The Pearl (Galactic Jewels Book 1) (3 page)

“Never called no cheatsies,” she quipped gaily in her sing-song lilt as we crashed into each other. I flopped on my back while she pinwheeled lazily on the floor.

I pushed her with my foot, taking advantage of the better gravity in here and sending her spinning away before her body adjusted. “Guess that goes for the club tonight?”

“Oh yeahhhh,” she said, grabbing the bedpost and stopping her momentum. She winked and purred, wiggling her hips provocatively agasint the satin carpet beneath us. “Definitely cheatsies with tonight’s sim boys.”

I laughed and let my arms fall to the floor, the day’s stress washing out of me as I stared through the transparent ceiling. Stars and ships raced by, their green and yellow and white flashing lights mimicking one another against the velvet backdrop. I’d visited only a handful of the planets currently winking above me, so many more yet to explore. On the right, a time gate opened, sending a cruise ship through, then closing the pull of the black hole at its center. As a child, I’d always been drawn to the night sky and the endless travel locations. Now, as the pearl, I’d have a hand in keeping them all safe and prospering while we searched for new ones to bring into the universal council.

Growing up, I’d watched numerous pearls impact everything from alliances to architecture. I’d never wanted to be anything else and while the cost was high—I was willingly giving up everyone I loved in exchange for a union with a mate I’d only researched—the payoff had always more than outweighed the cost. Together, my mate and I would serve the entire universe as ambassadors and supreme decision makers. The far-reaching impact of my laws and policies was worth more than a love match, more than being able to spend every day near Fransin. My heart pinched at the thought of going years without seeing her. There would be the occasional meeting where our lives would intersect from now on, but they would be few—the inauguration of the new galactic jewels, perhaps a feasting celebration on Samaria, the bi-annual meeting of pearls, both former and future, but those would come years, perhaps even decades, apart. I blinked back the sudden rush of tears; we’d had more time together than most common couples and I needed to cherish that time, not taint it with the sorrow of what was to come.

Last night’s dream plucked at the edges of my consciousness, lured closer by the darkness of my thoughts. “Do you remember that sim we did the lasy week of schooling? The one where you died?”

Fransin scooted closer so we could look at each other. “Why would you go there again? Sorry that sim went so bad, I’m better now, promise there will be no deaths tonight.”

“I don’t think I could survive a death like that. Of someone I love. Not that I'll ever care about someone as much as I do you.” It was as close as she’d let me get to talking about how much she meant to me.

 
“Better not!” she teased, shunning the depth of what I’d said. “But you will, you know. If you pick the Hemperklu, you'll come to love him. You didn't even like me the first time we met.”

“You turned a hose on me!”
 

“Well, you were filthy. How was I supposed to know you'd fallen off your Kiia and into the river?”
 

“Most people would have asked if I was okay before they sprayed me.”
 

“I was five.”
 

I rolled my eyes. “Nice excuse.”
 

She shrugged. “You're changing the subject. Why is falling in love with the Hemperklu so detestable?”
 

“Love is so human. Why do we have to go there? Why can't I find someone who's good at sex and talking and reasoning? I need a guy who can handle himself during negotiations and when he's naked. Love isn't part of that equation.”

“But it could be.” Her sing song voice made it sound like a lyric. “You know, for a Mercev, you're surprisingly human.”

She laughed. “One of us has to be.”

Moments like this made me want to rewind the last few years and do them again. At least we still had tonight. “Enough mushy emotions. I’m getting dressed!” I jumped up and raced to the closet, Fransin in close pursuit. Our antics flushed the emotion and we batted each other’s hands away from every outfit. I grabbed a blue skirt, she reached it first and held it up before discarding it over her shoulder. She went for a pink, frothy dress, I jumped in front and held it against me while I twirled across the closet. This was our norm, and the only time we touched all the unworn clothes the Ambassador’s staff had had sent to fill the pearl’s vast closet—biggest room on our ship.

