She spent her time drawing, working out. Quietly sneaking to the mess hall in off hours and scooping up the ready-made snacks there. She occasionally ran into others in the hallway. She just bobbed her head respectfully and rushed onward. She was either ignored entirely or stared at heavily. But no one intercepted her, or attempted conversation. The staring was contradictory; making her feel at once desired and disgusting. 

Of course, she’d felt that from human men before. How their noses would go up, their eyes hooded. But they didn’t stop looking, either. Rather similar now. Like being a coin dropped on a particularly disgusting street. Almost valuable enough to get your hands dirty, but perhaps not worth the trouble to clean up, either. And the contradiction frustrated them even more. That was the best way she knew to describe the feeling. 

She heard excitement in the hallways as they grew closer to landfall. She was at least slightly curious. She’d never had much opportunity to travel on Earth. The way Mars was discussed was as a planet at once both cosmopolitan and outlaw. There had been Martians, of course, but long, long extinct. It was terraformed by and for humans, centuries after the last Martian bones had turned to dust. And then, of course, even the humans had died off. Going further out in the universe. Going to the wars. Returning to Earth to die there. Her understanding was, that even though very few humans still lived there, it was described as “culturally” human. Which made the various races currently living there their own all-new sort of society. It was a waypoint, a congregation of forces and factors and species. The idea excited her. Considering there was no real “culture” on Earth any more, Mars was like a secondary home… especially for the humans who had no home at all. Like she herself. 

The terrific but somehow still mellow thhhhhhud of the ship coming to was startling. It felt like missing a step as you walked down stairs. A startle, but not particularly heavy. Something that gave you pause. But she realized it was just because the total journey had obviously had no stop, no impediment. So merely feeling the engines come to a rest was an all-new sensation. Far more mild than lifting off. 

She’d wrapped things she wanted to keep up in Jack’s soft cotton shirt in another makeshift bindle. And then she sat on the floor. She wasn’t precisely sure what landing would look like. How it would process. Jack had told her little to nothing. Just that he’d come retrieve her, transfer the remains of her promised funds to her, and they’d separate. 

But she had an idea.

For a little over an hour, she sat on the floor. Listening to bustle and excitement out in the halls as she sat silently. No one checked in on her. No one knocked or bothered her. She didn’t know whether or not she expected anyone to, but she was concerned that someone might attempt to be “helpful” in off-boarding. But she seemed to be forgotten. Or, at least, finally less interesting than freedom. 

There was finally the gentle blip sound of the call-pad on her door. She went over to the lens to check it out. No’ahz. 

She opened up for him. She sensed in the air how empty the ship was. Everyone had streamed out. The ship was dead for the first time. Metal cool and empty, engines still. 

“I thought you might be doing a final walk through of the ship,” she said, trying hard to hide her triumph. 

“I am, indeed. Why are you still aboard?” he asked.

“Waiting for you,” she said.

“To what purpose?” he asked, coming further into the room, coming close to her for the first time since the tribunal.

“To ask you where we’re off to next, cowboy.” The translator, unable to conjugate such an anachronism, output the simple, familiar word.

Warrior.

Part Two

“We do have to leave the ship,” he said, picking her up. This time cradling her to his chest the way she liked, not that pettish grasp he’d done out of the mess hall. “The company will be sending in new teams of Z-Tics to decontaminate and prepare for the next launch.”

“I know,” she said, nuzzling into his shirt and breathing deep.

“And we shouldn’t exit together,” he added, crushing her a little closer.

“I know,” she agreed again. “But we could meet up… someplace. You’re not shipping out right away? We can… discuss… things.” 

“I do not ship out right away,” he said, sounding mild. “There are some places that are… distasteful… Near the docks. Where we would be… Unquestioned and untroubled, even being seen together.” 

“Docks are always the province of desperadoes,” she said, almost laughing. “Tell me where to go and then meet me there.” He thought for a moment, almost rocking back and forth with her.

