Prime Suspect

A Total-e-bound Publication

www.totalebound.com Prime Suspect ISBN # 978-1-906328-33-7 ©Copyright KS Augustin 2007 Cover Art by Lyn Taylor ©Copyright August 2007 Edited by Claire Siemaszkiewicz Total-e-bound books This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author‘s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher, Total-e-bound eBooks. Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to Total-e-bound eBooks. Unauthorised or restricted acts in relation to this publication may result in civil proceedings and/or criminal prosecution The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator of the artwork Published in 2007 by Total-e-bound eBooks 1 The Corner, Faldingworth Road, Spridlington, Market Rasen, Lincolnshire, LN8 2DE, UK. Warning: Warning: This book contains sexually explicit content which is only suitable for mature readers. This story has been rated total-e-sizzling.

PRIME SUSPECT KS Augustin

Dedication To anyone who's ever been on the outside...

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Chapter One Heron Meed tried to look nonchalant as it handed over its identity chip. Immigration. For not the first time, the hermaphrodite wondered what selection process seemed to award the role of planetary gatekeeper to people who looked either like sadistic bastards or apathetic sloths. Not that one had, in all honesty, too much face-to-face experience with such people. Once, years ago, as a member of the Republic Space Fleet, one and its cohorts could enter and leave territories with impunity. But that was before the mutiny charge, and before six years of lonely incarceration. Now, as a member of the unprivileged public, stripped of all privileges, it was important to abide by the rules and cultivate an air of shallow humility. ―What was your last place of embarkation?‖ the Immigration officer asked, his colourless eyes alight with a perverse pleasure. You already know that, you bastard. ―The e‘Bultar Detention Centre,‖ Heron replied quietly. It didn‘t have to turn around to see fleeting expressions of distress flash on the faces of passengers behind it. The shuffling of feet and sound of sudden furtive movements said it all. ―Were you, visiting perhaps?‖ the officer asked with false innocence. Heron didn‘t hesitate. ―No.‖ The condescending smile was wiped from the officer‘s face as quickly as it appeared and Heron knew the game was now on. There was nothing anybody could do to stop Heron from entering the Castor Xeni Orbital; artificial habitat constructs were not off-limits to recently released criminals the way precious natural planets were. One never saw the logic in such a policy but, for the moment, was glad of the loophole. But it also knew that Officer―Heron quickly scanned the id badge―Fusmic would make things as difficult as possible. Tough. The passenger transport it had arrived on was the last for three days and if there was no pretext for throwing the hermaphrodite into a holding cell―which there would not be―then Immigration had to let it through. ―There seems to be an irregularity. According to this, your gender….‖ Fusmic left off and ran his eyes suggestively down the slim figure on the other side of the low counter. The being identified as Heron Meed had regular features: olive skin, square

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jaw, high cheekbones, slightly slanted silver-grey eyes and dark straight hair cut short. There was the slight protuberance in its throat, at odds with the soft curves that the snug-fitting faded jacket could not hide. Much as it also could not hide―Fusmic‘s eyes moved lower―the bulge in its military-style trousers. Heron was used to the looks, the almost-physical stripping that it was forced to endure more times than it liked, and remained impassive. ―I‘m an hermaphrodite from the Morhea Sector. The last I heard,‖ Heron drawled, unable to contain its contempt, ―it is still part of the Republic.‖ Fusmic's eyes widened and he threw the chip back across the counter where it skittered to a stop in front of the hermaphrodite. ―We don‘t like your kind here,‖ he snarled, although whether he meant Heron‘s immediate past or gender was unclear. ―See to your business then get lost.‖ His eyes finally moved past Heron. ―Next.‖ Heron picked up its chip, hoisted the backpack on its shoulder and kept walking. ―Could have been worse,‖ it said softly. Could have been a hell of a lot better. Now that Heron was clear of the first major hurdle, it stopped to take a good look around. Upon release from a detention centre, the Republic generously provided a single oneway trip, but only within the neighbouring sectors, to the destination of the previously incarcerated‘s choice. Heron had spent the last several months of imprisonment trudging through stick after stick of data, sifting through the blaring ‗Denied!‘ on most worlds before finally coming to a shortlist of four. Going home―to the Morhea Sector, to admitted failure―at this point, was not an option. Which left two orbitals, one moon habitat and an asteroid belt. The Castor Xeni Orbital had seemed the best choice at the time. Heron knew Castor Xeni from its old days in the Space Fleet. The privately-owned orbital specialised in the repair and refitting of commercial and luxury spacecraft and even the Fleet had been known to use it for emergency repairs. It was a busy place, full of arriving and departing ships and several cadres of engineers, all supported by an intensive mining operation on the planet below that kept the station supplied with the exotic ores its commerce relied on.

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Busy, however, did not translate to a high turnover of personnel. Ships came, bearing no extra passengers, and ships left, better than before but also carrying no paying passengers. Castor Xeni was strictly a place of business and not anybody‘s first choice of pleasure spots, which explained the low frequency of commuter services. Heron considered this good news. Few visitors meant a dearth of loud-mouthed tourists, overzealous security personnel and inane shallow pleasure-seekers who viewed sex with an hermaphrodite as nothing more than a notch on their hedonist belts. Although, now having passed Immigration, it wondered whether it had been a bit too idealistic about the casualness of the orbital‘s personnel. Well, it was too late to change its mind. With funds too meagre to buy passage offstation, Heron was forced to spend the next few months on the station, finding work and beginning the process of ‗cleaning‘ its past of any distasteful connotations. Past the sterile open Arrivals/Departures area, wide corridors splayed out in a star configuration. One way led to the food ellipse, another to the habitat levels, yet others to Engineering, Cargo and Station Administration. Food, Heron decided, as its stomach rumbled. It was difficult being back in the wider society after eight years of service in the Republic Space Fleet, followed by six years of unjust incarceration. At any moment, Heron expected someone to rush up to it, either with a set of orders or a dehumanising command, but it was ignored. Heron moved past the slower knots of people and into the multi-choice eating space. From now on, everything was going to start costing money, from the meals one ate, to its rooms and even maintenance charges for the air and water it used. Its savings would diminish much quicker than on a habitable planet but that couldn‘t be helped. Until Heron held down five years of legal employment, its feet would never touch the soil of a free planet. With a grimace, Heron took a tray from the pile just inside the entrance and bought the cheapest, most filling meal available―bread with protein cubes in a brown gravy and a small bottle of flat, recycled water. The food might have been better in the detention centre but it was prison food, when all was said and done, and always laced with the bitterness of injustice.

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A job and someplace to sleep were the next things on the agenda after immediate hunger was assuaged. Heron paused on the way out of the large canteen and grimaced. No, that wasn‘t correct. As an ex-criminal, the first thing to do—the thing it should have done before even eating—was to register with Station Security. As if it hadn‘t already paid its debt to the Fleet and to society at large. A large directory schematic directed Heron to the Security office, and it headed there resentfully. It provided its name to one of the staff and was left—waiting on hard, thinlyupholstered benches—for two hours before finally being ushered into the Administrator‘s office, a pointed reminder of just how low on the pecking order it had fallen. There were no fripperies in the Administrator‘s office, situated in the solid bowels of the orbital. No stills of family, no fidget-gadgets on the stark gleaming desk; just rows of flickering monitors that flashed images from one surveillance camera to another. The only thing curved and organic in the room was the Security Administrator himself and, judging by his stolid impassive features, Heron considered the man only barely organic. His badge rotated the name ―Acqui K‘liven‖ in a variety of common Republic languages and, as a heavy-worlder, he didn‘t so much sit as squat on his wide chair. In fact, Heron thought in a brief philosophical moment, he looked so immovable it seemed plausible that the entire station had been built around his massive form. K‘liven also said nothing, content to wait until Heron had its fill of the office. ―I‘m looking for a job,‖ Heron finally began in standard Ingel, sliding its identity chip across the desk. Thick fingers reached for the chip, making it look toylike and fragile in those large hands, and deftly inserted it into the computer. ―And why did you choose the Castor Xeni Orbital, Heron Meed?‖ Acqui K‘liven‘s voice was a deep rumble, as thick and slow as a plastic lava flow. ―I have expertise in engineering and astro-navigation,‖ Heron replied easily, ―and you have a large engineering contingent on this station. I‘m not proud, I can turn my hand to anything.‖ Heron was sure the station would be grateful to have someone with its range of expertise. K‘liven didn‘t answer.

