Does she understand our conversation?
Does she have thoughts about Father's business or opinionsabout his sons?
Her face reveals nothing, trained into perfect blankness.
I think about the newly hired human at the Spire. Her psychological scores mark her as exceptionally intelligent, belonging to the top one percent of humans, according to Rafe's files. Will she be up to the task or end up babied like Autumn, locked in a cage behind the illusion of freedom? Moreover, will she possess the sexual appetites all humans seem cursed with? And if so, will Rafe and I together be able to train her to control that fire?
Father sets down his drink. “Rafe tells me you have been cleaning up a lot of the Ascendant Alliance's messes lately. Putting those excellent combat genes of mine to work.”
“I do what needs to be done.”
“You are like me,” Father says proudly. “You enjoy the fight. You crave that raw uncertainty of either coming out alive or not at all. You would have made an excellent officer in the Imperial fleet.”
I meet his gaze, raising my glass. He's not wrong. But, I never speak of it. Acknowledging my appetite for danger out loud makes it too real. I take another swallow of the Flare. “Speaking of my exploits...” I lift the small black case from my jacket. “I acquired something you'll find interesting.”
Father leans forward. “Oh?”
“Neural disruptors from the Null Sector. They detect embedded tech even when it's masked as organic tissue. Perfect for detecting contraband or catching spies.”
“Those are Class Five contraband. If the IGC spots them, they will shut you down altogether.”
“They won't detect them,” I counter, opening the case to reveal ten translucent rods glowing pink. “They mask their own signature and read as medical implants.”
“Does Rafe know?”
I allow a half-smile. “He'll protest, then admit we need them. Rafe loathes getting his hands dirty, but he's no fool.”
“I wouldn't be so sure,” Father says as he settles Autumn on his knee, spreading her legs with casual confidence. He strokes the golden hair between her thighs, and her pink nipples tighten, the golden rings running through them lifting.
She stares vacantly ahead, as though her mind is absent.
I've seen this performance hundreds of times. Goddesses, I’ve even participated in it, used her myself when the mood struck me and Father was generous with his possessions. But tonight, something is different. Unbidden, I think about Denise and wonder if she’s as mindless as Autumn now, or is Autumn just playing a role? Maybe underneath that innocent human exterior there’s a working mind, listening, thinking, and silently reacting to everything going on around her.
Father sighs, as if stroking Autumn relaxes him. “Reima Two women are soft. You and Rafe should consider a proper human pet to fulfill your urges and marry a Reima Two wife for business ties only. Many men secretly do it. Who could only have sex with their wife? It’s something made up by the matriarchy to keep men down.”
“Father, you know Rafe would never keep a human. And this isn't the Empire. Reima Two society wouldn't tolerate it.”
Father scoffs, slapping Autumn lightly between her legs.
She jumps, then smiles, like a trained reflex.
“Autumn, where is Earth?” my father asks as if he were talking to a young child.
“I don't know, Master,” she replies in slightly accented Imperial.
“And where is Autumn's home?”
“With Master,” she says without hesitation.
He rewards her with a sweet morsel from the bowl on the table, which she accepts eagerly from his fingers. Then he looks at me as though he's proven an irrefutable point. “You see? Humans can hardly speak our language. They don’t comprehend that they’re not on Earth, likely don’t even remember Earth. And they adore sex. That’s what really matters to humans: where their next orgasm is coming from.”
I study Autumn as she accepts another treat from my father’s hand. How many times have I taken her? Used her body for my pleasure while she performed the same vacant compliance she shows now? The memories taste so sour. All those nights when Father shared her, when his officers visited and she serviced them all with the same empty smile. I was so young then, so certain that her compliance meant she wanted it.
Now I can't help picturing the newly hired receptionist at the Spire. Would she kneel at my feet like Autumn if I wanted her to? The thought shouldn't make my blood stir, but it does. I imagine training her, and it excites me. Because she would know exactly what she's giving away by kneeling, not a vacant puppet like Autumn or the eager submissive Denise was. Someone intelligent enough to understand every degradation and every pleasure I force on her. It’s an intoxicating thought.
But it’s the wrong thought.
“It's an outdated notion,” I say, responding to my father’s comment about taking a human pet. “The IGC has made owning humans somewhat illegal.”