“Who’s job is it?” Fransín had wondered one day while M piloted us between the Foley and Mercev dates. We’d come down before bed, racing like always and flopping to the floor of the closet amid dresses and shoes and purses and necklaces strewn about one night, post-sim; she'd built a disturbingly gruesome one, rife with murder and mystery as she'd tried to unravel a notoriously human historic event. If I'd have been able to scrub my DNA of each human cell that night, I would have. There had been a timidness about both of us afterward while we'd looked for meaning in anything to calm our disturbed minds.

“Dunno,” I’d non-answered, breathing in the clean air of the ship and trying to convince my mind we were safe while fingering the satin hem of a white ball gown that I’d never wear. Strict guidelines dictated my attire for each meeting with the chosen galactic representative. Typically, the galaxies agreed after several negations. Clothing was a big deal; colors, shapes, textures all had to be considered. What one galaxy heralded as the finest cloth of their textile mills, another had used only to clothe slaves during textile wars. Peaceful times these might be, but they’d come at a cost as war-torn galaxies had searched for a better way. We all bore the scars.

Entire departments within the consulate presided over what I wore. Each date had an approved uniform that usually involved eight or nine pieces and had been signed off by both galaxies long before I’d boarded the ship. Details like clothes and scheduling were handled well in advance of my first day as the Pearl.

“Do some pearls make it through all these clothes?”

“We could look it up.” My hand dropped to the thick carpet. Most of the ship was polished surfaces—floors, ceiling, walls—but the ship designers had spent extra care and time making the closet a wondrous work of art. I’d never cared what historical period they paid homage to with the rows of clothes, the brocade chairs and gilded mirrors, the plush pile carpet, the moulded ceilings. Many things made the room our favorite. A coziness about it found us curled together on the floor most nights, talking nonsensical like we were now in the hours before bed. Fabrics lent themselves to the atmosphere; soft, flowing textiles mimicked the universe and galaxies beyond these walls, pinks and oranges of a star nursery, matte darkness of a black hole, glittering pinpricks of silvery stars.

Whoever comprised the team of fashionistas supplying us with tonight’s clubbing selection had spared no expense or fantasy about the sims we’d be able to concoct under the guise of “practicing” for presentations. Fransín tried on a dozen mini dresses while I walked naked up and down the length of the closet, trying to find the right outfit, my fingers trailing from silk to satin.

An incoming call startled us. We froze and looked at each other, instantly recognizing my boss’s ringtone.

“DAMMIT!” I scrambled for a robe, shoving my arms through as I ran to answer before he wondered at the delay. “How did you let me forget to call him while I was still in uniform?”

“Sorry.” Fransín retreated, her face flushing dark green with embarrassment and shame. I reached for her to apologize. It was my fault. I had
one
job. And no time to recall my outburst as the communicator rang again.

I swiped my hand across the monitor to accept the video call and link me to my boss, a Tyrillian and the UN Ambassador of Courtesans: Milky Way Division.

C
HAPTER
4

“G
REETINGS
, L
ILITY
. H
OW
did this evening’s presentation go?” Ambassador
 
Cannix had made clear his personal favorite with repeated comments about the bounties of the Spiznwix galaxy, the Spiznwix food, the endless array of Spiznwix contributions to both science and politics over the last century.

Off-camera, Fransín made obscene gestures mimicking the multi-tentacled Spiznwix, grabbing at her boobs and groping her thighs. I tried not to laugh and was grateful for her ability to let our awkward moment pass quick as a fleeting asteroid. I ignored her and focused on the protruding horn in the center of the Ambassador’s aquamarine chin. “The Spiznwix made a proper offering. He was a suitable specimen and please send my appreciation to the galaxy for their contribution.” I placed my hands together at my breastbone and bowed in reverence to avoid any fallout from denying his favorite. A little supplication went a long way with this Ambassador—a lesson I’d learned the hard way after my first presentation three years ago.

