《Place Holder》 Chapter 1 - Beyond Invasion (Night at Falsetto Friars) None of this is canon, it¡¯s merely a noodling in my head that I felt compelled to write. Thank you for the inspiration u/bluefishcake, and many more! Chapter 1 - Beyond Invasion (Night at Falsetto Friars) Earth was no longer alone in the cosmos. We had been invaded. And there was no way to fight back. Michael being Michael, took the responsibility for the occupation of his planet. Maybe if he hadn¡¯t screwed up most of his relationships--like his marriage, or when he broke up with his last girlfriend Rachel to hook up with another fling named Amber--maybe the Earth wouldn¡¯t¡¯ve been attacked. That said, he couldn¡¯t take responsibility for the military deaths. They knew what they were signing up for, he thought absently. It was a shame how little patriotism Michael felt. His Uncle Joe had served in Okinawa during Vietnam. His grandfather and several other family members from that Greatest Generation served in World War II. Michael should have drawn pride from their service. Instead, however, he heard stories from his mother about how abusive Papaw had been when he¡¯d had a few too many. Additionally, he couldn¡¯t remember exact details, but he knew that Papaw and Uncle Joe had almost crossed fists in the living room of his grandparents¡¯ home one day. ¡°I¡¯MMA DECK YOU, OLD MAN!¡± was the quote that had intertwined with serving in the military in Michael¡¯s mind. Halo and other video games had not ameliorated his doubts regarding military life. They knew what they were signing up for. That was not what Michael had gravitated toward growing up. His paternal Grandfather had lost his hearing. His cousins on his father¡¯s side had gravitated to nursing and occupational therapy. Michael, therefore, was drawn to more caretaking than lifetaking. That didn¡¯t stop him from thinking himself responsible for the invasion. It was his fault that the Earth was getting its comeuppance. Maybe if he could have held out with Rachel. Maybe if he hadn¡¯t slept with Amber. Maybe¡­just maybe all would have been well with the world. Michael tried desperately to escape that guilty feeling. He threw himself into his work and threw himself into chemicals in order to escape. ¡°I¡¯ll try anything four times.¡± Michael managed to not slur across the table. He¡¯d rarely had so much room on a tabletop taken up by so little food. Bill had warned him that, in living together, Michael would become an alcoholic. With four former steins of hefeweizen, two (three?) mostly empty car bomb husks and a basket that once nestled garlic fries between them, Bill was living the dream. Bill developed a weird mannerism when he was drunk. He would turn his head very slowly and his eyes would loll around the edges of his eyelids. Like a magic eight ball settling into an answer to your dumbass question, Bill¡¯s eyes wandered without focus around the room and to the inside of his skull before finally centering back on Michael. Bill¡¯s thought ran the bases, slid into home plate and out of his mouth, ¡°Fine. Prove it.¡± Michael braced himself. Bill had a lot of silly ideas. Bill was a competitive man who had had dreams of killing Michael in his sleep. Random conversations in their daily lives involved how Bill was going to taze Michael because every man should know how it feels. It hadn¡¯t happened. Yet. ¡°If you¡¯ll try anything three times, go talk to those purple ladies right there.¡± Bill subtly pointed at a table with three giant, purple skinned, tusked women; all of whom smirked at the finger wagging shakily in their direction. Michael felt no need to correct Bill¡¯s misnumbering. The Falsetto Friars wasn¡¯t much larger than the average high school choir room, if you didn¡¯t count the kitchen. Their gimmick was to play loud music while food was being served and in between the servers would sing crowd favorites. It was better than karaoke, but it was your servers instead of yourself and your drunk friends singing. It was a unique method of milking for themselves a higher tip, maybe with some extra cash you could go out to Hollywood and perform for the masses, which worked more often than not. Jacksonville was a conservative town who believed in the American Dream. This tip money could be just what they need to pull themselves up by their bootstraps and make something of themselves. They know what they signed up for; what a bunch of fucking suckers we are. Michael swirled his eyes in his head to try to see what Bill saw in it. Well, that¡¯s once...three more times and I can say I¡¯ve done that. The room was returning to restaurant and bar mode after one of the female servers had serenaded them with Black Velvet. If anything could be said for the three Shil¡¯vati women, it was that they were having a good time. They may not have known any of the lyrics or have had any familiarity with the songs, but they did see Humans having fun. And friends, isn¡¯t that what good music is about? Everyone has a good time until some drunk blatantly points you out of a crowd. Michael followed the invisible line being drawn from Bill¡¯s first finger to the Shils. Seeing their reaction, not going over there was no longer an option. Michael inhaled deeply before investigating the ceiling through the glass bottom of a beer stein. ¡°Fuck you, Bill,¡± he growled as he slid off his barstool and began ambling through the crowd to the ladies. Bill grinned drunkenly and turned his head slowly to the left, eyeballs headed to first base. Michael was too drunk for decorum. He wasn¡¯t a vomit faucet yet, but the bathroom was calling his name. The speakers started to belch Hungry Like the Wolf. He deliberately exhaled again, trying to find his center so as to not stumble into a server on his way to the ladies¡¯ table. He didn¡¯t see their knowing smiles. ¡°Hey¡­ladies,¡± Michael began, trying to meet each of the women¡¯s eyes as he spoke. ¡°I¡¯m Michael Greer and I am ever so sorry for my friend,¡± mentally flipping him off, ¡°Bill¡¯s behavior. He is rather uncouth, but he has a good time.¡± ¡°We can tell,¡± sleuthed one of the women. Now that Michael was closer to them, they looked less like ladies having a night out and more like a couple niche refrigerators that had been wedged together around a table. This bar was not accommodating for Shil¡¯vati patrons. He accidentally slipped into an image of two of them ducking to get in the entrance and the last one hitting her head on the door jamb. He tried to stifle a giggle. Undeterred by his random giggling, the second of the women followed through with the lay up he had provided, ¡°Are you having a good time?¡± The scandalously low number of clasped buttons on her flannel blouse exposed enough of her chest to let one¡¯s imagination coast into fantasy. She also wore what seemed to be a buckskin jacket whose fringe and beads drew implied topographical lines detailing her endowment. Her hair was down, though hidden behind her ears and topped by a Goddamn cowboy hat. Despite having taken in all this detail, Michael tried his best to not look below her lips. As a wise man once said, I just look at their lips and wrinkle my eyebrows and I¡¯m the big sweetheart. ¡°I¡¯m not having a bad time by any stretch of the term.¡± ¡°Might you have a better time if you sat with us?¡± The first of the purple Amazons leaned forward. Her lips pursed between two white tusks. Michael¡¯s drunken mind¡¯s eye saw himself float like a field goal between the uprights that were her tusks, landing his lips onto hers. And the crowd goes wild!This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work. Unconsciously, he shifted his head in the opposite direction.What are you thinking?! Michael startled himself out of his fantasy. Do you know how many of your people that they¡¯ve killed?! Turning his head in the first direction. Yeah, but they knew what they were signing up for, his mind rebutted. What a dickhead you are, he thought as he shook his head at his own brain. ¡°Are you ok?¡± The last of the trio inquired, bursting Michael¡¯s dueling thought bubbles. ¡°You look like you¡¯re playing volleyball against each side of your face.¡± This Doubting Thomasina searched Michael¡¯s face. ¡°Are you having a stronk? Serca, you¡¯re the medic; is he having a, uh, stroke?¡± Her dual braids dipped into and out of her cleavage as she turned her head from Michael to the cowgirl. Drunk Michael thought this one¡¯s features looked similar to a rope you¡¯d pull to ring a church bell the way her hair bobbed alternatively up and down her front. Or maybe she looks like a belt turning a gear? Serca, the cowgirl, took the straw out of her empty vessel, pointed it at Michael, and slid it into her next pitcher of blue liquid while declaring, ¡°Nah, our boy here is a little tipsy. He oughta sit down.¡± Sherlock, the sleuth who first responded to Michael, reached easily and placed perfectly a barstool for Michael to settle into with them at the table. Michael didn¡¯t see Sherlock¡¯s body move. It was as though a refrigerator had grown a ribbed arm and moved a seat, just for him. We must exterminate, Michael¡¯s mind spoke for the image he imagined. Low budget special effects and all, shit was gonna get weird. And Michael was willing to do some science. I¡¯ll try anything four times, he repeated his mantra. Seated now, Michael found his faculties returning. Sherlock also wore a form-flattering outfit: a Jaguars jersey whose sea of teal was separated by an island shaped like the number five. Though, from Sherlock¡¯s curvature, it could have been a sigma or a lowercase xi. Her hair fell into loose curls that didn¡¯t quite seem well conceived. Speaking of ill conceived, Michael found his newly planted self taking inventory of what was going on, ¡°Do I understand Shil¡¯vati? How do I know what you¡¯re saying?¡± There was a collective shrug from the other side of the table. ¡°Maybe we speak better English when we¡¯re drunk?¡± Doubting Thomasina posited while sucking an olive off of the skewer from her shallow, wide-brimmed glass. She put the toothpick back in the glass and brought her hand back up to her face then thumbed her tusk like an old man tweaking his mustache. It was cute that Michael accepted that fact, even cuter when he thought that he could retain the answer to his next question; ¡°Serca, you¡¯re a medic.¡± He smiled a little too slowly at the cowgirl. ¡°What are your names and what do you do around here?¡± He looped his head around at the other two Shil¡¯vati women at the table. He regretted the movement as it still lingered even though his head stopped. Doubting Thomasina gave a smile that somehow also made Michael feel lesser than she. Of the three, she had a little black dress on that did all the right things for her intended purpose tonight but Michael was obviously not the target of her intended purpose. He assumed she was here for a hard-bodied Marine or the like. He was a soft-bodied hairball, who was lucky he¡¯d gotten this far into a conversation with these hotties without being sent away. Anyway, her name is Josepha or some such bullshit. Chump don¡¯t want the help, chump don¡¯t get the help. Michael moved on, listening as best he could. Sherlock, on the other hand, seemed a bit more curious and questioning. She¡¯s more than happy to share her name, Michael chuckled to himself as she blathered, Guinevere. Guinevere happily pointed out that they were all members of the Shil¡¯vati military who were stationed at the big purple monstrosity of a base that had been stationed on the ash of what was once NAS Jax. They all had cushy, not so demanding jobs on base. Guinevere worked in SR, Shil¡¯vati Resources. Serca spoke up, ¡°¡®Medic¡¯ is the furthest thing from what I do. I requisition medical supplies for wahwahwah.¡± Michael stopped caring enough to listen. Luckily enough, he was saved by the bell. The entire staff was on stage. ¡°When I wake up in the morning and the alarm gives out a warning¡­¡± The women started bouncing to the beat. Michael glanced back at Bill who was bouncing and shooting thumbs up in Michael¡¯s direction, mouth agape with You Got It Buddy clearly readable. Fuck you too, buddy. The bop ended quickly enough. Michael ordered a round of bourbon shots for the table. ¡°You know, that song is from a show I grew up watching.¡± Michael slyly smiled, his generation watched the show, he didn¡¯t really care for it that much but they didn¡¯t know anything about it so he was an ambassador. ¡°Zach. Slater. We know. We¡¯ve been doing our homework about Earth.¡± Josepha replied tersely. Gwen followed up dreamily, ¡°Slater takes his shirt off. A lot.¡± Gwen and Serca looked at Michael thirstily. Josepha remained unfazed. Michael knew the Shil¡¯vati were a randy bunch, but this was the first that he¡¯d registered that Bill had thrown him to the wolves. He wasn¡¯t sure how to disrupt their gazes. As if on cue, the shots arrived. Michael held up his shot glass to the ladies. They hesitantly held theirs up in similar fashion. They all clinked their glasses together. ¡°To new friends,¡± Michael beamed, then tapped his glass on the table, ¡°Prost!¡± Down Michael¡¯s hatch, the bourbon burned its way to his core. The ladies did likewise before they all came up for air. An electric guitar cut through the sudden silence. ¡°Let¡¯s go girls.¡± The call to action for every woman had been rung. Eyes wide, Josepha clasped hands with the other two women and practically clotheslined Michael in trying to stand up together. They clustered together with all the other hot-blooded women on the minuscule dance floor. Michael took a moment to look over at Bill. He was talking to their server when Michael caught his eye. Bill raised another half empty stein Michael¡¯s way. Michael drew his pointer finger up to his throat then across it, then pointed it at Bill. Bill took his own pointer finger, jutted it toward the dancing girls, then back to Michael. Ever so subtly, Bill brought two fingers up to his goatee and stuck his tongue between them. Then he produced another V with his other hand and brought it to his mouth as well. This kept going long after Michael had turned away. The women were definitely trying to hide that they were having a conversation on the dance floor. Rhythm was lost in translation. Eyes pointed in Michael¡¯s direction. Feet stomped a little more forcefully than the Shania Twain¡¯s aesthetic intended at parts. Josepha leaned forward until Serca and Gwen seemed to entwine tusks to join together to push Josepha back. The song ended with the fanfare it deserves, soon replaced by a fast-paced rap song. The women returned to the table where Michael had stayed. Two pairs of eyes implored to Michael, ¡°Will you come with us?¡± Gwen and Serca harmonized. ¡°Ladies, I¡¯d go anywhere with you. Take me to the stars!¡± Michael may have been a little too enthusiastic. Josepha chuckled dismissively. ¡°No, to base!¡± ¡°To¡­base?¡± Michael stammered, ¡°I-I didn¡¯t know that was an option.¡± ¡°I mean, we could take you to a couple bases¡­I think you¡¯re practically at first.¡± Gwen threaded a finger into one of Serca¡¯s open buttonholes to open the flannel even further, revealing a thickly reinforced bra cup in its entirety. Michael¡¯s eyes widened, trying to take in all the details. His jaw slackened at their explicit willingness to get explicit with him. He recovered cooly with, ¡°Seems like a home run to me.¡± Drooling slightly as he spoke. He looked at his mental map. Falsetto Friars was halfway between his and Bill¡¯s apartment and the Shil¡¯vati base. From here, it wasn¡¯t that big of a deal. Though how would I get home? ¡°How would I get home? Are you driving me?¡± Michael did a decent impression of the Scarecrow meeting Dorothy, pointing every which way. ¡° I¡¯m not driving. Have you seen the table I came from?¡± Their table looked over, as one, to Bill who was schmoozing with the server again. He felt their eyes on him and turned to meet their gaze. Their eyes met briefly as Bill¡¯s were about to round the bases again. He held up a hand that did a disembodied finger-wiggle wave up and down all of its digits. ¡°And what am I going to do with that guy?¡± Michael voiced his paternal concern. Serca teased, ¡°What are you, his babysitter?¡± ¡°Is he going to fuck you tonight?¡± Gwen asked mockingly. Michael¡¯s own eyes scored one for the home team as his head pivoted back to the most recent speaker. ¡°F-fuck me? Him? I hope not.¡± ¡°Then you need to let him figure himself out. He¡¯s a big boy. He can take care of himself.¡± ¡°...Ok. Just a second.¡± Michael requested while feeling his wallet and keys through his pants pocket. Michael dipped, dodged and drove through servers and patrons to get back to the table with Bill. ¡°How¡¯s it going with the ladies?¡± Bill smiled lopsidedly. ¡°They¡¯re taking me back to base. You got money for an Uber?¡± Bill inhaled sharply and turned his head, ¡°You lucky son of a bitch...yeah, I guess so. You got the check?¡± Michael stabilized himself with both hands on the edge of the table, ¡°Half. I have half of the check.¡± ¡°You¡¯re going to get some pussy, ditch me, and make me pay my way home?¡± Michael¡¯s glazed eyes stared forward, through Bill. ¡°Ahhhh, fine. You¡¯d better thank me for this later.¡± Bill moaned. They waved the server over to settle up the check. Michael kept one eye toward the ladies, making sure they didn¡¯t leave without them. They did appear to be paying off their own tabs as well. Having recently grown a conscience, ¡°Oh, you got a condom?¡± Bill asked. ¡°Oh yeah, I carry¡¯em on me all the time. You know how I get lucky like this so much.¡± Michael¡¯s sarcasm laid thick. ¡°I don¡¯t even know if I could get them pregnant, but you know I got the snip snip.¡± His fingers opened and closed in downward pointing scissor motions. ¡°Yeah, but who knows what those girls got?¡± Bill looked warily from side to side before taking another sip, ¡°They could give you the Ninja.¡± The Ninja was an inside joke about STIs that Bill had had since he was enlisted. Who knows what you could pick up out there? It¡¯s mysterious and could strike when you¡¯re least expecting it: the Ninja. Michael shrugged. ¡°Maybe my crabs¡¯ll be purple too.¡± Bill swallowed with difficulty then snapped C-shaped hands open and shut. Meanwhile, the Shil¡¯vati women gathered their belongings and headed for the door. Serca cocked her head in Michael¡¯s direction. ¡°Thanks for this, Fucker.¡± Michael grinned at his roommate. ¡°You¡¯d better take some pictures.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll see what I can do, Bud.