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―And,‖ it finally admitted into the lengthening silence, ―it‘s quiet.‖ ―You don‘t like excitement?‖ ―No.‖ ―That‘s good. Because neither do I.‖ K‘liven scanned the rest of the chip‘s contents. Being a higher designation than Immigration Officer Fusmic, Heron knew he would be accessing more detailed information on its history—its former occupation, the charge against it, regular reports from its time in prison. Under the desk, it clenched and steadied its hands while it waited. ―As long as you don‘t bother me,‖ K‘liven finally rumbled, ―I won‘t bother you. You have sixteen hours to find accommodation; we don‘t tolerate loiterers on the orbital. And three days to find work, or I‘ll deport you.‖ Heron nodded, retrieved its proferred chip from K‘liven‘s bulky hand and took its leave. So, accommodation was its next highest priority. Heron had noticed a bulletin board in the food ellipse so headed back there now, scanning the listings for available units, and started with the first―most recent―ones. Before its new life had properly started, it was already looking like it had finished. Back in the common eating area, Heron collapsed into one of the chairs. They all said no. Heron had also asked after jobs and received some promising offers, but nobody was willing to offer it a place to sleep and put its things. Whether because of gender, or its status as a newly-released prisoner, Heron didn‘t know…or care. There were now only eight hours left on Security Administrator K‘liven‘s first deadline and Heron didn‘t want to start life on the orbital as an outlaw. It shuffled through the names it had stored on the chip. One had begun with the most recent names. Maybe if the order was reversed…? The small screen blinked blue. To share family quarters. One room plus access to shared facilities. Rent plus outgoings plus percentage of annual habitat tax, pro rata. Contact Subah Doisson, Hydroponics Level D, Junction 12. It didn‘t sound very inviting―the details were sparse at best, and the date-tag was months‘ old―and Heron didn‘t relish the idea of sharing quarters with a family. Still, it was desperate. If it couldn‘t find accommodation within the next few hours, and didn‘t have

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enough money to get off the station, it would be arrested, and that was not a good beginning to a new life. Heron read through the listing again, memorising the address, then got to its feet. The Hydroponics section was difficult to find, hidden away from the other areas almost as an afterthought, which it well might have been. As it navigated the increasingly narrowing maze of corridors, Heron thought that Subah Doisson must have provided his or her working address until it suddenly came across an orange-lined door that denoted accommodation quarters. It looked around. A home in the middle of an industrial area? How strange. Heron rang the buzzer, already half-dispirited. Maybe if it could show K‘liven proof of employment, the security chief might give it a reprieve regarding quarters. Heron was prioritising its tentative employment offers when the door slid open. ―Yes, may I help you?‖ Heron straightened immediately from where it slouched against the wall. A woman. As tall as Heron with slightly darker skin, murky green eyes and dark auburn hair. With strong features and a low, husky voice, she couldn‘t be called attractive, but there was a striking beauty in her, emphasised by her voluptuous figure. Heron, deprived of any companionship for six years, felt a flutter in its groin as it regarded her. ―I‘m looking for Subah Doisson,‖ it said. ―I am Subah Doisson.‖ Oh. Interesting. Don’t get too excited. There’s probably a he-man lurking somewhere in the background. It restrained the urge to look over her shoulder and into the quarters. ―You have a listing for someone to share your accommodation?‖ Heron saw the woman size it up. There was speculation in the gaze but nothing that made its skin crawl, no half-hidden lecherous leer or tight grimace of revulsion. ―That old listing?‖ Heron‘s heart dropped and something must have shown on its face because the woman laughed a little nervously. ―I mean, it‘s still available, but it‘s just that I created it so long ago, I‘d almost forgotten. Please,‖ she said, standing aside and gesturing with her hand, ―come in. I‘ll show you around.‖

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It was a modest space with two bedrooms, both with secondary doors opening into a common bathroom. Privately, Heron thought it would be a bit cramped with three adults sharing the quarters but beggars couldn‘t be choosers, as the ancient saying went. Subah Doisson must have misread Heron‘s silence because she added apologetically, ―I know it‘s a long way from the rest of the accommodation wing and you can sometimes hear the water pumping in and out of Hydroponics behind the walls. Because of that, though, it‘s not as expensive as some other family quarters–‖ ―I‘ll take it,‖ Heron cut in. ―You will? I mean, that‘s good.‖ She gave a quick smile and Heron‘s heart bumped momentarily in an uneven staccato. ―This will be your room,‖ she indicated the bedroom on the right. ―I‘m one of the Hydroponics engineers so I work pretty regular hours for the most part. It will be interesting having someone else to share with again.‖ That makes two of us. ―What about your husband?‖ Heron knew family quarters were never allocated to single women, no matter the circumstance. Space stations were the epitome of pragmatism. ―He died two years ago.‖ Her eyes clouded briefly. ―A reactor accident. I thought I would be relocated but these quarters are not very popular and, in the end, I just ended up staying. I‘ve been looking for a co-tenant for almost a year now.‖ And, Heron thought, she didn‘t have a clue how to go about it. She should be full of questions: who are you? Why are you interested in renting here? Do you have a job? Where did you live last? Heron was tempted to force her to throw it out, just to show how undesirables should be dealt with. Instead, in a calm voice, it asked, ―How much is the rent?‖ ―Five hundred credits a month, plus outgoings. Say, six-fifty for the first month?‖ ―Sounds fine. I‘ll transfer the funds immediately.‖ There were questions here, Heron could feel it in the air, but K‘liven‘s heavy threat hung over Heron‘s head. It couldn‘t afford to harbour any doubts, especially when this was the only accommodation choice it had. ―Have you had anything to eat?‖ Subah asked, moving to the small galley. Heron was on the point of saying ―yes‖ until it realised its last meal was eight hours ago. ―Ah, no.‖ ―Then I‘ll fix us something.‖

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Left with nothing to do, Heron stowed its backpack away in the room. There was also a small desk in the room with an attached swing-out chair and the ubiquitous computer. After a quick look around, it bent down and stroked the bed‘s smooth amber coverlet. It was thicker than the blankets the detention centre offered, without the patches or holes it was used to. The Republic had technology to travel the stars yet still couldn‘t develop material that didn‘t tear or wear out. Couldn‘t...or wouldn‘t. Six years ago, Heron wouldn‘t have looked twice at such furniture trappings. But now, a plain coverlet was the height of luxury. With a wry smile, Heron walked over to the computer and inserted its chip, authorising a funds transfer to Subah Doisson, once he found her in the station‘s directory (Engineer, Hydroponics). The screen chirped acknowledgement and a little over half of its money was instantly gone. It hoped the handful of job opportunities it was offered were legitimate. When Heron returned to the living room, Subah was ready with something to eat. The food was simple and uncomplicated but tasted wonderful. ―Don‘t you want to know who I am?‖ Heron asked her. ―I know your name is Heron Meed. I was notified of the transfer while I was in the kitchen. It‘s a nice name but a bit unusual.‖ ―I come from the Morhea Sector.‖ Subah‘s expression was interested but blank. Somehow, it was vitally important to Heron for Subah to understand who―and what―it was. ―I‘m what‘s called an hermaphrodite,‖ it persisted. Didn‘t she notice what had been so immediately evident to Immigration Officer Fusmic? Subah nodded. ―I know about the Morhea Sector. You forget, I‘m a bio-engineer.‖ Heron‘s eyes narrowed. This seemed too good to be true. ―So you don‘t have any problems with renting a room to someone like me?‖ She looked at it with large green eyes. ―Why should I?‖ Why should she? What a ridiculous question to ask. The reasons were legion. Because ‗hermys‘ were the alleged carriers of terrible venereal diseases. Because they were abominations in the eyes of the Creator. Because they were immoral, oversexed beings bent on taking over the galaxy. Heron had the urge to grab her and shake some sense into her.

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Better to be rejected now by someone with knowledge, however incorrect it may be, than later, when one had already started on the path of its new life. ―Our differences are not always appreciated in society,‖ it remarked, trying not to make it sound like a loaded statement. ―It doesn‘t affect your work, does it?‖ Subah asked. ―Work? No.‖ ―Then what you do in your time is your own affair.‖ Was there a glint of something in her eyes? Heron blinked, unsure. ―I‘m an ex-criminal,‖ it ventured. ―I was released from the e‘Bultar Detention Centre two days ago.‖ Why was it doing this? Why was it almost daring the woman to throw it out? It was an inconceivably stupid move but Heron couldn‘t help itself. Some perverse part of it wanted to shock the woman, to send her screaming through the orbital. ―And were you guilty?‖ Subah asked, breaking into its thoughts. ―Of whatever crime you were convicted of?‖ ―Maybe.‖ Heron hesitated. ―Certainly, the Republic seemed to think so.‖ There was a heavy pause. ―Don‘t you want to know what I did?‖ ―I‘m a person who believes in new beginnings, Heron Meed,‖ she said in that sultry, husky voice it tried to ignore. ―So, no, I don‘t think I need to know what you did.‖ She was lying. Heron could see the truth in her steady gaze. It wasn‘t that Subah Doisson didn‘t need to know. She didn‘t care. Heron looked deep into her eyes. That explained her lack of curiosity, her ready acceptance of a stranger on her doorstep. Maybe calling what it saw in Subah‘s eyes a death wish was a bit strong, but there was still an unsettling carelessness about her. And, rather than repelling it, Heron found it fascinating. What had happened to Subah Doisson?