“The good doctor is staying at the Shturman Benbrow Inn… Which has a… reputation. But he likes to enjoy his furlough… And it is a safe place for the unwanted and unusual,” he said, speaking slower than usual, picking his words. 

“I’ll be at the Shturman Benbrow Inn. I’ll get a room for the both of us–” 

He was clearly about to interrupt, claws sinking heavily into her soft parts, the click of his teeth as he was about to object. 

“Hush,” she said. “I have the money and I need you. Don’t deny me.” 

“Fine,” he said. 

If she’d been alone, she would have clapped over his capitulation. 

“Continue on past the mess hall,” he said, gesturing in that direction. “You’ll walk for thirty minutes or so. None of the auto lines are operating any longer… everyone else has already disembarked. You’ll be following the outer-curve of the ship– only one direction to go in. When you get off board, you’ll be in Martian station. They’ll look at your pass, but frankly, they pay little mind to the humans. Humans are still… the originators of today’s Mars. Say you’re here for pleasure, and you don’t intend to stay. This is a normal and expected answer for a human– especially an Earth human. When you finish customs, go out-of-doors. If you tell a transporter the inn name, they will bring you there. Outside of the station is the primary city of Mars– Albedo. Built for travel, business and pleasure. Keep your eyes open, but in general, it doesn’t behoove Martian citizens to cause you any trouble. Be more concerned for other off-planet individuals… People like us, in other words. Stay away from uniforms, or anything that looks like a–”

“Tourist,” she said, almost laughing. 

“Tourist,” he repeated, that clik whirr of the translator going. “Yes, tourists.” 

“Soon?” she said.

“Very soon,” he promised.

So she gathered her little bundle of found things, and started the walk off ship.

Walking out into Martian station was shockingly undifficult. Less hard than leaving the cargo hold or the cabins, even. Much like how walking into the tribunal had been nearly boring, it was the same with the spaceport. Bustling, but in an exhausted way. Many aliens, more even than she’d seen in the mess hall. But tired-looking and uninterested. Sitting and standing and pacing or hurrying to other places. Everything was gray and dusty red in here. Except as she moved further away from the boarding areas, there started to be screens and advertisements for things on-planet. Places to see and things to do. Mostly appearing “unsavory” which made her excited, worried and feeling oddly like home. She was also surprised to see a good deal of Mandarin, Spanish and English. She saw one sign in Refaite, but nothing else. 

Everything seemed a little dingy, a little old, however. Not bad, simply not updated. 

Finally reaching the exit, she stood, back sealed to the building for several minutes. Getting a grip on herself. For the first time in months, she wasn’t enclosed. When she looked up, there was sky. Open sky. A great bowl of atmosphere over her head. The fact that she was on a planet, and not simply breathing recycled oxygen was obvious because wind whipped heavily, even around the building. She also felt dizzyingly light. She knew the gravity was less, but hearing the stats, and feeling them were a very different matter. It made her dig her fingers into the poured walls behind her. As though she’d float off. She knew she wouldn’t, but still. It made her feel almost empty inside. 

She stood there, coming to grips with the fact that she was no longer on Earth for twenty minutes or more. Glad that everyone was ignoring her. Firstly, it meant that her freaking out wasn’t visible, or at least, was of no import or interest to anyone else. Secondly, she was glad to not feel any of that somehow-lewd curiosity. 

She didn’t like that she was feeling relief to see no humans or Grays, either. 

Finally, she started watching those around her. Plenty were simply walking out the doors and into the road. She couldn’t be far from the city-center. But No’ahz had told her to get transport. The process wasn’t all that different from the cityscape of home. People walking out the doors, stepping to the edge of the road and getting the attention of transporters. Mostly single person hover seats. Many with rigged up luggage holders. Looking haphazard and old. Like in trade cities, everything seemed chip-based. Everyone simply tapping for payment. Most hover chairs had maps screwed to their sides. Physical maps, updated seemingly at the whims of owners and users. Things crossed out, notes made, annotations added. In a hundred different languages and alphabets. 

