His face remains a mask – as stony as the visage of the old statues of Greek Gods that the Aurelian species resemble.
I look into the icy blankness of Darr’s eyes, and plead:
“Don’t make me do this. Please.”
I know Darr doesn’t like hearing the word ‘no’ – and I can’t pretend I don’t owe him my life.
In fact, I owe him everything. As despicable as Darr is, I was starving and without a single friend in the world when he’d first taken me under his wing.
Before I met Darr, I tried to share a stolen loaf of bread with other urchins on the streets. They beat me up and took the entire loaf. I learned my lesson not to trust anyone.
Darr taught me how to take care of myself; but that came at a cost.
When Darr’s eyes narrow angrily – infuriated by my refusal – it suddenly isn’t the arrogant, brutal Aurelians I’m worried about.
“The maid trick won’t work,” he admits – and I breathe a sigh of relief. Thank the Gods – he’s come to his senses. “But, why do you think I kept you a virgin all these years?”
For the first moment, I freeze – wondering just what he meant by that.
Then I look down, embarrassed. Shame paints my cheeks red.
“Think about it, girl,” Darr’s voice deepens. “Why do you think I beat the fuck out of any man who looked at you too long? I’ve been playing the long game – and they don’t get much longer than those Aurelian bastards, if you know what I mean.”
Darr laughs. I know exactly what he’s referring to – the rumored size of an Aurelian’s cock.
Right then, I hate him. Darr is disgusting. It’s not a coincidence that he’s making cracks about how well-endowed Aurelians are in the same breath as he’s talking about my virginity – because we both know Aurelians have interests in human females that extend beyond just dusting and mopping their huge mansions and estates.
His joke reminds me that I’m just a tool for Darr. I’m just an asset, and I hate that I owe him.
“The maid trick won’t work – but there’s more than one way to skin a cat.”
Darr snorts: “Those Aurelians bastards think with their cocks. It’s like they’re drunk when they sniff out the chance to claim a girl’s virginity. They’ll be fooled easily by an innocent, young lass like you.”
I wince. I don’t share Darr’s optimism – and it’s not his ass that’s literally on the line.
It’s not just the thought of the consequences if I get caught that worry me – it’s the thought of the Aurelians themselves.
I’ve only actually seen Aurelians in the flesh – that towering, marble-white flesh of theirs – three times in my life. They don’t come to the poor sectors like this one often – and with good reason. It occurred one day a long time ago, back when I was working as part of a team of Darr’s pickpockets.
We’d been scouting out marks in one of the marketplaces. It was the day after a harsh sandstorm had closed the entire city for forty hours straight - the citizens hiding away like frightened mice as the powerful blasts of sand scoured the bricks and metal of the city; as abrasive as a blasting machine.
It wasn’t a new experience for any of us – the harsh power of nature has shaped our society here on this world – but this sandstorm was especially bad. The morning after, the city was a wreck – and while that was a catastrophe for most of the people who live here, it offered a lot of opportunity for those willing to work with it.
That’s what I mean when I say that the sandstorms have shaped our society.
While the devastating sandstorms ruin buildings and even take the lives of anybody foolish enough to be caught in them, they also offer a living for the poorest people from Sectors 3 and 4. Most planets have robots and automation to perform manual labor like strip mining, farming and construction. On our harsh, desert world - where sand clogs up the vents and gears of machinery, requiring constant repair and maintenance – it’s still actually cheaper to hire real, live humans to perform these dreary tasks.
I’d been eighteen back then – the day I saw my first Aurelians.
But long before I’d ever seen any of them in the flesh, I’d heard about one of the persistent rumors surrounding their species – that they always work in threes, known as ‘triads’.
Each triad of Aurelians is said to be ‘Bonded’ – although I’m not quite sure what that means. I don’t know if it’s true that a Bonded triad can communicate telepathically, as some claim, but I could certainly have believed it when those three towering, marble-skinned aliens had appeared in that sand-filled marketplace that day.
There was a triad of them, exactly as rumored. Only one of them spoke – while the other two stood like mute statues, but somehow seemed to be able to think their opinions into the mind of their leader.
That would have been weird enough, but it just added to their mystique. These Aurelians towered over everyone else in the marketplace. Each of them stood seven-feet-high; with physiques that looked that they’d been honed from pure, white marble.
Each Aurelian was built like a powerhouse – their rippling, powerful muscles clearly visible across every inch of their body that wasn’t covered by the classical, Roman-style togas they wore.
I remember the first moment I saw them. I froze. It was like those ancient statues from Old-Earth – the towering, white figures of Gods like Hermes and Zeus, crafted by master sculptors like Praxiteles – had come to life and were walking among us. I might not be able to read, but I’ve got an incredible memory, and when someone who knows anything about history starts talking, I shut up and listen.
I knew they weren’t Gods – I