¡± Off he went. Not knowing what the future held for sure, but he had a hunch. One phrase kept rolling in his head as he followed the women out the door. They knew what they were signing up for. Chapter 2 - Pancakes (Grind) Josepha, Gwen, Serca and Michael piled into a transport from the base¡¯s Transport Motor Pool. The eggplant-colored SUV took up a lane and a half of standard road. Shil¡¯vati, being practical, had installed enlarged roadways the size of airport runways from the western side of the Buckman Bridge all the way to the base. The transition was barely noticeable from bridge to runway. The sound of the rubber on beam had a slightly lower tone than the rubber on Shil¡¯way, but once you got going, you barely recognized it. The bigger difference was in vehicle performance. These Shil¡¯mobiles had systems that connected to the road. Those systems could triangulate the location of the vehicle based on the system in the vehicle, the contact with the road and a transmitter connected to the base. They also told the base the vehicle ID, who the vehicle¡¯s owner was (as long as they were registered with the Shils), tire wear and could mitigate charge loss on their electric batteries. The Shil¡¯vati technology that allowed for electric-powered vehicles to stay charged could keep a driver on the road limited only by the amount of Shil¡¯vati roadway between destinations. The elimination of greenhouse gases consumed by transportation use in itself could genuinely save the hothouse that was Earth. Michael could not care less. He was feigning sobriety as best he could. It took everything in him to not let go and fall into the supple limbs and bosoms that were pressed unnecessarily against him in the spacious vehicle. The subtle jiggles surrounding him made him feel like he was in a jello mold. This would probably propel people who were claustrophobic into a panic attack. Sucks for them. Though not everything jiggles in here, Michael noted as solid Shil¡¯vati thighs made their presence known in the mix. Gwen and Serca made his seat belt redundant. There was no way he was going to move from his seat with their thick arms crossing in front of him. He had lost his mastery of Shil language in the transport. Or maybe their whispered nothings had no discernible language. It was simply the sirens¡¯ call. Their pressure was more welcome than their groping. Michael did his best to politely push away their purple mitts when they squeezed too hard. They had unbuttoned his plaid shirt and were reaching in for his nipples. Playing was fine, but when they threatened to pinch them off, he realized he needed to learn to set his boundaries. For a moment, he wondered if he¡¯d done that to any of the women he¡¯d groped. His eyes looked forward in a moment of clarity. There was a driver. She looked back at him through the rear view mirror. There was no emotion on what he could see of her face. He imagined there might have been envy for the ladies¡¯ having snagged a man. Whatever he imagined, it wasn¡¯t pity for him. She would not be defending him should things turn south. Michael didn¡¯t feel like things would go south, but it was a sobering thought to realize that he was going into the lion¡¯s den. Then again, as fingers found his turgid hardness in the dark, what else did I have going for me? Weird time to get introspective. Was this the part when your life flashes before your eyes? Michael pondered as he unintentionally had a little death in his pants. Fuck! These Shil bitches made me cum already? How? And how do I rebound from this? Michael tried to control his breathing and ignore the cooling viscous fluid dripping down his leg. No choice now. Never give up! Never surrender! Michael pressed back toward both girls. Fanning his hands up and down the midsections at both sides of him, his fingers catching individually between the separations in their abs. Gwen and Serca didn¡¯t necessarily seem ¡°cut¡± as it were, but they were still active duty Marines. He leaned in to nuzzle into Serca¡¯s neck. Breathing her in, he opened his mouth to suck in some purple skin. ¡°Mmm, our man¡¯s getting me all riled up¡­¡± Serca hummed. ¡°Ooh, me too,¡± Gwen squeaked as Michael¡¯s hand snaked down to her crotch. Josepha chimed in perturbedly, ¡°Thank fuck we¡¯re almost on base.¡± The actively engaged threesome dropped everything and looked to the other side of Serca. ¡°Get me out of here.¡± Passions cooled as all handsiness ceased. The transport turned in toward gate two. The driver flashed her ID at the posted officer. They passed through the checkpoint without fuss. The broad prisms that were the Shil dorms and offices on base were silhouetted by the lights of the Buckman Bridge. Michael hadn¡¯t been on base before, even when it was still a Human base. He hadn¡¯t realized the bridge and the base were so close. Rune-y rune rune or whatever the fuck the Shil¡¯vati words were meant that they were at their stop. Didn¡¯t matter much to Michael. He needed to readjust his pants and get to a bathroom quickly. The front door led to a common room where several other rooms branched out from; this must be the suite life, Michael thought as he beheld his new surroundings. ¡°Where¡¯s the bathroom?¡± Michael asked, pointing at the many door options from which he had to choose. Josepha grunted without any regard for the situation playing out for the other three or modesty ¡°Shitter¡¯s over there.¡± She headed to what must¡¯ve been her room. She harangued the high heels from her feet as she went. ¡°Uh, just be a minute. Where do I need to go next?¡± Serca and Gwen exchanged heated glances. ¡°You know what, I¡¯ll let you two figure it out while I¡¯m in there.¡± Closing the door more loudly than he¡¯d intended, Michael spun around a little too fast for his own good. He tried to muffle a burp and shuffled toward the nearest commode. There were multiple stalls that lined the wall opposite multiple sinks. Rushing past, he noticed that there was another attached room; from the sound, he could tell it was the showers. Suite community bathroom he thought as he reached down his pants to try to deglaze his member. His jeans didn¡¯t fit well so he didn¡¯t even have to unbutton. That was the curse of being overweight. Nothing really fit him anymore. Good enough. He thought as he pulled his hand out, rinsed it and chose a stall. Sitting down to pee didn¡¯t seem like a bad idea at the moment. His torso rocked back and forth involuntarily as urine flowed from his body. Middling with a thunderous fart and ending with a moan, Michael was finished. As was the showering suite mate, ¡°Nice one!¡± They called from the shower. Michael¡¯s entire face sprang open with shock and embarrassment. What should I say? A man on the Shil¡¯vati base in a ladies¡¯ suite getting props for a fart? Was there precedence for this? ¡°How¡¯d the hunting go out there tonight?¡± The nameless Shil asked from the other room. Michael got himself together and washed his hands. While the sink was rushing, he hoped it would mask his voice well enough to say, ¡°Pretty good¡±. Wet foot flaps slapped from the room opposite where Michael stood up to and around the corner. ¡°Pretty good my ass!¡± Michael waved sheepishly. Suite mate had only half covered her front with her towel. She wrapped it around the rest of her, showing Michael a quarter moon before stepping out to the common room. ¡°You cunts snagged a man?!¡± The conversation continued on the other side of the closed community bathroom door. Michael finished washing himself off of himself. Buttoning up his pants and shirt and checking his phone, he assessed himself. I¡¯m good. A little damp in the crotch, but I couldn¡¯t be the only one, he said to himself with a smirk. He took a deep breath and pushed the bathroom door open. The mystery suite mate had vanished as quickly as they¡¯d appeared. Gwen and Serca stood in their flannels. Only their flannels. Unbuttoned and seemingly without any undergarments, they smiled at Michael as he stood in the doorway of the bathroom. They grabbed him by each of his arms, practically picked him up and stashed him into a mystery door in the common room opposite of the bathroom. The picking up of him impressed Michael enough, but they also managed to bound him above instead of around a Shil¡¯vati-sized couch, coffee table and chair. Michael started to think he was inside of a plum. Everything was a shade of purple. All surfaces shone in purple: eggplant, violet, mauve, grape, lilac, jam, amethyst, mulberry, wine, magenta, boysenberry. He was released once they got into someone¡¯s personal room. There were two beds on opposite sides of the room. There were desks with personal workspaces for each of the room¡¯s occupants. It soon became obvious whose room this was. Michael glanced over and saw a longer Shil¡¯vati native variant of Guinevere on one side and Serca on the other. You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story. Clearly this had been the arrangement from the beginning. Michael pondered what would have happened had things worked out for Mrs. Doubting Thomas, Josepha for just a moment. Before he could articulate the question out of his head, the girls had pulled his loose fitting pants and boxers down. The seemingly practiced tempo of them unbuttoning alternating shirt buttons was too fast for him to question. Before he could gather his wits, he was naked. Gwen looked disappointed at the lack of motivation between his legs. ¡°Can we fix this?¡± ¡°I¡¯m sure we can figure it out.¡± Serca grinned and unpeeled her top. The purple woman Michael was clapping his eyes at was stitchless. She swept her hair from it¡¯s loose form to gather from her left side to a more right-heavy orientation. Her hair was long enough for the ends to tickle the ski slope that was the nipple on her right breast. Massive globes that could only exist in comic books from the nineteen nineties swung from her core. She¡¯d changed positions from up on her knees on her bed to a slumped sidesaddle. The momentum of which bobbed her chest in an appealing rhythm. ¡°Oh sure,¡± Gwen nodded as she divested herself of her flannel as well. She didn¡¯t have the perkiness of Serca, but her enthusiasm more than made up for aesthetic preference. She reached out to encourage Little Michael into action. Michael dodged quickly. ¡°We¡¯ll, uh, try to get him going in a bit. The appeal the ladies seem to find in me is...dexterity.¡± The women tilted their heads in stereo. Michael massaged his forearms and wiggled his fingers. ¡°Here, let me show you. Lay down and turn around.¡± Serca followed his command, curious. Michael scooted her a little further in on the bed and settled in like a big spoon. He twisted her head gently toward his so he could kiss her. He had to lift himself more than he was used to in order to avoid her tusk, but otherwise he was feeling good. Her lips pressed against his eagerly. He slid a hand up her stomach to measure her upper topography. First, though, he wrapped her arm up behind her so that her hand was on the back of his head. She pushed a little harder than he¡¯d¡¯ve liked into her kisses. He came up for air and she threaded her fingers through his hair, not hard, but enough to let him know she still had a hold of him. He measured her peaks and valleys: about a fully spread hand and a half¡¯s length from her breast bone to tip. Her areolae were the width of three of his fingers. The actual erect nipple was just taller than his fingers. He dragged his fanned out fingers up and down, flicking her nipple in successive fashion. ¡°Having fun?¡± Serca smiled, not impressed. ¡°Oh yeah...oh, sorry, I¡¯ll move on¡­¡± Michael firmly mouthed her shoulder and withdrew his hand from her front to her back. Gliding over interstitial muscle and sinew, he found his way to one of her Venus Dimples. He thumbed a circle around and into it. Serca seemed to appreciate the pressure. Gwen on the other hand, was done with watching. She climbed over Michael and Serca to the side of the bed closest to the wall. Gwen slipped her left arm under Serca¡¯s head. Michael could see her fingers threading Serca¡¯s hair. More hands make light work, Michael smirked to himself as he kept his right hand on Serca¡¯s right shoulder. Gwen propped her hand on Michael¡¯s hand on Serca¡¯s shoulder. She got at least that much contact with him. Gwen¡¯s left thumb pulled Serca¡¯s lip down, anchored against the tusk while also pulling their faces closer together. Good. You two have fun up there. I¡¯ve got a job to do down here. Michael coaxed Serca¡¯s left leg up so that her knees were between Gwen¡¯s legs. He then cupped the entirety of Serca¡¯s vagina. He felt her heat to make sure that he was not too cold when he made his way into her. He heard hair roll as he made a boat-rocking motion along the length of her. As though it were a passenger of the boat standing up, he sought passage into her with his middle finger. Parted, he found the seas he was seeking. He heard Serca inhale sharply at the sensation. Before too long, his middle finger was coated in her viscosity. He used her slick to return to her surface to find her sensitive button. He assumed Shil clits were similar enough to a Humans¡¯. He felt enough tumescence to work with then ventured back into her depths. He resurfaced so as to also wet his thumb. Feeling to make sure he didn¡¯t have any rough edges on his thumbnail, he sent his drenched middle finger up to her clit and made his way into her with his thumb. Gwen¡¯s confusion grew as Serca hesitated in their embrace. ¡°What are you doing down there?¡± ¡°I¡¯m not sure, but it¡¯s interesting.¡± Serca tilted her head on her pillow. Michael heard a tusk drag against fabric and felt her twist slightly. Michael felt like he was Scotty calling up from Engineering on the Enterprise from his position behind and below Serca. ¡°Trust me. I¡¯m a professional.¡± Both women scoffed, until Serca stopped. There we are¡­ Michael had been probing what he called the ¡°soft palate¡± of her vagina. Up inside and behind her pubic arch there was a soft patch of flesh. Michael motioned his thumb in a motion akin to flicking a cigarette lighter. He had heard of people using their pointer finger and rubbing this area with a ¡°come hither¡± motion. He¡¯d found more success in this position, using the strength he¡¯d developed maneuvering in video games. The soft flesh gained rigidity. It felt like a walnut. Michael worked her walnut in circles with his thumb while rubbing her clit with his pointer finger like it was a trigger. Serca picked up what was going on and turned her body so that her torso faced the bed more. This gave him more leverage. He gripped her shoulder tighter and rocked her whole body as he fucked her with his hand. Her breathing grew faster. ¡°By the Empress!¡± Gwen exclaimed in response to Serca¡¯s behavior. She propped herself up on her elbow to look at Michael. She couldn¡¯t get a good view of anything that was going on despite her best efforts. ¡°Lay back down and pull her hair again, Goddammit!¡± Michael commanded, slightly winded from the effort of rocking a behemoth of a woman. Gwen did as she was told. ¡°Suck my tits!¡± Serca interjected. Gwen had no idea what had come over them, but was not in a position to ask questions. She steadily pulled Serca¡¯s whole head back by her hair, causing her back to arch and jutting her breasts toward Gwen. If anything, she felt like the opportunity could not be denied. She took a tit in her mouth and sucked hungrily. Michael kept up the tempo. Hearing Serca unconsciously add a high pitched whine to her breathing, he couldn¡¯t stop now. ¡°Goddess, it feels like I¡¯m going to pee!¡± Serca gasped. ¡°Go with it!¡± Michael insisted, not dropping the pace. His entire hand was slick with Serca¡¯s sex already. He alternately pinched her outer and inner walls together. A woman¡¯s clit is more than the nub at the front. It¡¯s like a Klingon Bird of Prey inside of the pelvis, Michael remembered his version of what he taught himself from books and practice. ¡°I¡¯m going to pee!¡± Serca squealed. Michael growled, ¡°Let it go!¡±. He pulled his hand out of her. A shotgun blast of ejaculate hit the wall beside the entrance to the room. ¡°What! The! Fuck!¡± Gwen couldn¡¯t help but say aloud. Serca drew herself into the fetal position. Mewling as she caught her breath. Michael let his hand go limp and land on his stomach. Breathing through a satisfied smile, he asked, ¡°How was it for you?¡± Serca released a slow, measured ¡°Mmmmmhmmm¡± and that was it for her. Michael knew she was down for the count. He shuffled the bedcovers so that he could cover her up. She grabbed the edge and tucked it under her chin. He got up from the bed and tucked the loose end of the cover in behind her. Unmoved from her first exclamation, Gwen repeated, more deliberately. ¡°What. ¡°The. ¡°Fuck?¡± Michael shrugged as if he had no idea what had just happened himself. He looked down, naked as he was, ¡°But¡­¡± he pulled his erect penis to one side and let it go so that it could swing side to side like a door stop spring. He placed his hands on either side of his dick so he could point at it open handed like Vanna White. Gwen¡¯s eyes followed his swollen head move side to side, hypnotized. She looked down at Serca, who had ventured off of the corporeal plane, and tucked the rest of the cover in on Serca¡¯s front. She gingerly lifted herself up and over her roommate and off of her bed. ¡°I don¡¯t know what you did to her.¡± She poked a thumb behind her to the bed, ¡°But I know what I¡¯m going to do with that.¡± Whoa now, Michael thought before being pushed onto Gwen¡¯s bed. He was ready but he wasn¡¯t. He hadn¡¯t started intercourse with the wind being knocked out of him. However, that¡¯s how this event began. She slammed him against the bed with her full weight. ¡°I¡¯m good to go.¡± Gwen insisted as she guided Michael¡¯s dick into her. That¡¯s great for you, sweetheart, but holy shit, give me a second to catch my breath! Bill told me to bring a condom. Fuck, I hate it when he¡¯s right. Michael drew in a big, desperate breath as he entered her. ¡°You like that?¡± Gwen leaned into Michael¡¯s face. ¡°You like that purple pussy?¡± She ground into him in a way that hurt his hip socket and squashed his balls. ¡°You gonna make me cum like you made her cum?¡± Michael did not appreciate this approach. ¡°Yeah, you will! You pink stiff.¡± Not at all. This name calling was entirely uncalled for in this circumstance. Michael grunted in equal parts physical and emotional discomfort. ¡°That¡¯s right you fat fuck. Make me shoot cum across the room too!¡± Gwen put a hand around Michael¡¯s neck. The fuck have I gotten myself into? ¡°You¡¯re gonna pump my pussy ¡®til I cum you fat fuck! You slut!¡± She leaned into the hand on his neck, cutting off any hope he had of breathing. With her other hand she grabbed his arms and pulled them above his head, holding both of his hands in place with her massive purple hand. Unable to breathe. Unable to move. Michael had no choice but to take it. Gwen thrusted at him aggressively. Hopefully, she¡¯ll be done soon. Again and again, she made the bed screech with her effort. I must be as purple as she is. Fuck this hurts! Despite hurting, he couldn¡¯t help himself but to cum in reaction to her thrusting. ¡°Oh don¡¯t give up on me now you pink fuck!¡± What the hell?! ¡°Come on. Come ooonnnnn.¡± Her feverish thrusting made her let go of his neck to hold herself in place. Michael sucked in air as hard as he could. Evidently, that was all she needed to hear to push her over the edge. Fucking finally! She rode him until her aftershocks stopped. ¡°What the hell was that!?¡± Michael coughed and sputtered. ¡°What was what?¡± Gwen asked nonchalantly. ¡°You made her cum, it was my turn.¡± She smacked him playfully across the face a few times. ¡°And don¡¯t tell me you didn¡¯t like it. I felt you cum too.¡± ¡°I came, but¡­¡± hands free, he¡¯d finally let go of his throat from when she¡¯d let go. ¡°Goddamn, that was not ok!¡± ¡°Look, you went out to a bar, you got drunk, you approached our table.¡± Gwen pulled up some panties she¡¯d gotten out of a drawer on her side of the room. ¡°You knew what you were signing up for.