She was beginning to feel breathlessly nervous. Hating the helplessness she was feeling. She’d never felt this on Earth. Even when she was in trouble, even when she was unsure, she wasn’t incapable of action. Unwilling to admit to herself just how damaged she’d been by Jack and his actions. 

Finally, she stepped up to the road. Glancing to her left and right. On one side of her a Tent’ on the other, two Venusians. She watched the Tent’s lower left tentacle flicker out and a hover chair stopped alongside it. Belching something like exhaust, though it shouldn’t. As he stepped into the chair, dust filtered out around him. Everything butterscotch-ocher and dry around her. 

She watched the Venusians strapping something into a larger cab. Saw everyone tapping their embed chips, or embed chip cards, to the fronts of the transporters. The Venusians leaned forward to speak a destination, presumably. The Tent’ simply tapped a map in front of him with the delicate tip.

She waved like the Tent’ had. A two-person transporter stopped, so she stepped back. Tried again, and got a single-seater. She didn’t want anyone to join her, or try to split fairs. She wasn’t sure if that would happen, like it happened on Earth, but she didn’t want to start a conversation with a stranger, either. 

“Shturman Benbrow Inn,” she said, swiping more ruddy dust from the chair before sitting. The transporter swayed, but only because it was knocked by a sudden gust of wind.

“Shturman Benbrow Inn… Please?” she said, helplessness rushing back in.

Then she whacked her wrist with her chip into the blue glowing front screen. A chiming little jingle played, the second to last note glitching. 

“Shturman Benbrow Inn,” she said.

She heard a deep whirr, and the seat beneath her starting vibrating. They took off. Moving too quickly for her to see much at all. Further impeded by the wind and dust. Finally, she pulled the collar of her shirt up as high as it would go to try and protect her eyes and face. But she could already tell she had some sand-burn across the high points of her face. 

They weren’t traveling for long at all. Coming to a screaming, dusty halt outside of another poured building. The sign outside weirdly nostalgic for a human– it looked almost hand painted, at least to her eyes. And she had used oils in the past. A warmly drawn antique rocket. The old type of rockets from Earth. Heavy, white and phallic. The swirling epitaph of ‘Tupolev’ drawn on the side. 

She stepped out, said ‘thank you’ to the transporter. Became embarrassed for saying thank you. And then stepped in. 

It was low, dusty and foreign smelling inside. But there was such a huge amount of wood that she stood shocked for a long moment. Finally, she walked up to a desk with a Venusian who was watching a screen that seemed to be manning the door.

“Hello, sister,” it said lazily, eyes not looking up from the screen.

“Brother,” she agreed amiably. Looking past him and the desk into the public rooms, which were packed and ringing with conversation. “I need a room. Refaite sized.”

“Why?” the Venusian asked, but sounding mild, hardly impolite. “That’s a literally big request for a human sized human… Not even, a puny sized human.”

She shifted from foot to foot. No’ahz had made it seem that the two of them being together, or seen together, was at least slightly taboo. Peeking past him again, she saw a Nomo leaning forward over the feet of an Indrid, facial tentacles and thin and wormy tongue licking at them. That decided her– they would likely be pretty safe here.

“I have a Refaite joining me later in the day, I’d hardly want to see an uncomfortable one, am I right?” she asked, trying to be light-hearted.

“Ah yes, in that case sister, let me get you the big bed… And can I offer you a fucking tarp?”

She couldn’t help it, laughing. Venusians didn’t laugh, per se, but she watched its third eye go softly closed and blink at her slowly several times. She laughed again, holding out her hand to shake as she nodded. Instead, he brushed the insides of his hand against her forearm. Tickling her, surprising her. Feeling far more intimate than a handshake. She returned it in kind, however, and got another slow blink. 

