The Pearl (Galactic Jewels Book 1) (6 page)

“I had it delivered during the party,” she answered.

“You can’t expect me to wear that.”

She shrugged, laying out ten pieces across the dressing table beside the chair. They rippled and melted into each other, ivory and navy becoming ice blue, red and yellow mingling into a sun-bright orange. A rainbow of pleasure dripped to the floor in piles of starlit hues. “Why not?” Her hands stroked through the fabrics while she placed them, oars in an ocean of color. “Look, tonight’s your last date. There’s no way to pick a Samarian, so I say be stunningly sensual.” She lifted the orange silk to her cheek and sighed. “Why couldn’t you be pearl on a female-fem year?”

I didn’t answer. We’d lamented the unfortunate point for an entire week when I’d been picked for this union and locked into a female-male arrangement.

She gently replaced the piece. “You know whoever’s coming will appreciate the effort.”

We’d spent so much time with the females of Samaria that we knew their wants and desires intimately. The j
ū
nihitoe was a revered layered kimono that mimicked the Samarian Mother Divine’s daily outfit. She was the high priestess who’d trained the trainers who’d instructed us how to become pearls and consorts. She was all-knowing in the ways of womanhood and sex and tantric methods to turn a lover inside out and join two bodies and souls beyond the limits of physicality. Goddess Mother was revered above all else, a queen of the beehive and treated with the utmost respect and gratitude. Yes, wearing a j
ū
nihitoe tonight was a sign of respect.

And in complete contradiction to my uniform.

“What do you have to lose?” She walked toward me with the first piece, a purple kosode, a silk robe so sheer I could see her through it. A lavender embroidered sash hung over her arm.

I touched the work of art, beautifully and masterfully embellished with satin threads along the collar and sleeves. We’d worn similar gowns as young girls during the annual feasting festival. As the pearl, I had nothing to lose. We wore what they designated because there’d never been a reason not to.

“To them you are the Mother Divine; that’s why they’re sending a date. You’re not just the pearl, you’re one of their beloveds. They take this seriously, eager to see what you’ve become. If you ask me, this should always be the outfit for the Samarian presentation.”

“It hasn’t been approved. We’ll cause a ruckus.” It wouldn’t be the first time. We’d done our share of rule breaking, but nothing this brazen. My rebuttals sounded as half-hearted as they felt. To wear the j
ū
nihitoe tonight… The emotions of the day melded together. Wearing this was a tribute to Fransín too. I would have done it for that reason alone, despite any repercussions.

“So? The Samaria are going into this without any chance of being picked, yet they’re honoring the tradition. Who are they going to present you with? No matter who they send—even the Mother Divine—you couldn’t pick her, so why not
be
her? This is the most honorable way to repay them, this is a nod to who they are as a species, a blessing of all the hours and training they gave us. This is your only time to give back. Not only for the candidate; they’ll all be watching. Do it.”

If I agreed, we needed to get on with it and stop stalling. “Did you wait until now to bring this up so I couldn't think through the repercussions?”

“No. Your official uniform’s hanging in the closet. It will take longer to get you in this.” She stepped closer, pressing the fabric against my naked skin. A rush of heat answered the silken feel of the violet hues and I trembled. “I’m just—I’m asking. I’m asking you to do this. For me. For you. For the girls we were. For the girls they are.” I fingered the satin ribbon. Pearls were as known for their rule making as for their rule breaking. Usually one followed the other. Maybe if I wore this tonight, it
would
become the standard uniform for this date. “Ask for forgiveness. They’ll give it to you. This is the most beautiful tribute you could offer and will lessen the blow when you can’t choose a Samarian. You’re already going through the motions. Why not give them something… else.”

I chewed the inside of my cheek, unable to come up with a single argument. Rubbing the fabric between my fingers, I grinned. “Let’s do it.”