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Chapter Two Heron crawled backwards out of the maintenance shaft and stepped gingerly into one of the access wells, straightening as it did so. The well soared upwards for ten levels, low shafts radiating out at each level, all connected by a network of horizontal and vertical metal rungs. Heron looked up and let out a breath. It hadn‘t expected its job to be full of social encounters, but neither had it expected such complete isolation. Unfortunately, despite its experience, it hadn‘t been successful obtaining a position with one of the refitting crews. That had, of course, been its first choice. If it couldn‘t be an officer on one of those sleek spacecraft anymore, the next best thing was working on one, floating through the calm dark of space while watching a planet gently swirl below it. But no, the supervisors on the orbital had clearly decided they couldn‘t entrust their strategic core business to an ex-criminal hermaphrodite. When it settled down from its initial haze of angry frustration, Heron realised it couldn‘t really blame them. So, here it was instead, responsible for testing the electronic and data relays throughout the station. Not ‗test and repair‘; just ‗test‘. If it found any defective circuit, its job was to merely log a request and move on. While the vast majority of tests were carried out by the equipment themselves through scheduled diagnostics, the annual micro-audit was done by a plodding organic. And Heron had arrived just in time for the next one. Lucky Heron. It unstrapped the water bottle at its waist and took a deep drink. The next meal break was still a couple of hours away and it was hoping to finish this level and one other by then. All in all, it didn‘t mind the solitude. Thinking in prison was often soul-destroying, the hatching of ideas and fantasies without the hope of ever seeing them crafted in reality. But thinking while being paid to do a routine job…that was definitely a step in the right direction. Heron crawled into the next maintenance shaft but its mind was at the other end of the station. Specifically, its mind was on Subah Doisson, one‘s maddening, magnificent, mysterious landlady.

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In the two weeks since Heron had moved in, it had uncovered only snippets about the bio-engineer. She liked her job and was good at it, and that seemed to be the start and finish of how she regarded her career. She had lived on the station for a number of years, but never specified how many. She considered her dead husband a good provider, and her voice was affectionate when she said so, but volunteered few further details beyond that. That particular reticence was instructive in itself. She displayed no glistening eyes from unshed tears. She told no nostalgic retellings of how they first met. If Heron could glean anything from such limited confidence-sharing, it was that the marriage was…adequate. And, Heron was beginning to think, maybe Subah was slowly preparing herself for something different. There were the speculative glances she darted at it, quickly masked. Then the brushes of bodies and casual states of half-undress it sometimes caught Subah in. At first, Heron considered the episodes as merely the result of lack of privacy in such cramped quarters, but now it wasn‘t so sure. Was she trying to spark a sexual relationship with it? More to the point, was Heron adverse to an amorous adventure with the widow? It snorted as it checked Life Support relay 389-R1. After six years of enforced celibacy, it was ready to jump almost anything suitable. What a shame, then, that only Subah appeared suitable. Of course, it had caught various subtle body cues from both men and women as it wound its way through the station, but Heron knew it was more what its strangeness represented than the person it was that appealed to them. They weren‘t interested in getting to know Heron; they were just interested in fucking it then boasting about it to their friends afterwards. Subah was the only person who took it at face value, who treated it as a person and not just a walking sex-toy, and it was tragic that she was the one person it had to keep at arm‘s length, simply because it didn‘t want to get kicked off the station. But its hot private fantasies of lust, combined with peeks of that voluptuous body, was driving it crazy. No, it had to push such thoughts out of its head. For one, despite Subah‘s subtle comeons, she was probably just going through a―very temporary―adventurous phase, aggravated by a previously lacklustre sex-life. And, as Heron had found to its cost, it was usually the casualty of any sexual fad that had run its course. Heron would not, could not, endanger its only accommodation choice by succumbing to lust with someone who held the power of veto over where it spent the next five years.

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And, secondly, what if the mutual attraction that rubbed against the both of them wasn’t temporary? What if they formed an attachment? How would Subah react, knowing that her relationship with Heron meant a sudden morphing from engineer to pariah in orbiter society? Heron had used and discarded others in its life, not caring whether its conquests could bear the shame of being fucked then rejected by a galactic undesirable―reject them before they can reject you, that was its motto―but it already liked Subah too much to put her through the same humiliation. Life-support relay 389-R1: check. It crawled further into the shaft. Somehow, no matter how difficult the task, it would have to keep its mind away from its genitalia and focus on something more practical. It would take another four years, eleven months and two weeks before it could consider itself rehabilitated and good enough to breathe in another planet‘s unfiltered atmosphere. Correction. Four years, eleven months, two weeks and ten hours. Even the hours were precious. Unsurprisingly, the quarters were in darkness when Heron arrived home. Subah worked conventional day-shifts and it was already close to midnight. She was probably deeply asleep by now. Heron prowled to the kitchen and thirstily emptied a low-alcohol grain drink it took from the cold unit. It hated the shifts that finished late. It liked talking over its day with Subah. But the rooms were closed and quiet and it wasn‘t selfish enough to make enough noise to rouse a slumbering bio-engineer. The problem was, despite the hour, it was still too alert to sleep. The hermaphrodite kicked off its shoes and padded back to the small living room, sinking into a compact armchair and flicking on the vid screen, careful to keep the sound barely above minimum. News. Heron kept flicking. Documentary. News. Education. Drama. News. News. Sex. Heron would have flicked past it too, except one of the female actors reminded it of Subah. The hair and skin colouring was wrong, but the lush figure and way she moved was—oh!—so familiar.

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The actor was naked, reminding Heron of five days ago, when it had walked into the unlocked bathroom. Subah was half-dressed, and Heron―backing away―had apologised profusely, but recollections of the bare swells of breast above her camisole and the faint damp shadowing on her briefs only encouraged Heron‘s mind to take the image one step further. Frequently. It groaned, and slowly unfastened the service overalls, eyes fixed on the screen, letting its mind run riot. Pop. There she was―no, not the actor, but Subah herself―taking its cock in her mouth, full lips sucking at the firm, swollen flesh. Pop. Subah, on all fours, opening herself to its fierce thrusts as it mounted her from behind. Pop. Beneath Subah now, running its hands over the heavy weights of her breasts as they swayed to the rhythm of sex. Pop. Pop. The overalls were undone and Heron let the material slide over its breasts, closing its eyes while it caressed one mound of flesh then the other, pinching the small nipples until they hardened, then pinching them some more so small tremors racked its body. Its other hand snaked down the front of its body, gently stroking the head of its penis where its eye was slick with a single bead of lubrication. Heron stroked its head with small gentle circular strokes―soft caresses that contrasted with the rough squeezes against its nipples―then continued further downward. Its warm fingers ran the length of its penis, lovingly skimming the veins that lay beneath the thin smooth skin. With eyes still closed, Heron opened its legs wider and moaned, moving that hand further down again. There may have been a noise, the trace of faint movement in the room, but it didn't care. Besides, it was probably coming from the action on the screen. ―Ah Subah,‖ it whispered, imagining its hand as her hand, cupping its balls and slowly fingering the wrinkled sac, its surface now moving of its own volition, tightening as it reacted to the physical stimulus of several fingers rubbing against it. It increased its hold,

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feeling the rounded contours of each individual testicle, pressing against them, sending a sweet sharp shock through its body. ―Yes. Subah.‖ It imagined her hand moving back to its shaft, mirroring action to thought, up, up, till it was almost touching the head. It imagined her playing with it, letting its grip coyly touch the underside of its head, rub against it, then retreat, building up the sensation then letting it go. Build, let go. Build, let go. The chair creaked as Heron shifted impatiently. It wanted to keep the titillation of its fantasy going for a while, spinning out the sensations for long glorious minutes, while it imagined Subah open to it, but its self-control was slipping away. Heron thought of Subah's mouth, open in a seductive 'o', her lips stretched, ready to engulf its cock. The mouth was coming closer, the tip of her tongue―wet and glistening―touching her top lip, turning it moist and slippery…. Too much! With such imagery in its mind, such lush lips, such a moist tongue, Heron couldn‘t tamp down its emerging release. It orgasmed in a series of sudden convulsions, a mingling of surprise and relief. Spasmodic streams of white ejected from its cock, staining its chest and clothes. Heron writhed and kept pumping until there was nothing more to milk and the pleasure started turning to pain. With a ragged gasp, it finally stopped and kept its eyes closed while it listened to its breath steady. Oh Subah. See what you’re doing to me. ―How are you finding life on the station?‖ Heron kept its expression neutral, trying not to make it obvious that one's own appearance in this office was an affront. On the opposite side of the desk, Acqui K'liven tried to look professionally friendly but failed. It was obvious from the barely-disguised scowl on his face that the man didn't care for it at all, which made Heron wonder why it agreed to grant it permission to stay on the orbital at all. No, that wasn't quite fair. K'liven had set firm standards and, with a bit of luck, Heron had met them. The expression on his face was its usual one, fixed and hardened through long

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habit. There was no kindness, nor any malice, here. Just like this visit, it was an impersonal thing. Heron tried hard to keep that in mind. ―It's fine.‖ K'liven's eyes flicked sideways to his monitor. ―And how's work with the Maintenance crew? Your supervisor is Georg Sessen, isn't he?‖ ―Yes.‖ ―And how's the work?‖ ―That's fine too.‖ Just for a moment, Heron indulged in fantasy. It imagined picking up one of the lengths of high-tensile tubing that it occasionally caught glimpses of on the way past the Refit sections. A piece one metre long was light yet strong. It could do incalculable damage to the Security Chief's office with that tube. Heron thought of swinging that short length of alloy at the bank of panels that blinked yellow, blue and green at it, revelling in the showers of sparks, the smell of burnt circuitry, the glorious wholesale destruction, that would explode outwards into the room. ―…Sessen says you're a good worker.‖ ―That's very kind of him.‖ Heron's voice was even as its mind clicked back into the conversation. It didn't like anything about this situation, and certainly not the fact that it was required to check in with the solid administrator on a regular basis, as if it would never be rid of its stigma of criminality. Heron remembered the camaraderie of the Fleet, of how it could depend on its fellow officers for support and solidarity. They would have chewed up and spat out someone like K'liven in a careless heartbeat, turned the orbital into a giant chaotic party, treated the inhabitants however they wished, and there wasn't a thing anybody could have done about it. Until that one fateful episode of disobedience, Heron had felt itself invincible…and part of a favoured and elite family. And, now, it was reduced to this, childishly fantasising about a room's destruction. Even more than its imprisonment, the unmoving form of Acqui K'liven and his conditions, and the inane pleasure it felt at the image of the surrounding equipment's destruction, told Heron exactly how far it had fallen.

