Chapter 2

Lorelai Bristol

W hat sort of place is this?

It was all I could do to keep my lower lip from curling in disgust.

Maybe my life on Earth had been a little too sheltered, a little too boring. But I'd liked it that way. Really, I had. Being a stay-at-home mom while my ex-husband worked as a diplomat at the Citadel back on Earth…things had been nice and quiet and boring.

As boring as life could be when your home planet was going through upheaval after upheaval, being settled by alien Overlords, and reconstructed into a mold that fit their likes and needs. Throughout it all, we'd tried to keep our heads down, raise our two sons, and maintain a modest existence in our modest home right outside the Citadel's walls.

Or, I thought dryly, lifting my glass of bubbling blitza, some kind of alien alcoholic drink, to my lips, that's what I'd believed we were doing. In reality, I was the one at home keeping my head down, raising my sons, and maintaining a modest existence. My husband, Charlie, as one of the rare diplomats elected by our human community to negotiate and deal with the Overlords, was also running around behind my back, doing more schmoozing with the ladies than the aliens.

Following the Final War, human women outnumbered men by a pretty hefty margin, meaning there were lots of lonely females out there. I guess I'd been naive to think the father of my two kids and husband of twenty years would be faithful to me. Instead of gallantly meeting needs and providing male services for girls half my age.

Sighing, I rolled my eyes at the ceiling, then squeezed them shut as the blitza hit my guts, spreading through my veins like fire.

The drink looked like simple wine or champagne. A few bottles of the beverages had survived the Final War. Humans, in their ingenuity, had figured out pretty quickly how to replicate our parents' alcoholic beverages. I'd sipped wine and champagne on the rare occasions I'd been invited to some function at the Citadel along with my husband. I could take it or leave it. I'd never consumed enough to affect me. This, however, was like liquid lava. After a couple of shots, I could feel my head thrumming. Even though it wasn't something I was used to, it helped numb the pain.

Why did he do it? I wondered for the millionth time.

Why?

Clearly, you weren't enough, my mind replied sadly, bitterly, as it had for the millionth time. Not young enough. Not pretty enough. Not skinny enough. Not smart enough. Not funny enough. Not wrinkle-free enough. Breasts not perky enough after breastfeeding two kids. You weren't—

Stop!

I had to block the train of thought before it drove me insane.

Bracing myself, I took another sip of the blitza.

Seven months ago, I had discovered Charlie's—my ex's—unfaithfulness, due to a pair of panties that had been forgotten in his coat pocket. A souvenir, I guess. The idiot had apparently been getting away with his infidelities for so long that he'd gotten careless. Either that, or he simply didn't care anymore if I found out. Or he figured I was a dumb, plodding cow, so happy to have a human husband to keep a roof over her head that I wouldn't react. Unfortunately for him, his long string of lies had been uncovered, and I'd reacted.

Oh! I'd reacted.

Our twin sons, Joell and Isak, were eighteen and had already joined the Interstellar Coalition's Unified Forces—a new military branch comprised of species from all twelve planets in the Coalition, including humans. They were off among the stars, on tours of duty that could last anywhere from twelve to eighteen months at a time. They weren't at home. They didn't need me to be their caretaker anymore.

Was I the sort of woman to blindly accept her spouse's infidelities, to be so grateful that I had a husband during these somewhat tumultuous times that I would receive whatever he dished out, crushing the pain and continuing to present a smiling face to the world?

Some women did that. I knew them. To be a human woman was a difficult thing in our society, at this point in Earth's history. We either accepted whatever our husbands did and clung to them for refuge and stability for our children—or we forged a new path, whatever that might look like, including becoming a sex worker at the Citadel in exchange for provisions, shelter, and money from the Asterion Overlords. Even that was about to change, however, with the swirling rumors of a damn breeder's list. Who knew how that might impact women having charge of themselves and their own sexuality if they were going to be bound to whichever Overlord asked for them?

Breeder's list, I snorted, the tip of my tongue tracing the rim of my glass, tasting the blitza, trying to decide if I wanted to consume more liquid fire.

Twenty years ago, I might have been on the breeder's list. Now, at thirty-nine, it seemed highly unlikely.

I snorted and tossed back another sip.

The hell with it. My own husband hadn't wanted me. Why would an alien?

Charlie hadn't fought the divorce very hard. Initially, he'd been surprised. I guess in his mind having a wife to stay home and cook, clean, and fold his socks while he screwed every pretty girl in town who'd have him was ideal. I'd disrupted those plans by announcing I was getting a divorce.

"Where will you go?" he'd inquired, genuinely curious. "What will you do? You haven't worked in years. You don't have any marketable skills. You—"

"Thanks, Charlie, for reminding me that while I've been here raising our kids and taking care of you, I let my career slide," I'd grumbled. "You know what? What does it matter? Obviously, you don't care. If you'd care about me you wouldn't have—"

I'd stopped, drawing a deep breath to stem the anger, the rage, the pain. Shoving it down deep where he couldn't see it, I'd said, "Never mind. I'll figure something out."

That something had landed me here, on the pleasure planet, Drixus.

Oh, I wasn't here for that . Selling myself at the brothels or seeking an alien pimp. After the way Charlie had ripped out my heart and stomped all over my self-esteem, I sincerely doubted anyone would be willing to pay me for sex.

Huh. Yeah, right.

I snorted bitterly, imbibing another careful sip.

