Sholpan Page 7

  Shut up! Just shut up!

  “You’re blushing, dear.”

  “No, I’m not,” Stella said, quickly burying her face in the pillow.

  “Yes you are, honey. Did I say something?”

  “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Why not?” asked Tamu. “What’s so difficult to talk about?”

  Stella said nothing.

  Tamu laughed. “Don’t tell me you’ve never slept with a boy before. You’re young, dear, but not that young.”

  Please stop, Stella thought to herself. Colorful shapes spread across her vision as she squeezed her eyelids shut. She could hear her father lecturing her on the importance of living a chaste life. A democratic society is only as strong as the virtues of its citizens, he had told her countless times. The power to have children and raise a family is a precious gift, and must not be treated lightly. No matter the decisions of your peers, you must keep yourself pure.

  “No, I haven’t,” she said. “I’m a virgin.”

  “A virgin?” said Tamu. “No!”

  “Yes, I am,” Stella whispered.

  The pillows rustled as Tamu sat up. “Oh my goodness—that changes everything.”

  “Why?” Stella asked, looking up at her roommate.

  “Never mind that, dear; just listen to me. I can help you.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Qasar’s demanding, but he’s not hard to please. Trust me, honey; I’m his favorite. All you need to keep in mind is that he’s a conqueror, and conquerors like to go on the hunt. Hold back a little at first, but give him just enough to lead him along. They like it when you play hard to get—it gives them a sense of conquest when they reach their climax.”

  Stella’s whole body tensed, and the blood drained from her cheeks. She couldn’t believe she was hearing this.

  “I’m not telling you to fight him off, mind you. Let him have his way—just don’t give in to him at first. Make him take what he—”

  “Stop!” Stella shouted, covering her ears. “Just—stop!”

  Tamu frowned. “Well sorry to rub you the wrong way, sweets, but if you want to live you’d better start thinking about it. You’ve only got one first impression, and if Qasar isn’t pleased, life won’t be easy for you.”

  As if on cue, the beads in the doorway made a clattering noise as someone entered the room. Stella turned in time to see Engus walk straight up to her.

  “Mistress Sholpan,” he said, “you have summons. Two hours. Go to bathing room. Narju make you ready.”

  Stella’s face paled. A wave of sudden anxiety passed through her. Before she could respond, Engus bowed and left the room.

  “Well, well, well,” said Tamu. “Looks like you’re going to be busy tonight, dear.”

  Stella wanted to scream. She wanted nothing more than to open her eyes and find out it was all a bad dream. Her life had become a surreal nightmare, one from which she couldn’t wake up.

  “I can’t,” she said, her voice hoarse with fear. “I—I can’t do it.”

  “Sure you can, honey,” said Tamu, patting her on the shoulder. “It’ll be over before you know it. You’ll be fine.”

  You don’t understand, Stella wanted to say. To you, it may be nothing, but to me—I’d rather die.

  The scariest part was that if she refused, she just might.

  * * * * *

  The orange-yellow light of Auriga Nova shone brightly through the lounge window of the Kaja, casting sharply edged shadows even though the auto-tint was set well above ninety-five percent. Stella yawned as she turned to the last page of the novel on her tablet and took another sip of water from her thermos. It had been a long, arduous day-cycle—difficult, but immensely satisfying. Not only had she successfully synced orbit with a pair of binary asteroids, but after two months of making short runs between the inner planets, her Belarian was getting good enough that she could communicate with the mining ships in their own language. It had been almost half a year since she’d left home, but it barely felt like a month.

  After finishing her novel, she switched off her tablet and yawned again, stretching a bit before rising to her feet. The clock in the lounge showed it was already an hour and a half into her sleep shift, and she felt so exhausted she headed straight for the bunkroom without washing up.

  The lights inside were dimmed, and Hans lay face up on the top bunk. As the door hissed shut, he turned his head and smiled at her.

  “Good evening,” he said.

  “What are you doing here?” Stella asked, frowning. “Where’s Petyr?”