“A Refaite with long horns, close to his skull, will come and ask after me,” she said. “You can give him the room number.”

“The lowermost floors are the ‘big rooms’– take the escalator to the bottom. Room 44. Keypad reset is the red button,” the Venusian said, gesturing in the directions of the escalators.

“Have you checked in a Tent’ today?” she asked, as she was about to turn. 

“Shit-tons,” the Venusian said. Again, just mild, not mean.

“He might have been wearing a lab coat?” The phrase elicited nothing from the Venusian. “Um… More blue than the average Tent’?” She realized she didn’t know his real name. “He checked in with a cat?” Powerless to stop herself, she mimicked cat ears over her own head like Doc had done. 

“Oh, ayuh, think so, sister,” the Venusian said, brightening a little bit. “He’ll be down on the same floor with you, I think.”

“Oh!” she said. Of course, he’d need one of the ‘big’ rooms too. She thought about asking the Venusian, and possibly bribing him for the room number but didn’t want to push her luck. And didn’t really need to know, either.

She saw that the Venusian had an embed chip too, and clanked hers on the desk in front of him. He tried to wave her off, and she huffed, popping a hip. Somewhat reluctantly, he held out his own limb to her. She tapped, and tipped him too generously.

Nothing wrong with having a paid-for friend, though. She’d learned that often enough.

From there, she weaved her way through the public room toward the escalator. Now she was beginning to feel those eyes again. Some decidedly disgusted or hateful. A few raised eyebrows of interest. Some just out-and-out open-mouthed staring. She didn’t see any humans here. 

Once she made it to the lowermost floor, she glanced up and down the hallway. It was quiet down here. Reminded her instantly of the root cellars of her youth. Her father’s Luddite predilections coming to roost on the planet Mars. 

She wished her Brute was already here, though. Didn’t want to have to walk into another strange room alone.

“Reeooowww” echoed down the Mars-stone walls of the corridor. 

She jumped, and looked down, feeling pressure on her bare ankles.

“Pharaoh?” she questioned.

Mew.

She bent, and he accepted a pat, and the layered arrows on his egg-shell forehead made her certain it was in fact Pharaoh. He was bigger than when she’d last seen him, though. She sat on the floor, and he climbed onto her lap. Paws heavy, denting into her thighs as he stood, raising his little face to get his chin rubbed. 

She couldn’t help it, baby-talking at him under her breath. Glad to feel fur on her hands and hear his crackling purr. He even sounded more like a tomcat than a kitten now. 

“Where’s your master?” she asked when he stepped back off her, twining his strong little body along the hallway. 

Mreep.

She followed him, not sure if she was going to just be led to a difficult-to-open can of anchovies or not. 

He stopped outside a door, sliding his slim little paw underneath, batting back and forth. Making the chittering sort of noise she associated with barn cats trying to call down bats from the rafters. Then she wondered if Pharaoh was actually just mimicking his master’s beak clicks.

“You’ve missed your in, you dumb motherfucker!” a hoarse, but unmistakably Doc voice called toward the door.

Mew.

“Dipshit!”

Mew, mew.

The door swung open violently, while she was still crouched on the floor, reaching toward Pharaoh. 

“Well, heya, Contraband,” Doc said, hastily hiding his nudity with the half-open door. From the few inches between the door frame and the door itself, she saw what looked like a literal pile of flesh on his bed. A chitter, a coo, a clack. Something in cadence that reminded her of a giggle.

“Sorry, Doc,” she giggled, covering her eyes and turning slightly aside.

“Company is welcome!” a voice called sweetly. She wasn’t quite sure she’d ever heard such a pretty voice before in her life. Rhythmic and almost sing-songy, speaking English in a decidedly non-human accent. 

“We’re hardly full,” another voice called– higher pitched, something birdy and throaty about it.

Pharaoh wound his way into the room around the edge of the door.

