Chapter 31

Sophie

Fo-Ray Station was a huge city floating out seemingly in the middle of nowhere. Literally. It wasn't orbiting a sun or a planet. It was just out in the blackness of space. Serval told her that most stations were deliberately put in such far away places because they were way stations for people traveling. Not everyone could afford their own ships like him, so they had to book passenger travel, and those made frequent stops to allow people to get to various places.

And unlike the refueling station, it actively encouraged visitors and tourists. Which meant that Sophie didn't have to stay on the ship while Serval did business.

He, however, wasn't happy about having her there.

"Fo-Ray isn't a safe station," he complained as she dressed. They were both in their room – and it was definitely their room now. They'd already been sleeping together on Wav'aii, so it only seemed natural to continue that now that they were back on the ship. It hadn't taken him long at all to move out of the guest room.

"So?" She smiled back at him as she did her makeup. He had already made a comment about how long this was taking, but she ignored him. She needed time to get ready, and she wasn't going to speed that up for no good reason or she'd spend her life rushing around. He'd get used to waiting and learn to give her extra time to prepare eventually.

It was already happening. His complaint sounded more like a passing comment as he worked off his combot while waiting for her. He said he was setting up a meeting with his informant. Unfortunately, he had changed out of his beads once they left Wav'aii, but he looked good in the dark pants and light, soft shirt. Cozy. Like he was up for a quick cuddle at any moment. She rather missed the sight of them, however, and wondered why they all had to go. Surely he could still wear like a bracelet or something? But she didn't bring it up for now.

"So, I think you would be safer on the ship." He scowled as he argued against her coming with him.

"I'd be safest in a sterile bubble, but no one has ever suggested I stay in one of those."

He threw her a dull look that she caught and ignored in the mirror as she blended out her contour. She didn't care if it was work, she wanted to look her best. If anything, it was even more necessary. They were going out for fun. Eyes would be on them. She had to look like she was having a nice night in a bar, so no one thought to question it.

She was Serval's distraction. His misdirecting hand as he worked his magic. It was a role she was happy to play. He helped her with her work, after all. It was only fair she did what she could to help with his. And it was a lot of fun. She felt like she was living through the party scene of an action movie. Dressed up and sneaking around and preparing for some cool climax where she'd get to run around in a long dress that slit all the way up her thigh or something.

Or maybe not that, since she was pretty sure any alien could outrun her. But like the equivalent where she got to pull off sexy and badass in one breath.

She pulled herself from her thoughts to find Serval still glaring at her. She grinned at him.

"I'm not staying," she said calmly but firmly. "You can't keep me trapped on this ship for the rest of our lives. I signed up for adventure. Sometimes, that's a fancy party for royalty, and other times that's a rundown dive bar on a seedy space station. I'm down for both."

"It's not a dive bar," Serval said. "Foreez runs a smoke bar."

"Like hookah? I've been to those before. Super chill."

"Some of the smoke does have a cooling effect, yes. But there's multiple types, and varying effects. If you want something, let me order it for you. I don't want you to take anything that will leave you too intoxicated in case something happens."

Sophie grinned, turning back to him. "But what if I want to try the hard stuff?"

He gave her a look. "Then, we can order a cannister to go and you can try it in the safety of the ship. This is not a game, Sophie. This is serious."

"Relax," she laughed, waving off his concerns. "I went into downtown Chicago with my girls for one of my friend's bachelorette party once. We stayed for like a full week. I saw some shit. And I had a great time. I'll have a great time here too."

Serval sighed, like he was giving up. She wasn't concerned though. He was being overprotective. It was cute, if unnecessary.

"I have a question," she looked back at him curiously.

"About?"

"How come you don't where your beads anymore?"

"Because I'm not on Wav'aii."

"So, you just use that opportunity to totally drop your culture?" She cocked a curious brow. She hadn't really noticed it before. When she first met him, the way he dressed seemed like his normal, so she didn't think to question it. Similarly, while they were with his family, he wore his beads all the time, and that seemed perfectly normal too.

But now that he was back in the simple, regular clothes he wore before, she couldn't help but notice that there was nothing about his life that reminded her of his home. Except maybe the utensils he used in the galley, he had scrubbed his life of anything that could be linked back to his own culture. And that just kind of confused her.

Serval gave her a look. "The way my people dress is considered indecent by most. I could very well break multiple laws by walking around in my beads."

"Okay, so you can't go totally natural and normal with them, but that doesn't mean you have to leave them behind completely. I plan on wearing my beads as often as I can. They're so pretty! Don't you think so?"