  “Oh, Petyr decided to work late. Didn’t you hear?”

  Stella sighed heavily. “No, I didn’t,” she said, keying her private compartment open and slipping her tablet inside. She considered changing into a new set of clothes, but Hans’s presence made that impossible, at least not without going across the hall into the bathroom. In the end, she decided it just wasn’t worth the effort.

  “How was your day?”

  “Busy,” she answered, sitting down on her bunk where he couldn’t see her. She unzipped her gray jumpsuit and slipped out of it, letting it fall to the floor. Her T-shirt and boxers were a little sweaty, but she could manage.

  “Do you ever get lonely out here?” Hans asked.

  “Not really. Can we turn out the lights?”

  “Sure,” he said, reaching out to the controls on the wall next to them. A moment later, the lights switched off.

  “Are you sure you never get lonely?” he asked. “Not at all?”

  “I don’t know. I’ve just been too busy for that, I guess.”

  “It’s better in the outer planets,” he told her. “Lots more people, lots more things to see. Here, it’s nothing but miners, space rocks, and the burning sun.”

  Where is he going with all this? Stella wondered. She tried to think of something to say to that, but exhaustion overtook her and she decided it would be better to ignore it.

  “You ever think about the fact that we’ve slept in the same room for almost six months?” he asked.

  “No,” she answered.

  “Of course, we took different sleeping shifts, so we were never in the same room until now. But still, six months—same bunks, same sheets …”

  “Go to sleep,” she muttered, turning to face the wall. He was starting to creep her out, but she was too tired to do anything about it. After the sleep shift…yes, she’d have a word with his father after the sleep shift was over.

  Just as she was starting to drift off, she felt a hand on her back.

  Her eyes flew open and her body tensed, but before she could turn and push Hans away, he was practically on top of her.

  “What the—? Hans—”

  “Sh-sh-sh,” he said, crawling into the bunk with her. “Don’t be scared; I’m not going to hurt you.”

  “Then what the hell are you doing?”

  “Don’t you want to have a little fun?”

  If she’d been more awake, the implications of what he was doing would have frightened her. But in her exhausted state, none of that registered.

  “I’m not that kind of girl.”

  “Come on; there’s room enough here for the both of us. We’ve shared the same bunk for so long—why not share it at the same time?”

  He reached his hand underneath her shirt and started caressing her—that’s when she realized things were getting out of hand.

  “Get off of me!” she screamed, trying to squirm out of his grasp. He didn’t let go, so she jammed her elbow into his stomach and shoved him onto the floor.

  “Ow!”

  Stella sat up and slapped her hand on the access panel by the bed; the lights switched on full power, momentarily blinding them both. While Hans reached up to cover his eyes, she rose to her feet and stepped over him to the door.

  “Wait!” he cried. “Please don’t tell anyone!”

  “Why not?”

  “Because—”

  The door hissed open, cut
ting him off. Stella jumped back and turned to see Captain McLellan standing in the open doorway, scanning the room with his impassive gaze.

  “F-Father?” said Hans.

  “Captain! I—” Stella began, then stopped. Was Hans sobbing? Yes, he was.

  “What is going on in here?”

  Stella hesitated for a moment, but couldn’t stand up to the full weight of his glare. “I-I was lying in my bunk, and Hans tried to crawl in with me.”

  “It was just a misunderstanding!” Hans sobbed.

  His father’s eyes narrowed, but his face was unreadable. Stella shifted nervously on her feet and did her best to blend into the wall.

  “I-I’m sorry, Father! It won’t happen again.”

  The captain turned to her again. “Did he touch you?”

  Stella nervously pulled down her t-shirt over her stomach. “Yes. I mean, it happened so fast, I—”

  “Stand up.”

  Hans slowly rose to his feet, his whole body trembling. His face was a picture of shame, with tears streaming down his cheeks as if he were a little boy. He looked so broken, Stella couldn’t help but feel sorry for him.

