Chapter 16 – Meet-Cute #2
Apparently, even a ketaari could see something virra in me. Why not add jewellery that advertised that I was a hot slut in a way that crossed cultural lines?
There was some part of me left over from Seraphim – persistent and hard-to-kill, despite my ongoing efforts – that bristled a bit at the thought that they wanted to mark me as easy, a fallen creature, shameless.
But the other, stronger impulse was to lean into it.
I didn't imagine they'd ever broadcast the Tournament on Seraphim, but maybe the Shepherds who handled diplomacy, business interests, and mission work kept their thumbs on the pulse of galactic entertainment.
Maybe they'd see, and they'd be disgusted.
And I would be shameless. I'd be shameless as I fell in love with an alien; I'd be shameless when I fucked him for broadcast; I'd be shameless when I danced at the party tonight and when I allied myself with Araxis in the arena and when he paid my debt and I walked away from Seraphim forever, and maybe then they'd realize that they would never be able to touch me.
That I had finally killed the last part of me that they'd been able to claim as theirs. That I was finally, finally free.
The blue ketaari, who still hadn't given me a public name although I'd asked a few polite leading questions, came to see me later that day and jabbed a bunch of holes in my ears.
He was quite distressed when I started bleeding, which was cute enough that I forgave him for not telling me his name, but a quick trip to the medical suite had the holes healed enough for the jewellery to be added and for his panic to subside.
When he left, I amused myself by turning my head to and fro and feeling the way the dangling charms and connected chains jingled.
I pulled on the outfit that Silver Sea had earmarked for me – high-waisted charcoal pants that tied at the narrowest part of my body; a black mesh shirt that darkened in a panel at the back, but not enough to make me fully respectable by the standards of several species and left me entirely unrespectable by human standards; a plunging gauzy jacket (or blouse?
who could say?) that twinkled with dark beads, the fabric soft and sumptuous between my fingers – and I realized, with a start, that I looked…
well, expensive. I was used to looking hot, sure, but this – the dark layers of luxurious fabric, the tousled hair, the glint of gold along each ear, the swipe of dark colour the ketaari had put over each of my eyes – made me look almost like I belonged on broadcast and I smiled, despite the circumstances.
Maybe the conglomerate would air a loop of me sneezing and then crying late at night while watching a romance, but the audience would also see me looking this good, and that had to count for something.
I wasn't sure I wanted to meet any of the other participants yet, even though I'd read their files and so already knew things about them.
Something about meeting them all would make this whole thing feel progressively real, and I was enjoying living in a bit of a fantasy.
What if I had signed on for some galactic dating show instead? What if that was how I'd met Araxis?
What if my whole life was different and better and I was made of clouds and dumplings, hm? What was the point of wishing?
So I sat around and watched another episode of Across the Timescape (in this one, they had to break into a museum vault and use Caso's burgeoning telepathy to avoid certain death by laser grid).
I made it only a few minutes into the next episode before I called it quits: the schedule on my wrist had started to chime in increasingly irritated tones and I'd received three reminder messages from Silver Sea in a row, so I picked myself up, gave myself a quick once over, and headed down to Common Area C.
I ran into Silver Sea on the stairs, her yellow eyes narrow. "There you are. You're late, Sashen Solar."
"Only by a few minutes," I insisted as she pivoted hard on her heel and tromped down in front of me.
"We have been waiting. We cannot make the introductions until all participants are present."
Whoops. I tucked away the shiver of guilt I felt.
In the grand scheme of things, it didn't matter – and I guess this way I'd have a slightly more dramatic entrance.
She shepherded me along to one of the lower levels, which had been locked earlier in the day when I'd been exploring, and slipped into a side entrance with her taloned hand firmly wrapped around my wrist.
"Do you like the earrings at least?" I asked as she pulled me into the dimly lit room.
Her glare was almost tangible. "They are quite nice, although your ears look comically small to a ketaari.