Serval was silent for a long minute. She didn't think he was going to answer her. But after a pause that seemed to go on forever, he walked over to a drawer and opened it. From inside, he pulled out a length of beads that he wrapped around his wrist like a bracelet. Turning, he held it up for her.

"Better?" He asked.

"Do you feel better?" She countered, bobbing one of her makeup brushes in the air.

Serval looked at the beads before admitting softly, "It's not the worst thing."

Sophie smiled. "Then, I love them. You look more like yourself. You're allowee, amor, be proud of it! It's part of who you are. You can't leave it behind, so take it with you wherever you go."

Serval shook his head, but he didn't try to take off the bracelet. Instead, he asked, "How long are you going to take anyway?"

"A little bit slower every time you ask me that," she responded primly, snapping her contour palette closed.

An hour later, the two of them were stepping out of the ship, Sophie holding onto his arm as he led the way down. She was looking at everything, trying not to be an open-mouthed tourist, but unable to help herself.

Immediately, she could see why Serval considered this place seedy. Since it served multiple ships of many sizes, the docking bay didn't have little ports for ships to slot into. Instead, tunnels extended out from the bay and connected to the ship, allowing them to have multiple ships of any size surrounding the back in all dimensions. The tunnel itself was long, but it had a moving sidewalk that dragged them along.

However, it wasn't a smooth ride. It was kind of jumpy, like the mechanism was fighting with itself as it pulled. The tunnel was dingy and rusty without windows or any markers for how long the trip would be. It also had a weird, stale, metallic smell that made her grimace.

"Their air recycler is old," Serval said, responding to her face.

"This whole place is old," she countered.

"You could have stayed in the ship."

"And waste this outfit? I think not." She lifted her head, grinning wickedly when Serval took his time appreciating her as they rode the tunnel down. Again. He had been staring since she finished dressing and presented herself for his approval.

They were going to a dive on a seedy space station, she had dressed up like a dive chick, with a little allowee/human hybrid flair thrown in.

She raided her swimsuit collection and grabbed another bandeau style, metallic top, but this one was shiny teal, and it matched the beads of the top she'd just received from her mate's family. The loose netting revealed her torso and flashed the metallic swimsuit shamelessly. She had paired it with a tight, leather skort – something that looked salacious but actually wasn't – and a pair of high, strappy black heels for that extra pop of sexy. Big, golden hoops hung from her ears, and chunky bracelets in a variety of colors clicked together on her wrists. Her hair was half up in a loose bun with a few tendrils artfully framing her face.

She looked somewhere between sexy and trashy, and she walked with the confidence of a woman who knew it was both without diminishing a single thing about her.

Serval loved it, if she was any judge of the look in his eye.

The moving sidewalk deposited them in front of a door that refused to open until Serval typed in a code that he got for paying the docking fee. Which she thought was outrageous. This rundown bus stop of a space station was overcharging, no matter what they paid.

Then, the docking bay doors opened and deposited them onto a catwalk.

Twenty stories in the air.

Sophie gasped, releasing Serval to step up to the iron railing. She grabbed onto it with both hands, leaning out, staring with wide eyes and a big smile at the huge area spread in front of her.

The docking bay was more like a docking wall, with all the tunnels coming together to empty out onto catwalks that covered the entire wall. They all led down to a huge, rectangular area below, upon which was spread what she could only describe as space city slums.

Big neon lights flashed, not quite concealing the fact that everything looked strangely wet and grimy for a place that certainly didn't experience rain. Buildings were built all along the floor, and the other three walls of the cube shaped station, even hanging from the ceiling like stalactites. Stacked haphazardly on top of each other like code enforcement was just a vague notion to be ignored. Everything was made of varying materials too, each of them flashing oddly under the neon glow of all the signs.

So many signs! Every bar and inn and restaurant had a sign, all of them trying to compete with each other as the deathless concept of selling shit to suckers thrived. One advertised the best females that sold their time by the mark, while another promised the best males to tend to your every need. One bar sold drinks, right across from one that sold light. A noodle sign flashed next to what appeared to be an insect bar – which she would not be trying. It was a glorious cyberpunk collage without a speck of sunlight or greenery to be found.

She felt like she missed the chance to wear her blacklight makeup. It would have really popped in a place like this.

"Hey," Serval grabbed her hand, holding it tight as he released his olules from his ribbon for some reason. "Don't step away from my side, alright? Stay with me or where I put you."

Sophie chuckled, flicking his chin. "I'll agree with you because it's good sense, but we're going to have to work on your tone. Let's go!"