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―…that case, I'll see you again next week.‖ Heron rose from the chair, the tension in its body only slightly affecting the languid grace with which it rose. ―Until then.‖ With a short nod, Heron left the detested office behind.

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Chapter Three So Georg Sessen thought Heron was a good worker. That was a bit surprising. After leaving K'liven's office, Heron walked to the Maintenance division to begin its shift, letting its mind wander as it did so. It wasn't that the work was demanding, because it wasn't. And, as an outsider, Heron was used to the looks and whispers that often followed its form. The thing that was eating at it was the lack of respect it seemed doomed to receive for the next five years. In prison, everything was simpler. The hierarchy of status in the e'Bultar Detention Centre was calibrated like a precisely-tuned musical instrument, and Heron had become―if not content, then certainly―unhappily comfortable in the environment. Moving to the 'halfway house' of the Castor Xeni Orbital was not only different but chaotic. Here, Heron felt neither one thing nor another. Not a criminal, yet not rehabilitated. It felt like an exotic animal in a zoo, subject to both open gawking and derision yet unable to escape to a more serene place. Five more years? Could Heron even survive five more months? There was only one silver lining to Heron's thoughts. And that was Subah Doisson. The woman was not only sexually attractive but also, it was starting to discover, a warm and caring person in her own right. She was interested in its anecdotes of other planetary customs; she often invited it to cook with her; she found supplies of Heron‘s favourite small toiletries, the names of which it accidentally let slip from time to time. If there was anybody or anything that could make the next handful of years even the slightest bit bearable, it was Subah. And Heron was consumed by daily lust for her. Which meant that its job with Sessen's team was even more important. As much as Heron despised the plodding pace of the work, the lack of intellectual stimulation, and the dearth of social chit-chat with other maintenance engineers, it was still a twisted kind of lifeline, keeping the hermaphrodite away from the tantalising presence of Subah. The last thing it needed was anything further to complicate its already pitiful life. Sessen was waiting for Heron when it entered the home maintenance bay. He was a large burly man with short-cropped fair hair and matching short curly locks on his freckled forearms. He always wore his overalls with the sleeves rolled up—identical messy, lopsided rolls—as if they were especially tailored for him that way, and his usual expression was one

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of distaste. Whether for the kind of work he supervised, or the sloping non-verbals of the rest of the crew, Heron couldn't hazard a guess. So this man thought he was a good worker. Looking at Sessen's florid face, Heron didn't believe it for a moment and was surprised to consider that maybe there was a thread of diplomacy somewhere in Acqui K'liven's squat and impassive form. ―If you've finished with the Life Support circuits, you can start on Sanitation and Hydroponics,‖ it was told tersely after Sessen briefly consulted his padd. Heron nodded and moved off. There seemed nothing soft or sensual about Georg Sessen, not a chink that suggested the hope that here was a man who could appreciate anything in his life beyond his work and his equally unimaginative off-duty activities. Despite the fact that the human-led Republic was the biggest gathering of species in the galaxy, Heron thought that anything beyond standard missionary position, let alone fraternisation with other species, was quite beyond his heavy-drinking, loud-mouthed supervisor. Maybe that was being unfair but, after its latest regular meeting with the head of Security on the station, Heron was in the mood to be unfair. It stopped briefly at the enclosed equipment room, picked up its regular toolkit, and headed for Sanitation―might as well get the worst over with as quickly as possible―while it checked that its tracker and sensor relay tools were fully charged. Some of the crew were slack about making sure their equipment was put back on charge at the end of their shift. It might not have been important work—calibrating the fluid valves for the next crop of station-grown vegetables might not be as critical as aligning the fusion intakes on a cruiser's engines—but Heron refused to let itself succumb to that trap of apathy. While there was still hope of a normal life, there was still pride in ensuring the job it did was done well. And who knew when it might need a reference from people it had once worked for? Heron checked the readings on the secondary backup Sanitation circuits and frowned. Something wasn‘t right. It shook the diagnostic padd and tried again, but the same figures kept coming up. ―Now how does that make any sense?‖ it asked itself.

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Because, of course, it didn‘t. There was no real reason for backup Sanitation to be directly linked to Life Support, not when the primary systems weren‘t...unless something in the log files indicated otherwise. But—Heron looked down the long corridor to the nearest junction—the log files could only be accessed from the main Ops room. And that meant a trek across the station. And a possible discussion with Georg Sessen. And explaining its nebulous feeling that something wasn‘t quite right. Heron grimaced. On the one hand, it was only the secondary backups that were affected, so what should it matter? And Heron‘s job was the most menial and isolated anyone could assign to someone with astroengineering skills. It wasn‘t like anyone was treating it with courtesy or respect. It knew its lack of friends indicated it was barely tolerated on the orbital. On the other hand...this was its job. ―Who gives a fuck how the backup is wired?‖ Heron muttered, as it slid the padd into its tool-bag. ―The chances of it ever coming online must be a billion to one.‖ In a single movement, Heron picked up the bag and turned towards the junction. ―It‘s not as though anyone will thank me for being so fucking conscientious. Sessen will probably think I‘m trying to get out of doing my work.‖ Despite its words, Heron‘s feet carried it through the maintenance shafts and towards the Ops room. It wasn‘t as if it cared, Heron told itself. It was just that its sense of professional curiosity had been piqued. None of the people on the Orbital, with the exception of Subah, deserved anything else it had to give. The Ops room, when Heron finally reached it, was thankfully devoid of the glowering presence of the shift supervisor. Heron dropped its bag quickly and moved to one of the main info-consoles, accessing the logs on the secondary backup Sanitation system. Line after line of information scrolled up the screen. If someone wanted to deliberately hide something on the orbital, they couldn‘t have chosen a better system than Sanitation. That one function, perhaps counter-intuitively, seemed to touch almost every other system throughout the station, generating dozens of entries for each hour of normal operation. After more than seventy minutes of sifting through the dense pile of information, Heron thought it was getting closer yet, paradoxically, farther from the truth. The person

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responsible for the modifications to the backup system was named but that person was... Acqui K‘liven. Which begged the next obvious question of why the head of Security would be messing about, cross-linking systems layers below his obvious sphere of authority? Was Heron even supposed to know that K‘liven was tinkering with the orbital‘s systems? Or was this some kind of test to gauge whether an ex-criminal could be trusted? No, that sounded too devious for the steady security chief. If K‘liven thought that Heron couldn‘t be trusted, he would have no compunction throwing the hermaphrodite into deep space without the need for some kind of opaque test. It was a lingering doubt that made Heron download the log files to a mem-stick and slip it into its pocket. Doubt that led to a rationalisation that maybe it could spend some time poring over boring data-flows rather than fantasising about a certain person‘s warm and inviting body. Yes, an unemotional, purely analytical, distraction. That‘s exactly what Heron needed. It snorted. Who was it kidding? Heron made it back to the unit at a decent hour, for a change. After two weeks of midnight shifts—whether deliberate or coincidental on the part of Georg Sessen it refused to speculate—the thought of sharing an evening meal with Subah put a spring in its step. The front door slid open at its touch and the smell of food wafted over to the hermaphrodite‘s nose, teasing at its senses and starting a rumble in its stomach. Most of the time, Heron and Subah‘s meals were taken in one of the orbital‘s canteens. It was cheap, nutritious, and took little extra time to obtain; all one had to do was queue at one end and swipe one‘s credit chit at the other. But once a week, sometimes twice, Subah made an effort to cook—or invite Heron to help cook—a meal for them to share in her unit. It was a gesture Heron not only appreciated, but started regarding as a comfortable ritual. ―I‘m home,‖ it called out with a quick grin. Subah turned briefly to return the smile before concentrating once more on her cooking. ―It‘s grilled frame-meat and salad tonight,‖ she said. ―You‘ve got more than enough time to freshen up, if you like.‖