“Will you choose him as your mate?” He asked eagerly, leaning closer to his monitor until his horn bumped the screen.

I took half a step back. “The Hemperklu male remains my first choice for a union. A spectacular presentation would be required to unseat him. While the Spiznwix male was superior, he did not make the top three contenders.” I lied. No need to tell him that the Spiznwix wasn’t in the top eighty percent of the candidates. I only picked one. They used to rank the top ten, but that didn’t go over well with some of the galaxies who’d found themselves in the bottom year after year.

He sighed in defeat, but managed to keep it together. I’d often wondered if in years past the Ambassador had the authority to override the pearl’s decision and if so, when it had changed and why. Probably a governance handed down by a Pearl; one who’d been overridden like the Ambassador would have done to me this time with the Spiznwix. “I’ll let them know. This was their first candidate from planet A23. Concerns arose that he wouldn’t present well.” Ambassador
 
Cannix would review the presentation tapes and make his own assessment. My opinion or further critique was unnecessary. We’d handled ourselves with grace, wandering tentacles and all. Between courses, we’d discussed varying topics from Holswiv testing to the atrocities of the Seventh Galactic War and the architectural feat of expanding the Twilip museum across thirty-two galaxies. He’d recited poetry at the culmination as most of them did. We’d been a mismatch, but not because of anything he’d done wrong. What one pearl loathed, another adored. Better luck to them next union.

“Please do,” I said while Fransín made one arm flaccid and I focused harder on the Ambassador. If I laughed now, he’d ask questions and send a tutor, thinking I needed a refresher course in my training after too many years at space. We’d had several during our time crossing the galaxies. M, Fransín, and I preferred our trio. I kept it together, vowing to extract my payback later, when she least expected it.

“One final presentation, then?”

“Yes.” I straightened and hid my smile. “A Samarian.” My voice trembled with excitement. I’d looked forward to this one since the beginning. Fransín and I had spent long hours talking about the Samarians, having spent years in their galaxy at the courtesan schools where we'd learned to become the pearl and her consort. Samaria was an all-female galaxy, making their candidate ineligible this year, but each galaxy retained the right to send a representative for selection. A same-sex galaxy in a non-matching year was left to the end so as not to skew the results. Last year had been a male/male union, next year would be a female/female, and the following, male/female, so the Samarians had two years of sitting out, but so did the all-male galaxy. They offset each other and held the honor and responsibly of training both the Pearls and the Rubies, so the scales balanced. Courtesy this might be, but that didn’t lessen the excitement since I probably knew the candidate or her consort.

“I’ll wait for your report and will tentatively allocate the Hemperklu as your choice.”

I bowed my head. “My gratitude, Ambassador.”

“Greetings,” he said, signing off.

I returned the sentiment and Fransín hit the button, ending the call. Spinning, she sprang at me, arms outstretched and wrapping around me in a diving tackle that sent us to the floor and loosened my hastily tied robe. We tumbled across the room, her brillo skin abrading mine. “Ouch! Stop that!” I dug my fingertips into her kneecaps, her only ticklish spot. She recoiled, then mashed against me, wiggling wildly until laughter stole my breath and made my sides ache.

I was going to miss her when I mated the Hemperklu and set out to visit galaxies as the new ruler.

C
HAPTER
5

D
RESSED
FOR
MY
party, we walked arm in arm to the simulator. Fransín’s long hair tumbled in jade waves across the shimmering metallic gold of a dress that barely covered the curve of her ass. I’d pulled on black leggings from the Mercev’s outfit and a piece from the Foley’s—a backless ruby-red top that clashed spectacularly with my purple locks.

Neither our looks nor our clothes mattered since a sim guaranteed we’d have been belles of this ball if we'd have shown up in our workout gear. Fransín wrote that feature into every program and though there would be other women tonight, she and I would be the most wanted, the most sought after.