“I’ll let you get back to it,” she giggled again, turning away. 

“The universe blesses a man with many limbs to be of use to woman kind,” Doc said, clacking his beak and closing the door with a bang in her face. 

She stood back up, still laughing behind her hands, and making her way further along the corridor to her room.

Finally reaching her room, she walked around, touching everything for a long time. She would have hardly been impressed with this room back on Earth. But everything looked so blazingly new to her eyes. Simply because it wasn’t all metallic. Simply because it wasn’t mass-produced. It was at once clearly a sleaze hotel and a long-term living situation. She came to this conclusion because of the way the bed was stripped, the bidet in the attached bathroom and the stainless steel pitcher and ewer in the room itself. There was a standing wardrobe in the room though, stocked with linens and supplies to do laundry, refills for bathing as well. At once sleaze and long-term. 

It felt like a dock-town. 

There was a knock on the door and she froze. 

“Pet?” he called in Refaite.

She ran to the door happily then. He barreled through the door, at once frightening and delighting her. She knew it was him, because it was his voice and his name for her, but he moved so rapidly she was set back on her heels. 

Sinking his teeth into the front of her throat as he lifted her off the ground, he gave her a rough little shake like a predator animal. Giggling breathlessly, she clung to his arm. Crushing her against the opposite wall, the air was almost knocked out of her. He fumbled with the front of her pants, and she undid his much more smoothly. He grunted, obviously frustrated. Hitching her up, bracing her back and shoulders against the wall, so their hips were better aligned, he slid between her thighs once their pants slid down to their ankles. 

She gasped, palms of her hands and soles of her feet on the wall behind her to keep her up. They rocked together, a little off-rhythm in their hurry. Grunting, she dropped her forehead into his chest, almost hearing her breath echoing. Lifting her hands from the wall, she held them up toward his face. Hooking his upper and lower jaws around her wrists, he kept both locked together in between his teeth. The curve of his upper and lower canines curved around her ulnae.

“Thank you,” she moaned, coming helplessly on him. When he felt her gush and weaken, he shifted her upward, plunging into her so quickly she ached. That same delicious cracking feeling. She felt worked like a sex toy on him. A too-small fuck-toy, at that. Now she was unmoored, the only part of her fully stable was being impaled repeatedly. She was free-floating on him. He growled when he came, sounding more frustrated than satisfied. He let her drop, and she slid sweatily down the wall. Wrapping her hands around the backs of his legs, trying to catch her breath. But she wasn’t allowed to before he grabbed her hair. Tugging her up into another uncomfortable crouch. Pushing his half-hard cock at her. Her legs were soaked, his cum still pumping out of her. Jaws nearly audibly creaking, she took him in her mouth. He didn’t give her time to get used to that, either. Punishingly fucking her face, the back of her head whapping against the wall repeatedly. So she just hung on to him. Trying to keep up. Trying to breathe through her nose and still going a little dizzy with disrupted breath.  

“Show me how thankful you are, Pet,” he said.

Which got her moving more enthusiastically instead of just trying to survive. Beginning to suck forcefully, bobbing with him instead of just being pounded into the wall. When she felt him heat up and throb, she began curling her tongue back. Like it was a spoon to help her swallow. He shocked her when he reached between them, pinching her nose closed. She began choking and going light-headed as she was drowned by him. Still clinging to him, but not fighting it. Chest heaving, swallowing compulsively, and giddily sure that this was the time that was really going to kill her. 

But he finished, letting her go. She fell heavily to the floor, face to the wood beneath her, feet and hips still on the wall as she sobbed in breath. 

“Thank you,” she croaked again, voice lost from all the heat that had poured down her throat. 

“Another,” he said.

“Can’t,” she panted.

He picked her up, dumping her dripping onto the blessedly tarped bed. She began crawling toward the headboard. He fell on her, thrusting between her thighs. Glad, at least, that he wasn’t penetrating her again. But she was overstimulated, tender, and coated in the lube of his cum. Sliding over him too easily, dreadfully swollen, she came immediately. 