Tugging on his hand, she led him towards the lift that was bringing the guests to and from the many docks that made up the wall. Her heart was already pounding with excitement. She didn't care what he said, she already wanted to come back to this place.

It wasn't neat and pretty and fancy, and that's why she loved it. This place felt alive! These kinds of ramshackle buildings, all fighting with each other for space, didn't get built in a day, or a year. This kind of place had to have been growing for a long time.

And it was amazing! She could probably spend days in this place and still not see everything and experience everything she wanted.

What was a light bar? What did aliens drink to get drunk? Or were all drinks like allowee dark wine and just made her feel a bit high? Or the Holivair flower wine that made her sleepy? How about the smoke bars? There was so much to experience, and she knew he only wanted to work.

She had her camera in a pouch on her thigh – which made her feel like a sexy video game character – but she wasn't recording tonight. She wasn't sure about alien laws of recording in public yet, and until she knew those things better, she was going to resist unless she had permission.

Besides, this was Serval's night. They were working on his project.

She bounced, giddy, as they descended the large lift down to the ground floor. There were five other aliens with them. Three males, two females, all staring at her in surprise. She didn't recognize any of their species, and she tried not to stare in turn.

"This way," Serval said, pulling on her arm, directing her into the crowd.

And what a crowd!

There were so many types of people. She saw aliens with skin in every color of the rainbow, aliens with fur of various lengths, aliens with scales, with quills, with tentacles. And their fashion ranged from the plain, standard style clothes that Serval favored, to incredible masterpieces bordering on costumes. Some people were wearing veils, scarves, armor! Like, real armor! Capes and cloaks and some that were either close to nude or actually nude. One female with a long tail was dancing, flicking her tail and the bells tied at the end with a sassy turn of her hips. One male was wearing a mask like a respirator, walking in front of a male dressed up like a belly dancer, with glowing body paint that was distinctly smudged.

And all of them stood taller than her.

Sophie knew that humans were considered small by Coalition standards. Serval's cousins had teased her about it. Even his sister, who was still considered an adolescent, was taller than her. But Sophie didn't truly appreciate it until she was walking through a crowd of aliens, and she had to crane her neck to look up at everyone.

Though, she was trying very hard not to actually look. Because everyone who caught sight of her immediately stared. And their stares weren't always just curious.

Not just a few of the males looked hungry. Eager. One actually licked his lips, forked tongue stroking over them as his fingers twitched.

But no one made a move towards her.

Which she found interesting. She didn't even feel a hand on her ass. Aliens tended to be more evolved on the social spectrum. They were more peaceful, their justice system more streamlined and better at rehabilitating offenders so they didn't repeat.

But surely that didn't apply to a group of huge alien dudes on a seedy space station. There were still bad people, otherwise Earth and humans wouldn't need protecting. So, why…

She looked over at Serval and started in surprise.

His body was tense, but his expression was calm. He moved carefully, slowly, with no wasted energy. His olules however…

The tentacles on his head were moving threateningly around the air. Their formerly smooth, wave-like motions had turned into harsh, erratic jerks. They were all free, pointing around him at everyone else like snakes preparing to strike.

And everyone that had to walk on his side gave him a wide berth.

He had told her that the sting from his olules hurt other species, but she had actually forgotten about that completely. On Holivair it had never seemed to come up, and his olules were always tied back in their ribbon. On Wav'aii, it didn't matter, since all the people there were also allowee and were therefore immune to them.

But these species clearly weren't, and he was obviously threatening them. Warning them off without saying a word, or even looking their way.

He was protecting her, Sophie realized. Using his olules to warn off any potential threats. And it was working! Everyone who looked at her covetously would then look at him and draw back, hiding their hands as though they might brush him accidentally.

She grinned at her mate, earning a questioning glance.

"What is it?" He asked, voice calm but body tense, two of his olules striking like vipers at one guy who dared get too close.

It was an accident, and he quickly drew away, but Serval didn't even glance his way. The movement was pure reflex.

And maybe it was the light hitting his olules, but she could swear she saw them glistening with the glow of his wii, especially at the tips.

"Just wondering," she said, purring as she leaned into his side until he lifted his arm and put it around her shoulders instead.

"Wondering what?"

"Angles, mostly. "

He blinked, befuddled. "Angles? Like camera angles?"

"Yeah," she smiled. "Like, shooting around a corner is much harder than just shooting straight on."

"Obviously." He gave her a curious look.

She smiled. "So, I was thinking, if I took away the angle of my throat by laying on my back with my head over the edge of the bed, you might be able to fuck straight down without any obstacles."

He nearly tripped over his feet, olules all lashing at the same time, and Sophie just giggled, returning to staring at everything.