¡± She shrugged over her shoulder as she closed the door behind her. Chapter 3 - The Morning After (Zing!) Michael gathered his clothes together and put them on. Sloppy, sweaty and smelling like an evening out on the town, they did little to cover the rawness he felt. How could he let this have gone so bad so quickly? But at the same time, what was he to do? Shil¡¯vati, on average, were slightly heavier than him but with about a foot and a half more height and a much better BMI. He checked his belongings. He still had his wallet, cashless as it was; it still had his driver¡¯s license, insurance, credit card and a few other bullshit essentials. He checked his phone. It was dead. Of course. He looked around the room. There were a few tchotchkes and pictures that seemed personal. There were several posters of shirtless or near shirtless Human and Shil¡¯vati men. Clive Owen...nice. Get some Zac Efron up in here and we could talk. Ugh, talk. I don¡¯t want to talk to anyone right now. Oh wait, I can¡¯t even call for help--phone¡¯s dead. Michael looked around the room. Serca was sleeping. He wasn¡¯t about to disturb her. He doubted she would have anything helpful to tell him. Who could? Fuck. I can¡¯t sleep in here, Michael added to his list of regrets. He crept over to the side of the floor where he might hide behind the door when Gwen returned. I¡¯m sure as hell not sleeping with her. He looked up at the shotgun blast drippings for his fond memories of the night. Was it good, though? Was it worth what happened afterwards? Think of the Devil, Gwen reentered the bedroom, quietly so as to not disturb her roommate. She looked for Michael on her bed, then the floor, then Serca¡¯s bed. Finally, she closed the door and looked down at him curled up on the floor. ¡°Oh grow the fuck up.¡± Gwen chuckled. ¡°Be a man? I guess..?¡± Then tumbled into her own bed. ¡°C¡¯mon Pinkie, I¡¯ll make it better.¡± Michael got up in a huff. Fuck that. ¡°I¡¯m going to the bathroom.¡± He closed the door as calmly as he could, then paced angrily to the bathroom. When inside, he looked at himself in the mirror. His neck was red, but not bruised, not yet anyway. He started to scrub his hands clean when he remembered his sweat, beer and cum soaked clothes. He didn¡¯t go out with an overnight bag. His and Bill¡¯s outings almost never ¡°paid off¡± as their bravado suggested they would. Several times they¡¯d been to the beach bars and even Falsetto Friars with no luck. Why would this time be any different? Michael scrubbed and scrubbed until he realized he needed to move on. Cleaning his hands alone would not make him feel any cleaner inside or out. He wasn¡¯t going to shower, but he wasn¡¯t going to go back into that bedroom either. He took a few steps outside of the bathroom and assessed the common room situation. God, am I going to have a complex about seeing purple now? Michael rubbed the bridge of his nose and stood for a while. He eventually settled on trying to sleep in the chair as opposed to the couch. The chair was plenty of room for him, but the couch had too much. He didn¡¯t want to invite himself to any more attention from other suite mates who could decide they needed to make a go at the Human fuck cushion. Still, Michael could rest his head on one arm of the chair, stretch out his body and not have to bend his legs to fit in the Shil¡¯vati piece of furniture. Sleep never came easy to him. It especially didn¡¯t come easy tonight. He tossed and turned and never quite got comfortable. He must¡¯ve gotten some sleep because he awoke at some point in the night to the feeling of being lifted out of the chair. He startled at her touch, but did not fight it when he recognized that it was Serca who was picking him up. Despite not wanting to go back into that room, he felt he might be a bit safer to be in the big strong arms of someone who ¡°knew¡± him and didn¡¯t have neutral to negative intent to use him as their intimate object. That made things more ¡°secure¡± but no easier to sleep. Being the little spoon was better than being alone on a seat even in the worst of circumstances. Still, Michael found himself counting breaths he was taking. Trying to determine if the friction between himself and his partner was comfortable kept his brain spinning. Her smooth skin against his should have been comforting. However, the thick arm around him felt smothering. Eventually, Serca turned over and checked her omnipad. It was time to get up and start the day. She got up, grabbed what was presumably her toiletries and clothes and headed out the door. She beckoned Michael to join. He looked from her to Gwen, still sound asleep, and decided to join her--he hoped, in the shower. He hoped he could get out of there before Gwen got up again. He hoped he wouldn¡¯t have to face her again and could forget that part of last night. He also hoped beyond hope that there might be a way to wash his clothes. This, like so many others, was a wasted hope. The shower experience was not as sexy as one might imagine. Sure, naked purple Amazon, huge jugs, learning a lot of Shil¡¯vati anatomy was fun, but it was more clinical than anything else. Particularly when Serca decided that Michael needed a hand. Yes, my chest is clean. You can stop anytime¡­The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings. Yes, my crotch is a mess. No, it wasn¡¯t you. No, I¡¯m not hard. No, shower sex is not a thing right now. Even if it was, my cock would have to be like 5 feet long to accommodate our difference in heights. Can we be done? It was when she lifted his arms to wash his armpits that it occurred to Michael that none of this had been said aloud. Or perhaps understood aloud. Serca had made some low noises that must have been spoken Shil¡¯vati. He stood there and took it. He was defenseless to her doting on him. She¡¯d lifted me from the couch and took me to her room. What was I going to do? Still pondering his plight, do I not know Shil anymore? What? How did I know it last night? How did we have entire conversations last night that led to me coming to the base? The confusion must have been clear on his face despite their newly acquired language barrier because Serca turned the water off mirthlessly. Once dressed, Serca motioned for him to come with her outside. Michael could tell that she wanted to hold hands or something that showed some kind of affection or appreciation for their time together. He did not reciprocate. Get me the fuck out of here, he thought as he kept his hands in his pockets, walking grumpily a step behind her long slow strides. She covered more distance with her slow strides than he could keep up with easily. He could tell she was leading him to an open parking lot. There, a school bus stood purposefully. He could also tell that he wasn¡¯t the only one doing the walk of shame toward the bus. In fact, several Human men were aggregating at the open bus door. Was this so common that they had a regularly scheduled bus route for ¡°the morning after¡±? Holy shit. Michael¡¯s spirits sank even further. Not only was he a piece of meat to these ladies, he wasn¡¯t even special. I am so common that they had a fucking school bus to transport all the fuckbois off base. His shoulder slumped in self pity. Serca noticed and tried to explain herself while the other suitors climbed onto the bus. Michael didn¡¯t understand. Though, if he could, he imagined that the words would have become ¡°wah wahs¡± in his brain anyway. He feigned listening. It seemed like the most polite way to get himself out of the situation as painlessly as possible. Honestly though, he didn¡¯t have any hard feelings toward Serca. They were just two people who wanted a connection. They had that last night. She wasn¡¯t the one who forced herself upon him. Maybe there could be something down the line for them. He¡¯d have to figure out why he could understand her last night and not this morning. He¡¯d clearly missed something in his reverie because her hands were on his shoulders. The other guys were already on the bus. Serca had just said something for which she expected a response. He looked up from the pavement where he had been doing his contemplation. She repeated what she had said in Shil. Michael assumed it was something about seeing him later. She shook him, perhaps harder than she¡¯d intended as Michael had to brace himself to keep his balance. This is uncalled for, no matter what she¡¯s saying, you don¡¯t shake a body like this. Michael reached up and, with not insignificant effort, lifted her arms from his shoulders. He crinkled his face with displeasure in doing so. Serca looked ashamed. Yeah. You don¡¯t get to grab someone you barely know and shake them. Her arms went to her sides as she gave him a look of genuine apology. He put his hands down from his lifting position into one that he hoped would convey that it was alright. He looked her in the eye and hoped that their actions hadn¡¯t truly broken up what could be, at the very least, a learning opportunity for him. They both smiled slightly and breathed a sigh of hope for another try. Then Michael¡¯s face was wet. He wiped at his face. What now? He looked up at the sky to see which bird had shat on him. He looked at his wet fingers. They were blue. ¡°What?¡± Michael said in shock. He looked up at Serca. There was a throbbing gush of blood coming out of her neck. It was then that he thought he heard it. ZING. Now, much too late, he ducked. Was that a bullet? He asked himself dumbly. Serca began to fall. He had no hope of catching her. The weight of her fall would have crushed him. Luckily for him, she fell backward. The momentum of her falling showed that her head was nearly torn off. Blood continued to pulse out of her neck and onto the pavement of the parking lot. He didn¡¯t know what to do. There was nothing he could do to help her. He looked around for help. He didn¡¯t see any Shil¡¯vati around. What he did see was the walk of shamers pouring out of the bus. Somehow they all had assault rifles. They all ran to the buildings they had come from, reversing their route to the bus. The bus driver sauntered off the bus and handed him a rifle as well. ¡°Welcome to the Resistance, son.¡± The bus driver smiled at him. ¡°Fuck this.¡± Michael said as he handed the rifle back. He started running for the gate. I¡¯m getting the fuck out of here. He held his pants in place as he rushed. Stupid fucking fuck and your stupid fucking weight gain and your stupid fucking pants that don¡¯t fit. He panted as he ran, pretending he was out of breath from the yelling at himself internally and not his woeful lack of cardio. He cursed himself for being unable to drive last night. If he had his own car, he could pretend to have a hope of getting away. As it was, he wasn¡¯t sure how he was going to get past the gate guard and the gate itself. The gate guard was looking outward for vehicles coming in, they did not notice him running toward them to get out. As if marking his passing, blue blood splattered the windows inside the booth. No worries about them anymore. Though, how am I going to open the gate? The gate rumbled open to his surprise. Am I telekinetic? Do I have a mind-reading genie? How¡¯d that happen? In answer to his unspoken questions, a dark, camouflaged figure came to his side. Ahead of them, a deep red Jeep Renegade screeched to a halt parallel to the opening gates. ¡°Need a ride?¡± The dark stranger asked. Michael knew the voice. ¡°Celeste? What are you doing here?¡± Celeste pushed Michael toward the truck and the passenger seat. ¡°We¡¯ll tell you when we get out of here.¡± Michael complied, opening up the front passenger door. The seat was empty. There seemed to be the butt of a large sniper rifle wedged between the driver and passenger seats. He looked up further, following the plump hand that rested on the gear shift, up the forearm to a bare shoulder. He recognized the cherubic face of the driver regardless of the dark face paint under her eyes. ¡°Rachel!?¡± ¡°Hiya!¡± Rachel welcomed him cheerfully, put the Jeep into gear and tore through the grass along the periphery of the base. Chapter 4 - It鈥檚 a Beautiful Morning (A Series of Bad Decisions) Michael had barely registered that he was in a Jeep with Rachel and Celeste when she¡¯d hit the gas and he hit his head. His pain was replaced by a rush of memories of the not too distant past. ¡ª- Michael Greer had been driving North on A1A in the middle of the night. His latest rendezvous had involved a little more confusion than he had anticipated. He¡¯d spent the better part of a year trying to bag Amber. Hell, he¡¯d broken up with Rachel to get a chance with her. And yes, Amber¡¯s lithe Italian limbs and svelte midriff were as appealing to him as when he¡¯d first set his eyes on them. The sex, however, was not what he¡¯d hoped. He was reweighing his decision to give up a solid relationship with Rachel for a one night stand when suddenly the sky looked as if he were driving in the middle of the day. It took a few hours for him to learn that Mayport and NAS Jax were removed from the map that morning. Two military complexes were destroyed soon after Amber had let him lean on her for comfort. Michael¡¯s worries about himself and his situation were gone in a flash. Well, two successive flashes that had eliminated the defences Jacksonville Florida had been boasting. ¡ª Earlier that day, Michael woke up the same way he¡¯d done so many times; as if he¡¯d not gotten any sleep the night before. His drool crusted down the side of his mouth and onto his pillow. In the focused yet unfocused vision that is nearsightedness, he saw her. Rachel had the face of a cherub. You¡¯d think that the Precious Moments collection of angel figurines had modeled their figures from her face. A perfectly centered knob of a nose, freckles that dusted her cheeks and virtually everywhere else and beautiful, healthy long auburn hair framed Michael¡¯s vision. She was perfectly rotund. A lot of guys had passed up on this beauty in her lifetime. Michael had not. In his waking state, Michael thought about how he¡¯d given up hope of finding this kind of beauty who would also find him worth giving him time as well. Michael rolled over to try to subtly wipe the crust off of his cheek and eyes. He looked at his phone, six thirty. Not bad, but not good, and he felt it. Joints sang with pain as he rolled himself off of the bed, trying not to disturb Rachel. Thirty wasn¡¯t supposed to feel like this. Right? He questioned. Though his twenties hadn¡¯t been the easiest. Michael mindfully walked the circuit from his side of the bed, around it, to the bathroom. Carpeted bedroom made way to faux hardwood. Cool rubber grooves granted room for his feet to gain traction. It was a pain that his bedroom and his bathroom were not joined in this apartment. They were separated by the shared utilities closet and his generously-sized closet within the bedroom. It wasn¡¯t far, per se, but far enough that walking naked from the bedroom to the bathroom was not recommended. Bill, Michael¡¯s roommate, slept just as well as Michael did, if not worse. Bill, a veteran of the Navy and the Army, might have been used to seeing dudes naked, but Michael was not planning to have his ass added to the list of asses Bill¡¯d seen in his lifetime. His bathroom was lavish enough for him. He¡¯d gone so far as to add decorative stickers to the mirror. ¡°Even Pirates Wipe Their Booty¡± printed in a looping font and framed as though it were a weathered old treasure map made him laugh every time he had to use it. The necessary completed and back in the mirror, Michael assessed himself. His hair had grown out a bit from being buzzed down to a number two. Morning shaving could wait, it was Saturday morning after all; work didn¡¯t call for him to be barefaced again until Monday. He had some weight. Divorce and depression and never really living a healthy lifestyle would do that to a body. Ugh, the divorce was still fresh. Katherine and Doug weren¡¯t even teenagers yet, and Michael¡¯d left them with their mother. Ditched them felt a more appropriate word to him. His and Jessica¡¯s relationship had been good... up until it wasn¡¯t. Sex was great, it had yielded two wonderful children. Michael and Jessica had gone to the same college, were from the same area, held similar interests and so on and so forth. Then they graduated college. Jessica plunged herself into grad school while Michael worked. Jessica got a job in Georgia, though she had convinced Michael they should buy a house near her grad school in Starkville. Jessica got a better paying job than Michael. Work became her top priority. They felt to him as though they were ranked from highest to lowest: Work, Facebook, shopping, exercise, kids, Michael. He¡¯d come to rank as highly as the doormat. He wouldn¡¯t put up with that for too long. Just another four or five years. Until Doug could make his needs known and make his own cereal. After that, Michael had to get out of there. The lack of respect and general interest given to him was too much to take. Michael scrubbed his face clean and took a deep breath. Today was a new day. No need to live in Yesterday. Move on. He returned to his bedroom. Rachel rustled around in the bed, awake but not awake. Her huge tits uncovered in the process. One nipple wrinkled in the cold morning air and one stayed flat, half covered by their shared sheet. Life was better now. He had Rachel. Rachel Ridgeway was kind and considerate. She was a good cook. She was so good, she probably ought to have set up a bakery. She took feedback on her cooking well, though Michael didn¡¯t have any for her. He was happy to eat something warm and edible compared to his and Bill¡¯s lack of kitchen acumen. She typically had to bring the ingredients if she was going to cook at their place. Michael had flour but it and most anything else outside of milk and cider in his refrigerator were probably expired. She didn¡¯t much care for Bill, but she wasn¡¯t fucking Bill, so he wasn¡¯t her problem as far as Michael was concerned. Bill reciprocated her feelings. Since Rachel was around, Bill and Ol¡¯ Mikey didn¡¯t go out on the town Friday nights like they had been when Michael was single. Bill didn¡¯t have a car so Michael was his driver if he wanted to go out. What Bill did have was a lifetime of shit in their shared garage downstairs and in his larger, master bedroom of the apartment whose bathroom was attached, in his larger, master bedroom closet, the kitchen, the living room and anywhere else there could have been a vacant, level spot to put something. Not to say that Michael¡¯s room was the picture of cleanliness, but he¡¯d downsized quite a bit since the divorce. He had his tv and his xbox and his clothes. His bed and car weren¡¯t originally his, but they were now. The bed was his uncle¡¯s. Uncle Joe had passed and no longer needed his bed. It was Michael¡¯s now and it was half-filled with a woman who purred with desire and sleepiness. ¡°You¡¯re up early, what¡¯s going on?¡± ¡°Oh, you know, same ol¡¯ same ol¡¯, no rest for the wicked,¡± Michael shrugged, closing the bedroom door behind him. ¡°Wicked? Well,¡± Rachel yawned and stretched deeply, ¡°Maybe we can do some more wicked stuff and then you can go back to sleep¡±. Her stretching redistributed the sheet so that it covered her chest thinly and uncovered her thick thigh enticingly. ¡°What¡¯d you have in mind?¡± Michael perked up, stepping slowly toward her side of the bed. Rachel purred again, ¡°Come a little closer.