Chapter 32 Watching Her, Rafe
WATCHING HER, RAFE
Eve’s punishment in the shrine lingers in my mind even as I watch her and the coming and goings in the Grand Lobby from high above in my office.
I often think about her bound, naked, and humiliated in the shrine from our punishment months ago. It was a turning point for all of us. Since then, our training sessions have gone much more smoothly.
With me, she has been the model student. The model employee in training sessions only, though. Outside of them, she still bends rules when she thinks no one is watching.
She lingers too long in the staff archives, looking over guest rosters and shipment manifests as though idle curiosity were harmless. Slowing her steps near secured doors, straining to catch fragments of conversations not meant for human ears.
And sometimes, late in her suite, she reads newspapers from Earth through the tablet the engineers configured for her on the Igo. I should strip her of access. I should blame Cal and the engineers for leaving such a loophole. But I don’t. I don’t have the heart to take it away from her.
I worry about her becoming lonely. She and Lira are close, but I see how little else she has. Unfortunately, Earth has not sent another sanctioned message looking for life in the galaxy. That means, legally, my hands are tied.
So, I let her have these small rebellions, not only because they are of interest to her, but because I want her to believe she’s choosing these moments of defiance and that she’s clever for finding them.
So when Gael finally tempts her, she’ll have the confidence to break the rules and think she can get away with it.
However, sometimes when she is being too obvious, I have to reprimand her. I don’t want her to become so bold that she forgets about discretion entirely. When she’s been reading her Earth newspapers for too long, I send her a message that says,
Focus on your training.
And lock her out for a day.
Eve is even more valuable to me today than she was just three months ago.
Every day, the IGC randomly penalizes companies they don’t like and cites human companions as the infraction.
I worry the Grand Championships may be canceled or changed and given to one of our competitors if Jin Kol isn’t satisfied this year.
So despite Eve’s progress with me, I wonder how much real progress she’s making with Lorian. I know there’s still trouble there. Manageable trouble, but trouble, nonetheless.
Eve still resists him and argues with him during their training sessions. The only defiance she shows me is covert. At first, it bothered me that she gives him so much passion while I’m left with only discipline, but I have to remind myself there’s value in that too.
And unlike with Denise, Lorian is forcing Eve to move in this galactic world with the cunning and charisma of an upper-class Reima Two woman, and had she not been human, people would think he was training her to be our wife rather than our human liaison. But I won't stop him.
Not because we could ever marry Eve—that’s unthinkable—but because it’s the most natural way for us to control her sexual desires while still maintaining the spirit and person who is Eve. I don’t want a mindless employee who is like a human pet.
From my office window, I often watch her in real time with the audio on from her desk, like I’m doing now. The surveillance feeds offer angles and biometric data, but lately I prefer to watch her directly. When I watch the screens, they don’t give me what I want anymore.
This morning has brought a steady stream of distinguished guests, each interaction allowing me to evaluate her performance.
Ambassador Thek from the Lixi Consortium, a species known for treating humans as livestock, had his condescending tone met with polite efficiency that somehow managed to be dismissive. Well done. Two weeks ago he would have had her looking at her shoes.
Next, there was the Duchess Airel from the Ini Syndicate, whose attempts at casual conversation about human “companions” were deflected with such skill that the Duchess left confused about what had just happened. And that is Lorian’s work. I can’t take credit, but I’m happy to see it, nonetheless.
But it's the massive figure approaching the reception desk now that has my full attention. Ambassador Tiro of Lyra, seven feet of predatory grace wrapped in diplomatic immunity and genuine concern for human welfare. If anyone can test Eve's composure, it's him.
“Good afternoon, Ambassador Tiro,” Eve says with a respectful bow. Her voice doesn't betray even a hint of the nervousness she must feel facing someone whose species could tear her apart without effort. “Welcome back to the Celestial Spire.”
Tiro's leonine features arrange themselves into what passes for a smile among his kind, revealing teeth designed for tearing flesh. “The pleasure is mine, Madame Eve. Though I confess, I'm surprised to find another human in your position so soon after your predecessor's departure.”
“I hope I can serve the Spire's needs as effectively as she did,” Eve replies. “What brings you to the Spire today?”
“Diplomatic courtesy calls. Though I must admit, I have concerns about the welfare of humans in this sector.”
And there it is. The opening probe that could unravel everything if Eve responds incorrectly. On my IC, I watch her biometric readings spike briefly before settling back to normal levels.
Remarkable control.
“The Spire maintains the highest standards for all staff,” she says carefully. “Is there something specific I can help you address? I am the Spire’s human representative after all.”
Exceptional come back.
Tiro's amber eyes study her for a second longer than necessary. “Are you here against your will, Madame Eve?”
I hold my breath waiting for her to answer. One wrong word or sign of visible distress, and Tiro will launch a formal investigation and no doubt with the IGC's backing.
Lyrans have always thought of humanity as their children because there are big cats on Earth. There’s no logic to it, but still, what logic is there in the galaxy when it comes to which species prefers which?