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Heron smiled at her back, walked to its bedroom and began undressing. Subah had a quaint way with words that it still found amusing on occasion. ‗Freshen up‘. Like all that was needed were a couple of splashes of perfume to wash away the stink of the day. That didn‘t begin to explain the psychological cleansing Heron went through every time it put itself under the shower-head. The water not only flensed dust and sweat but also Sessen‘s words and looks, its fellow workers‘ silence and mistrust, and all the bitterness Heron could shed in a two-minute block. It quickly dressed in a pair of loose trousers and v-necked tunic top and walked back to the small living/dining area, seating itself and trying not to think of how life used to be. Frame meat and green salad. Heron was thankful for Subah‘s occupation. As part of her work in Hydroponics, she was often able to bring home crisp, firm vegetables, fresh from their nutrient solution. And even the frame meat was tasty. Heron knew the problem it had with the meat was more psychological than anything else. Unfortunately, it remembered its previous life too well. The Space Fleet could afford the best and its protein food was grown on matrices that at least resembled animal muscle groups. Heron lovingly remembered chewing through steaks and chunky braised dishes. But here on the orbital, the protein-growing frameworks were slim and utilitarian, resulting in paper-thin slices rather than anything more substantial. It was as if every aspect of life on the orbital was a pale shadow of life on a real world. The hermaphrodite‘s leg twitched as it brooded on the situation then tensed as Heron sought to regain equanimity. In the end, it was nobody‘s fault but its own that it was here. Its eyes watched Subah as she finalised their meal. Cooking was an unusual hobby for anybody to adopt. Heron thought that maybe its landlady liked to concentrate on such mundane tasks to take her mind away from whatever haunted her. In a month of living with Subah Doisson, Heron had discovered little more about the woman, beyond that spark of speculation it had first noted in the woman‘s eyes two weeks ago, and a casualness that was at odds with what it knew to be her warm nature. Subah was considerate, sensual, intelligent and humorous. Yet something shadowed her eyes. Would Heron ever find out what that was? This evening, she was wearing a faded pair of work pants coupled with a soft paleblue shirt that ended just below her waist. Heron watched her body as she worked, its

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appreciative gaze roaming the curves of her hips and the movements of her body as she stretched to reach a shelf or fetch a plate. Did she know she was driving it crazy? Yes, probably. Heron grinned quickly at the thought of its coy seductress of a landlady. Along with her body, she was stretching its self-discipline to the limit and Heron knew it was only a matter of time before it finally snapped and it buried itself in Subah‘s lush body. Ah. But not tonight. ―I hope you like this,‖ Subah said as she set a plate down in front of Heron. ―I got the recipe from a co-worker who came from Tuskel, in the Sabreo sector. He told me it‘s a traditional dish on his homeworld.‖ Heron took a mouthful of the food and smiled as the spicy flavours ignited in its mouth. That, too, was a charactertistic of Subah—a mildness that hid delicious explosion. It remembered the episode in the bathroom, an innocent-looking Subah, but with a body that would drive anybody wild; her sensual lushness, offset by a veiled innocence that seemed out of place in a widow. Heron‘s cock hardened and it tried concentrating on the food. Letting its impetuous extremity dominate the thinking would only lead to another extended session of masturbation. And masturbation was a temporary cessation of need at best...truce rather than satiation. ―Do you do things yourself?‖ The hermaphrodite looked up, startled. Was the woman reading its mind now? ―Pardon?‖ Subah smiled, abashed. ―I mean, did you cook? Before? Create meals for yourself? Or,‖ she wound down, ―have creative hobbies of some kind?‖ You have no idea how creative I want to get with you, sweetheart. Heron smiled, innocently it hoped, while its mind raced. No, life with the Republic Space Fleet could not be described as creative. It was a life of regimentation and discipline, triviality and significance, broken by regular bouts of all-out mayhem during shore leave. Nothing creative there. Life on the e‘Bultar Detention Centre was a bit more creative, if one counted dodging the sadistic wardens, smuggling extra rations back to one‘s cell, or crafting little sculptured

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doodles out of whatever materials were at hand. But that creativity was laced with anger and affront, and Heron doubted Subah had that in mind when she posed her question. And now, here on the Castor Xeni Orbital? With the exception of fantasies regarding Subah‘s body, the station was even more bereft of creative opportunity than the prison. ―No,‖ Heron said. It ate another forkful of food but the resulting silence was strained. ―I was with the Republic Space Fleet,‖ Heron finally disclosed. It almost regretted saying that until it saw a light in Subah‘s eyes. And, suddenly, it seemed extremely important that Heron keep that light there as long as possible. ―And did you enjoy being with the Space Fleet?‖ Not some things. ―Mostly,‖ it conceded. ―It must have been difficult leaving.‖ It was the softness of Subah‘s voice that almost broke its resolve. Heron always thought that it could take whatever the Universe threw at it. Insane orders, imprisonment, demeaning employment. But put it in front of a pair of sympathetic cloudy green eyes and it wanted to start blubbing like a child. ―It‘s the Fleet‘s fault I‘m here.‖ Heron knew it sounded harsh, and regretted the harshness, but it had to regain some semblance of composure lest it throw all self-respect to the wind and burrow itself in Subah‘s warm embrace. Immediately, it saw Subah‘s expression as she mentally retreated from the conversation. Heron lifted a hand then let it fall back on the table with a sigh. ―I‘m sorry. It‘s not your fault. The last few years have been…difficult.‖ She said nothing but their eyes locked, and Heron realised that here was someone else who had known difficult times. It could see a reflection of its own pain in her eyes, the dam against great emotion in her lips. But it also saw desire and wondered if that, too, was a reflection of its own feelings? No, it mustn‘t. It was here in a position of trust. And if Subah Doisson threw it out, then it had nowhere else to go. Neither Sessen nor the rest of his work-crew were friendly enough to exchange pleasantries, much less rent a room out to a ‗hermy‘.

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Heron rose from the table abruptly. ―I just remembered. I have some, er, things I need to do.‖ It knew the excuse was lame, but it had to get out of the room. It could not succumb to Subah. It must not. With a tight grimace, it walked away.

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Chapter Four If not tonight, then when? Hoara finished cleaning in the kitchen with careless sweeps at odds with the determination on her face. She had deliberately set up the dinner, knowing by now Heron‘s preference for spicier food, and introduced more personal questions in an effort to move beyond studied politeness. Unsuccessfully. In fact, that seemed to be the one word to describe all her previous attempts to entice her new tenant. Unsuccessful. She had tried to flaunt her body at every opportunity, ‗accidentally‘ keeping the bathroom door unlocked, walking around barely dressed, all to no avail. Occasionally, she thought she detected a flare of desire in the hermaphrodite‘s eyes, but it had never made any overtures beyond that. It was enough to make a woman scream. Except...she knew Heron wanted her. She had walked in on a late-night masturbation session early in its stay, which was more than a little startling. But the sound of her name emerging from its lips had started a line of thought that was now unstoppable. She had been mesmerised by the sheer sexuality of the hermaphrodite and the tantalising otherness of seeing a rigid cock in the hands of a svelte figure with soft, smooth breasts. It was a heartstopping tableau that had led to many sessions of masturbation in the privacy of her own bedroom. But the fantasies, by themselves, weren‘t enough. She wanted the whole thing. She wanted to consume Heron‘s sexuality. She wanted to walk on the wild side. She wanted to taste the exotic. And what was more exotic, more sexual, than exploring her fantasies with one of the renowned species of carnality in Republic space? Even just thinking about it was exciting, and Subah felt a wetness between her legs. However...excitement and fantasies were one thing. Subah‘s hand stilled as she finished wiping down the counter. Did she have the courage to turn her fantasies into reality? What if Heron rejected her? But she hadn‘t mistaken the flashes of desire in its eyes, or the whisper of her name in the muted night air. She wiped her hands and turned, leaning against the benchtop. She could do this. For once in her life, she could grab something she wanted rather than settling for something she needed. Taking a deep breath, Subah approached the closed door of Heron‘s bedroom.

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If not tonight, then when? She opened the door—thankfully not locked!—and entered the room. It was in darkness, lit only by the amber glow of the computer screen in one corner. Heron lay on the bed, still in its clothes, hands behind its head, staring at the ceiling. Even in the dimness, Subah could see the petulance in the hermaphrodite‘s expression. She wasn‘t callow enough to think that Heron Meed was something it wasn‘t. She knew Heron was dissatisfied with its life on the orbital; she could see an arrogance and sense of aggrievement in how it spoke and moved. But that wasn‘t all there was to the exconvict. There was consideration there too, self-confidence and a cocky charm. And, of course, its desire for her. For now, that was enough. ―When I married Erdonn, I was considered by my family to be past marriageable age.‖ She was surprised by the huskiness in her voice, but maybe she shouldn‘t have been. This was the first time in many long years that she shared her feelings of life as a married woman. She saw Heron‘s head turn to face her. Subah took a step forward and the door slid shut behind her. ―It was a difficult life, living in a house where I felt censure wherever I turned. Where everyone took it as their duty to tell me how I had disappointed them by not attracting a suitable mate. When Erdonn came along, I accepted his offer with a desperate alacrity...not because I wanted him, but because I needed him. Needed the freedom that he offered.‖ She smiled. ―He wasn‘t a bad or cruel man. He never mistreated me and our sex-life was good, if unimaginative. When he was offered the position as a Lead Engineer on this orbital, we both jumped at the chance for a new life.‖ She took another two steps and settled herself on the edge of the bed. Heron still didn‘t move. ―I never regretted marrying Erdonn. He was kind and, even when we found out we could never have children, his attitude to me never changed. There are not many men who can take such news in stride the way he did. When he died,‖ her voice cracked. She swallowed and tried again. ―When he died, I grieved, but there was also a little part of me that was happy, because I thought this might be an opportunity for new adventure.‖ She sought out Heron‘s eyes in the gloom. ―Do you think that was wrong?‖ ―No.‖ His voice, too, sounded strangled.