“Sir!” she cried, boneless and unable to move on him.

“Take it,” he grunted. “Or die on it if you can’t.”

She never knew quite how to take the fact that she liked being reminded of their first terrible meeting in the cargo hold. She liked being threatened in the moment and it excited her. She was too stupid to parse out the meaning of it while she was riding him, though. She got herself back up onto her elbows to begin working on him better. Match his beat. She was whimpering, muscles in her thighs and upper arms fluttering, when he finally came again. He hauled her upright and she started sobbing. Not upset so much as utterly exhausted. Not that it seemed to give him any pause regardless. Forcing her to stand on shuddering legs, he held them tightly closed together, fucking her lower thighs this time. Shocking her when he bent nearly in half, sneaking his tongue between her legs. That was far too much– the most painful orgasm she’d ever had. Her clit felt swollen to twice it’s size, and his tongue was too rough. He didn’t lap at her, just forced her to ride the muscular tip as he fucked her legs. The battering movement made her slide along his sand papery tongue, rubbing her raw and making her cry out her final orgasm. 

When he finished, he let her slump down. Lifting her briefly in one arm. Wadding up the destroyed tarp and carrying her into the bathroom. Setting her on the sink for that terrible draining sensation she had after being penetrated by him. 

“There’s water here, Pet,” he said, sounding thoughtful, head cocked at the deep-basined bathtub. She was still crying, in a worn-out, hiccuping kind of way. Not wailing, tears just sort of dripping from her. Over-tired.

“Mhmm,” she said, nodding. 

He filled the tub as she sat, swiping at her hot cheeks. Eyelashes stuck together with tears. Feeling sticky and happily satisfied and very tired. He grabbed her again when it was near filled. Getting her the rest of the way undressed. Sliding her in. Unfortunately, the sensation of being immersed in water was far too much to handle, and she burst into renewed tears again. It felt so good. It was hot and it was water. Especially after her dusty arrival, it was water.

She cupped some up, holding it to her face. The crying headache that was just peeking over the horizon of her forehead, instantly soothed by the heat. She slumped low in the tub. It was short, her legs bent. But she was covered from the chin down. He got her attention by clawing at the crown of her head.

“Hm?” she asked, too tired to talk.

He pointed at things on the lip of the tub.

“If you show him, he can help,” he said.

She glanced over at the supplies. There looked to be a plain bar of soap. Real soap, not rinseless gel solution. She tiredly showed soaping up on her forearm. There was a wash cloth. She doused it, laying it across her swollen eyes, and slid deeper still. Taking the soap from her, he started cleaning her. She thought he might do it too vigorously, or too roughly, but not at all. 

She had dozed off when his rumbling voice woke her up.

“What?” she asked, slightly muffled by the wash cloth.

“This is a good, new sensation,” he said, clamping a hand painfully on a soapy breast, letting it slide from his palm. She laughed. 

“Men like bubbles,” she said, still sleepy, still laughing. 

“I would leave you to sleep, but you’ll die,” he said, matter-of-factly. She wondered if he was thinking of drowning, or hypothermia. He probably wasn’t aware of hypothermia, but she doubted either one of them had gills.

She stepped out, wrapping herself in a towel. It wasn’t a nice towel, but certainly bigger and plushier feeling than the microfiber ones on the ship. 

“That’s true, sir,” she said, making her stumbling way out of the bathroom. “So let’s rest a while.”

She dropped into bed, wetting the pillow underneath her– she’d have to cut her hair. Kicking at the blanket on the end of the bed. He draped it over her, and joined her. But sitting up, back to the headboard. She didn’t care if he actually wanted to rest or not. Turning on her side, she pushed her face into his hip, draping an arm over his knee to stay in contact. And fell deeply into true sleep for the first time since she’d left him.