The bar Serval took her to was deep in the back of the cube shaped space station. She knew it was floating out in space and therefore didn't need to worry about being aerodynamic or anything like that, but she still found the fact that it was just a huge cube interesting.

Above the doors, in bright, neon green, was the bar name – L'azes Smoke and Dreams. It was framed on either side by two streams of smoke that swirled back around the letters before drifting up, wrapping together. There were windows and doors, but they had all been painted black, preventing anyone from seeing inside like a titty bar. It just made Sophie more interested.

She was not at all disappointed when Serval guided her in.

The floor was thick with smoke, so dense she couldn't even see what it looked like. There was wispier, lighter smoke dancing around the ceiling. Opening the door sent both waves rushing out. They didn't smell like cigarettes or carbon or anything she expected from smoke. Instead, it was a fresh, woodsy kind of flavor, undercut with something fruity and bright.

"What's that?" She asked, sniffing deeper at the tantalizing scent.

"Nothing you're getting to try today. That way," Serval pulled her along as she pouted.

The bar was dark. The few yellow lights that hung from the ceiling were nearly completely obscured by the smoke. Individual tables, with circular benches that had high backs for privacy, were scattered throughout. Each one was lit with a different colored light. Some had only a single person, others had a whole group chatting together. Some had food, some had drinks, one guy had something she thought was food, but it was wriggling.

The only thing every table had in common was a tower in the center of the table. It was bright, shining silver, with bronze-colored caps at the top of cylinders of various lengths. Smoke came out of those tops, each type and color and scent different. As they walked past a table of three, she watched a female with purple skin snap some kind of cartridge into the bottom as her companions pulled down tubes and added their own mouthpieces to breathe through.

"Can I have that?" She asked, wide eyed in delight at the golden smoke that came billowing out in heavy, curling clouds.

Serval glanced over, did a double take, then pushed her in front of him. "Absolutely not, you're never having that."

"Oh, now I just want it even more," she snickered evilly.

"Not on my life."

"Isn't it supposed to be not on my life?" She snickered.

"Why would I ever bet your life?" He frowned, turning them into a dark corner of the already dark bar.

Before she could aw over how adorable that was, the male at the furthest table looked up and broke into a huge, metal toothed smile, distracting her.

The male was huge, in all dimensions. Tall, round, big eyed, big mouthed – honestly, kind of creepy to look at. He seemed like he'd be greasy, but his arms were made of tarnished metal. Every tooth in his mouth had either been capped in metal, or replaced by it, and he had a large gemstone in his large nose. She didn't recognize his species, but she was glad that, whatever he was, she hadn't ended up mated to one of them. His head was covered in rough, bumpy wart like protrusions that looked rough and nasty to the touch. His white tank top was sweat and grime stained, and his gut hung over the table.

In seeing Serval, he beamed, holding out his mechanical arms, one of those mouthpieces leading into his own smoking machine in one heavy hand. A combot, display out, hovered in front of him.

"Serval, old friend," he said in a rounded, mucousy voice. "Been a while since you came this way. And what's this sweet little thing?"

"My mate," Serval said shortly, voice hard, making the other guy throw back his head and laugh, his entire chest and belly jiggling.

"I get it, I get it," he said, waving a hand. "Let one of my ladies show her to a private booth so we can talk. She'll be safe."

"Does that mean I can try the golden smoke?" Sophie asked, wishing she could stay. But she understood that this guy might not want to discuss sensitive information in front of a stranger, even one mated to a ‘friend'."

"You want the gold stuff?" He asked, eyes gleaming.

"Er…" Sophie hesitated. She had mostly been joking. She trusted Serval when he said she shouldn't be trying something, but that look made her absolutely sure she didn't want to. She wasn't sure how to say that politely, however.

"She'll have the Prism Daydream," Serval interjected before she could flounder.

The guy shrugged, not quite able to hide his disappointment. But he nodded and waved forward a slender female with four arms, covered in white fur, wearing all black. He gave her Serval's order, and she guided Sophie to a table that was close enough that Serval could still see her, but far enough that she couldn't hear the males talking.

Sophie sat down, frowning at the cheap, fake leather. The table was just a bit too high, and she felt uncomfortably like a kid at the grown up's table. The furry female left but returned quickly with a cartridge and a mouthpiece. Before she could leave, Sophie asked for instructions. The female was stone faced but patient as she showed her how to put both into the machine, then told her how to breathe in the smoke.

Sophie didn't know what Prism Daydream was, but it definitely sounded like something she'd name a fun vape flavor.

As the furry lady walked away, Sophie took her first gulp of smoke.