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Subah nodded then looked away. ―But, over the years, such a hope died. Maybe it‘s because I‘m too cautious a person. With Erdonn gone, I was free to leave the orbital but, instead, I stayed. I didn‘t want to go home, to again be accosted by a new litany of complaints from my family. And this station was the only other life I knew. I have come to the conclusion that I‘m not a very brave person.‖ ―Bravery is overrated,‖ Heron said, and Subah heard the dryness in its voice. She smiled at the remark and continued. ―So it seems that, bit by bit, I‘ve died. Not through trauma or violence, but through the gradual wearing down of my dreams. Until...‖ her gaze flew to capture Heron‘s. ―Until...‖ it prompted. But Subah knew it knew. The darkness wasn‘t so complete that she couldn‘t see the sudden tension in its body and the glitter in its eyes. ―Until you,‖ she breathed. It jacknifed into sitting position, then strong hands were grabbing her upper arms, pulling her across the bed. And Heron kissed her. Its scent was the first thing that assailed her, fresh from a shower and overlaid with the spicy aroma of the dish she had cooked, but also underpinned by Heron‘s own aroma that was hot and exotic. Its lips burned against hers, forcing them open, demanding acquiescence. Subah moaned and relaxed her mouth, and Heron‘s tongue invaded her. It felt wonderful. Not just the taste of it in her mouth or its assertive explorations but, after so long, the feel of another person‘s flesh pressing against hers. Heron pulled back. ―I‘ve dreamt of this,‖ it whispered, kissing her on the cheek, ―thought of this,‖ it kissed the corner of her lips, ―for weeks.‖ She made herself limp in its arms while Heron moved lower, licking her neck and the taut flesh of her throat, sending shivers through her. Trembling fingers reached for her tunic, tugging it over her head. ―You are beautiful. Your breasts are beautiful,‖ Heron breathed against her shoulder, nipping at her skin. ―So smooth and warm.‖

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In contrast, his touch was like an inferno and Subah thought she would burst into flame along the trail of his lips. Now that her breasts were free, she wanted the rest of her body to also be free of its constricting clothing. She made a mewing sound, and must have succeeded in communicating her need because Heron flipped her onto the bed in one practiced move, towering above her for a moment. ―Are you sure you want this?‖ it asked. Subah opened her hands, feeling the soft texture of the coverlet beneath her palms. ―Yes.‖ ―So be it.‖ For all its obvious impatience, Heron was gentle as it eased the trousers from Subah‘s legs. The material caught at her ankles then, with one more tug, it was free, and she was lying naked, with her legs slightly apart, beneath the hermaphrodite‘s gaze. In truth, she was embarrassed. The last person who had seen her like this had been Erdonn and, although she was a fit person, she didn‘t know what Heron saw through its sharp grey eyes. Would it be disappointed with her unclothed form? Did it perhaps prefer a more slender bed-partner, more sinew and less flesh? Less pulled down by age? ―You‘re beautiful.‖ The soft exclamation drifted through the cool air between them and a smile curved Subah‘s lips. She watched as Heron disrobed with quick economical movements, pausing when it was done, letting her gaze drift down its body. An hermaphrodite. Subah hadn‘t realised until this moment exactly what that meant. She knew that Heron sported wide shoulders beneath its clothing, but they were lean rather than bulky, like the rest of its body. If Subah wanted to describe Heron to another person, she would have thought of it as a pleasure-giving predator, built for grace and movement. Beneath its shoulders was an outthrust of two breasts, each of them pert and tipped with a dark nipple. Subah felt an uncharacteristic urge to take them into her mouth and suckle on them. The image made her lick her lips, even as her gaze moved downwards. Beneath a lightly-muscled ribcage, a small dark line arrowed southwards...to Heron‘s erection. Its penis, like the rest of it, was straight and slim. Unlike Erdonn‘s cock, which she

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remembered was criss-crossed with bulbous veins, Heron‘s looked less like a weapon and more like a wand, ramrod stiff and capable of deep penetration. The entire picture was not as incongruous as Subah was expecting. Everything about Heron was elegant, from its breasts to its cock, neither characteristic overshadowing the other, but melding together into a whole that promised entire vistas of delight. ―I want to touch you,‖ she whispered. Heron moved and knelt at the bed, in between her legs, leaning close into her. ―I want to touch your breasts,‖ Subah added, and Heron obliged, stretching itself so its breasts were above her face. She reached up and cupped them in her hands, even as she felt its cock nudge her stomach, and rubbed her thumbs over the velvety nipples. Oh, how she wanted it all. She wanted that hard stiffness against her abdomen and the feel of those soft curves against hers. She lifted her head and licked the flesh of one breast, first on one side of the nipple then the other, feeling Heron shudder above her. Then, in a flash of bravery, she took the breast in her mouth, letting it fill her mouth. She sucked on it, her tongue playing with the nub of flesh at its tip, teasing it to hardness. Her other hand wasn‘t idle either. Her fingers rubbed against Heron‘s breast, mirroring the movements of her tongue, until she was playing with two small peaks of erect flesh. Ah, but there was erect flesh elsewhere. Subah left her mouth where it was, sucking on Heron, feeling its moans through contact of tongue on skin, and moved her hands downwards. Slowly, she cupped the head of Heron‘s penis, then stroked down its length, as far as she could reach. Her fingertips ran along its smooth hardness, moving the flesh over the underlying rigidness, as she imagined it moving inside her. She pressed it against her abdomen and opened her legs further, letting the long shaft rub against her groin, moving it from side to side until its length was in contact with her engorged clitoris. The heat of Heron‘s cock made her groan out aloud, her mouth finally releasing its grip on Heron‘s breast, and the hermaphrodite took quick advantage of the situation, leaning back and forcing Subah forward on her knees.

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With their eyes locked, Heron gently pushed Subah until she was resting on her heels, her knees still wide apart. The softness of the mattress beneath her shins made the position comfortable and intensely erotic. Heron moved into an identical position, facing her. ―I‘ve wanted you ever since I saw you,‖ it told her in a low voice. Subah detected a confidence in its voice and knew she was now in Heron‘s world, far beyond the commonplace coupling she and Erdonn had once shared. ―I want to dominate and consume you, and to be dominated and consumed by you.‖ It took her hands and put them on its breasts. ―Touch me. Fondle me. But, whatever you do, don‘t let go.‖ Heron paused. ―Do you understand?‖ Subah‘s answer was throaty. ―Yes.‖ Her palms rested against Heron‘s nipples, still half-pebbled from arousal. Heron reached down to the triangle of Subah‘s pubic hair, now wet and sticky with want. It slowly moved two fingers past her clitoris and then dipped inside her. Subah caught her breath but didn‘t let go of Heron. Somehow, she felt the overwhelming need to start massaging its breasts, to feel that hot flesh beneath her hands. Heron pulled out its fingers and, in a deliberate movement, licked the moisture that coated them. When it repeated the gesture, it lifted its fingers to Subah. She took the fingers into her mouth, using lips and tongue to taste her own wetness. But even that didn‘t satisfy it. It ran one finger above her top lip, trailing her scent along the small, soft ridge of flesh beneath her nostrils. ―What can you smell?‖ it asked. ―I smell...‖ Subah hesitated. ―I smell me.‖ ―What is you? What does Subah Doisson smell like?‖ Heron‘s voice sounded insistent for all its quietness. Subah took a deep breath, her hands momentarily stilling. ―Sharp,‖ she said. ―Musky.‖ ―How do you taste on your tongue?‖ Her lips parted. ―Full. Savoury.‖ She ran her tongue over the upper palate of her mouth. ―Marine.‖

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Heron nodded. ―Primal. Echoing our origins. Pointing out our animal origins and ancestry.‖ Its fingers invaded Subah for a third time, using her moisture to anoint its own penis, then using the head to brush against her clitoris. ―Squeeze me,‖ it told her as its hips moved. ―Squeeze my breasts.‖ Subah obliged. She had no choice. The movement of Heron‘s overheated flesh against her made her feel light-headed, as if she had to grab hold of something or fall. She tried to push her knees apart even more, kneading Heron‘s breasts with frantic fingers. She knew she was slippery with want and could smell her own sexual aroma fill the space between them. Was this really her? Introverted Subah Doisson, displaying herself so openly, revelling in the scent of her own arousal, pushing against Heron‘s stiff organ? ―Harder,‖ it rasped, as the rhythm of its movements increased. ―Squeeze me harder.‖ Subah‘s head fell forward but she kept the grip on Heron‘s breasts, her fingers digging into its flesh, capturing and squeezing the nipples. It had been too long, but she could feel that delicious tension start to coil within her, as familiar as a long-lost friend. Both she and Heron were now rocking to complementary beats, and as the first tendrils of an orgasm burst from Subah‘s groin, she felt herself lifted, then impaled, the mattress now at her back, her knees above her, held apart by Heron, its breasts torn from her grasp. She didn‘t care. Not about Heron, not about anything but her own impending pleasure. Its cock was sliding inside her, so long, until it appeared that it might touch her heart, and she convulsed around it, screaming her release into the small dimly-lit bedroom. ―Oh Subah,‖ Heron groaned. ―My Subah.‖ Then it pounded its own climax into her, its fingers gripping her knees tightly, as it emptied into her. Subah opened her eyes and watched as Heron orgasmed, the softness of its breasts contrasting with its hardness inside her, and she fiercely clenched herself. Her body would soon be spent but—she recollected Heron‘s words and commands— her mind wanted more.

