Chapter 2: Jean

I wake, as I always do, with a start.

They say a person only needs twenty-one days to adjust to a new environment. Apparently that rule doesn’t apply to alien spaceships, because I’ve been on this one for over a month now, and I still haven’t gotten used to the damn thing.

I gather the covers around my body and sit up. The lights are on now, allowing me to see the room beyond the gossamer canopy that surrounds my bed. Damask wallpaper. Oriental rugs. Louis XIV furniture with inlaid ivory and gold leaf. All of it has been curated by the Znthians based on their research of Earth luxuries. Their intention, I believe, is to make me comfortable.

It doesn’t work.

Something moves at the edge of my vision. A plump little cherub fluttering down from the ceiling to hover beside my bed. He smiles at me through the canopy.

“Did Madam sleep well?” he asks in an oddly infantile voice.

“You know damn well Madam didn’t.”

The cherub is unfazed by my grumpiness. He continues to smile sweetly, blinking his oversized blue eyes.

“Would Madam like a coffee to help her wake up?”

“Yes, Gerber. The usual, please.”

“Of course, Madam! One double-shot oat-milk latte, coming right up!” He turns in midair, flashing me with his rosy little baby’s bottom, then zooms over to the big brass espresso machine by the wall.

Gerber is my android companion. Every woman on this ship has one. Some of the companions look like faeries. Others look like walking, talking teddy bears. For reasons I can’t even begin to fathom, I was assigned a bionic cherub, complete with the face and body of a plastic baby doll, and a little pair of white, feathered wings. For the first few days, he gave me the creeps, but gradually I’ve gotten used to him, just like every other aspect of the fever dream that my life has become.

I probably sound like a spoiled brat, don’t I? Complaining about fancy furniture and angels waiting on me hand and foot. I don’t mean to. I really don’t.

If I were here of my own free will, it would be a different story.

While Gerber’s back is turned, I take the opportunity to drop the covers and climb out of bed. In the process, something slides off the mattress with me. Something hard and heavy. It thumps on the carpet by my feet.

When I see what it is, my face goes hot with embarrassment.

The jade phallus.

A strange sensation comes over me. Vague impressions of a half-remembered dream. Hot breath caressing my skin. Hands on my body. Growling voices, and--

And then it’s gone, vanished like a whisper on the wind.

Blushing, I pick up the phallus and carry it across the room. The figure in the portrait watches me with his lapis-blue eyes. His expression seems gloating. I carefully set the phallus back into its padded glass case. Then I head to the bathroom to wash away last night’s sweat and shame.

By the time I get back, clean and dressed, my coffee is waiting for me. It’s already gone cold.

No problem. I head over to the espresso machine and start to prepare another. Two of them actually. While I’m working on that, Gerber swoops down from above and perches his pink butt right onto the counter beside me.

“Was there a problem with your beverage, Madam?”

“No, Gerber. You did a good job. I just took too long in the shower, that’s all. Besides, I kind of like to make my own.”

Gerber wiggles his little wings. “Madam is a concubine of the Emperor,” he says. “Madam does not have to prepare her own beverages.”

“Yes, Gerber,” I sigh. “But Madam likes it.”

The thing is, I know my way around an espresso machine. I worked as a barista all through college and for many years after as I struggled to pay off my student loans. Then, about two years ago, I went into business for myself. Not all by myself, mind you. It was a joint venture. Me and my fiance Keith. We had a specialty coffee truck. Jean’s Beans. I did the drinks and customer service, Keith handled the logistics. For a while, it was like a dream come true. We didn’t have to answer to anybody, and we even made enough money to hire a college girl to help us out part time. Then, just two weeks before we were supposed to get married, I caught Keith banging her. In the back of our damn coffee truck, of all places. I broke things off then and there.

In hindsight, I wish I hadn’t.

