Page 4 of Songbird
The rescue ship, theBardaga,had been on its way to a planet called Tau Ceti—a place where rescued humans, likeme, could find safety and build a new life. We’d stopped by theArdeese Valoutspace station to refuel, and Pearl invited us all to dinner at the restaurant she and her mate, Jutuk, co-owned—Space Pearls.
We’d entered the restaurant and found ourselves serenaded by a small blue male who sounded like Spongebob Squarepants trying to sing opera—or a cat with its tail caught under a rocking chair. Take your pick.
Not pleasant.
Since my Earth persona was no secret among human females aboard theBardaga, Pearl asked me to take the stage.
I’d been terrified. Other than humming in the shower, I’d avoided trying to sing after my rescue. Too fearful of the devastation I’d feel if I could no longer carry a tune.
I stepped on the stage and sang one of two songs that were precious to me. The first song I remembered performing on my own—at five years’ old while sitting on my grandpa’s knee at Calvary Baptist Church in Natchitoches, Louisiana.Amazing Gracewas more than a song to me. It was comfort and a part of home that stayed with me, no matter how many millions of miles I might be from Earth.
I sounded tired at first and a little husky, but the more I sang, the more I settled into my voice, feeling it return stronger than ever. The beatings and torture I’d endured from a cruel master named Kayzon hadn’t left a single scar—at least not physically. I felt renewed and given a second chance at life, but it was more than that. Standing on a stage in the middle of space, the subject of dozens of alien eyes, I’d never felt more freedom. Here, I could sing simply for the pleasure of it. Sing without worrying about copyright infringement, whether it would please my record label... or my mother. Here, I could sing solely for the joy of singing. God, how long had it been since I could say that, if ever?
By the end of the night, Pearl and I worked out a deal for me to become the entertainment atSpace Pearls—like a Las Vegas residency, alien style. Jala’s, the restaurant’s co-owner, and Pearl’s sister-in-law, had gifted me a music synthesizer. The thing was small, reminiscent of an Echo Dot, but the sound output rivaled any orchestra I’d ever heard. All I had to do was hum or sing a song and the synthesizer mixed rhythm, tempo, melody, harmony, and texture to create an accompanying soundtrack. It didn’t take me long to build up a repertoire of over two hundred songs. A few of my own, but mostly Taylor Swift, Madonna, Lady Gaga, and Celine Dion, with some Dolly Parton and Lynyrd Skynyrd for good measure. For three hours a night, six days a week, I gave a concert as good as any I’d ever given on Earth.
That was two months ago, and so far, I suffered no regrets. I’d settled into life on the space station well. However, the worry that my previous owner would find me still had me constantly looking over my shoulder.
“You sounded great tonight!” Lucy, one of the other three humans at the Ardeese Valout space station, came bopping into the area we used as a combination break/dressing room, flopping into one of the upholstered chairs. She was one of the lucky ones—rescued before being sold off as a slave. Like me, Lucy could never return to Earth after going through the Garoot Healer to save her life. Where I’d been near death due to the hand of my owner, she’d had cancer.
“Yes, very nice,” Aqsa agreed, putting the finishing touches on the small buffet she laid out. She was one of the two ex-harem slaves Pearl had taught to cook. All the human females aboard the space station ate dinner together most nights. It was a way to stay close... comforting when it was easy to feel alone in the vast darkness of space. The aroma had my mouth watering. They fed us well here, and the food was phenomenal. I hadmy eye on a large pastry concoction that smelled reminiscent of coconut and custard. With no record label, marketing firm, social media, or my helicopter mother providing oversight on the size of my ass, I ate what I wanted.
“I noticed you had a new admirer tonight.” Lucy waggled eyebrows at me, the same dark auburn as her hair.
“Really?” I took the news with a bit of trepidation. While Jala and her mate Praxxan promised I’d be safe here, it was hard to move past the jolt of fear I got any time something seemed out of the ordinary. Although I hadn’t noticed anything worrisome. The usual crowd, a mix of various species, filled the restaurant. They were the best kind of audience: respectful and engaged.
“Some big lion-looking fucker,” Lucy snorted, rising from the chair to pilfer a batch of bright blue alien grapes from the buffet. “He stood at the end of the bar and stared at you the whole time you were on stage.”
“That was Tarrick,” Aqsa said in her own language. The words came through the translator in my head in real time, giving her high-pitched voice a slightly robotic quality.
“Who’s Tarrick?” Lucy handed me a glass of ashati juice. It was light pink, thick, and pulpy, with a flavor like a mix of pomegranate and kiwi with a hint of cayenne.
“He is Praxxan’s brother,” Aqsa told us, scrunching up her face in distaste. Her button nose made the action adorable, like watching an angry kitten.
“You don’t like him?” Lucy prodded as Aqsa took a glass of juice for herself and settled in a nearby chair.
Aqsa shook her head, quills clicking. “He is, how do you say, anijrochi.”
Lucy and I shared a glance. The word didn’t translate.
Aqsa grunted exasperatedly and tapped her chin with one of her four fingers for a moment, her dark eyes narrowing as she pondered how to explain.
“He is a male who eats too much, drinks too much, gambles, and beds a different female every night.”
“A playboy!” Lucy announced with an amused snort.
“Ugh. I hate playboys,” I groaned, speaking from a wealth of experience. I’d met dozens of them—men who wanted nothing more to carve a notch in their headboards with my name on it.Pop star Isabella Rayne slept here!After the one date my record label insisted I go on with Leo, it took a month to feel like I’d washed thelechfrom my skin.
“Well, he certainly seemed to like you,” Lucy teased, her hazel eyes dancing. Seriously, he didn’t take his eyes off you all night.”
“Have you ever met him?” I asked Aqsa, curious despite myself.
I had noticed someone. A large male with long, wavy hair standing in the shadows at the end of the bar. Aside from a fleeting moment where I worried he might have some connection to Kayzon, I didn’t get the sense of anything threatening. Quite the contrary. His gaze had felt respectful. Nice. As though the songs I sang touched him deeply. It felt pleasant and more than a little exciting.
“No, Aqsa admitted with a shake of her head. “I only know his reputation.”
“How bad can he be?” I mulled out loud, trying to muster an excuse for my musings. “Praxxan is a doll.” Jala’s mate looked like a hot version of the cowardly lion and was as sweet as they came.
“I bet you’ll find out.” Lucy raised her glass in a mock toast. “I heard him ask Praxxan when you were singing again.”