She layered me with silks and satins, robes in a multitude of riotous colors that slid against my body and bound me in a richness that no gown had accomplished in all the times before when we’d gone through this process. We stayed silent for the duration of the readying, each lost in the honor of who she was turning me into. Neither words nor music would have lent enough weight to the moments as they fell away. We worshipping privately, paying our respects the best way we could. Fransín’s tender touch was another robe, hers woven of love and care.

She’d been right to attempt this, but we would pay. She worse than I and for many moons to come.

The ship’s comm buzzed and M said, “Fifteen sectors until transport.”

Fransín stepped back, tears in her eyes. She pressed her hands together at her breastbone and bowed.

One last time. I held my breath, fearful of bursting the cocoon she’d immersed us in. I bowed in thanks and fought the tears that threatened not only my makeup but the remaining threads holding me together.

Her fingers encircled my elbow beneath the thick silks of the j
ū
nihitoe and I awaited the meditation she’d do on the way to M. “Let’s walk through the gardens,” Fransín said softly, tucking my arm inside hers. I inhaled deep into my belly and shut my eyes while her musical voice guided me. We’d spent so many hours inside ourselves on Samaria that it didn’t take me more than a few breaths to send my mind to a softer place, one decorated with lights and cherry blossoms. Meditation was a sim I needed to peel away the layers I’d put on since last night. One by one the sadness, and grief, and the prayerful tribute fell away, leaving nothing but the essence of who I was as the Pearl, able to give and receive freely tonight as was expected of me.

She described the blue leaves and silver buds, their spicy fragrance winding around us and tickling my nose. I inhaled until my belly strained against the sash. “The pond is full of Titan fish today, their bodies sparkle like moonlight beneath the rippling surface.” Leading me to the transporter room, she filled my mind with the meditation and my soul with everything we’d ever been to each other.

C
HAPTER
8

I
N
THE
CONTROL
room, M stood at the panel. “Last one, Beauty.” His voice warbled and we all blinked away tears. He’d anchored our ship amid the sparkling clusters of diamond asteroids stretching beyond the edges of his monitor. I’d voiced my opinion on several occasions about the location and safety of this galaxy's space station. Holding presentations here spoke to more tradition and the danger was worth the nod to the past.
 

They could have built a new replica with updated systems and features and functions; this one had hosted the first presentation of the first union more than a millennia ago. Back then, this had been a state-of-the art outpost, bustling with life and activity, set at the intersection to the newest galaxies. And, as tends to happen, we’d outgrown it. Flight speeds increased, black holes sprang up, trade routes expanded, turning this into a obsolete stop on the proverbial Route 66.

One upside to the location and aging outpost was its old-world feel, a sanctimoniousness and antiquity I adored. Some days I’d emerge after a long session in the data archives, steeped in nostalgia for galaxies extinguished before I’d visited, longing for a simple life before space travel and universe-sized expectations. Then I’d stumble across a piece of data documenting a transformational decision that had impacted millions of galaxies and my determination to be the pearl would be renewed. My position was a gift and for all that nostalgia looked wonderful with a backward glance through the lens of knowledge, living it was quite a different thing. A thousand years from now another pearl would think the same of my life, and a thousand years after her another would think the same…on and on into perpetuity. Life was what we made it in this moment and no feeling of fullness ever came from wishing for a past we couldn’t have or a future we couldn’t see.

I breathed deep, inhaling the peace that surrounded the moments before the presentation started. Fransín and I paused at the transporter dais and she tucked a wisp of hair into my crown. Her body stiffened and she leaned away from me, frowning and intent on something showing on the monitor above my head. “That’s not a Samarian fleet ship.”

M leaned closer and his fingers flew across the controls as he zoomed in on the image of an old freight ship docked at a buoy on the field's edge. His body pulsed with light like a Foley star shower. I’d never seen him this excited. Not even the night he’d watched Fransin navigate through an ice storm. “Is that—holy shit. That’s Dirk Battleship!”

My jaw dropped. No way was the universe’s most notorious mechanic infiltrating my final presentation. “It can’t be. You’re mistaken.” Never mind that the monstrosity parked in front of us was so far from a Samarian fleet ship that I couldn’t ignore the obvious, much as I wanted to.