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Chapter Five ―I led a mutiny.‖ The scent of their coupling still filled the air but—this time—Heron‘s aroma joined the trail of Subah‘s stimulation and release. Heron had left Subah to lie, boneless on its bed, while it fetched drinks. Now, as they sipped thirstily, Heron confided part of its past, although it still left the room in shrouded darkness. Subah‘s voice was still a little dry from the shouts of her climax, and Heron picked up a tinge of embarrassment in her voice when she thanked it for the refreshment. Its lips quirked, despite the seriousness of the information it was sharing. ―That must have been a difficult decision for you,‖ she said. And proved why Heron was so attracted to her. It wasn‘t just her body, it was her compassion, that drew it to her. Trust her to accurately sum up the one act of disobedience in an otherwise stellar career; a most difficult decision. ―It was.‖ It had lifted one of her legs to drape over its own as it sat on the bed, leaning against the wall. Idly, it ran a finger up and down her cool skin as it talked. ―Do you know where Dobos VII is?‖ ―No.‖ Her reply drifted to it from the other end of the bed, quiet yet husky, and Heron felt its cock react. Down boy. Time enough for that later. Right now, it seemed imperative that Subah understand the reason for its detention at e‘Bultar. Acqui K‘liven knew it, of course. As Security Chief, he would have had access to Heron‘s entire history on its identity chip. But K‘liven only knew the words on the display. Heron wanted to explain the substance behind its sentence. And, for the time being, Subah was the only being in the galaxy it wanted to explain it to. ―It‘s almost on the edge of Republic space. One of the few habitable planets before the Fodox Stellar Barrens.‖ Subah‘s silence gave it licence to continue. ―It‘s not usually an area of space that concerns the Space Fleet; we had our hands full enough with spats in the more populated sectors. But the call came to head for Dobos, so we did.‖

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How innocently Heron had viewed that mission. Captain Oerter had not divulged the details of what was required, leaving Heron to naively assume that they would be doing the usual—act as charter transport for a diplomatic delegation, or execute a supply drop of some sort. It had all only become clear once they assumed orbit of Dobos VII. Heron still remembered the look of the harsh, red planet from the main viewport. ―What happened?‖ Subah‘s sultry voice broke into Heron‘s recollections, reminding him that there was now more to its life than mere survival in prison. ―Someone had tipped off the Republic that there was a community of Shapeshifters on Dobos. Have you ever met a Shapeshifter, Subah?‖ it asked suddenly. ―N-no.‖ Heron relaxed its voice and looked at the glowing amber screen of the computer console in the corner. ―No, neither have I,‖ it admitted. ―But I knew Republic regulations. And I knew that what Captain Oerter wanted to do was against those regulations.‖ ―What did he want to do?‖ ―Blow them up. Drop a thermonuclear device on where most of the life-signs were concentrated, then send several clean-up crews to take care of the rest.‖ Its hand stilled. ―I know that Shapeshifters are the Republic‘s enemy. I was told often enough how much they hate our civilisation and how we live. But it wasn‘t our right to summarily take away theirs like that. Not when regulations stated that all Shapeshifters were to be rounded up, held in force-field detention and transported, without haste, to Bliss.‖ ―So you disobeyed the captain?‖ Subah‘s voice was soft, as if she too was sharing its pain. ―Only in the most public way possible,‖ Heron admitted. ―On the bridge of the ship he commanded. I was taught a valuable lesson in the power of might over right that day.‖ ―What did they do to you?‖ ―What else could Oerter do? I had questioned him, and his authority, in public. He threw me in the brig, pending a court-martial.‖ Heron‘s fingers resumed their meandering. ―The court found me guilty, of course. I was stripped of my rank and sent to the e‘Bultar Detention Centre for six years.‖

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―And what happened to the Shapeshifters?‖ Subah asked. Heron exhaled. ―What happened to the Shapeshifters is what would have happened to them, regardless of whether I had protested or not. Like mindless vermin, they were exterminated.‖ There must have been something more in its voice because it felt Subah‘s hesitation through its fingertips. ―You still disagree with what the Captain did.‖ How could someone who had known it for barely a month come to a conclusion that its own fellow shipmates—colleagues and fellow-revellers of many years—could not? If only Subah had been on the ship, instead of the good little minions that had raised neither voice nor hand in Heron‘s defence, then maybe it wouldn‘t have felt so isolated, so alone, when it made its decision many years ago. But then, it thought, Subah would have also suffered the same fate; a vibrant woman locked away from the galaxy? It didn‘t bear thinking about. ―The way my court-martial was conducted made me think of other irregularities, in Republic justice.‖ Heron paused. ―It was right that I should have been charged with insubordination. But mutiny? Oh no. I stood alone on that bridge. What I did—to demand adherence to Republic regulations—I did as an individual, not as the leader, or even follower, of a group.‖ ―Didn‘t anyone support you?‖ Heron grunted and changed position, putting its drink pack down and laying its lean length next to Subah. She, too, had finished her drink and was propped up on one elbow. It faced her, taking advantage of their positioning to run its fingers along her torso, over the slight bumps of her ribcage and down to that delicate and sensitive strip of skin where body met thigh. Subah‘s skin jerked and Heron smiled, before being brought back to the question that hovered in the air between them. ―It may be that I expected some support,‖ it replied in a considering tone, ―but I think I was being more fanciful than realistic. Careers in the Space Fleet depend on the speed with which one obeys orders, not disobeys them.‖ ―So you were sent to the e‘Bultar Detention Centre.‖ Heron laughed, a quick, sarcastic barking sound. ―That was another sign that the Republic was being less than honest in its dealings. Why say ―detention centre‖ when what it

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really means is ―maximum-security prison‖? And, not only was I accused of a crime greater than the one I was guilty of, but I was sent to the one of the worst prisons in the galaxy.‖ It saw, from the edge of its gaze, Subah‘s puzzlement. ―e‘Bultar is on the tier of prisons just above the prison-planet of Bliss,‖ it explained. ―I know I should be thankful that the detention centre at least meant I could be released someday. If someone gets sent to Bliss...‖ Heron shrugged. ―Well, I‘m sure everyone has heard the stories.‖ There. The driving need to explain something of what had brought it here was spent. Heron knew Subah would still have questions—on what e‘Bultar was like, and what it felt like to be released—but, right now, there were other things it wanted to do. It reached over, holding Subah by the waist, and kissed the soft part of her resting upper arm, adjacent to her breast. ―You smell divine,‖ it whispered. ―Sweet yet carnal.‖ Subah squirmed beneath its fingers. ―But I wanted to find out—‖ Heron flicked its tongue against her nipple, nipping gently at the flesh. To its delight, it heard the tenor of Subah‘s breathing change, becoming louder and more shallow. ―–I mean–oh!‖ ―I want to do something different. Would you like to do something different with me?‖ ―Y-yes.‖ ―Then wait here.‖ Heron slid off the bed and walked over to the closet at the opposite end of the room. It flicked the door open, rotating it then shutting it again. Then, it switched on the lights. Subah widened her eyes, despite the shock of white light that illuminated the room. Against the wall, she saw that Heron had turned the closet‘s full-length mirror to the outside. What was it thinking? With wordless gestures it signalled Subah to her feet, then removed the coverlet from the bed, laying it back down and smoothing it on the floor in front of the mirror. Standing there, under the merciless illumination, Subah had never felt so naked before.