And as she blew it out, every color was suddenly brighter. Sparkling. Spinning. Prism was a great name for it, because Sophie was suddenly absolutely certain she was floating inside one, seeing the rainbows of light fragmenting all around her.

She was also still too acutely aware of the sticky, fake leather seat, the too high table, the soft, distant music thumping through the air. Nothing else had changed. Her mind remained clear, the only difference was that every color was fuller and more vibrant. She could swear she was seeing more shades than she ever knew existed, even a color she'd never seen before somewhere past red in the spectrum.

It was incredible, and as it started to fade, she took in another breath.

She definitely understood the fun of a smoke bar now. She wanted Serval here with her, experiencing this awesome explosion of color.

She was also fairly certain that this had to be the tamest thing on the menu. Some people who were smoking looked like they had gone to heaven or just been put through the wringer. What she had, just made colors incredible.

But she was pretty sure that Serval had done that on purpose. She could still see him in his booth with his informant, his mouth moving up and down. She was aware of his eyes darting towards her, keeping track of her. Of the fact that their conversation was serious based on his expression. She didn't lose track of her thoughts. She was curious about what caused the change without affecting her mentally, but she was also too busy enjoying it to care.

She sat back, puffing on the smoke, enjoying the colors, when a shadow fell over the table.

And that was cool too, because even simple black looked different. She was seeing all the shades of black at once. She had no idea how varied they were. Oh, there were rainbows in it! Rainbows in the black! Dark, like an oil slick. How was that possible? White was supposed to be the rainbow. Or maybe she was seeing the prisms of the light being broken by his shadow thrown into-

Oh, right, there was a guy standing by her table. He was the one casting the shadow.

Sophie tilted her head back and up. There was a guy with some serious scaleage. All black and scary, like a demon from below.

"Hello, pretty female," he said, leaning over her table, both hands down, taking a deep breath of the white smoke leaking steadily from her mouth.

"No thanks," Sophie said, firmly but politely. "I'm here with someone."

He chuckled, the sound deep and unsettling. "I saw you sit down alone. I saw you need to be told how to use that machine. You're alone, but you don't have to be. I'd be more than happy to show you around the station. I can get you smoke that makes you feel a lot better than this color trip."

Sophie blew smoke into his face, hoping it would deter him. He just growled, excited. Her belly dropped, hoping that wasn't some alien way of flirting.

"My mate is here," she told him, gesturing behind him. "So, no, thank you."

Scaley didn't even turn. He just leaned closer. A little too close. Sophie held her ground though she wanted to pull back. She kept her eyes on him, glaring as he licked his lips.

"Nice try, little thing. But that's not enough to deter me."

"Back up before my mate sees you," she said, trying to cover her discomfort.

"Blow on me again," he said, reaching for her face.

Sophie opened her mouth, ready to call out for Serval-

-only for the male to suddenly roar. He drew back, mouth open, fangs bared, screaming his agony as he reached for his head. But there was nothing there.

Until Serval grabbed him by the back of the neck and threw him away. An easy task since he didn't even try to resist. He fell onto the ground, still rubbing his scalp, trying to remove the source of his pain. A fruitless endeavor.

The glow of the wii only spread from his head to his hand, bringing the pain with it. Of course, the wii weren't the problem. It was the venom that Serval made from the proteins the wii secreted. But it was a visual representation of it spreading that he could stare at in horror as he realized what was happening to him.

With her enhanced vision, Sophie could see the glow over everything even though Serval wasn't wet. His olules were dripping in it. They were all up, pointing directly at the threat. That male had to be twice Serval's weight, but he had brought him down to a rolling, whimpering mess.

"Stay away from my female," Serval said. Not to the male that had already got the lesson, but to the rest of the bar that were all looking at them. He held out his hand, which Sophie took gracefully, letting him pull her to her feet. "Let's go."

"Got what you need?" She asked, still enjoying the bright colors.

"More than," he answered, stepping over the flailing male on the ground. "I also bought a few smoke cannisters for you." He held up a heavy box that had to hold at least a dozen of the cannisters.

"Ooh. Any gold smoke?"

"You are not trying the gold smoke."

"Come on. What's it do?"

"Not telling."

"At least tell me what it's called."

"No point, you're never trying it."

"Give me a hint," she continued, giggling.

They passed the booth that held the three people that had smoked the gold smoke. The three of them were all over each other, and there was even a fourth person that hadn't been there before. All of them were desperately grunting and moaning and thrusting as the gold smoke continued to wrap around their undulating bodies.

"Undiscriminating," Serval said, pulling her away. "That's your hint."