“Yeah. Yeah! It is him! Look!” Fransín pointed. “That’s his ship number.”

If she swooned, I’d smack her. I’d seen her datamags detailing his exploits and photoshoots. Dirk wasn’t just a mechanic, he was a species all his own. M grinned and steered closer, circling our ship behind the rusted rear fender.

Fransín hurried over for a closer look. I followed, hoping to see him backing off the buoy.

“See there?” M said, his voice higher than normal. “Dirk stole the wing from a Crown Felder, bolted it on to replace parts he’d needed for a 350Z.” M sighed. “Quite an impressive decision. His mechanical skills are legendary.” M sighed, like this had been some world-changing operation.

Dirk Battleship was legendary, all right. As far as I was concerned, he was the scourge of the universe and I’d instantly regretted wasting data minutes looking him up years before I’d become the pearl. From what I’d found, he’d forsaken all his schooling—something unheard of since the galactic decree that all members attend ten years of post-elementary education. Not only had he skipped critical schooling that could have trained him for no less than a dozen critical galactic positions, but then he’d skipped three generations in hyperspace while apprenticing to be a mechanic. He'd also slept with females from too many planets to count; I was surprised he didn't have all his conquests listed on his bumper.

“What is
he
doing here?” I crossed my arms and glared through the monitor. No one was allowed on the space station during the presentation except me and the candidate.

“I am unsure. Would you like me to hail him? I can signal him on the communicator. It would please me to discover his reasoning.” M was exuberant like Dirk was a Hemperklu Nobelauriate.
 

My jaw dropped. His unadulterated glee for my surprise guest was almost troubling. M was the one who never overreacted, never showed much emotion beyond an occasional comment; he was my steady and I’d come to rely on that more than I’d anticipated.
 

Fransín touched my chin, pressing it closed. “Manners, Darling.”

I rolled my eyes then looked at M. “Do not hail him. Get me on the station. I’ll get to the bottom of what’s going on and if he thinks this is a convenient service station to fix his ship, I’ll tell him to take his rusted bucket of bolts elsewhere for repairs.”

“Extend my invitation for him to dock it here. I am pleased to assist. I have all the tools and—” He clamped his lips and looked away, the light pulses quieting to a low flutter. “Apologies.”

“Dock… The… Ship.” I bit out the words through clenched teeth. Dirk was an unneeded complication and I was barely keeping my emotions in check as it was. All I’d wanted was a simple presentation with a lovely Samarian. My nerves were shot.

“You are the pearl.” He said it angrily, upset I didn’t share his enthusiasm for the celebrity mechanic. Yes, as the pearl it was my duty and obligation to treat all beings as equals, but Dirk had chosen to be different beyond species related uniqueness. He’d gone out of his way to thumb his nose at all the beauty of knowledge and millennia of propriety. There weren’t two beings more different than we were and the sooner I got rid of him, the sooner I could get on to things that really mattered.

“Ready?” Fransín asked, slipping her fingers around her elbow and tugging me away from the monitor and picture of Dirk’s offending ship.

I drew a calming breath and turned my thoughts inward. They’d been so scattered today and I needed to pull myself together. Pearl I might be, but I needed to conduct my own stellar performance tonight. The last presentation was a huge celebration, almost bigger than the union that would seal me to the Hemperklu and join us as rulers forever more. All eyes would be on both events, but this one held a buzzing expectation. Around the universe, work of all kinds was suspended so no one missed it.

Maybe that was what had me such a mess, but deep down I knew there was more to my emotional wreckage. Thankfully, I’d have the Samarian as backup when they arrived to help me with Dirk if things got complicated.

Fransín held her arms out, directing me onto the dark red disk that would jettison me inside the space station. “Remember, for all his faults, Dirk is one of your subjects, one of the many you’ve vowed to protect, to care for, to lift to new heights and expectations.”