¡± Careful not to trip over the xbox controller, Michael positioned himself up toward the bedside table. Rachel hooked his boxers with a finger and pulled them down. Kissing a path from his hip to his growing interest, she convinced him that she was wicked as well. It was a shame Michael was going to have to break up with her. --- The morning had been a reminder of their trip to Mississippi. Michael had worked in the Magnolia State previously, when he was married to Jessica. It was where she¡¯d gone to grad school. Work had called him back for the annual convocation and Michael had brought along Rachel and two of their work friends, Amber and Celeste. This was quite a deal for his former employer as Amber and Celeste were not certified but qualified, meaning that they could do the work, but wouldn¡¯t get paid for it. --- Amber Favreau was a product of Italian heritage raised in the heart of West Palm Beach. Michael met her when he first moved out from living with his ex wife and into the same student apartment complex as she had, near his job. She was everything his ex wife wasn¡¯t anymore: enthusiastic, exciting and interested in the same field of work as he was. Michael had struck up conversation with her early into moving into their apartment complex. He was a staff interpreter and she was going into the interpreter training program. She could learn from him and he could enjoy being with someone who made him feel relevant. Their conversations went long into the night. Long enough that Amber had let him into her bed a handful of times. He had gotten as much of a handful as she would let him, which wasn¡¯t all that much. Their relationship hadn¡¯t crossed the line past clothed snuggling and talking; it was rich and made both of them feel good, but it wasn¡¯t dating. You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version. Michael had had enough of the clothes on business and Amber¡¯s enthusiasm became droning. As much as he wanted to go all the way with her, he knew that he wasn¡¯t interested in having a relationship with her beyond sex. She wanted a relationship beyond sex. She probably would prefer a relationship with someone thinner and younger, Michael assessed, putting an end to his pursuit of her. --- Celeste Patel was Duval proud. Never date a woman from Jacksonville. She was an Asian Indian cheerleader, always bubbly and happy. Always looking for the party. Shirking responsibilities when she could and rarely using her moral compass. Michael met Celeste in their office, where she was a testing coordinator who was also interested in the interpreter training program. Michael had confidence in her ability to develop into a certified interpreter, but it was Rachel who became her mentor after the Mississippi trip. Good for them, Michael thought at the time. Little did he know that Rachel would reveal truer colors to him through Celeste¡¯s experience as her mentee. Celeste was much like every other person who wanted to become better at their chosen profession: she needed the freedom to spread her wings. Young people often need a good amount of runway before they can take off; certainly more than they think they need. All the same, space is needed to grow and the Mississippi trip was a great opportunity for Celeste to take a running go at it. -- Mississippi¡¯s Deaf School had a beginning of the year convocation ceremony followed by a few days of training. Michael and company stayed with his former boss, Lacy, for those few days. Lacy and her husband had a warehouse of a garage beside their house that had a large, single room upstairs with plenty of room for air mattresses in addition to the one spare bed that was already there. They were all sign language interpreters by trade, a field mostly composed of women. Michael was among the one percent of working interpreters who were men. Further still, he was among the one percent of that one percent in that he was also straight. All the same, no one was upset by the sleeping arrangements. Michael and Rachel, being the adults in the room, had the spare bed while Amber and Celeste took an air mattress. More than once, trips down the stairs between the two sleeping arrangements had incited meaningful glances between Michael and Amber. More than once, Amber looked at Michael working and Michael interacting with Rachel with a blend of awe and jealousy. --- During a dinner out at the local steakhouse that week, Lacy¡¯s husband, Don--who knew everyone in their little town--asked a local preacher to meet their houseguests. He introduced the preacher to Celeste and Amber and the cute couple Michael and Rachel. ¡°You know,¡± Don suggested through his brushy cop mustache, ¡°The good preacher here could marry you two while you¡¯re here.¡± Michael recoiled as inwardly as possible. ¡°If you want¡­¡± Rachel¡¯s face was beet red, but did not say no. She was down. Michael was not. It was too soon. His divorce from Jessica still chapped him enough that the thought of marrying again felt impossible. He couldn¡¯t tell his host off, but he was not going to acquiesce to the offer. Flatly, but plainly, Michael looked from Rachel¡¯s stiff red smile to Don¡¯s shiteating grin and stated, ¡°Not today. I appreciate the offer, but I¡¯m afraid I can¡¯t take you up on it at the moment. ¡°Well, Preacher here will be available between now and when you leave.¡± Neither man gave any ground. ¡°Thank you kindly.¡± Michael took inventory of the situation. No, he was not going to marry Rachel though her demeanor said she was entertaining the thought and would not mind getting married; perhaps not in Mississippi, away from her family. No, Don was not quite being serious, but not quite joking--his boundaries were hazy at best. Celeste held a cheery-through-the-awkward smile and drank deeply from her water. Amber looked...relieved? Don finally let the man of the cloth and Michael go, but not before the entire restaurant held their breath long enough to see if the cute couple would say yes. A beat longer and everyone had to exhale. ---- Beyond the dinner awkwardness, everything went well on the job until Michael got sick. Rachel took over and led the team for the last day before they left. Her care and the comfort he felt in letting her take over turned him on that morning, just as it had this morning. This feeling that he was being taken care of was what had kept him in this relationship. What kept him at a distance...well¡­ --- ¡°What kind of music do you like?¡± Michael asked before taking another fork of turkey and dressing Rachel had dished out for them. ¡°Oh, Avett Brothers, ABBA, that kind of thing,¡± Rachel looked up and to the right before sitting down on the couch beside Michael. ¡°What do you like?¡± ¡°I¡¯m pretty eclectic.¡± He hoped the words came out understandably around his mouthful of food. ¡°I¡¯m sure you like some things I¡¯ve never heard.¡± Rachel¡¯s doe eyes balanced over the teeter totter of her smile. Michael swallowed. ¡°Probably.¡± --- ¡°Where do you want to go tonight?¡± Michael inquired as Rachel buckled herself into his car. The spaciousness of the Buick Lacrosse kept them socially distant. ¡°Anywhere you want to go.¡± Memories of his past relationship filled the space between them. --- Rachel¡¯s face was a boiling kettle, ready to whistle, but keeping in check. Her sister and mother had come to town. Her relatives knew her buttons, Michael did not. While they were kind enough to Katherine and Doug, they sized up Michael and Rachel without hesitation. Bites and jabs were absorbed, added to the heat of Rachel¡¯s anger. Michael knew this look. He knew this look and where it went. He¡¯d done the math before with Jessica and it¡¯d ended poorly. --- Michael had found enough reasons to excuse himself from this relationship. This led him to pursue whether other doors were open to him yet or not. He began texting Amber. >How¡¯s things? Michael didn¡¯t pay attention to the actual answer. He didn¡¯t care how things were with Amber. Something was always going on with her. As far as he was concerned, the reply was directly from Charlie Brown¡¯s teacher. >That¡¯s rough. I think I¡¯m going to end it with Rachel. >wahwahwahwahwah wahwah wah wahwahwah >You think we might have a chance? >wahwah, don¡¯t want to get with you while you¡¯re still with her. Maybe if you were single...wahwahwah. >I¡¯ll see what I can do. The conversation probably went on for a bit. Michael didn¡¯t understand how women thought that a handful of ¡°Oh really?¡± texts and poop emojis could translate to ¡°He cares about what I¡¯m saying¡±. There it was, though, the path to the promised land. Break up with Rachel first. The thing was, Michael had been the victim of his relationships in his head. Jessica had pulled the trigger and filed the divorce. Michael wasn¡¯t going to do it. He wasn¡¯t happy, but he was raised to think that marriage was forever. His Dad got away with death do you part; cancer took the lucky SOB at 50. No one tells you that partners tend to stick together when poorer and split up once they get richer. Michael had done everything as right as he figured he could have done: cards and flowers or other genuine signs of affection for birthdays and anniversaries, digging for the root cause of their spats instead of ignoring the problems...until the problems ignored him. Since he¡¯d done something wrong to mess up what he¡¯d thought was as good as it could have been, when the paperwork was signed and he was set to leave, he decided to make some wrong decisions. Drink more. Try some drugs. Sleep with people with no intention of sticking around. Try anything four times. Why four? Because Michael could be wrong, he¡¯d been wrong in the past. Rachel was so clearly the victim in this situation. She was great. She was everything a partner could be. However, Michael had just gotten out of a relationship that looked just like this. She was going to be the sweetest kool aid he¡¯d ever drunk until she wasn¡¯t. Michael did not know how to break up with her. He invited her to their favorite sushi restaurant. They made their order. She knew something was wrong. What to do? How to say it? ¡°I think we should break up.¡± There it was. The words that he wanted to say. There was no preamble. There was no onramp to what led him to say these words. There they were...out in the open. Rachel started crying. Quietly at first, then she got redder and redder. ¡°What¡¯s wrong with you!?¡± She screamed as she got herself up from the booth and rushed out the door. Michael regretted his decision. Not so much his decision to break up with her, but he regretted his decision to do it in this public place. He regretted saying it after they¡¯d ordered but before they¡¯d eaten. Before they¡¯d paid. As the waiter brought out their food, Michael asked for a box and the check. Eyes upon him. Paying and leaving, obviously the bad guy. --- He got home carrying numerous styrofoam boxes up the stairs. Glancing away from the game he was playing on his enormous TV, Bill noticed Michael¡¯s stacks, ¡°Heyyyy, buddy, what¡¯s up?¡± ¡°I broke up with Rachel.¡± Michael stated without any fanfare. Bill jumped up from his couch, ¡°Yippee! The boys are gonna hit the beach tonight!¡± Michael smiled as he joined Bill. Ignoring the adulations happening beside him, he texted Amber. >I told her. It¡¯s done. >Good? I¡¯m sorry? >Thanks. What time should I come over? >7 works for me. --- Michael filled Amber in for several hours. Long enough that he questioned whether he should go home or stay for sunrise and head straight to work. With his head cleared, he opted to go home. Driving along the beach, Michael¡¯s newfound clarity gave way to a new clarity. It was three thirty am and he could see the road clear as day. The sun had already risen in the distance. Couldn¡¯t be¡­Were those bombs going off? Then a second sun blinked open ahead of him to the west. Chapter 5 - Rescuers Down Under (Placeholder) ¡°Hey, you ok? We thought we might¡¯ve lost you there?¡± Rachel asked, holding Michael¡¯s seatbelt to his chest to keep him in place as best she could while driving. Celeste had her hands on both sides of his head to keep his neck stable through sharp turns. ¡°Huh?¡± Michael¡¯s eyes worked their way into focus. ¡°Sorry, you knocked your head on the Jeep somehow and passed out, I guess.¡± Rachel said shyly but loud enough to be heard over the roaring engine. Celeste groaned as she let go of his head and settled back into her seat. ¡°You got all flopsy.¡± The red Jeep revealed ribbons of mud while the sounds of gunfire from inside the walls of the base punctuated their erratic escape. Michael had barely buckled when his head was jerked back into the headrest. Grabbing the ¡°oh shit'''' handle above his window, he had traded one bumpy ride for another and expected the hits to keep on coming. ¡°This is all-¡° Michael¡¯s head bumped on his window as he spoke during a rough left turn. ¡°This is all unexpected.¡± Rachel shifted up into third as she ran over a bush with reckless abandon. ¡°Yeah, you weren¡¯t part of the plan at all.¡± ¡°The plan?¡± Michael gripped his seat with his left hand. ¡°What plan?¡± ¡°The plan to disrupt operations on the Purple Bitches¡¯ base!¡± Celeste replied with vigor. Still not grasping what was going on, ¡°What the fuck was the plan?¡± ¡°It¡¯s easy enough to smuggle in guns when they¡¯ve got a Human-owned bus charter scheduled to cart off the Purp Lovers every weekend.¡± Rachel said before taking another random, hard turn. ¡°Why are we driving like this?¡± Michael was not used to Rachel driving like this. Or really at all. The last time he¡¯d let Rachel drive was when he was too sick to drive back from Mississippi. He couldn¡¯t remember how she had driven then. It certainly wasn¡¯t like this. Rachel explained as best she could while steering off of and onto the road. ¡°The Shil¡¯way can read where cars are going based on the pressure changes on the surface of the road. Theoretically, they can only report that accurately if the pressure is constant.¡± She pulled another hard turn and went over the Shil¡¯way coming from a new part of the road. ¡°So if we enter and exit at different angles like this, the whole system goes out.¡± Michael imagined the map the Shil¡¯way covered. How did they keep up with all the cars that go on their roadway? Makes sense, he shrugged, ¡°But how do you know it will work?¡± ¡°Won¡¯t know until we try.¡± Celeste chimed in from the back seat. ¡°How do you know this? How did you know to try? Why are you trying? I have so many questions!¡± Michael twisted around in his seat to look at his fellow passengers for a second before the Jeep jerked in another direction. ¡°And how far are we from getting off of the Shil¡¯way!?¡± ¡°Our plan was to go the furthest we could on their grid to try to knock out as much of the system as we can.¡± Rachel flashed Michael a sarcastic, sorry not sorry smile. The smile straightened out into a blank face with an eye roll. She turned back out toward the windshield and jerked the wheel again. ¡°Fourteen miles.¡± God, that look, that same look I fell in love with...fuck. Michael blushed; out of shame for leaving her, out of embarrassment for feeling those same old feelings again. You made a decision, you measured the pros and cons, you knew what you were signing up for. There¡¯s no turning back now. Now that he¡¯d settled his brain down a bit he decided to let the dice fall where they may. ¡°Well, then maybe you should pay attention to the road and I¡¯ll catch up when we get to...wherever it is we¡¯re going.¡± ¡°Good call.¡± Celeste and Rachel were like stereo to Michael. This wasn¡¯t what Michael had signed up for this morning, but it¡¯s what happened anyway. He thought about that for the entire fourteen miles. Fuck, maybe that wasn¡¯t what they signed up for... Once they got on paved roads, the Jeep was steadied and sped up. The ¡°good¡± news, if it could be considered as such, was that Michael didn¡¯t feel like he needed to throw up. Unfortunately, that was because he had nothing to throw up. He was sea sick and could have evacuated the other end. Alcohol and garlic fries had left their status perks behind long ago. Now it was time for him to pay the gastrointestinal price for his merrymaking. Being treated like a maraca had not helped. Their trip ended soon after an unfortunate amount of sharp turns and diversions. Couldn¡¯t be too careful when rebelling against a superior force, Celeste had answered when Michael whined about the length of time it was taking them to arrive at their destination. Rachel came to a stop behind an elementary school on the far west side of Jacksonville. Michael clamored out of the Jeep pulling his pants up as he went. He expected to open the door, find signage for the bathrooms and get to business. ¡°Hello!¡± someone said too happily as they opened the door. ¡°Amber?¡± Michael stopped in his tracks. Amber, clad in bicycle shorts and a loose camouflage top, held the door and her arms wide for him. His steps stuttered before embracing her. Asking her where the bathroom was in the process. ¡°Oh sure, there¡¯s signs down the hall.¡± She answered after a brief but illuminating sniff of him. He speed walked down the hall, rolling his eyes at his fortune. The devil you know is better than the devil you don¡¯t, he recalled with a sigh. Upon entering the bathroom, he remembered in horror that it was an elementary school. The sinks were not quite to his hip height, excluding the stair step down one intended for the smaller boys which was even shorter. The urinals came up to his knees. He dreaded what he¡¯d see in the stall. There it was. A potty he would have to squat to get down to use. After the sweet relief hit, Michael found himself having to kneel down and crawl out of the bathroom stall before getting up and putting his pants back on. His dead phone slid out of his pocket and clattered to the floor. He cursed its uselessness.If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. Using the tallest of sinks, he found himself leaning his head forward almost into the mirror. Hands washed, he splashed some water on his face. What have I gotten myself into now? He grumbled internally, glancing at the sad sack in the mirror in front of him. He stepped back out into the hall and back to where he assumed the women had gathered. On his way he saw a classroom that had the barest indicators of plans on the whiteboard: squares around squares, a rectangle with arrows pointing outwards to squares, stick guns with arrows pointing under uppercase Ls with legs on the bottom. Making his way to where the ladies had assembled, he took a deep breath and entered. The way they had arranged themselves was a juxtaposition of how things should be in his mind. They wore different degrees of camouflage, but it was a common denominator. Celeste had camo capris, a camo tank, camo face paint and a camo bandana bundling her hair. Rachel had on black pants, a camo sleeveless shirt and dark face paint under her eyes. Amber¡¯s brown bicycle pants and frilly camo top made their wardrobe coordinate. However, given that they had recently infiltrated an alien base, their lounging in and around the teacher¡¯s desk of the classroom seemed odd. Come to the coast, we¡¯ll have a few laughs, Michael chuckled slightly. ¡°Hey Mikey, long time no see!¡± Amber said flirtatiously. ¡°Yeah. Hey.¡± He leaned into the ¡®hey¡¯ a little awkwardly as he looked at Rachel and Celeste. ¡°Thank you all for saving me from...whatever was going on at the base.¡± Transitioning awkwardly, ¡°It was my first time, uh, on the base.¡± He tried to look cool by sitting on the top of a kid¡¯s table. It creaked loudly. He stood back up with a decidedly fake casual laugh. ¡°Yeah, that was unexpected.¡± Amber replied, ¡°And unfortunate.