  “In thirty minutes,” the captain said, his voice deadly quiet, “we’ll be docked with the main L3 station. I want you to have your things packed and ready to go before we get there. Then I want you the hell off my ship.”

  Stella’s eyes widened, and her stomach fell out from underneath her.

  “No!” Hans sobbed, covering his mouth with his hands. “Please, Father—I can make it better. I can change—I promise!”

  “You have your orders. Half an hour.”

  With that, Captain McLellan turned and left.

  “Wait!” said Stella, running after him out into the corridor. “What are you doing? He’s your son!”

  “I know,” he said, palming the door to the bridge. It hissed open, revealing an empty room; Petyr must have been in the mess.

  “But—but throwing him off the ship! What’ll he do? We’re almost fifty light-years from—”

  “Hans can take care of himself,” he said, taking his seat in the pilot’s chair. “I have no doubt of that.”

  At first, Stella thought he simply didn’t care, but when he lifted his hand to his eyes, she realized that it had affected him much more than she’d thought. A pang of guilt swept over her.

  “I-I’m sorry. This is all my fault.”

  Captain McLellan sighed heavily. “I’m afraid it isn’t,” he said. “Hans has been backsliding for a while, and there’s nothing I’ve been able to do about it.”

  Stella frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “It started years ago, before you came onto the ship. On our last voyage, whenever we were in port, he secretly download pornography off the planetnet and spent all his free time watching it. When I found out about it, I had a few sharp words with him, and he promised he’d get his act together. Lately, however, things have gotten worse.”

  “Worse? How?”

  He shook his head. “When we were at AN-4, he started doing it again. Then he started spending more and more of his leave time off ship, not coming back until well into his sleep shift. I confronted him about it, and he admitted he’d been frequenting the local brothels.”

  What? Stella thought incredulously to herself. She’d had no idea any of this had been going on.

  “But can’t you give him another chance?”

  “He’s a grown man; he can make his own decisions. But on my ship, there are consequences for treating a woman like a tramp.”

  She looked into his eyes and saw the full disappointment of a loving parent. A lump rose in her throat, and she swallowed; everything was happening so quickly, she didn’t know what to think or feel.

  “He didn’t do anything bad to me—not too bad, anyway. It’s not that big of a deal.”

  “If a man can’t respect a lady, he has no place on my ship. Your father would have done the same thing if it had been one of his sons.”

  Stella nodded; that much was true. “I know. I just—I’m sorry.”

  She spontaneously stepped forward and gave the captain a hug. To her surprise, she found that he was trembling.

  It’s not throwing Hans out that crushes him, she realized. It’s the fact that his own son has fallen so far, and there’s nothing he can do to save him.

  * * * * *

  Stella nervously followed Engus down the hallway in her thin, two-piece bedlah gown. Long strings of coins dangled from her hip, jingling as she walked. Her clothes were not unlike the bead curtain doors in the concubines’ quarters—pretty, a bit exotic, and far too sensual.

  Engus turned and clucked at her. “No good, no good,” he hissed. “You come now!”

  “I’m coming,” she said, walking a little faster—but not too fast. The dread in her heart grew with every step.

  Engus came to a turn and pointed to the end of the corridor. “That door,” he said. “You go. Qasar there.”

  Stella swallowed and stood as if rooted to the spot. Engus shoved her forward, almost pushing her over. She caught herself and started walking, the coins swaying against her bare thighs.

  What am I doing? she thought desperately to herself. The man behind that door is going to rape me!

  She swallowed and keyed the door chime, the coins in her dress jingling ever so softly. A moment later, the door hissed open, making her jump. She hesitated for a moment, her heart racing in her chest, then stepped inside. The door hissed shut behind her.

  The room was very dark, lit only by a handful of mellow glowlamps midway up the walls. As her eyes adjusted to the dim light, she found herself staring at an impressive array of lavish decorations. Crimson silks cascaded down the walls, shimmering like velvet. A vaulted, navy blue ceiling rose high above her head, with hundreds of white, four-pointed stars forming unfamiliar constellations. A pair of curved swords hung directly in front of her, their ornate golden scabbards studded with dozens of colorful jewels. Between the crossed swords hung a ball of meteoric slag, black and pitted. Stella didn’t know what it was doing there, but judging from the rest of the décor, it had to be important.