Nope. I was here because, while my work experience was limited, attending functions and the occasional dinner inside the Citadel had netted me a few contacts. I'd had to visit the Overlords, one of the Officials, when I'd sought my divorce. He'd been vaguely familiar—probably from some formal function. When I'd stated my reason for visiting and requested the divorce, he'd raised his eyebrows in surprise.

Naturally, he knew who my husband was. I was expecting that. I was even half-expecting him to try and talk me out of leaving the dirtbag.

Nope.

Instead, he'd laid down his screenpad and steepled his silver fingertips, eyeing me with…pity, I'd thought.

"If you go through with this," he'd warned, "you realize you will be adrift in a harsh world and a society that little favors human females."

I'd gulped down my rising fear, nodding. I knew that. But my hatred of Charlie was so deep, my pain so raw and bitter, that I'd sworn to myself I'd get by even if meant selling myself to the Asterions in order to eat and have a roof over my head.

"I may be able to help," he'd said, swiping his forefinger across the screenpad a few times.

I'd steeled my spine, fearing he might proposition me himself. Judging by the picture of him and the gorgeous Asterion woman on the cabinet behind him, I was afraid he was married. And I would not be the other woman who risked ripping the heart out of his wife.

Even as I'd worked up my courage, bringing a denial to my lips, he said,

"You were an administrative assistant before marrying your husband and giving birth to your two sons, were you not?"

"How did you know that?" I'd started to ask, leaning forward to see what the Asterion Official was studying on his screenpad. To my shock, I saw my own face in a picture, at its current age and its former age, before I'd married Charlie, twenty years ago. Columns of Asterion words sprawled beneath the pictures. Clearly, it was a profile of some sort, which Official Drayke had confirmed, saying, "By checking your vital records, of course."

My head had jerked up and I met his golden eyes with consternation.

"Do you keep those on all humans?"

"All of any merit or rank or usefulness," he'd shrugged. "It is the Asterion way."

It might have been the Asterion way, and the mere notion might have made me exceedingly uncomfortable. However, in this case, it proved to be my salvation.

Such as it was.

"You have the translating chip in your wrist, and can read and write our language, yes?"

I'd nodded. The chip had been implanted years past, and Charlie and I both had taken courses to learn to read and write the Overlords' language, due to his job and my proximity to it. It served me well, as Official Drayke had said, "If you think you can recover your former secretarial skills, I can place you on the space ship, Everlast . This would be a traveling position. The former records keeper is with child, and wishes to return to her home planet for the duration of the pregnancy and until she feels her child can be safely left with child keepers. This means you could potentially fulfill the position for several Earth years." He regarded me solemnly. "Would this be a problem?"

A problem? Leave Earth? Leave Charlie behind for good? Not have to worry about providing for myself on this war-torn planet? Not have to worry about selling my body to get by? Get to travel to other planets, see space, and visit other realms? Most humans never got chances like this. Not unless they were young, like my sons, and joined the Unified Forces.

Official Drayke was not only handing me a lifeline. He was handing me the opportunity of a lifetime.

I'd licked my lips, swallowing hard to conceal my excitement.

"This would definitely not be a problem," I'd said, grateful my voice wasn't shaky from nervousness. My hands had certainly been trembling. I'd clasped them together in my lap. "And I'm sure, given a little time and training, I could recover my former skills. I could definitely be a records keeper on the starship."

Official Drayke had offered me a small, encouraging smile.

"Then I will place your name in the duty slot. Come back tomorrow. Your training begins then."

That was how I'd wound up here, sitting at a bar on the pleasure planet, Drixus. Even reputable space ship captains had needs, I considered dryly, glancing around the room once more from gaming tables to a dance floor, lit with sparkling lights, to smoking zones, cordoned off from the main area. Three alien males of a race I didn't recognize were propositioning a working female, leading her off into another curtained side chamber. Not hard to imagine what was about to happen. I raised an eyebrow in distaste. I'd never, ever seen such goings on. Never heard of them, either. Thanks to the universal language chip—an ingenious alien invention—imbedded in my right wrist, I could understand the language of every species here. And a lot of what I heard I could have lived without.

People, aliens, creatures…there were alien types I couldn't identify…in various stages of dress and undress. Some were reclining on the cushioned couches scattered about the space, busily groping their companion—or companions. Some, like the group I'd already noted, were leading others out of the main room into curtained off chambers, while others seemed intent on getting past kissing and groping and going straight to…other fun. Although, to be fair, when actual consummation began bouncers were on couples/throuples/threesomes/quartets pretty quickly, breaking up the action.

It wasn't that such activities were frowned upon, by any means, but if you wanted to watch you were supposed to pay extra and view the show in private quarters set up for it. Hence, the no public sex rule.

Beyond sex, other folks were getting plastered, or else puffing away in the designated smoking areas until the air was tinged blue, purple, and green from the fumes. I was pretty sure, given the state of some of the guests, simple tobacco and meridak weed—an alien planet similar to Earth's tobacco—weren't the only things being smoked.

In the Drixus pleasure houses, any sort of plant or chemical concoction that might have been outlawed on some planets was more than legal. Ironically, oftentimes the leaders who were barring their folks from using substances back home came to Drixus to partake in the vice themselves.

Charlie had told me that.

Naturally, he would know, I thought bitterly.

I lifted my glass for another sip.

And that's when I saw him .