¡± Her mood flattened. ¡°You threw a wrench in the works we had going, Mike. Rachel radioed that you were about to get on the bus, that¡¯s when I knew that things were going to go off the rails.¡± Rachel quickly replied, ¡°I had him in my sights and I was about to give Celeste the go ahead to signal the guys to go, but there Michael was--still talking to some Purple Bitch.¡± ¡°What was the plan again?¡± Michael interrupted. ¡°She was in the middle of telling you what happened, asshole.¡± Amber interjected then smiled disapprovingly. Michael blinked at her and looked at the floor shyly. ¡°Look, I know we¡¯re not together anymore, Mike, and your business is your business; even if it includes spending the night with the Purple Bitches.¡± Rachel lifted one hand as if she was weighing her options. Then lifted the other, ¡°But when I saw her put her arms on your shoulders...and then you wrenched them off of you.¡± Michael lifted his hand as if to interrupt again but was shot down by Amber''s eye daggers. ¡°Well, we were about to go to town on them anyway, so I went ahead and took the shot.¡± ¡°Where the hell were you?¡± Michael asked impatiently. ¡°On the Buckman.¡± Amber and Rachel answered simultaneously. ¡°And I had a partition under the bus. I rolled out to the bushes so I could signal the bus driver when the coast was clear.¡± Celeste added. Michael did some mental math and tried to recreate the setup in his mind. The bridge and the base were closer than he¡¯d imagined, but it was still pretty far. Michael had no practical experience shooting. He¡¯d been to the gun range, but that wasn¡¯t rifles, it was pistols. What he did have practical experience in was pool...billiards, if you¡¯re feeling fancy. Given how much harder it was to hit a ball when it was across the table, sighting up a target, firing and cutting the neck off of a body has got to be a skill that would take a lot of practice. He turned to Rachel. ¡°How long have you been sniping?¡± Her face stiffened. ¡°My dad taught me how to shoot when I was growing up. Remember the foothills of Pennsylvania are the same Appalachia where you were raised.¡± Clarification stated, she continued, ¡°After the invasion, survival skills seemed to be necessary. We all gathered together to communicate what we knew and who we could contact to figure out what to do next.¡± ¡°My brothers had gotten with some of their friends on the force and their military buds from what was left of Miami. We scrambled for guns and supplies on their recommendation.¡± Amber included. Celeste bunched her face up angrily, ¡°When the invaders were revealed to be sexy space babes who seemed to be out to steal our men...well, we had to take action.¡± ¡°Then we got word that these Purple Bitches were aggressive, as it were, it became much easier to recruit some boys to our cause.¡± Amber settled into the teacher¡¯s chair. Michael couldn¡¯t disagree. He was still compartmentalizing his experience with Gwen. He must have hid it poorly because Rachel came to his side. Genuinely concerned, Rachel asked, ¡°Oh no. Did they hurt you?¡± She almost touched him, but at the last second she stopped herself. Michael wasn¡¯t sure what to say. They did, but it wasn¡¯t something he wanted to talk about with Rachel or Amber for that matter. The dissonance his feelings caused him left him speechless. ¡°Oh, you going to fix him and make it better?¡± Amber mocked. Whirling around to face Amber, ¡°Where is that coming from?¡± Rachel retorted. ¡°Didn¡¯t he break up with you?¡± Amber jabbed right back. Her arms crossed as if to dare Rachel to ask how she knew. ¡°He¡­¡± Rachel gathered her thoughts, ¡°He did, but how did you know?¡± ¡°He was done with you and wanted to get with me. Hell, he¡¯d been pining for me since before he even met you.¡± Amber smirked. ¡°But I didn¡¯t want to feel like a slut who Mike was cheating with, so I told him to break up with you, he did and he ran right over.¡± Rachel reeled back from Amber, ¡°But he broke up with me on Invasion Day.¡± She spun around to face Michael. ¡°You broke up with me on the day before the invasion so you could fuck her? ¡°We spent all that time together! I baked muffins with Katherine! I made you a birthday cake! We took trips together!¡± Memory of the trip came to the forefront of her mind, she swung back to Amber, ¡°We took a trip with you! You whore!¡± Rachel lunged for Amber. The chair rolled back against the whiteboard with their combined momentum. ¡°Why are you mad at me, bitch!?¡± Amber barely dodged fingernails to her face. ¡°He¡¯s the one who broke up with you!¡± She wrenched Rachel¡¯s arms so that her body turned to face Michael. Rachel disentangled herself from Amber and stomped in his direction. Michael straightened up, measuring the distance between himself and the door out of the classroom. It was too late. ¡°I had plans for us!¡± Rachel wept. ¡°We were going to get married and set up an agency in town! We were going to raise your kids together! I knew we wouldn¡¯t have kids, but I could be a better mother to those kids than Jessica ever could!¡± Deep breaths punctuated her wailing. ¡°But no! That¡¯s not what you wanted!¡± Michael scrambled for some kind of defense. He found himself sputtering instead. ¡°What was I; some kind of placeholder until you found something better? You never intended to stay with me at all did you?¡± Rachel¡¯s face paint bled black down her cheeks. Celeste¡¯s eyes had been wide until that statement. She directed them to the floor and walked away to find a further seat, lips pursed as if to say ¡°Ooh wee¡±. Amber¡¯s face said she had derived a certain sense of satisfaction at where this was going. Rachel wept openly for a moment more before she turned away from Michael and sat back down on the teacher¡¯s desk. Michael had nothing to say. No funny quips. No defensive tools to deflect the blame. The room was silent but for Rachel¡¯s slowing tears for a few minutes. Instead of sitting in the consequences of his actions, he made another desperate attempt to shift focus from himself. ¡°What about all those guys on the bus?¡± He queried, though the women knew that his heart wasn¡¯t in it. ¡°Whoa now! Look whose concern just reached beyond himself?¡± Amber laughed aloud mockingly. Celeste laid out the facts. ¡°You know as well as any of us that if you give some of the boys around here the opportunity to fuck and shoot guns, they¡¯re going to take it.¡± ¡°But what¡¯s their escape plan?¡± Michael rebutted. ¡°What escape plan? They knew they weren¡¯t likely to get out of there. I mean, some of them must have had some thoughts on the matter, but they probably thought they could fly away in an alien spaceship.¡± Amber pinched the bridge of her nose. Michael mused, ¡°Like a bunch of praying mantises, they knew they were going to fuck and die.¡± ¡°What better way to die?¡± Celeste stared to the distance and nodded her head. ¡°Boys are dumb.¡± Amber rubbed a sudden itch on her face. ¡°But they went out fighting, right?¡± ¡°I guess, but like, where is our moral barometer if you¡¯re all mad that I broke up with Rachel to get with¡­¡± His eyes drifted to Amber, who was still rubbing her face, but had shifted to rubbing the back of the hand she had used to rub her face. ¡°...another woman.¡± ¡°And you all sent a bus full of dudes to their probable deaths!¡± Michael finished. Amber smugly defended their decision, ¡°They knew what they signed up for. You manipulated Rachel for months before you cut it off. You knew you were wasting her time. She didn¡¯t. That¡¯s the difference!¡± Amber had gotten louder the further she¡¯d spoken. It made sense to Michael, as far as placing more emotion, the more she clarified his shitty role in this. Yet, there was something different from anger in her voice. It was pain. Rachel looked up from her crying, hands black from her face paint. She looked at Amber¡¯s face. It was smoking. Rachel lept selflessly in front of Amber. Her thick arm was not enough. An imperceptible beam of light passed through Rachel and Amber. Rachel fell to the floor. Amber¡¯s head lolled back against the whiteboard. A sudden wisp of smoke rose from the whiteboard and the back of Amber¡¯s head where they¡¯d come in contact. She lifted her hands to her face. The back of the hand that was rubbing her face was a juicy raw burn. She turned it to look at it. She looked at Rachel on the floor, then to Celeste and Michael. Michael saw the blackened hole where Amber¡¯s eye used to be. For a moment, he could see through it to the shelf of children¡¯s toys in the corner behind her. Melted flesh found a gap that needed to be filled. Her boiled brains spilled out of the hole on both sides of her head. Rachel sat up numbly as her arm slapped useless against her side. She pulled herself up to a standing position with her other arm. She lifted her left hand with her right hand. What flesh was left to connect her arm to her body gave way with its own weight. Her left shoulder swung down from her side onto the teacher¡¯s desk from the pulley that was her right hand. It hit the desk with a meaty ¡°thunk¡±. Chapter 6 - Who鈥檚 the Boss? (Shil鈥æª�ati are) ¡°Oh, fuck this!¡± Celeste got up from her seat and jumped out of a window. Michael was frozen in place. The fear for his life was competing with the morbid fascination with what was going on with Rachel¡¯s arm. Amber was gone. Period. No question. But Rachel¡¯s arm had just dropped from her body. It wasn¡¯t all that bloody, there was maybe the amount of blood one would expect from a finger being cut off, but it was obviously more than that. Otherwise it looked like a lifelike replica of her arm, not her actual arm. It couldn¡¯t be. Rachel¡¯s head was hung low. Her hair covered her face. He couldn¡¯t tell how she was processing it. He imagined a world where it could be reattached. The Shil¡¯vati ought to have it in their pocket along with all of their other medical miracles. He imagined carrying it for her and going to the hospital with her. He imagined a world where he would be there for her. Then Shil¡¯vati foot soldiers appeared in the window. Michael¡¯s lizard brain took over. He was out the door. He got to the door where he¡¯d entered and opened it. He felt irritation on his forehead. It was a burning sensation. Nope, he thought as he slammed the door back into place. Running out of options, he looked for the next likely exit. He saw the broadly windowed front door of the elementary school. He ran frantically towards it. Young kids¡¯ art decorated the hallway on his way to the door. He saw several crayoned depictions of trees with scribble-circle fruits. A few showed the beach. The closer he got to the door, he saw more and more images of Human figures on the opposite side of the cardboard paper from purple figures. One on the glass beside the doorway had a circle of stick figures of all colors, pink, yellow, brown, black and purple, all holding hands. Michael¡¯s brain raced with the idea of children growing up thinking aliens could live in harmony with Humans faster than it could process what was going on with himself. His pants were falling. Goddamn useless phone slapped his thigh as he pumped his legs. He got a few desperate paces before they got too low for him to catch them. Instead they caught his legs. He fell face first in the main hallway of an elementary school, pants around his ankles, skidding loudly to a stop on the waxed floor. His escape ¡°plan¡± unraveled quickly as Shil¡¯vati soldiers burst through the glass doors of the main entrance as well as the first door he¡¯d tried and likely many others. He was surrounded. --- Michael was cuffed with his hands behind his back and those cuffs attached to the seat of the transport where the Shil¡¯vati soldiers had stuffed him. Across from him was Rachel, head still down covering her face. How¡¯d they have her cuffed? He couldn¡¯t decide what would be more morbid: for her to be handcuffed to her own separated arm or to have it carried between her legs in a briefcase. The Shil¡¯vati chose something a bit more bloodthirsty. Amber was tossed to the floor space between them. She was contained in a translucent body bag. Rachel¡¯s arm was in a similar, smaller bag filled with ice which was then thrown unceremoniously atop Amber¡¯s body. It didn¡¯t matter how long the ride was, five minutes, five hours, this was inhumane. Luckily, their Shil¡¯vati captors erred to the shorter length. --- Back on base, Michael and Rachel filed out of the transport and into separate areas for interrogation. Michael couldn¡¯t help but to smell himself. It had been a long day. He could recall the timeline from the scents that decorated him. The getting ready to go out last night¡¯s smells were long gone. Beer and garlic wafted from his pants, as well as crusty cum from himself and various partners. The washing Serca gave him was faint, but present. Oh God, Serca. He couldn¡¯t recall if he¡¯d gotten all of her blood off of him. Maybe he washed his face at the elementary school? This is good. You can remember the episodes of the night. What else would you likely need to know? Also luckily, they gave him plenty of time to try to remember. --- Five hours passed between the time he was stored in this room to the time the first knock on the door. He¡¯d spun his phone on the floor where he¡¯d sat. He¡¯d tried, without any success, to get someone to charge it up for him. Maybe they didn¡¯t want to give the enemy a way to communicate outside of the room. Maybe they didn¡¯t have a charging cord, fucking Capitalism. He welcomed the knocking, finally someone was acknowledging him. The mind-numbing solitude was pleasant, in comparison to the horrors he¡¯d witnessed in the last twenty four hours, but the cold silence let his intrusive thoughts have free reign. The torture he¡¯d envisioned for himself was surely worse than what would really happen. Still, he¡¯d had plenty of time to spiral. Any break in that was something to celebrate. An average sized Shil¡¯vati was still gigantic in Human terms. The woman at the door seemed to block any light that could have made its way into the room; as if she¡¯d replaced the door with another door. Michael craned his neck to see her. It was not someone he knew. She grumbled something that he didn¡¯t quite recognize. Something about Human food made sense, she obviously wanted him to get up and out of the room he had been in thus far. She led him to what looked like a break room. It was not as large as the common room they walked through to get to it. The buildings all seemed to have a similar design by Michael¡¯s eyeballing; a center common room, several rooms branching out from it and an exit door. He had been moved from a holding room, down three doors to what was the ¡°break room¡±. Inside the room stood a table with a slotted top, surrounded by four chairs, two on each side. On one wall was a mirror, two way glass if any cop show on TV could be believed. A tray and a guest were waiting for him. The tray had what looked like a standard burger and fries. The guest was his Doubting Thomas, Josepha. She sat at the table, dressed in what appeared to be standard garb of the military on base, fatigues under light armor. Her hair was drawn up in a bun. An overall much more businesslike arrangement than the first time they¡¯d met. She spat in Shil¡¯vati in a curt, to the point, fashion. As much as he wanted to, he could not understand her. Didn¡¯t phase him much at the moment. ¡°Graw graw grawgraw¡± was all he heard under the tantalizing draw of sort of still-hot food. The burger called his name.Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings. Michael looked Josepha in the eyes, smiled slightly, turning his head from her face down to the burger. He pointed at the tray questioningly. Josepha waved him to go ahead and crossed her arms. Michael dug in with little to no tact. Somewhere in the ¡°graw graws¡± he heard her signature disgust, ¡°Graw graw Human food, graw graaw.¡± Michael gave her the ol¡¯ ¡°Oh yeah, I¡¯m totally listening¡± smile and nod as he inhaled his food. She went on throughout his meal, quick as it was. He¡¯d no sooner removed the last fry from the tray when Josepha called for some subordinate to remove it from the table. She leaned in with an all too confident sounding, ¡°Grawgraw graw graw graw, graw?¡± He chomped his last fry in half, waved it around like a wand, looked Josepha directly in her eyes and said, ¡°Huh?¡± Josepha leaned in and gave him an evil eye. Michael shrunk back a moment before laughing hysterically. She leaned back and smacked the table with both hands. Disbelief washed her face. She was obviously expecting this to go differently. She took out her omnipad and swiped through the apps angrily. When she got to the one she wanted, she pressed a button and spoke into it. ¡°Graw grawgraw, graw grawgrawgraw?¡± The omnipad translated semi-robotically, ¡°Are you finished playing now, Ashland?¡± Michael looked at her emotionlessly. He then waved the omnipad more toward the center of the table. He pressed the button that seemed to mean ¡°translate¡± and leaned in close and said flatly, ¡°No¡±. She scowled at him before the program could do its job. He held up his hand with an apologetic smile. Tried it again. Pressing the button first, ¡°I am not playing right now. I don¡¯t understand a lick of what you¡¯ve just said to me.¡± The program translated what he¡¯d said to Shil. Josepha blinked in astonishment at first, then anger. She grawgrawed onto the omnipad holding one and then two fingers up. The omnipad reported, ¡°First, you¡¯ve got to be ducking kidding me right now. Second, you will never get your filthy Human mouth close enough to lick me.¡± Michael smiled knowingly. Pressing the button again, ¡°You have any Shil to English interpreters around here? This is translating...poorly.¡± Josepha listened before replying back into the omnipad, ¡°None that can get here within the next three hours. How the hell could you speak Shil¡¯vati last night?¡± Michael snapped his fingers. Last night! He spoke into the omnipad again, ¡°I need booze.¡± With shock on her face, Josepha didn¡¯t have to use the machine to convey ¡°What?¡±. He tapped again, ¡°Just do it, surely someone¡¯s got something to drink around here!¡± Doubtful, she considered the time difference between getting a more fluent interpreter and getting some alcohol on base. After a moment, she got up from the table and walked out the door. She returned with two bottled beverages with runic symbols on the label. Some Shil¡¯vati brew, c¡¯mon, Michael hoped his face conveyed the message. Josepha opened both of them, winked at Michael and turned around. She took a swig of one, put it back on the table and walked back out. Michael took a sniff. Never was one for beer, he thought, I¡¯m more of a hard liquor or a cider kinda guy. Maybe she¡¯d be back with something better. Still, he gave it a shot. It wasn¡¯t terrible, but he wouldn¡¯t order it on purpose. He¡¯d had worse at Globe of Beer. He took another drink and thought of Bill. That son of a bitch. How dare he get me into this kind of trouble? Oh, who am I kidding? Not even Bill could have predicted the fucktangle of events to which I¡¯ve been witness to in less than twenty four hours. Nor could he have guessed where I am right now. Michael took a long draw. He looked at the label. The runes were red. There was an image of a chalice festooned with fine detail work and jewels. There was a Shil drink Bill mentioned...what was it called? There was a blue one, why wouldn¡¯t there be a red one? Or is that too narrow thinking? The things you come to think about when you¡¯ve only got time to kill. Josepha returned with a bottle of amber liquid with a red wax seal. ¡°Now we¡¯re talking!