A few months later, the Znthian’s showed up and conquered the Earth. We called it the One Hour War. Afterward, the Imperial Procurers scoured the planet looking for women whose DNA would be a good match for their leader. They only wanted unmarried women, and wouldn’t you know it, I was single as hell. I won’t lie, I actually considered crawling back to Keith, but by then it was already too late. He was married to his new girl, and they were expecting their first baby in a few months.

As for me, I was among the thousand women chosen for the Emperor’s harem. Lucky me. Of course, I didn’t get any say in the matter. No opportunity to politely refuse. The Procurers took me, shot me full of drugs, and gave me a one-way ticket to the Imperial Harem on Znth.

We’ll be arriving in one more week.

Once the two lattes are ready, I carry them toward the door. On the way out, I pause briefly in front of the full-length cheval mirror. My two-piece outfit looks like something Victoria’s Secret might design for Princess Jasmine in an adult-themed remake of Aladdin. The gauzy material leaves little to the imagination. Like the rest of my new belongings, it comes courtesy of my husband-to-be, His Royal Highness Xenithar XIII, Emperor of the Known Universe.

I am not looking forward to meeting him.

With a sigh, I push a button on the wall, and the bedroom door gasps open in front of me. I step through it and venture outside to meet the day.

Gerber comes fluttering after.

*    *    *

The grand atrium extends for almost the entire length of the ship, an alien Garden of Eden, surrounded on all sides by the terraces where we concubines live. A river flows down the middle, fed by pumps in the lower levels. A riot of alien vegetation grows on either side. Weird, tendrilled plants bend over the surface of the water. Massive, fan-shaped leaves stir in the manufactured breeze. In places, the canopy of branches is so densely woven that only a few bright spears of artificial sunlight manage to pierce through it, golden motes dancing in their luminous shafts.

I have to admit, this place is beautiful, but that doesn’t mean I’m grateful for it.

A cage is still a cage, even if it’s beautiful.

With my two lattes in hand, and Gerber flapping close behind, I wend my way along a footpath that follows the course of the river. Even at this early hour, the garden is not entirely empty. I cross paths with a few other concubines along the way, and we exchange quiet smiles of greeting as we pass.

“Jean!”

A woman is coming toward me down the path. She’s taller than I am. Firmer too. She’s dressed in the same diaphanous white garb as the rest of the concubines. I have to say, she wears it well, though I’m pretty sure she would rather be wearing just about anything else.

A corgi trots along at her heels.

“Morning, Mel,” I say when I get closer, matching her smile. I offer her one of the two cups I’m carrying. “Coffee?”

“Do you even have to ask?” she replies.

Mel takes the proffered drink, holds it up to her face, and inhales. Then she lets out a happy sigh.

“I swear, Jean, you make the best coffee in the whole galaxy.”

I shrug. “What can I say? When you’ve got it, you’ve got it.”

I bend down to pet the corgi, who is now sitting obediently by Mel’s feet. “Morning, Clarence,” I say. “How are you today?”

He wags his tail. “Very well, Madam. And you?”

Clarence is Mel’s assigned companion. He’s not a real corgi. He’s a robot like Gerber. Sometimes, I feel a bit jealous. If I’ve got to have a robot following me everywhere, I would much prefer a talking dog over a weird flying doll.

Mel shakes the white paper baggy that she’s carrying in her other hand.

“Croissant sandwich?” she asks.

The smell wafting from the bag is heavenly. Warm pastry, savory bacon, eggs and cheese. My mouth starts to water. I copy Mel’s answer from before.

“Do you even have to ask?”

“Come on,” she says. “Let’s grab a seat...”

I met Mel on the third day of the voyage, when I finally plucked up the courage to leave my room and go exploring. Somehow or another we ended up talking, and before we knew it, we were friends. Over the past few weeks, we’ve settled into a little routine. Every morning, we meet for breakfast in the garden. I provide the coffee, and Mel brings the food, usually some kind of breakfast sandwich from one of the automated food dispensaries located throughout the ship. We always take our sandwiches and coffees to an open area near the river where we can enjoy our breakfast.

“Hey, Gerber,” I say as we’re settling in. “Why don’t you and Clarence go play fetch?”