“No, Ambassador. I am legally employed at the Spire under full IGC protocols.” Her voice is steady and professional. She even lifts her ID necklace to prove it with a smile.
“My clever woman, well done,” I say out loud.
“But I sense some discomfort,” Tiro presses, leaning forward. His enhanced senses can probably detect stress hormones. “A certain... tension in your demeanor.”
Eve's laugh is light and natural. “Respectfully, Ambassador, I think you must sense my exhaustion as I didn't sleep well last night. Even after a few months, I’m still adjusting to Imperial time. You know it’s only an hour longer than days on Earth, but it takes time to adapt.”
She’s so good, I don’t even know if she’s lying right now.
“I see.” Tiro doesn't sound entirely convinced, but Eve's performance is flawless enough that he can't pursue the matter without overstepping diplomatic boundaries. “And the Sovereigns? They are treating you well?”
“Yes, Ambassador. They are exemplary employers,” she says with exactly the right amount of warmth. “I could not have asked for better working conditions.”
She's playing a role now, but it's not the one we first imagined for her, when we thought we would solely train her with the Venus Lock. She has turned into someone else entirely; a woman who's learned to use her intelligence and human beauty as both a shield and a weapon.
“I'm pleased to hear it,” Tiro says unconvincingly while reaching into his diplomatic pouch and producing a small square card. “Should you ever need assistance, with anything at all, this will reach me directly.”
Eve accepts the card with the appropriate level of gratitude, and I watch how carefully she places it in her desk drawer.
Not hidden, but not prominently displayed either.
And I hate that she has that card. It gives her unmonitored access to Ambassador Tiro that will even fragment the Starlight Array’s feed.
But I can’t take it from her. This is all part of our plan.
Tiro will tell Gael about Eve if he doesn’t know already.
Then Gael will contact Eve on behalf of Terra Ka.
“Thank you, Ambassador. Your concern is noted and appreciated.”
“One more thing,” Tiro says. “I knew your predecessor, Denise. A remarkable young woman. I was... saddened to hear of her difficulties at Kamos’ Palace.”
For just a moment, Eve's mask slips, and I see genuine emotion cross her features—anger and sadness. It's gone in a flash, but I know Tiro didn’t miss it.
“I hope she's found peace. She trained me on Earth when we both worked together at the Terra Sanctum hotel,” Eve says. “I wish she were here.”
“As do I.” Tiro's tone carries the weight of someone who knows exactly what happened to Denise and doesn't approve. “Take care of yourself, Madame Eve. The galaxy can be a dangerous place for those who forget they have choices.”
After he leaves, I watch Eve stand alone at her desk for several minutes. Her professional mask remains in place, but I can see the slight tremor in her fingers as she types something on her computer. I mirror her screen.
Then, as soon as the words are there, she deletes them and then looks over to Lira, who gives her a smile, which she returns.
My communication panel chimes with an incoming message from Lorian:
She's magnificent, isn't she?
My response is simple:
We have to make sure she doesn’t leave with Gael.
And if she does?
I think about Ambassador Tiro's card in her desk drawer and the choice she'll eventually have to make between freedom and... whatever this is becoming between the three of us. It’s more than employment, but she can never be our wife. However, I can also never let her go.
We will go after her.
Later, Lorian finds me on the balcony above the arena. Below, engineers are testing the projection fields for the Grand Championships. On a screen in the distance are videos from last year’s games, human contestants running for prizes they would never keep.
“If you’re going to publicly stand here and watch this, you should at least frown,” he says. “You talk about reform to Eve, but then stand here happily overseeing the next Championships, counting profits.”
“Reform costs money,” I reply. “Every credit we make, every person Eve impresses, helps humanity’s reputation in the galaxy—”
“—and it’s all written in human blood,” Lorian cuts in. “Tell me, Rafe, how many more of these games must we host before we can afford to stop them?”
I look down at a holographic maze’s glimmering corridors as engineers work out where the trap doors should be. “If we stop now because of our own morals, someone else will take it over. And they’ll be worse and crueler than we are.”
“Control the cruelty and call it mercy?”
“I’m just being realistic,” I say. “We were born into this machine. We won’t stop it by simply walking away—we have to take the controls, which is what we’re doing.” When he doesn’t respond, I look over questioningly.
“I’m worried that by doing this we’ve lost sight of what’s right. Without our mother to guide us, how can we trust ourselves?” He leans against the rail. “Do you ever wonder if we’re building the same kind of cage for humans, like Eve, but the only difference is that hers has gilded bars?”
“Every day, but until the galaxy stops buying tickets, her gilded cage also pays for our reforms.”
The arena lights dim, leaving only the faint echo of the crowd simulations below—applause for ghosts. The humans that have died here for the entertainment of the galaxy.
Lorian breaks the silence, “Well, apparently, you can’t liberate a species without still charging admission.”
“Not in our galaxy you can’t,” I say solemnly.