¡± Michael glowed at her. She fumbled awkwardly at it for a bit before she consented for Michael to give it a try. He found the pull tab and cracked the seal around the mouth. ¡°Glasses¡± he said and signed. Then he gestured as though he were pouring the bottle into a cup and taking a drink. Josepha brightened in recognition. She left the room for a moment again and returned with a paper cup. Beggars can¡¯t be choosers. Michael gladly poured himself two fingers. Josepha picked the bottle up and held his cup down. She poured the cup full. Oh brother, he thought as he picked up the cup and took a drink. As soon as the sip was taken and on the table, she grabbed the red labeled bottle and pointed it at Michael¡¯s mouth. ¡°Whoa now, you don¡¯t mix beer and liquor. You don¡¯t start with liquor first. Or beer first. Or whatever makes you sicker. However it goes, you don¡¯t alternate the two.¡± All Josepha heard was ¡°Wahwah wahwahwah¡±. She made a mocking face, opening and closing her hand in a yapping puppet fashion. ¡°Purple Bitches!¡± Michael spat back before taking another drink from the bottle. He spent the next couple of minutes double fisting the Shil¡¯vati drink and the paper cup of Maker¡¯s Mark. Before too long, someone who looked like Josepha¡¯s superior barged into the room. They grumbled back and forth for a bit. Michael couldn¡¯t quite make it out. Another pull from the bottle, another sip from the paper cup. He looked down at the bottle. The label showed a chalice full of some odd, probably Shil fruit. The runes were red. Red...Red Grail! Michael¡¯s brain shifted into motion. The grumbling between Josepha and the officer blurred into and out of discernable language. ¡°Why in Empress¡¯ name would you get a prisoner boozed up, Joph¡¯rena?¡± The unknown officer asked. ¡°I was with him at that singing bar last night. He spoke the Empress¡¯ Shil, with an accent and a slur, but he spoke it! We understood him then and he understood us. Now...nothing!¡± She looked over at Michael and waved at him underhandedly as if to say ¡°keep going¡±. Joph¡¯rena continued, ¡°The only difference between him now and him then is his state of inebriation.¡± Michael raised his hand, ¡°I hate to interrupt, but we call it¡­¡± his Shil tongue was thin and didn¡¯t just know words, so he said in English, ¡°state dependent learning,¡± The officer looked at him then back at Joph¡¯rena, dumbfounded. ¡°Yeah, seems I can understand you when I¡¯m drunk¡± Michael licked his lower palate clear of some bits of hamburger. The officer straightened up, ¡°Carry on, Joph¡¯rena.¡± She scuttled off out of the room. Joph¡¯rena put her arms on the table and leaned into her seat. ¡°Alright...let¡¯s see what you know now, Human.¡± ¡°What I know...¡± Michael began as he grabbed his beverages. ¡°...is a little about this!¡± he finished saying before he lifted both the paper cup and the bottle high above his head. He made the vessels¡¯ mouths face each other above him so that they almost touched each other. He then tipped them both to form a combined stream that poured straight into his mouth. Michael winked then gave her finger pistols. Chapter 7 - Mistaken Identity (JAccuse!) Michael saw that Josepha, or rather Joph¡¯rena, was not amused at his antics thus far. Let¡¯s try this one out. ¡°Oh, you mean, do I know how to fix up that shitty curl job you did on your hair last night?¡± Joph¡¯rena pressed her fingers on her temples, trying to massage the building pressure away. ¡°No, you jackass; what do you know about the ambush?¡± ¡°Nothing. I don¡¯t even know how you found us!¡± Michael felt the pressure build in his stomach. Joph¡¯rena doubted his ignorance. ¡°You thought you could outwit us?¡± Michael blinked hard and pointed to himself, ¡°I didn¡¯t. But the ¡®theory¡¯ was that driving onto and off of the Shil¡¯way would cause it to go on the fritz and you wouldn¡¯t be able to track us.¡± Joph¡¯rena flared her nostrils at that. ¡°Ah, so that¡¯s why you ruined all of our landscaping: you thought it would make you more difficult to follow?¡± Michael rolled the paper cup between his hands. ¡°Yes?¡± ¡°We bombed you from orbit. You don¡¯t think we can find you via other means?¡± Her lips tightened into a straight line between her tusks. ¡°We have orbital ships. We have drones. We have roads--¡¯Shil¡¯way¡¯ you called it, hmm. Creative name, but not too creative in terms of our technological superiority over you.¡± Michael put the paper cup on top of the Red Grail bottle like a condom, spilling some Maker¡¯s on the table. ¡°You¡¯re asking me about things I know the least about here.¡± He noticed the spill, flipped the paper cup rightside up so that it sat on top of the bottle. It won¡¯t spill this way, he thought while damning Newton and all his Laws. ¡°What do you mean you know the least about?¡± Joph¡¯rena pressed. ¡°You seemed quite familiar with the leader of the rebel crew!¡± Michael tried to remember the last time he¡¯d been around anyone he¡¯d call a leader, per se. His boss, maybe, but that seemed like a stretch. Thinking of his boss, he sure hoped this wouldn¡¯t have any consequences at his work. His mental meandering was brought back to the fore when he heard his interrogator breathe out in frustration. ¡°The leader?¡± Unsure of what to say, despite their newfound language access, Joph¡¯rena continued, ¡°Yeah, the one who sat on the professor¡¯s throne.¡± ¡°The...professor¡¯s throne?¡± Michael felt that the thought of treating professors like royalty would be nice. He wanted to be a teacher. Especially if he would get a cool seat. ¡°Isn¡¯t that the name of the Human who sits at the biggest desk of a classroom?¡± Joph¡¯rena held her hand up at him, as if it helped, but Michael felt the condescension even through the haze of the alcohol. ¡°The biggest desk of a Human classroom?¡± Michael tried to process the pieces of this particular puzzle together. He had a vision of the teacher¡¯s desk, the smoke rising on the whiteboard behind Amber¡¯s newly begotten head hole. It was big enough that he could read the spines of the books on the shelf behind her. ¡°You mean Amber?¡± ¡°Yes! You do know her!¡± at last, she had landed on success. ¡°Know her? I fucked her once.¡± He shrugged casually then felt immediate guilt at saying something so intimate about the recently deceased. His filter was too slow to stop himself. ¡°Oh, once?¡± She raised an eyebrow. ¡°I mean, I¡¯d been trying for the better part of a year.¡± He wiped at the spilt bourbon with his bare hand. He then licked the wicked liquid off his palm. Joph¡¯rena¡¯s dour expression did not stop her from continuing her pursuit. ¡°So you¡¯d say that you knew her intimately.¡± ¡°PreInvasion? I guess.¡± He started licking the bourbon off each individual finger. Sucking the base of the knuckle before putting the whole finger in his mouth. ¡°But to be honest, I don¡¯t pay attention to things that don¡¯t matter to me in most conversations.¡± She tried to ignore his seductive tactics. ¡°What wouldn¡¯t matter to you? Shil¡¯vati lives?¡± ¡°I mean, I¡¯ve got nothing against you people.¡± Finished from pointer to pinky, he started rubbing the fingers with his thumb. He clasped his hand into a fist before saying, ¡°You did kinda kill a bunch of people.¡± He smiled loosely. ¡°But they knew what they were signing up for.¡± Joph¡¯rena seemed to tuck that phrase away. ¡°I¡¯m glad your beneficence reaches up to your superiors.¡± Michael smiled pleasantly, ¡°Oh, totally. No sweat.¡± He shifted to asking questions himself. ¡°Why did you kill her?¡± ¡°Who? Ahm''bur Favreau, the leader? She was the leader, wasn¡¯t she?¡± ¡°Why is it you Shils can say Favreau without difficulty but ¡®Amber¡¯ is too much?¡± Michael¡¯s linguistic query was getting in the way of Joph¡¯rena¡¯s interview. She gave him a stern look and spun her hand as if to tell him to keep talking. ¡°Maybe, but it didn¡¯t seem like that.¡± ¡°Oh?¡± Her disbelief was evident in her tone and body language. ¡°No, Human women tend to work in packs. Sometimes an ¡®alpha¡¯ isn¡¯t discernible. Sometimes they trade who¡¯s in charge.¡± Michael could feel the alcohol making him sweat. ¡°Look, ladies are tricky creatures.¡± ¡°You¡¯re saying one of the others could be the mastermind behind the attack?¡± Michael turned his head, watching the room spin a bit further than his range of motion allowed, ¡°Fuck if I know.¡± Seeing that this was a dead end, Joph¡¯rena pulled out her omnipad. She studied it a bit. ¡°The other girl we captured, ¡®Ray¡¯chelle¡¯, could she be the leader?¡± Glad to be moving on, he chuckled at the exaggerated pronunciation. ¡°Could be.¡±Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on. She was becoming annoyed with his flippance, ¡°You seem to know her more than Ahm¡¯bur. You fuck her more than once?¡± Michael¡¯s guilt dug in a bit. ¡°Look, we were a thing, but she¡¯s a different person from who I knew.¡± Scanning his mental timeline, ¡°I didn¡¯t know she was such a marksman.¡± His statement was intended to be a jab at his interrogator but it also ended up hurting himself. Serca didn¡¯t deserve the death she received. She was a pencil pusher on a world alien to her. Joph¡¯rena¡¯s face stiffened. ¡°I can respect when a warrior demonstrates how well honed their skills are. I can also respect when she fulfills her duty.¡± She continued almost sadly, ¡°Though I don¡¯t know that her aim will ever be as true as it once was.¡± Angry, Michael exclaimed, ¡°You Purple Bitches can cure cancer, surely you can put her arm back on! It was a laser. Can¡¯t you weld it back on?¡± Michael tried to correct himself, but found his vocabulary diminishing. ¡°Well, fix it, anyway, right?¡± Joph¡¯rena¡¯s mask of respect continued, ¡°She¡¯s refused.¡± ¡°What?!¡± I can¡¯t believe that! Joph¡¯rena tapped a bit on her omnipad. Turning it to Michael, she showed him a schematic of a mechanical synthetic. ¡°We can¡¯t weld it back on, but we can replace it with something better.¡± Michael was familiar with general prosthetics and knew that some were better than others. And some have specific uses that may be less aesthetically pleasing than others, but more functionally useful. A hook isn¡¯t pretty, but it grasps items better than thick faux fingers. This, however, was on another level. The schematic and surrounding notes made it clear that tactile feedback was possible. She could feel with this prosthesis, Michael gawked. Why wouldn¡¯t she want it? ¡°Why wouldn¡¯t she want it?¡± his stream of consciousness urged him to repeat his question. Joph¡¯rena took back the omnipad. ¡°She said'''', tapping a few places on the screen, ¡°¡®I don¡¯t want shit from you Purple Bitches!¡¯.¡± Michael sat back, ¡°She¡¯s really got it out for you folks.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t you?¡± She shifted. ¡°What? Have it out for Shil¡¯vati?¡± Michael burped in his mouth. ¡°Did you go out last night targeting Shil¡¯vati women?¡± ¡°I mean, I¡¯d go for any woman who wouldn¡¯t hold it against me.¡± His thoughts spun, ¡°I mean, if she would hold it against me?¡± He laughed out loud, remembering a joke, ¡°Hey, that¡¯s not the way the joke goes. It goes, if I told you you had a nice body-¡± She slammed a fist against the table. ¡°Did you go out last night in an attempt to gain access to the Shil¡¯vati base!?¡± ¡°I mean, no..?¡± ¡°Explain yourself ¡®no¡¯!¡± ¡°No, like I was having a good time before Gwen fucking raped me.¡± Joph¡¯rena¡¯s train of thought stopped, though she did not look surprised. ¡°Oh? You didn¡¯t know that part? You didn¡¯t know she pushed me on her bed and forced herself on me!?¡± Aggression didn¡¯t suit Michael. When he got mad because someone wronged him, he spiraled into further aggression. He had leapt before he looked. ¡°Who is Gwen?¡± ¡°Gwen? Gwen is Serca¡¯s roommate? That Gwen!¡± ¡°Serca, Goddess bless her soul, had a roommate. Her name was Pennar¡¯dun.¡± ¡°The fuck? No way!¡± ¡°And Pennar¡¯dun would never have forced herself upon a filthy stiffy like you. You came up to us, you little horndog!¡± The room spun around Michael. No, no, this is not happening! He slurred angrily. ¡°Fuck you! Did you take a look at their room?¡± ¡°No, the rebels struck several other pods, but did not go to theirs.¡± She thumbed her tusk in his direction. ¡°I assume because you ran away instead of following orders.¡± ¡°I ran away because I didn¡¯t know what was going on!¡± Michael screamed. Her hands hit the table. Her arms framed his view so that all he could comprehend of the room was her. ¡°You ran away because you knew that we were a superior force and you would not survive. You ran away because you were scared!¡± ¡°I ran away because I had nothing to do with the ambush.¡± Tears flowed from him. ¡°I ran away because I slept in the same room as my attacker. I ran away because I had feelings for Serca and watched her die. She didn¡¯t see it coming and neither did I!¡± His chest heaved. ¡°You had feelings for Serca? You had a one night stand with a member of the Imperium¡¯s best. You were the last thing she saw before she was escorted to the [Shil¡¯vati Heaven]! I pity that that curse was upon her!¡± Michael wiped his tears. The flow had stopped. The anger sank further inside of him. ¡°Yeah thanks, I have to look at myself all the time. How do you think I feel?¡± ¡°Probably pretty useless right now.¡± She thumbed her tusk again, an odd habit he hadn¡¯t noticed her doing at the bar. Why¡¯s she keep touching her snaggletooth? Was she doing this at the bar? Michael¡¯s view spun from the tip of her tusk as it became a flipper from the Wheel of Fortune. There was no holding back now. ¡°No kidding.¡± He managed to get out before he threw up on the table. Joph¡¯rena barely got her hands off of the table in time. He continued vomiting until he felt like a wrung out dish rag. ¡°Huurgh!¡± ¡°Empress¡¯s tits!¡± She hurled at him before calling for help. Some officers arrived quickly with a hose. They sprayed vomit on the table toward Michael, soaking him in his own puke and water. What did manage to dodge him ran down a drain he hadn¡¯t noticed before on the floor. God, that¡¯s handy, he thought dreamily, teetering in his seat with the spinning of the room. Joph¡¯rena got up and towered over him. ¡°You know what would be useful though, you pink whore?¡± He didn¡¯t even try to look up. He tried, in vain, to wipe eaten hamburger chunks off of himself. ¡°Uugh?¡± ¡°Where¡¯s the one that got away?¡± She knelt down so that she could look him eye to eye. Seeing that he did not understand. ¡°Where¡¯s Celeste?¡± Cold, smelly, dizzy and soaked, he was as vulnerable as a lost kitten. He looked her straight in her eyes and pleaded, ¡°I have no clue.¡± ¡°Did you fuck her?¡± Michael¡¯s head hung loosely from his shoulders. He breathed deeply. Vomit and alcohol burned his throat for the second time. He coughed before he chuckled breathily, ¡°Actually, no.¡± Joph¡¯rena stood straight up with her hands on her hips. ¡°Oh, the one who managed to escape us...you didn¡¯t get her either?¡± She nodded incredulously. He folded his arms on the table and laid his head down in their nest. He yawned, ¡°...the one that got away.¡± Joph¡¯rena shook her head. She wasn¡¯t going to get anything out of him. Not that he was a master spy or ruthless rebel. He was useless. Further inquiry was a lost cause. She turned away from him and walked to the door. No leads. No help in identifying any patterns or expanding their roster of usual suspects. She¡¯d wasted a bottle of Grail and her personal store of good liquor on him. Pausing as she closed the door behind her, ¡°You¡¯re a real shithead, Micheal.¡± Chapter 8 - Consequences (He Said, She Said.) Joph¡¯rena stepped out of the room. She nodded to the guards posted at the door to get Michael out of there. She strode from the common room over to a restroom. I¡¯ve got to get his stench off of me, she thought as she washed her arms up to her elbows at the sink. Knowing he was gone, she returned to the common room. Pennar¡¯dun walked in from the opposite side of the common room. They looked relaxed but professional. She gave Joph¡¯rena a smile. ¡°Are you ready to do this?¡± Joph¡¯rena asked, returning the smile. ¡°Sure!¡± Pennar¡¯dun braced herself with a deep breath, opened the door and entered the interrogation room. Joph¡¯rena followed. Joph¡¯rena walked up to the glass on the wall. She pressed a finger on it for just a moment. A menu revealed itself. She looked to make sure the last session was recorded before giving Pennar¡¯dun a look. Pennar¡¯dun nodded in acknowledgment. Joph¡¯rena pressed the record button again. The menu disappeared again a few moments later, making the smooth surface return to looking like a mirror. Before she sat down, Joph¡¯rena grabbed a towel to wipe down a few drops left from where this side of the table had been hosed down. She quietly chuckled to herself before settling down at her seat. She looked at Pennar¡¯dun then the mirror then began in earnest. ¡°What happened last night?¡± Pennar¡¯dun quickly quipped, ¡°You were there.¡± A quick look to the mirror was followed by a clarification, ¡°No. After I went to bed.¡± Pennar¡¯dun tapped her fingers from pinkie to pointer on the table. ¡°Nothing out of the ordinary.¡± ¡°Did you rape him?¡± Joph¡¯rena¡¯s eyes took a serious veneer. ¡°No.¡± Joph¡¯rena¡¯s shoulders relaxed. ¡°Well, it¡¯s a very serious accusation. Because it¡¯s been made, you are to review the Human Relations Protocol and have clean up duty for the next week.¡± Though visibly disappointed, Pennar¡¯dun accepted the terms. ¡°Yes ma¡¯am.¡±Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original. Joph¡¯rena gave a dismissive nod. They both got up and Pennar¡¯dun started toward the door. Joph¡¯rena touched the mirror and closed the recording. Pennar¡¯dun stopped where she stood and did an about face. She returned to the table, turning the chair around and swung her leg over the back to sit down. She settled her arms in a cross in front of her and leaned in comfortably. Joph¡¯rena slapped the table jovially and asked again, ¡°What happened last night?¡± Pennar¡¯dun replied with similar jocularity, ¡°Shit, Bitch, you were there!¡± Joph¡¯rena grinned as she shook her head, ¡°We were sloshed. What happened with you and Serca?¡ªrest her soul.¡± ¡°Girl, I don¡¯t know what he did to her, but he put his hand between her legs and the next thing I know, I heard this splatter against the wall when she came.¡± ¡°With his hand?¡± Joph¡¯rena glared. ¡°Did you clean that shit up?¡± ¡°After the dust settled and I found out she got killed, I cleaned out all her side of the barracks.¡± Pennar¡¯dun paused for a moment, ¡°I know I don¡¯t get a vote in this, but please don¡¯t put a Rakiri in with me. You know I¡¯m allergic to their dander.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll see if I can get you a Helkan.¡± She smiled slyly and thumbed her tusk, ¡°You cold blooded slut. I know you got more than his hand.¡± ¡°You know it.¡± Pennar¡¯dun smirked mischievously, ¡°Did he really call it ¡®rape¡¯?¡± ¡°He did. Thought that would have some sway with us.¡± She mockingly clutched her pearls. ¡°Can¡¯t hardly call it sex when he didn¡¯t last as long as I did.¡± Pennar¡¯dun scoffed, ¡°I thought this was supposed to be the ¡®sex alien¡¯ planet. If he¡¯s an indication for the rest of the males here, I¡¯ve wasted my time.¡± ¡°Fuck you, you got something out of it.