Solar System.
I rang the bell on the Consulate's door, and when at last it was answered by a young man with disbelieving eyes, I said: "I could really do with a bed for the night."
To my eternal gratitude, he asked no questions and soon had me installed in a guest room. I think I was asleep before I even hit the sheets.
*
There were two of them when I awoke, drinking coffee at a table in the kitchen. The Consulate on the inside was arranged and decorated so much like a house back on Earth it was surreal. The textures, the colours, the smells. The floor was tiled but warm. The walls a neutral magnolia. The ceiling bright as if with diffuse sunlight. The young man who had opened the door for me the day before looked up and smiled. "Sleeping Beauty awakes!"
"I'm not so sure about that," I said, squinting from the excessively cheerful brightness. I hadn't bothered to shower or dress or anything. I'd just grabbed a bathrobe from my chest - which had been delivered to my room while I slept - and pattered down the stairs with the intention to beg for coffee. The smell was incredible. "Any chance of a cup?"
The young woman bounced to her feet. "Of course!" The two of them were very similar in appearance, with dark hair and dark eyes, and similar in age. Late thirties at a guess. I wondered if they were a couple, but no. "I'm Alessandra De Rosa," she said. "I'm the Consul. And this is my brother, Angelo."
As she handed me a hot mug full of rich, black coffee, her eyes were drawn inevitably to the smooth translucency of my prosthetic hand, and she glanced down at my matching feet, one flesh and blood, the other a state-of-the-art prosthesis.
Noting belatedly that my colour had returned to pale neutrality, I shifted my skin to a chequerboard pattern of black and white. I'd been scarlet all over since leaving
Sol Station
, because the Dakstra had insisted on it. (My hair was still scarlet and in desperate need of some tender loving care.)
"Sam Jones," I said. "Thank you so much for letting me stay last night."
"But of course! You are welcome to stay here. Do you know how long it is since we last saw a human face?"
"Three months," Angelo supplied.
"Three months," Alessandra echoed. "Forgive me, but is it true? You are a ship's whore?"
I stepped closer to her and murmured, "Is that a problem?"
To her credit, she didn't back away, and didn't blush. She just watched my chameleon skin changing, perhaps examining the pattern for imperfections. "Impressive," she said. "You're the girl Thomas was working with?"
"I'm not a girl, but yes."
She raised an eyebrow, but didn't pursue it and instead smiled. "Welcome to Mendar!"
*
In practice, most of the trade is conducted in high orbit about the outer planets. Mendar itself is a colony world home to some ten thousand Tajari and a mixture of other species - diplomats, logistics representatives, travellers, scientists, and so on. The Tajari themselves are mostly forest dwellers, their homes scattered about the planet and lost amidst the silver-blue vegetation. They have long, slender bodies that vary in colour, two eyes on stalks, and eight long serpentine limbs ideal for wrapping around branches. They clothe their bodies generally in hooped, multicoloured wraps and their language is one of sharp, rapid ticks.
"How much are the oranges?" Alessandra asked a fruit-seller in English. After a second or two, the Tajar replied in its language, and the device in Alessandra's hand translated into English. "I'll take twelve." She tapped her wristband against the till to exchange credit as the Tajar collected the dozen orange fruit into a net bag.
She'd taken me out to show me around Mendar's one and only town and spaceport. She told me about the history and politics of the place, pointed out a dizzying variety of visiting aliens, brought me to the market to shop for food and drink, found someone to bleach, mend and style my hair - I opted for blonde with rainbow highlights - and finally to a local Tajar craftsman who sold fabrics and made bespoke clothing.
This last, however, surpassed the limits of her translator. Alessandra laughed apologetically. "We've never needed to buy clothing here before, and the translator is still learning English."
"Don't worry about it," I said. "Why don't you head back to the Consulate. I'll look around for a while."
"Are you sure?"
I nodded, and we parted with a friendly wave. Grateful though I was for her help, I didn't want her to know the translator in my head made hers look like a child's toy. Indeed, I had an alien intelligence sitting in the dusty corners of my mind, an echo of the Gnafr I had made love to at Neptune. And the Gnafr had no difficulty translating and communicating my words.
I stripped naked in front of the Tajar craftsman - whether he was male or female or some other gender I had no idea - and said, "I need underwear. Specifically knickers." I indicated the shape and function, and did not object as the Tajar explored that same region with two tentacle-like arms. Despite having had enough sex in the past month to last a lifetime, the mood enhancer ensured that my instinctive sexual curiosity never damped out entirely.
The Tajar, however, kept it professional. "I understand," he said. Taking a square of material, he cut and stitched a functional if inelegant thong. A few adjustments later and it fit perfectly. "How many would you like - and what materials?"
"Gossamer thin, and every colour under the three suns."
He made a sound that could only be laughter - it didn't translate. "You are not like the others."
"No," I agreed. "Business is their pleasure, but pleasure is my business."
*
The oranges, of course, were nothing like Earth oranges. They weren't even citrus fruits, more like bread soaked in something syrupy with a hint of cinnamon. "Weird," I said, "but delicious."
"I adore them," Alessandra said. "They're completely edible too. No toxins or anything." We were alone in the Consulate's kitchen, gorging on the morning's haul. "I always wanted to go into Space. It was my dream. I studied science and languages, law and diplomacy, spent three years shuttling back and forth between Earth and Mars practising commercial interplanetary law, and finally got a position with the Space Guild's Extrasolar Survey Group."
I was impressed. I'd made it into Space by turning myself into a medical experiment and selling my body to any and all. "Thomas always says there are two halves to the ESG: Down to Earth, and -"
"Lost in Space," she completed with a laugh. "I'm definitely the latter. Three years ago, I came here as Deputy Consul - basically what Angelo does now. I was so excited! I was going to do so much. Negotiate trade deals, forge alliances, make a name for us on the galactic stage..."
She smiled wryly. "Truth is, Earth's a backwater planet. We've managed to get into Space, but we're nothing more than ignorant countryfolk gawping at big city life. We lack real currency, and survive on charity. For now all we can do is watch from the edges. Listen and learn." Shrugging negligently, she added, "It's a pretty good view."
"That it is."
"But it can get lonely. Even with Angelo here. We so rarely see other people, and never someone like you."
I raised an eyebrow. "Someone like me?"
"I'm not really into women, but..." Alessandra pressed her hands to her face as if to hide her blushing cheeks. "Maybe it's just that I haven't had sex in three years, but I can't stop wondering what it would be like with you." Perhaps to mitigate this confession, she added hurriedly, "I know Angelo feels the same way."