  The bed lay directly beneath the swords. A man in white, gilded robes lay on his side across the bedspread, smiling as he stared at her.

  Instantly, Stella froze. The man could only be Qasar.

  He was not a small man—not by any stretch. His shoulders were broad, his arms strong and muscular, his legs thick and supple. His hair was as black as midnight, with a neatly trimmed beard that stretched from ear to ear. His eyes were dazzlingly blue, like sapphire nebulae. Her eyes wandered to his robe, and she saw that his chest was covered with hair. She drew in a sharp breath and trembled as she imagined his scratchy hair on her bare skin, the full weight of his body thrust against hers. The thought made the sweat on the back of her neck go cold.

  Qasar stared at her, unmoving. Stella shifted awkwardly from one foot to the other, not sure what to do. You only have one first impression, Stella heard Tamu say in her head. If Quasar isn’t pleased—

  With perfect ease, Master Qasar slipped his legs over the edge of the bed and rose to his feet. Carrying himself with a strong yet subtle aura of authority, he came forward and studied her. Stella flinched as memories of the sorting in the prisoner ship flooded to her mind. Qasar didn’t prod her, however—he merely admired her, as if she were an elegant statue. Careful not to meet his gaze, she stood still and stared straight ahead, toes turned in slightly, arms hanging awkwardly by her side.

  “Very good,” Qasar muttered to himself in the Hameji creole. “A little young, but quite beautiful. You have good taste, Tagatai, my cousin.”

  Qasar’s voice was so clear that Stella had little difficulty understanding his words. She decided to speak up.

  “I am seventeen standard years old,” she said, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye.

  “Ahh!” said Qasar, pleasantly surprised. “So you can speak as well. Very good.”

  �
��Thank you, M-Master,” she said. She felt dirty using that title, but she didn’t know how else to address him.

  “Very good. And what is your name?”

  “My name is Ste—is Sholpan,” she said, catching herself. The foreignness of her new name made her cringe.

  “Sholpan,” muttered Qasar, nodding to himself. “So that’s what they named you. Fitting choice—you do seem rather shy.”

  He reached up and gently stroked her cheek with one hand. Stella’s body tensed as his fingers slowly traced their way down to her neck and shoulders. He played with the narrow strap holding up her top, then ran his hand between her breasts. She shivered.

  “Quite fitting,” he muttered, smiling at her with his penetrating blue eyes. He took her by the wrist and motioned to the bed. “Come.”

  In one smooth motion, he pulled the scarlet bedspread aside. Underneath, the sheets were immaculately white, as if they’d never been slept in before.

  Qasar turned to her. “Are you hungry, my goddess?” he asked.

  By the stars, yes.

  “A little,” she answered.

  He nodded. Letting go of her wrist, he clapped his hands twice. From somewhere in the wall, a tray came forward, suspended in midair by independent gravitics. Stella’s eyes widened—she’d heard about advanced microgravity technology, but had never seen it with her own eyes. It wasn’t cheap.

  The tray came to a stop in front of Qasar. He lifted a gilded silver cover to reveal a platter of golden-brown sweetmeats, smothered in rich brown sauce. A delicious aroma met Stella’s nose, and she found herself swimming in it.

  “Care for some?” he asked.

  “Y-yes,” she stammered. Her stomach rumbled in eager anticipation.

  Qasar smiled. With a flick of his wrist, he pushed the tray over the bed, where it levitated just inches over the spotlessly white sheets.

  “You must be uncomfortable in that,” he said, glancing down at her skimpy bedlah gown. “Let me get it for you.”

  He reached his hands toward the clasp at her waist. Without thinking, she grabbed him by the wrists to stop. They both froze, while a chill shot down Stella’s back; Qasar did not seem pleased.