" We wove through the crowd as I tried frantically to take in the room.
It was large and rectangular with pillars flashing up as shadows in the dim blue light; I could make out some bio-luminescent gleams of alien skin, a few glowing eyes, and the winking of little silver cameras jostling around the ceiling.
Voices murmured in a low buzz, quiet music throbbing with a dark beat that would probably, at the right volume, make the whole place pulse – it was the type of music we always had playing at the den on club nights.
Silver Sea hauled me to her side, and gestured with her other hand. "See the steps? Go up and stand next to Zey'flen kin Kortessa, the brin."
I squinted and could just make out shadows on what appeared to be a stage. Silver Sea released my hand and nudged me forward, so I stepped up and drew close to the first shadow. "Are you Zey'flen?" I whispered, craning my head closer to the first figure.
I saw a gleam of faint blue light reflecting off of sharp, wet teeth that were bared in my direction. Those were brin teeth, but that definitely wasn't a smile.
And then the lights flared, casting the stage in brighter blues, as if we were standing underwater. The broad room before us was still incredibly dark, and I blinked at the sudden change, squinting into the lights. My eyes stung, and I couldn't make out anything in the oscillating colours.
A voice boomed from the ceiling, painting the room in bright Standard tones as it was projected from seemingly everywhere at once.
"It is our absolute pleasure to introduce our most stalwart sponsors to this year's chosen participants for the Galactic Tournament of Superiority.
From Yellow Fin Station, human Sashen Solar. "
The light trying to bore its way into my skull flashed to white, bathing me in brightness and making me blind to basically everything else.
Apparently I was up first. I smiled my prettiest smile, tipping my head in a general bow of deference that tended to translate well across species, the charms along my ears tinkling.
Someone else might have felt nervous, but in truth, standing on a stage in front of a barely visible crowd who all wanted to gawk at me was kind of my whole thing.
A round of applause, which in mixed spaces meant a chorus that was part applause, part whistling, some grunting, and some wet slapping of various appendages, rumbled, and then the harsh white light blinked back to blue and attention shifted.
"From the Dubrov Collective, brin Zey'flen kin Kortessa."
I took a half-step back now that I'd had my moment, and the lights that were on me dimmed so that I could more easily make out the line of other participants.
Sure enough, the brin stood next to me, fur-covered arms crossed, long fleshy fronds trailing down either side of his head.
He had a warrior's pattern shaved into his fur.
We'd flagged him as a concern. He'd had some training in voltaari sword-dancing and had an impressive criminal record, the kind that involved charges for desecrating holy ground and inappropriate use of corpses.
Which had made me wonder, when Vivith pointed his record out, what an appropriate use of a corpse was.
The introductions continued and I tried to pay attention – the other human was Grigor Spade from some mining outfit I'd never heard of; he was shorter than I was, but broader and looked like he could crack someone's skull between his meaty hands without breaking a sweat; then Kidedo of Ri, a feathered auvril who was about halfway through a moult; Neern Mournet, a marn like Alet Trident whose four hands flexed nervously at his sides; a pale purple ketaari who used Tree Lily as a public moniker; two voltaari, Tulsu and Atosha, both of whom wore ceremonial robes in opposing colours and wouldn't even look at the crowd, too busy glaring daggers at each other; and another abaya, Andiri of Creche Ena, who we'd also flagged because of her potential instability.
Araxis had tried to explain – for an ivriitan to be cast out of her creche meant she had to be unpredictable, dangerous – but I still didn't understand what it was about her that had made both Araxis and Vivith look unsettled.
And while I tried to pay attention as they were all introduced, I really did, I had eyes for only one participant, who stood at the end of the line.
Araxis of Creche Thiel waited with perfect stillness.
He didn't turn his head toward me and I had to ration how long I let myself stare at his perfect profile, but as the introductions droned on, I was able to drink in enough to appreciate what a fine figure he cut.
And maybe to feel a little flustered, at least internally.