¡± Joph¡¯rena rebutted, ¡°Even if it was short lived. ¡°That said, if he makes a fuss with the Human authorities, do you have your [alien ducks] in a row?¡± Pennar¡¯dun held out her hand and stuck out a finger for every item she listed aloud: ¡°He was out for a fun night out. ¡°He came to our table. ¡°He was asking for it.¡± Joph¡¯rena smiled and nodded approvingly. She leaned in a bit for the next question, ¡°What¡¯s up with the ¡®Gwen¡¯ thing?¡± Her head swiveled and came to a grinning stop. ¡°I don¡¯t know, he called me that a couple of times but he was so drunk I didn¡¯t care what he said, I just knew I was gonna get into his pants.¡± Joph¡¯rena mused, ¡°Pennar¡¯dun. Penn¡­¡± She cocked her head to the side, ¡°¡­Penn, Gwen..?¡± She shrugged in half acceptance, ¡°Isn¡¯t there an Earth bird named that? Pennar¡¯dun grabbed the back of the chair and straightened her back to exclaim, ¡°You said it, I¡¯m a stone cold bird!¡± Uproarious laughter filled the room. Chapter 9 - Homeward Bound (FFS) Michael woke with a start whose sharp inhale made him cough. The coughing only made the pain in his head reverberate, taking up more space than he figured his head could hold. He rolled over onto his side, his bell still ringing. He grabbed onto the edge of whatever he was laying on, its rough surface taut against what seemed to be a PVC pipe. His jeans zipped along the canvas with each cough. The coughing became a choking feeling. Something was coming up. He stretched to hang his face off of the side of what appeared to be a cot. How convenient: a drain in the floor, Michael thought as his insides became outsides. His body was angry at him. The choking became violent retching. How do I have anything more inside of me? The sickly-sweet onset stung his tongue and was followed by the acidic contents of his stomach. He smelt the hoppy followthrough at the tail end of his output. When he thought he was done, he withdrew his head from the edge. There was something nice about rubbing his throbbing head against the course fabric he was laying on; it wasn¡¯t comfortable, but feeling the fabric rasp at his cheek, then his eyebrow, then his forehead and then down the other side only to repeat the process gave him something to focus on outside of the pain in his head and the cramps from his stomach¡¯s newly acquired practice of gastric acrobatics. The crackle of skin and hair against the cot was a comforting distraction. He settled the rubbing enough to stay still for a moment. He tried to control his breathing. In through the nose and out the mouth. In with the love, out with the jive. He chuckled to himself just enough to smell the sweet hops and acid product he¡¯d made. He heard it slide thickly through the fins of the drain. Again, his stomach was compelled to perform some tricks. Through some whimpering minutes, Michael deemed it worthwhile to lift himself into a sitting position. ¡°Rrmmph-eeeh¡± he groaned and whined as he lifted himself up, his head did not appreciate the new arrangement. He felt something fall from himself when he lifted and heard it skid a bit. He gripped the edge of the cot at each side of his legs and deliberately opened his eyes. Yes, he was on a cot, can confirm. It was dingy and stained. He was the most recent contributor to its ruin, but surely not the only one. The drain was--Nope, can¡¯t handle any more of that, he jerked his head away to assess the rest of the room. Four walls and a door, still a kind of purple. The walls were much darker than the floor. The spotty ombre must¡¯ve been from repeated bleachings from previous tenants. This might¡¯ve had another Shil¡¯vati-centered purpose before, but it had become their drunk tank. Michael looked down on the cot groggily. Maybe he could rest some more. He took shallow breaths. He wasn¡¯t focused yet, so he saw what appeared to be an odd smaller cot on the cot he was occupying. Squinting to gather more detail, he opened his eyes with shock and grabbed at the rectangle with too much excitement. ¡°My phone!¡± he pulled it to his face with a quickness that made his whole frame shudder. Tap. Tap tap tap. Nothing. He pushed on the button on the side. There¡¯s only four buttons on this sonuvabitch. Turn on! My fucking luck. I forget all about my phone through all this, find it and it¡¯s fucking dead. This is some booolshit. He put it back in his shirt pocket and bemoaned his plight. This fucker¡¯s dead. It¡¯s probably what kept pulling my pants down. Stupid fucking useless goddamned phone. And now who knows where I¡¯m at and where I¡¯m going and how I¡¯m going to get home. How am I going to get home!? I¡¯ll call Bill! Bill¡¯ll get me out of this. I gotta get to a working phone. I¡¯ll call him and we¡¯ll figure it out. It¡¯ll be fine. I¡¯ll get home, play a couple rounds of Halo with my Yankees and everything¡¯ll be Oh Kay. ¡­ I can call Bill, right? I know his number, right? 904 27¨Cnope, that¡¯s my number. Oh right, he''s got a Daytona number. ...The fuck is daytona¡¯s area code? Or is it Orlando? Shit. Fuck. Shit. Who else could I call? Not work. it''s still the weekend, right? Whose number do I know? Mom¡¯s, but she lives in a whole other state. Oh. Oh no! Goddammit. Michael growled at his stupidity. Useless! He moped his way to the door. There was a slot for observation whose knob was on the other side of the door behind a small rectangular pane of glass. Ok. I''m ready. Let me out of here. He knocked a polite tune. he waited, hands on his hips. ¡°Hey! Hello! ¡°I¡¯m ready to go in here!¡± He banged the door. ¡°Hey! Lemme out!¡± He yelled. ¡°Is there anybody there?¡± The observation slot slid open. A pair of gold irises in black sclera glared at him. He gesticulated thankfulness at their appearance. ¡°Oh, ok, there you are. Can I go?¡± The slot slid shut. Silence followed. He tapped his foot impatiently. He counted down from 10. 9. 8. 7... He banged on the door three times in a quick succession. The door was forced in on him from the outside. He was standing too close. The door swung towards him and knocked him back with enough momentum for him to fall back to the floor. The drain was clear of liquid other than the residue his vomit had left. Still, he felt the squish of partially-digested fries on the back of his head. Fuck a duck. The Shil¡¯vati guard towered over him from the door. ¡°Yeah, hey, thanks.¡± He grunted to get up. He swept his hand behind his head and immediately regretted it. The guard barked at him in incomprehensible Shil. ¡°Yeah, about that, can I go home?¡± He smiled as best he could and shrugged. She looked at him queerly; then turned abruptly and slammed the door shut. Well, at least they know I¡¯m up, Michael sought a silver lining. Minutes later, two pairs of black-tinged, golden eyes peered at him through the slot. I¡¯d never truly noticed their eyes. I knew they were there, but I never had an occasion to look at them. He stayed back away from the door when they opened it. There stood the guard and Joph¡¯rena. Michael welcomed her dourly. ¡°Well if it isn¡¯t my friend, Josepha?¡± Joph¡¯rena rolled her eyes in exasperation. She graw-grawed with body language that said to Michael, ¡°What do you want now?¡± Michael smiled stoically. ¡°Home. E.T. phone home?¡± He held up his dead phone. Joph¡¯rena frowned disapprovingly, not knowing what he was referencing, but could tell it wasn¡¯t a compliment. She waved him over to another room, which Michael had no recollection of--he might¡¯ve been there before, maybe not--hard to tell. She set him up with an omnipad on a slotted table. He watched her fiddle through some menus until a banner popped up. ¡°English Version Edition 1.3¡± displayed in new times roman in the center of the screen. He gave her a smile and a thumbs up and tried to remember the number.The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. He dialed the number, took a deep breath and hit the ¡°sind¡± button. He saw himself through the camera on screen while it started ringing. He looked like shit. He quickly rubbed vomit remnants out of his stubble. Hoping to make himself slightly more presentable before they answered on the other end. Oh shit, he thought before he tried to turn to Joph¡¯rena to ask--defeated already, he accepted without asking--this is an on-base number. She won¡¯t answer it. He rolled his eyes and accepted that he¡¯d have to leave a message. Not that he knew what he was going to say if she answered; he scrambled to think of the phrasing that would sound the least desperate. The voicemail picked up, ¡°Hey, this is Jess, I cannot come to the phone right now. Please leave a message and I¡¯ll get back to you as soon as I can.¡± Michael stiffened his back and spoke with an utterly false coolness, ¡°Hey Jess, I figured you wouldn¡¯t answer this number. Um, I...am on the Shil¡¯vati base...You know, the one where NAS was.¡± He looked up at Joph¡¯rena apologetically. ¡°Um, anyway, my phone is dead and I don¡¯t have my car. I was wondering if you could pick me up.¡± He winced in embarrassment. ¡°K, um, thanks bye!¡± He pressed the button to ¡°stop call¡±. He looked at Joph¡¯rena and laughed mirthlessly. Grrreat¡­ It didn¡¯t take too long before Jessica was calling back. Michael pointed at the screen and held it there a second, checking with Joph¡¯rena before he pressed the answer button. She nodded in approval. The screen lit up with Katherine¡¯s face. ¡°Hi Daddy!¡± Michael didn¡¯t expect Jess to let the kids be on the phone with him while he was on a line that wasn¡¯t his own; he thought he¡¯d made it clear it was a military number. All the same, this shouldn¡¯t have been surprising. Michael cleared his throat and answered, ¡°Hey Hon, your mom there?¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± her innocent voice replied, ¡°She said you¡¯re in trouble. I made you this to cheer you up!¡± She held up a picture of a markered image of a rainbow with a cloud and better than stick figures of a black balloon with arms and legs getting hugged on each side by small pink and blue block figures. The pink one had a bit more detail; it had a princess tiara and a smiling face. ¡°That¡¯s great, Hon!¡± He replied with a smile. He cut his eyes off screen. ¡°Can I please talk to Mommy?¡± Katherine didn¡¯t look disappointed exactly, but had hoped for some more fanfare than she¡¯d received. ¡°Uh huh, she¡¯s right here.¡± She backed away from the screen, ¡°Bye!¡±. Jessica hovered over the screen. She was clearly not in the mood to deal with this. She did appear ready to go to Zumba. ¡°Hey Mike, what the hell is going on?¡± Michael blushed a bit, ¡°I, uh, I need a ride.¡± She pressed harder, ¡°I caught that. Why are you on the Shil¡¯vati base?¡± As he spoke, Joph¡¯rena slowly appeared behind him. ¡°It¡¯s hard to explain right now. I get the impression that I don¡¯t have a lot of time to talk.¡± He saw her face fill the blank wall space behind his left shoulder. ¡°Look, I need some help here. Could you come look for me at a gate up here? That¡¯d be great.¡± Jessica saw the stern, purple, pointed ears and tusk-framed face. She came to the same conclusion. ¡°Yeah, I can do that. I¡¯m not going to miss class for you though. I have to pick up some stuff at the store, too.¡± Michael did not hide his frustration well. Doug sprang up into the screen. ¡°Dad, why¡¯s your forehead blue?¡± Michael didn¡¯t hide his shock well at all. ¡°Shit, oh, I uh, I didn¡¯t know I had anything on my face. Thanks bud!¡± He tried to wipe his face fruitlessly. Jessica finished, ¡°Yes, I¡¯ll be there as soon as I can.¡± With an exasperated sigh, she hung up on him. Michael let out a long sigh of relief. Joph¡¯rena snatched up her omnipad and motioned to the guard to take Michael back out of there. He got up and followed directions. She graw-grawed again. He gave her a slight smile and a wave and kept walking. The guard gave him enough time to make sure he had himself together then led him out the door. He didn¡¯t know what he expected, but she walked him out to the gate. She saluted the guards there, they opened up a section of the wall by the road and pointed him out. Not seeing much choice, he sauntered out the door and out of the base. He may be covered in Shil¡¯vati blood, his own vomit, sweat and all the olfactory remnants of his weekend in his clothes; but he would not slink out of the base. He had some dignity. He felt a hotness on his ear. Oh, someone must be talking about me, he thought until the heat started to hurt. He thought back to the back of Amber¡¯s hot hand. Oh shit! He turned enough to catch that the guard who¡¯d walked him out had a laser pistol sighted on him. He started running toward the gate, nearly running over the guard who held the door open. He heard laughter as the door slammed behind him. He rubbed his ear to make sure it wasn¡¯t melting. Purple Bitches. Ahead he saw a bus stop; far ahead of him. Michael shambled his way to the bench. He had to wait for a bus or two before he could get a spot to sit. Once he did, most other folks chose to stand rather than to sit close to him. After three more buses stopped and more people shuffled between them, he¡¯d gotten enough stink eyes that he chose to sit on the ground on the side of the bus stop stand. Michael counted buses and counted people. He looked at the Shil¡¯way. His mind wandered. If this road can maintain charge on Shil¡¯vati vehicles¡­ He waited for a bus to clear and for a good amount of time without vehicles passing. He rolled himself to a stand and crept over to the middle of the road. He put his phone down on the road and watched. Maybe if the road can keep whole vehicles charged, maybe it can charge my phone. He looked at the road ahead of him. Cars crept up and over the line, ready for the traffic light to signal for them to go. Michael pretended that the phone was absorbing energy from the road. Can I feel it too? Can I feel the electricity in the road? The lights changed and cars roared toward him. He figured he had a few seconds. He tried to leave his phone on the road as long as he could. HONK!! C¡¯mon, c¡¯mon..! He grabbed for his phone at the last moment he thought he safely could and still get away from the oncoming traffic. His hand slipped and the phone fell out of his hand. Shit! Michael scuttled back to the side of the road. Vehicles roared past him. He knelt on the shoulder, pleading for cars to not smash it. He felt stupid for trying to experiment with the road but it seemed worthwhile in his boredom. A car scooted to a stop in front of him. It was Jessica and company. Michael popped up, hoping to look as nonchalant as possible. He waved to Doug in the front seat. Doug gave him a thumb, directing him to sit in the back, where Michael saw Katherine. Michael grumbled to himself, That kid shouldn¡¯t be in the front seat at all, plus I¡¯ve gotta give shotgun up to him? Michael held his hands up to tell them to hold on as he walked around the front of the vehicle. Is this a new car? He wondered, not recognizing the make or color as what he knew Jessica to be driving. He got around it, waited for a car to pass and knelt down to grab his phone from the road. He held it up to the window to acknowledge that that¡¯s what he was getting. He made his way back around and got into the rear passenger side seat. ¡°Hi everybody!¡± Michael exclaimed as he got his seatbelt latched. ¡°Daddy, you stink!¡± Katherine exclaimed back at him in a similar tone while holding her nose with both hands. Jessica sneered at Michael through the rearview mirror. ¡°When did you get this beauty?¡± Michael asked as he rolled down the window. Jessica and Doug rolled theirs down as well. ¡°Yeah, just got it. Traded in the old civic.¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± Michael tried to sound conversational, ¡°It¡¯s nice.¡± ¡°It was before we put an ol¡¯ stinky Daddy in here.¡± Doug teased from the front seat. Jessica settled down as she set the car moving again. ¡°What happened to your car?¡± Michael chuckled a bit, ¡°Funny story, uh, it might be at home and it might be uh, at a bar¡­¡± He felt the judgment seething him as he said it in front of the kids. ¡°Oh?¡± Jessica responded, ¡°Well I guess it¡¯s good you didn¡¯t drink and drive.¡± He replied mechanically, ¡°Ha ha, yeah¡­¡± ¡°Where is it?¡± She asked, tapping the GPS on the dash to life. ¡°It¡¯s called, um, the Falsetto Friars.¡± Michael said, still slightly embarrassed. ¡°I don¡¯t know if you¡¯ve heard of it.¡± ¡°Nope.¡± Jessica said flatly. A short, awkward drive later, they arrived at the bar. Michael thanked her and said goodbye to the children. ¡°When are we going to see you again, Dad? I miss you!¡± Doug asked, rolling his window down. ¡°Yeah, pretty soon, right?¡± His gaze turned to Jessica. He saw that she was getting out of the car. Uh, shit. She walked over to him and told Doug to roll up the window. She made sure her back was to her car as she started her inquiry. ¡°Have a good time?¡± Jessica asked flatly. ¡°Jess, you gotta know, things got out of hand.¡± ¡°What did you do?¡± ¡°I didn¡¯t do too much. It was everyone around me who went bonkers.¡± He tried to weasel his way out of this line of questioning. It didn¡¯t work. ¡°You must¡¯ve done something because it looked to me like you were arrested by the Shil¡¯vati and taken to their base!¡± Michael attempted a retort, ¡°Well...I was invited!¡± ¡°Invited? Oh, that¡¯s rich. You got invited to the base, huh? Did you have fun?¡± Michael did not like where this was going. ¡°I don¡¯t know what you want to hear? That I fucked up? Yeah, I fucked up. I made some bad decisions.¡± ¡°What were you thinking when you took this invitation?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know, it seemed like it was going to go better than it did.¡± ¡°You thought it was going to go well for you, going to the horny space amazon base?¡± Michael didn¡¯t have an answer. ¡°Oh, that¡¯s right, you weren¡¯t thinking, were you?¡± ¡°No, I guess I wasn¡¯t.¡± ¡°You need to think a little harder before you come calling me for help after you¡¯ve had a night out drinking with our purple alien overlords.¡± She shifted her weight with the turn of her verbal assault. ¡°You smell like ass. You might¡¯ve ruined the upholstery of my car. I¡¯m, for sure, going to have to get it detailed to get your stench out. She shifted back, ¡°You good to drive? You smell like alcohol amongst other things.¡± Shamefully, he mumbled, ¡°Yeah. I¡¯m good.¡± He pulled out his car keys from his pants pocket. ¡°You need to get your shit together. This is a horrible example to make for your kids. God, they are so smart and they know more than you think they know. You¡¯ve got to be a better man, a better father to them.¡± He nodded in acquiescence. She relented, as though this was as good as she was going to get out of him. ¡°Go home. Get cleaned up. We¡¯ll see you next Friday.¡± She turned and went back to the driver¡¯s seat. Michael held the base of his car key between the fingers of one hand, and the tip of the key between the fingers of the other. ¡°Yup.