Clay glances back at me with something that might be sympathy. “Eve, you’re special; that’s why you’ve been chosen by the Sovereigns to work at the Celestial Spire. I know they asked for you specifically. You'll have a good life in the galaxy.”
“Did you drive Denise to a spaceship too?” The question tears out of me more accusatorily than I intended. “Do you know what happened to her?”
“Last I heard, she chose to stay with a wealthy Imperial citizen.”
“But Cal showed me her Facebook. Her wedding picture.”
“That was probably created for her family's benefit. To keep them from asking questions.”
Nausea hits me like a tidal wave, and I can’t speak.
However, that doesn’t stop Clay from flying toward a massive, hulking craft bristling with green lights that's bigger than any building I've ever seen. It looks like a fortress floating in space.
Clay docks with practiced ease, and I wonder how many women he has transported in this way. How many lives has he helped destroy with his gentle voice and familiar face?
The SUV's door unlocks with a hiss, and immediately I'm hit with alien scents. Pungent incense, oily machinery, and something else entirely, something that makes my brain scream “other.”
Clay turns in his seat to face me, and as I watch in horror, his skin shifts to a gleaming pewter color. His hair straightens and turns midnight black.
I scream like I'm in a horror movie and being chased around at a sleepaway camp. I scream like my world is ending. Because it fucking is.
“This can't be real!” I cry, “You're an alien! You've been an alien this whole time!”
“I thought you understood that already. Relax, Eve. I need to give you some important information before you board.”
But I can't relax. I can't do anything but stare at this grey creature who used to be Clay, who I trusted, who worked beside me for years with a human face while planning to steal me from my planet.
“Listen carefully,” he continues. “You might encounter Imperial fundamentalists onboard. They worship ancient goddesses and can be intense about their beliefs. Keep your distance if possible.”
I nod automatically, though I'm not sure I'm processing anything he's saying. Then the practical questions start hitting me like bullets. “Wait. How will I breathe on an alien planet? What do aliens eat? Can my body even digest their food?” My voice gets higher with each question. “Will I age differently in space? Is all the radiation in space going to kill me? Or am I going to die from some alien disease?”
Clay's expression softens slightly. “The Celestial Spire maintains Earth-normal atmosphere and gravity. Most species in the galaxy have similar biological needs. You'll be fine, Eve.”
“Fine?” I laugh hysterically. “I'm being trafficked by aliens, and you say I'll be fine?”
“I know this is overwhelming.” Clay looks down at his hands, and for the first time since his transformation, he seems almost human again with the gesture. “I've been on Earth for eight years. I've gotten to know humans, worked alongside them. You're not the first person I've transported, and it never gets easier.”
“Then why do you do it?”
“Because I have a family back on Reima Two. A sick father and some brothers. This job pays enough to support them.” He meets my eye. “I'm not proud of the deception, but I'm not a monster either. The positions are real, and most humans do adapt.”
“Most humans.” I seize on the words. “What happens to the ones who don't?”
“The Spire's owners... they're complex. But they're not unnecessarily cruel. Just follow the rules and do what’s asked of you, and you’ll be fine. Oh, and one more thing, don't let any doctors try to 'calm' you. They're telepathic and can influence human minds. But if you say no, they legally can't touch you.”
“Telepathic,” I repeat numbly.
Clay presses a silver necklace into my palm, etched with symbols that seem to shift when I'm not looking directly at them. “This identifies you as a legal employee and acts as a translator. It's not perfect, so it'll be annoying, but it's better than nothing. At the Spire, you'll get a proper implanted translator and a formal ID necklace that you must wear at all times. Unfortunately, not all humans are free in the galaxy.”
“Not all free?”
“Wear this at all times and you will be protected. No one will cross the Sovereigns Rafe and Lorian. I don’t have time to explain more,” Clay says and helps me out of the SUV.
I stand on shaky legs, the artificial gravity making me queasy. Across the docking bay, I see another grey man approaching. Tall and imposing, with long black braided hair and a midnight black uniform. His eyes pass over me as if I'm interesting cargo.
“Commander, this is the new human receptionist for the Celestial Spire,” Clay says in a harsh alien language, but my translator repeats it back in English. “She is to be treated according to her rank.”
The Commander nods curtly and gestures for me to follow him.