“Yes, Madam!”

The cherub happily retrieves a stick from the forest. Then he and the corgi start playing a few yards away. It provides some semblance of privacy while Mel and I eat.

“Well,” Mel says sardonically, “another sunny day in Paradise.” It’s always sunny in the garden.

“I heard we might get some rain,” I joke.

“Really?” Mel says. “I heard it was going to snow.”

We laugh as we unwrap our sandwiches and prepare to eat. It feels good. Laughter can be hard to come by on the Scarlet Ship.

I take a big bite of my sandwich. As usual, the food is delicious. The buttery croissant is light and flaky. The crisp bacon perfectly complements the fluffy eggs and melted cheese.

“God, I needed this,” I say. “I’m freaking starving today.”

“Long night?” Mel asks.

I blush. “Yup.”

Mel nods sympathetically. “Yeah... same here.”

She’s forced to take the same medicine as me, and she has the same urges every night when the lights go out. The same portrait of the Emperor hanging on her wall. The same jade sculpture to ease her pain.

It’s the same for every woman on the ship.

A peal of laughter echoes across the river. On the other side, a group of women have stripped off their clothing, and now they’re splashing noisily in the clear water, making a big show of enjoying themselves. Isn’t it a bit early for skinny dipping? I groan.

“How could anyone be having fun in a situation like this?”

“Maybe they’re not,” Mel says between bites of her sandwich. “Everybody deals with stress in different ways.”

I realize she’s right. The women’s laughter is a little too loud to be genuine, their antics a little too forced. They aren’t having fun at all. They’re just trying to cope with this godawful situation in the only way they know how. I suddenly feel sorry for them--for all of us.

“This is bullshit” I mutter. “Who the hell needs a thousand wives anyway? More than that, actually. Tens of thousands. Maybe even hundreds of thousands.”

“He’s remaking the universe in his image,” Mel says.

I give her a quizzical look. “What do you mean?”

She sets down her sandwich and wipes her mouth with a napkin.

“Well, think about it. The Emperor’s got a thousand wives from every planet he conquers, right? Let’s say he has one baby with each of them. And let’s say he’s got a hundred worlds in his empire. That’s a hundred thousand kids. Now, what if he sent his sons back to the planets where their mothers came from? And what if each of those sons had a harem of his own?”

“Holy shit. Before long, his genetic code would be spread throughout the whole damn universe.”

Mel nods. “It ain’t exactly immortality, but for an asshole like the Emperor, it’s probably the next best thing. Anyway, that’s my theory.”

I mutter, “Too bad women can’t do some shit like that.”

“Hey, careful what you wish for. You could end up like a queen bee pumping out two thousand babies a day.”

I wince. “Good point.”

“Don’t get me wrong,” Mel chuckles. “I wouldn’t mind a modest harem. Like, I dunno, three maybe four guys?”

I start counting on my fingers: “One to cook. One to clean...”

Mel grins. “One to...” She wiggles her eyebrows suggestively.

We both bust out laughing again. This time, we’re so loud, even the women on the other side of the river stop splashing to look at us.

After a moment, Mel grows serious again. She sets down her half-eaten sandwich and looks at me.

“Jean, can I ask you something?”

“What’s up?”

She hesitates for a moment, and her cheeks flush red.

“Lately, have you been having strange dr--”

Before she can finish, something rumbles in the distance. It almost sounds like thunder, and I wonder if my earlier joke about rain might actually be coming true. Then I see the fireball billowing up over the tops of the trees, like a miniature mushroom cloud. It must be all the way down at the front end of the ship, right by the main control center.

“What the hell is that?” Mel asks, her previous question completely forgotten.

I’m wondering the same thing.

At least, I’m trying to, but all of a sudden my brain doesn’t seem to be working quite right. Everything’s getting fuzzy, like an old-fashioned television tuned to the wrong channel. I feel like I’m falling, not down, not even up, but in some other direction I can’t find the word for.

And then... darkness.

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