All of us brothers have quarters like this because even though Crux runs the station, he doesn’t own the station. We all have equal shares in Harem. It was part of the deal with ALCOR from the beginning.
My home.
It hasn’t changed since I left it several months ago. No reason it should, it’s just…
I sigh and sit on the bed, my ribs screaming as I bend over to unfasten the tabs on my boots.
It’s just… constantly being alone on the ship, hunting down runaway princesses, making trouble and getting into fights… it’s starting to get old.
Plus, I think, kicking off the first boot, I wasn’t really alone before and now I am.
I kick off the second boot and fall back onto the bed. Stare up at the ceiling.
The lights dim into something atmospheric, and I curse ALCOR under my breath. But I don’t tell him to get the fuck out. Because then I really would be alone and I don’t know if I could handle that right now. So I say, “Thanks, man. But I’m fine. Really.”
ALCOR says nothing in reply. Perhaps respecting my wishes, perhaps he’s at a loss for words. Draden was his favorite from the start. His wise-cracking and good-natured personality made him easy to like. Plus, he was so young. I was young too, just a handful of months older than Draden, but a handful of months has more meaning to Akeelians.
I chuckle a little, thinking about how childish Draden and I were when we got here. Playing war with anything that even remotely look like a weapon. Running all over the station with no one to reign us in but our little army of servo bot minions. Oblivious to why we were here or how we’d never go home again. But we didn’t care. This station was a little kid’s playground back then. All this space and only the seven of us to use it.
It was great, I realize. He was great.
And now he’s gone.
Forever.
If ALCOR has emotions—and that’s certainly debatable—then he’s as sad as I am right now.
Wincing from the broken ribs as I force myself to sit up, then stand, and wince again, I realize I will have to get fixed up in a medical pod eventually. The ribs I can take. They will heal on their own no matter what. But the hairline fracture in my leg will just get worse the longer I leave it.
Still, it can wait another day at least.
I just need a shower right now.
I strip off my pants, kicking them into a corner that will be piled with dirty clothes before I leave again on the next job, and wander into the bathroom naked.
It’s filled with steam. A slight medicinal scent in the air. I breathe it in deep, thankful that ALCOR is an asshole who doesn’t listen because this is some fast-acting good shit and the pain in my ribs begins to ease with just a few breaths.
I limp into the shower stall and ease myself down onto the bench. There’s a setting on the control panel that will eject little disposable scrubbing bots and normally, if I was myself, I wouldn’t use that in a million years… but I’m not myself today.
So I reach over and press the stupid button.
A flurry of fluffy washing bots emerge from a side panel and the minute they hit the water they erupt with suds that smell like air, and wind, and other things you find on habitable planets but never on space stations.
They descend on me, whirring and pressing against my skin in a massaging way that feels much better than I remember.
I scoot forward a little, then lean back. Slightly reclined as I open my legs and… yeah. Like I said, this shower can practically make love to me.
Maybe I don’t need a girl. I should tell ALCOR to nix that request. Why bother when I can just jerk off alone?
Alone.
I close my eyes and sigh. Reaching down to fist the shaft of my growing cock.
There is no particular girl in mind because there is no particular girl.
Never has been.
I really am alone.
“Serpint.” ALCOR’s voice comes from the ether. “Your girl and drink are here.”
“Great,” I say, still jerking off. “Just leave her in the living room. I’ll be out when I’m done.”
I’m not in the mood to explain that I’ve changed my mind. Both about the booze and the girl. I think all I want to do is go down to the medical bay and sit with Booty while they fix her. Be there when they bring her back online. Tell her we’re OK. Everything’s gonna be OK, even though it’s not.
She’s all I have left and unlike ALCOR or the cyborg master, she does have feelings. Real, humanoid emotions. Booty is a true super-sentient AI. She has hopes and dreams and she’s experiencing the same loss as I am.