¡± He tried to muster some cheer for the kids. He waved as they drove away. Cool. I¡¯ll just...go home now I guess. He sat in his car and plugged his phone in. Chapter 10 - Michael (The Smoking Gun) Michael turned the key to his apartment door and fumbled his way inside. Oh fuck me, he groaned upon seeing the stairs that led to his and Bill¡¯s apartment. It¡¯s not that the stairs were usually that big of a problem. They were simply the most recent obstacle in a long line of obstacles in the last 24 hours. Who knew which number this particular straw was, but the camel was not in good shape. He heard the sound of Django Unchained playing upstairs. He climbed up the stairs on all fours. He took a deep breath as he emerged from the top, bracing himself to talk to another human with whom he was not completely comfortable. He looked over the wall that was the bannister at Bill. Bill laid on the couch. Clarification should be made here, that this couch, along with the tv, the entertainment center and literally everything else in the common living area, was Bill¡¯s. Bill laid on his couch in a way that some might identify as ¡°one of your French girls¡±. Not that he was naked but for a precious jewel, but he was in lounge mode, somewhere nearing sleep. Bill cut his eyes at Michael. ¡°You dog.¡± Michael flared his nostrils. ¡°What?¡± Bill perked up, changing poses to something like a cobra. ¡°You go out all night and the next day and you come home not knowing what I¡¯m talking about!¡± Michael huffed and walked over to the refrigerator, ¡°It was not as good as you think it was.¡± ¡°What? She put you in the hucklebuck?¡± Bill asked, rearranging himself to cross his legs under him. ¡°What does that even mean?¡± Michael turned, still holding the refrigerator door open. ¡°Oh, you know, the hucklebuck! Them big girls probably loved putting you in the hucklebuck!¡± Michael scanned the fridge for something that seemed appealing. Milk? No. Beer? Not today. Koolaid? No thank you. Considering all the bad decisions I¡¯ve made, maybe I should drink water. He pulled down a glass, filled it with ice and drew from the tap. ¡°She might¡¯ve, but I can¡¯t say that I was a fan.¡± Bill thrust his hands onto his hips, still sitting cross legged on the couch, ¡°Well not everything is about you, Michael.¡± His head swayed from side to side as he spoke. Michael swirled the ice in his cup and took a slow sip, ¡°Oh, I¡¯m well aware it¡¯s not all about me.¡± Bill grabbed a couch cushion and sunk down to the arm nearest to Michael and the kitchen. ¡°Well, did you get a piece?¡± Michael leaned over the island of their kitchen. ¡°I guess.¡± Bill rasped both hands in the air, ¡°What do you mean? You can¡¯t be uncertain about that; either you did or you didn¡¯t.¡± He lifted himself up and forward a tad, squinting his eyes as he did. ¡°You didn¡¯t put it in the no-no hole did you?¡± Michael couldn¡¯t take this line of teasing. It was too much. ¡°Amber¡¯s dead.¡± Bill rolled to his side, ¡°Amber? Which one was Amber?¡± He put his hand on his forehead, searching for who Amber was. ¡°Amber, like, you know the interpreting student who lived in the apartment close to us at our last place!¡± ¡°Oh her? Yeah, you had it bad for her.¡± Bill sputtered, ¡°She¡¯s dead? Where did she come from?¡± Bill continued, ¡°Wait, you already had three Shil girls going and you decided to call your crush? How did you organize an interspecies orgy? Michael couldn¡¯t articulate what happened well enough to interrupt Bill. He was on a roll. Bill strummed his goatee, ¡°Wait, you organized an interspecies orgy! You are the fuckin¡¯ man, dude! Goddamn!¡± Michael had finished his water as Bill went on for a bit. Let him go on; have his fun. You just get your head on straight. At some point, Bill calmed down and actually asked, ¡°So what really happened, man?¡± Michael recalled what he could of the last 24 hours. He mentally summarized as he told Bill: Sexy time turned bad. A line of ex girlfriends ¡®rescued¡¯ me from the Shil¡¯vati Base. Shil¡¯vati troops killed Amber and cut off Rachel¡¯s arm. They interrogated them, I accused them of rape. They refused to believe that. Jess called me a shitty father. ¡°Oh, and evidently I can speak Shil¡¯vati when I¡¯m wasted. So I¡¯ve got that going for me.¡± He couldn¡¯t hold back the tears. He was spent. His guts were spilt. Michael openly wept. ¡°Man, I don¡¯t even know where to go from here.¡± Bill had gotten up and started cleaning up the living room while Michael got emotional. ¡°You can¡¯t go blaming yourself for Amber¡¯s death. She was caught up in a situation and should have known that setting up an ambush on a superior force would have repercussions.¡± He wetted and soaped up a sponge and started scrubbing the inside of the empty sink, ridding it of the residue of dirty dishes. He scrubbed and Michael circled around to the other side of the island abiding by Bill¡¯s unspoken command. ¡°As far as being a father goes, you¡¯re doing the best you can. Sure, you could step up and do more things that Jess wants you to do but you¡¯re the Dad. You need to do what¡¯s right for your kids on your terms. You can¡¯t do better than your best and you can¡¯t be your best all the time. You¡¯ll drive yourself crazier than you already are. ¡°What you can do right here, right now¡­¡± He backed himself away from the island. ¡°...is take a shower.¡± Michael laughed through his tears. ¡°Light some candles, take a bath, put on some soothing music, rose petals and all that shit.¡± Bill said with a fine feminine impression. As a short, old, Filipino fairy, he coaxed Michael to the bathroom. ¡°I will! My clothes are in my room. I¡¯m not gonna come out the shower naked, ya asshole!¡± Michael retorted, wiping his eyes and walking to his side of the apartment. The room was as it ever was, a nest. Though he only had a handful of possessions, they were strewn about with impunity. Who¡¯s to punish when it¡¯s your own fault that your own shit is all over your own room? Fuck it, I¡¯ll deal with this later. Maybe after a shower. Maybe after a sleep. Who knows what the future holds for ya, Mikey? Find some ¡®ders. Find some shorts. Find a clean shirt. Plug up this little asshole, he thought as he connected his phone to its cord. Alright...let¡¯s do this. His clothes gathered in his arms, Michael walked past the washer and dryer, peering into the living room where Django continued. He saw hooded figures on horses lit only by their torches on the screen. ¡°Damn! I can¡¯t see fuckin¡¯ shit outta this thing.¡± ¡°We ready or what?¡± ¡°Naw, holdon, I¡¯m fuckin¡¯ with my eye holes.¡± The character on screen, named Big Daddy, proceeded to rip the fabric. ¡°Oh. Oh, shit.¡± Michael smiled and recited with Bill. ¡°Not too goo-id¡± They caricatured. Bill jumped ahead while the movie played in it¡¯s time. ¡°All I hear is criticize, criticize, criticize.¡± Laughing still, Michael closed his bathroom door behind him. He then opened it back up to quote another line. ¡°I watched my wife work all day fixin¡¯ 30 pillowcases together for you boys! So don¡¯t ask me or mine for nothin¡¯ ever again!¡± He closed the bathroom door again and began his business. Removing his shirt, he looked at himself in the mirror. He leaned in closer, examining the bruises on his neck. Goddamn that was not ok. He started to pull his pants down when he saw the sticker. Even Pirates Wipe Their Booty Michael chuckled to himself. Whew, I¡¯m so glad I put that up there. He proceeded to get in the shower and wash the last twenty four hours off of him the best he could. He got out, put on the fresh clothes and dropped his dirty clothes in the washer as he passed. Django could continue without him. He gathered what clothes he recognized as dirty and sent them to the washer as well.The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. He returned to his room and checked on his phone. There was a message about his cloud account being full, which asked if he would like to pay for more storage. He canceled it and looked at the rest of his notifications. A few facebook notifications were ignorable. Email was full of advertisements. The notification popped up again. Your cloud storage is full. Follow the link to upgrade your storage. What the fuck is this? Michael grumbled to himself angrily. He started to get up to talk to Bill about how to get rid of this message when he got a text from Celeste. >Mike, I need 2 talk 2 u< >Whoa! I¡¯m glad to see you¡¯re alive! How¡¯d you get out of there.< >N person. [phone emoji circle with a line through it emoji< >When?< Michael heard the doorbell ring. >Now< Michael bobbed his head in slight resistance before he got up and scuttled over to and down the stairs. ¡°I got it.¡± He called to Bill on his way. He opened the door for Celeste and asked, ¡°You good?¡± before she nodded and he led her up the stairs. She was still wearing the full camo she¡¯d had on at the elementary school. She looked tired but determined. ¡°Mike, did the Shils tell you if the Shil¡¯way got fucked up?¡± Her eyes were serious as death. ¡°Shil¡¯way?¡± Bill interrupted, ¡° What are you talking about?¡± ¡°Oh, hello to you as well.¡± Michael settled down on the couch beside Bill. Seeing that she wasn¡¯t going to be getting any fast answers, Celeste settled on the other end of the sectional. ¡°I don¡¯t know how long I can hang around. They¡¯re looking for me. They already took my Dad, who knows what they¡¯re doing to him.¡± Turning to Bill, ¡°Yes, the purple road around the base. We¡¯ve taken to calling it the ¡®Shil¡¯way¡¯, because they can use it to monitor surrounding traffic.¡± ¡°Wait! You mean this asshole was telling the truth?¡± Bill questioned exasperatedly, jabbing a thumb toward Michael. ¡°I guess. I don¡¯t know what he told you.¡± Celeste threatened, ¡°He needs to tell me if our maneuvers meant anything to them.¡± Michael looked Celeste in the eyes and said flatly, ¡°I don¡¯t know, they pointed out that they¡¯ve got orbital ships, so we have no idea what they¡¯re doing.¡± ¡°Fucking Purple Bitches¡± She hissed. ¡°We will not take this lying down.¡± Michael asked earnestly, ¡°What are you going to do next?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t even know¡± Celeste held her face in her hands. There wasn¡¯t much to say after that. Celeste was clearly emotional. Michael was spent mentally and physically. Bill looked from one of them to the other, back and forth. He had been going along with Michael because he was trying to be a good friend. He didn¡¯t believe any of it. But now that Celeste was here, quietly seething on his couch, Bill had to take things more seriously. Michael¡¯s phone pinged off another full storage notification. ¡°What the fuck is this thing?¡± Michael asked angrily. This fuckin¡¯ thing is ruining our brooding. Bill saw a problem that he might be able to solve. ¡°Your phone is full. Let me see it.¡± Michael handed his phone to Bill. Bill can fuck around with the phone. I don¡¯t give a shit. Gathering herself, Celeste proved again. ¡°Did they mention anything about their capabilities?¡± Michael listed on one hand what he could remember, ¡°We know about the road. We know about their orbital ships.¡± He closed his eyes and tried to retrieve anything else useful from the back of his mind. ¡°She mentioned something about drones too.¡± ¡°Drones.¡± Celeste squeezed arms around herself. ¡°Ok.¡± Bill absentmindedly asked, ¡°Mike, when¡¯s the last time you cleaned out your phone?¡± Michael turned back to Bill. ¡°I don¡¯t know. It wasn¡¯t too long ago. Why?¡± ¡°Dude, there¡¯s a 30 minute video from Friday night on here.¡± Bill pointed at Michael¡¯s phone screen. ¡°What!?!¡± Michael asked in shock. ¡°Uh, yeah.¡± Bill started up the video. ¡°Look at this!¡± Michael leaned over to look at his phone screen in Bill¡¯s hands. Celeste stayed put on the other leg of the couch. The video started from the inside of the breast pocket of Michael¡¯s shirt. Bright purple tiles of a bathroom gave way to a doorway that led to a common room with various living room furniture and fixtures. The purples were overwhelming to Michael. He had to look away for a moment. ¡°I didn¡¯t take this.¡± He looked at Bill. Bill shrugged. ¡°Maybe not on purpose. You can butt-dial, why can¡¯t you moob-start recording a video?¡± The video showed two barely dressed Shil¡¯vati ladies grab limbs on either side of the camera¡¯s vision. The view whisked over the couch and a coffee table. Darkness overtook the view for a moment as he entered into a bedroom. The screen shuddered for a moment before being unceremoniously shuck onto the floor. From the pile of clothes, the viewers could see the Shil¡¯vati women lowering themselves onto the bed. ¡°Can we fix this?¡± A voice rose from the phone. Another followed, ¡°I¡¯m sure we can figure it out.¡± Bill squinted at Michael, ¡°You had two Amazons carry you to bed and you couldn¡¯t get it up?¡± Michael tried to defend himself, ¡°Fuck off, I, uh, they got me off in the car. I wasn¡¯t ready yet.¡± Bill quirked his face at that. ¡°Oh sure.¡± A voice purred from the phone speaker. Michael¡¯s voice rang out next, ¡°We¡¯ll, uh, try to get him going in a bit. The appeal the ladies seem to find in me is...dexterity¡±. Michael blushed hotly, remembering what came next. He looked over at Celeste, her face had a volatile mixture of disgust and curiosity. He quickly grabbed his phone and tried to fast forward a bit. Celeste had already gotten up and was almost in place standing behind them on the couch. Michael¡¯s fast forwarding settled right when the video showed him petering his little Michael from side to side. ¡°But¡­¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know what you did to her.¡± One of the Shil¡¯vati women spouted hungrily from Michael¡¯s phone, ¡°But I know what I¡¯m going to do with that.¡± The woman on the little screen pushed the image of Michael onto the bed on the opposite side of the room. She settled herself on top of him. ¡°I¡¯m good to go.¡± The Michael in the phone gasped for air. ¡°You like that?¡± The purple woman leaned down onto the bed. ¡°You like that purple pussy? You gonna make me cum like you made her cum?¡± She bounced on him so forcefully that the view from the phone screen shifted so that they were more centered. ¡°Yeah, you will! You pink stiff.¡± Celeste drew her hand to her mouth. ¡°Michael¡­¡± The voice recorded in the video on Michael¡¯s phone continued, ¡°That¡¯s right you fat fuck. Make me shoot cum across the room too!¡± Bill¡¯s face twisted in a blend of shock and awe. Michael was likewise unsure how to feel as he watched more than remembered what was happening. ¡°That¡¯s right you fat fuck. Make me shoot cum across the room too!¡± The Shil¡¯vati woman wailed from the phone. Michael paused the video. He couldn¡¯t take any more. ¡°Guys, it doesn¡¯t get better from here. I don¡¯t know how much longer this goes. I don¡¯t want to remember this. I would never have shown this to you if I had known I had this.¡± Celeste grabbed the phone from his hands while he pleaded. ¡°--No!¡± Michael cried as he grasped air instead of his phone. The phone was in Celeste¡¯s face before Michael could do anything. ¡°Do you know what you have here, Mike?¡± She said, tapping away at his phone. ¡°Yeah, something private that I wish I didn¡¯t have!¡± he twisted on the couch catching air instead of his phone. Celeste quickly stepped to the other end of the sectional. ¡°This is evidence, Mikey.¡± She dropped the phone from her face, ¡°I am so sorry that she did that to you, Mike. I really am. But this isn¡¯t an unfamiliar clip to me. Do you know how many women were raped, on average, in Jacksonville before the Shil¡¯vati showed up? It¡¯s like one in three world wide! ¡°Maybe you fuckers--not you two in particular--but men, in general, wouldn¡¯t do anything to protect women. But I¡¯ll be Goddamned if I let anyone else be a victim to someone¡¯s power hunger, no matter the gender.¡± Michael was still confused, ¡°Uh, thanks? I guess?¡± Celeste continued, ¡°If we can get this tape to a lawyer, we can use it to build a legal case against the Shil¡¯vati and their abuse of their power!¡± Michael looked from Celeste to Bill. Bill looked as surprised as Michael was, but he still had his faculties. ¡°Hell yeah!¡± He punched his arm straight up, ¡°Fuck them Purple Bitches!¡± Michael reeled with this realization. Could it really work? How? ¡°What¡¯s the point, Celeste?¡± His doubt washing over him in this wave of new implications. ¡°The point, Michael, is that we got¡¯em!¡± She said, tapping a few more times on Michael¡¯s phone before giving it back to him. ¡°What did you do?¡± Michael asked, looking at his phone screen. ¡°I just sent your video to myself, Rachel and a lawyer friend I have.¡± Recognition crashed into Michael¡¯s brain. Rachel was ok, that¡¯s good, but...now she¡¯s got a video of me--of that!? Nonononono, this is not acceptable. ¡°You can¡¯t send that video out willy nilly!¡± ¡°It¡¯s not willy nilly. It¡¯s not like Rachel hasn¡¯t seen your dick.¡± She shook her head once, as if she couldn¡¯t believe she was about to say what she was going to say, ¡°Thanks for that, by the way¡­¡± Her brows furrowed as she said her last statement. ¡°I wasn¡¯t trying to show you my cock!¡± Michael threw his hands in the air. Celeste rolled her eyes, ¡°Yeah, I know, but now I have.¡± Deadpan, she continued. ¡°But if they¡¯ve got my Dad and they took Rachel¡¯s arm, we now have ammo to use against them. And I sent it to my lawyer friend, in case I don¡¯t make it home tonight.¡± Michael slumped in his seat. I mean, yeah, I guess she¡¯s got a point. But this is so personal. This is not something I would have shared out of my own volition. Ugh...fuck. All I wanted to do was have a good time. I wasn¡¯t trying to get myself assaulted. And now it¡¯s on video!? What the fuck? I went up to them. And now the whole world¡¯s gonna see. What will my mom think? What will my kids think? Will this have an impact on my visitation rights with the kids? Shit! Who knows what consequences this will have for me in the long run? My boss is going to find out! Anyone I work for in the future is going to have seen this video; how will I ever work again? How will I show my face in public again? Bill smacked Michael on the arm. ¡°Bro, you could be what brings down the Imperium on Earth! I¡¯mma be prouder of this sex tape than I was Kim Kardashian¡¯s!¡± ¡°Where¡¯s your Goddamned sex tape?¡± Michael wheeled back. Bill sneered, ¡°It may be down in the garage. It¡¯d be on a VHS though. No digital copies...yet.¡± ¡°God, is the whole world going to see my dick? Like, am I never going to get any ever again?¡± Celeste made her way back around the couch to him and smacked him across the back of his head. ¡°Shut the fuck up, you selfish bitch!¡± Michael winced, more in embarrassment and surprise than in pain. Celeste walked with purpose toward the stairs. ¡°Stop thinking about yourself. Goddamn, who cares about your dick right now? You are the smoking gun. You have a video of a Shil raping you. Don¡¯t you see that this could be a viable way of arguing they have too much power? Don¡¯t you see that this could be the fulcrum that shifts the moral high ground. Their ideals are not humane. ¡°They may have technological superiority, but they are not a superior species. Anyone arrogant enough to think they can get away with this needs to be brought down a peg or four!¡± She finished and dashed down the stairs. She dashed right back up and stuck her head up enough to look Michael in the eyes. ¡°Thank you. I know you don¡¯t see it this way, but you¡¯ve made way for real change to happen, Mike.¡± She opened the door and called back up, ¡°You¡¯ll see!¡± Bill and Michael heard the door shut and looked at each other. ¡°Shit¡± they harmonized in completely opposite tones. Michael wanted to wallow in his own self loathing. Bill was inspired. ¡°Maybe I should go fuck a Shil for the revolution too, huh?¡± He winked at Michael. Michael flared his nostrils, got up, and went to bed. Tomorrow has to be better.