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Heron detoured quickly to grab something from a drawer, then knelt in front of her, pulling her down to the blanket. ―I want to unleash you,‖ it told her. ―But in order to do that, you must understand yourself, and glory in your own body.‖ Each individual word made sense to Subah, but the sentences were in a language she couldn‘t comprehend. What did it mean by ‗understanding‘ herself? And how was she to ‗glory‘ in her own body? In a deft move, Heron moved behind her and Subah was suddenly confronted by the image of her nakedness in the mirror. No! Surely this wasn‘t what Heron meant. She didn‘t want to see her own reflection, knowing it was starting to show the inevitable signs of age. How could it think this was sexy? ―Don‘t look away,‖ Heron told her, its breath tickling her ear. ―Watch me. Watch my hands.‖ Because she didn‘t want to see her own body, think of her own body, Subah watched as Heron‘s lighter hands spanned her waist. In unison, they moved up to her breasts, pinching at the nipples the way she had pinched at Heron‘s. She bit her lip and couldn‘t restrain a quick jerk of her hips. ―Do you like that?‖ Subah closed her eyes and let her head drop backwards. The feel of another pair of breasts at her back, hot and yielding, was incredibly erotic. She pressed into them some more. ―Oh yes.‖ Sparks of sharp pleasure radiated through her body, addictive and thoughtdestroying. She felt one of Heron‘s hands arrow down to her groin, testing her wetness, and knew it wouldn‘t be disappointed. ―I want you to do something for me,‖ Heron whispered into her hair. Subah remained pliant while she was tipped forward. She felt Heron enter her, one thrust at a time. Then she was back in her previous position, with those lean fingers pressing and twirling her hard, aroused flesh. ―Yes.‖ The word was torn from her throat. She could feel Heron‘s cock throb inside her, its lazy stabs rubbing against her.

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―I want you to part yourself for me. Show me what you look like.‖ Her eyelids fluttered open. ―Part...myself?‖ ―Show yourself to me, sweet Subah.‖ Subah knew what Heron wanted, but she had never...! And in such bright and cold light? But the fingers were as insistent as the voice and she wanted to feel that jagged delight course through her entire body, not just her upper torso. With her head still back, Subah reached down with tentative fingers and parted the lips of her labia. ―Now look at yourself.‖ Subah‘s startled gaze met Heron‘s in the mirror. Then she looked down. ―Tell me what you see. Are you aroused?‖ ―Yes.‖ ―How do you know?‖ ―I‘m...very wet.‖ ―What else? Touch yourself,‖ it prompted. ―Tell me what you feel.‖ Nobody had taken such an intimate interest in her body before, least of all encouraging her to do the same. Subah‘s fingers dipped further, running over the tip of her engorged clitoris. ―I‘m so wet,‖ she said. ―And I feel so hard, so slippery.‖ She stroked down some more and her fingertips skimmed the base of Heron‘s shaft, which was also covered in her moistness. ―I feel you. You‘re very hot.‖ A tongue flicked at her ear. ―What would you like to do?‖ the hypnotic voice asked her. ―I want to come.‖ She had become shameless in this room. ―Then show me. Show me and show yourself.‖ Subah couldn‘t believe she was doing this. It was as if another person had taken over control of her body, chipping away at her reservations. Another pinch of her nipples ricocheted through her body, sapping everything except the desire to climax with Heron deep inside her. ―Show me, Subah.‖

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With the fingers of her left hand, Subah parted her labia, stretching them wide. The angle of reflection in the mirror wasn‘t perfect but she could imagine that blood-red nub of exposed flesh at the apex of her thighs, yearning to be touched. To be stroked... Subah collected some of her own juices and, with her right hand, began rubbing it on her clitoris in circular movements, using just her fingertips. What would happen, she wondered, if she pinched at her clitoris the way Heron pinched at her breasts? She tried it, and cried out at the intensity of the sensation. But, rather than slowing her actions, it goaded her further. More aggressively, she flicked at her small nerve-laden erection. ―I don‘t want you to come,‖ Heron said suddenly. What?! ―When you‘re getting close, I want you to stop.‖ Subah silently shook her head. No, she couldn‘t stop. Not now. Not when she was spread and open to both their gazes, wet and slippery with want, clenching against its own hard cock buried deep within her. How could she stop when her own sexual organ was demanding release? When she wanted to watch herself orgasm, knowing that Heron watched too? Just the thought of Heron‘s gaze on her reflection was enough to quicken her fingers. Yes! She could feel it coiling within her, climbing higher with every jerk of her hand. Then other, stronger, hands grabbed her wrists, pulling them away. Subah lurched against the movement but it was too late. The climax was gone...but the tearing ache for completion remained. Subah looked at her reflection, at the abandoned look in her eyes, the flush along her cheekbones. She saw herself clearly impaled upon Heron and watched as it reached for a small tube near its feet. Heron placed drops from the tube on three parts of Subah‘s body, one on each breast and a couple on her engorged clitoris. ―This will help,‖ it told her. ―But not straightaway.‖ The drops felt ice-cold on Subah‘s overheated flesh. Then they began to warm up. And itch. Subah couldn‘t believe the sensations radiating from those points of contact. She wanted—needed!—friction, but Heron was still restraining her, and there was nothing she could do about it. ―Attack me, Subah,‖ Heron told her. ―Use me.‖

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And it released her hands. Subah didn‘t care that there was no cloak of darkness to disguise her want. Her body was burning, demanding release, and she didn‘t care who, or what, was around. She needed contact, intimate contact, to assuage the prickling fire in her breasts and sex. With a low growl, she lifted herself off Heron then twisted, pushing it to the floor and mounting it roughly, consumed by the effects of the cream and the need to recapture her orgasm. Drops of sweat beaded on her forehead and dripped down on Heron‘s sculpted features. She looked deep into the grey metal depths of its eyes, wanting it to see her at the point of climax. Her hands grabbed its shoulders, her fingertips biting deep into its muscles. Heron‘s own hands were on her hips, helping her with her frantic rhythm. They were still there when a surprised scream of release burst from her throat, tightening as she convulsed around its cock. Was Heron climaxing too? She didn‘t care. Everything that mattered centred on the fire in her breasts and in her sex, and the waves of pleasure that she wanted to go on forever. Subah gave herself up to the selfish need of assuaging her own desires, rocking back and forth, milking every second of sexual enjoyment from her position and the feel of another being inside her. When she finally slowed, her breathing was heavy and ragged. Perspiration covered her body. The impersonal lights of Heron‘s bedroom beat down on her. She tried to still the heaving of her lungs. Who was that lust-maddened animal whose echoed screams she could hear in her ringing ears? Was that...her? Abashed, she looked down. And saw Heron smiling back at her. ―Well done. And done well, my sweet Subah.‖ An answering smile curved her lips.

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Chapter Six What was happening to its life? Heron pondered that most weighty of questions as it headed to the Ops room to begin its shift. Suddenly, life on the Castor Xeni Orbital was not as tragic as it originally surmised. One would think one was getting used to it. And thanks for such a seismic shift in its thinking belonged squarely in Subah‘s camp. Subah Doisson. Heron would have started whistling, if it wasn‘t such a gauche, human move. Besides, it didn‘t want to draw any attention to itself. It surreptitiously looked around at the other pedestrians. Surely the scent of it and Subah‘s constant coupling had permeated everything in the quarters—and, by corollary, its clothes—by now. What an able and enthusiastic student it had found in Subah. Just the recollection of her voluptuousness, and the depth of her sexual response, was starting to make it hard once again. They had begun their carnal adventure together almost three weeks ago, and it had still not tired of her body, or her increasingly bold advances. Could that be true? Heron‘s step faltered, then regained its pace. Could it be that one of the most hedonistic beings of the Republic Space Fleet had found its match in a cautious hydroponics engineer? How its former colleagues would have laughed to learn that Heron had remained with the same fuck-mate for more than two days. Maybe it was finally starting to learn that truism that all sex existed in the mind. One had scoffed at the pithy little saying for years. But now... Maybe it was because the orbital was just a different kind of prison that Heron was starting to notice other things besides the purely physical attributes of its current lover. Or could it be that tradition had been turned on its head? That, just for a change, the other person had made the first, seductive move, and the thought of such a turnaround made the affair, the coupling, even more delicious? Or maybe Heron was still fascinated with their mating because it had accorded to Subah something it had never accorded to anyone else before fucking...respect.

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The Ops room loomed quicker than Heron was expecting and it entered with a slight frown on its face, its own inner feelings as unresolved as they were when it started its walk. Four other technicians were already waiting, and they shifted when they caught sight of it. Then a strange thing happened. ―My name‘s Inras Idis.‖ Heron‘s head jerked up. ―What did you say?‖ The technician stayed with the rest of the group on the other side of the room, but there was a hesitant smile on his pale, freckled face. He was taller than Heron, and bulkier, but his body language mirrored the uncertainty in his voice, reminding Heron of a child rather than an adult. ―I said, my name‘s Inras Idis.‖ Heron nodded shortly. ―Heron Meed.‖ ―I‘m quite new here too,‖ Inras Idis confided. He nudged the person next to him. ―Aren‘t I?‖ ―Aren‘t–? Oh, uh, yeah.‖ If Inras was aware of the reluctance in the woman‘s voice, he took no notice. ―I mostly work the Life Support circuits in the refit section.‖ He angled a thumb at the woman he had elbowed before. ―Tix here works Energy Supply. Jay does Engineering Primary Support. And Tumi over there,‖ he indicated the last member of the four, ―handles Hydroponics. What‘s your responsibility?‖ Heron blinked. ―I‘m conducting the full system audit.‖ Was this some kind of trap? Nobody had exchanged a word with it for weeks and now someone was trying to carry on a conversation with one? Heron wondered whether it looked as uncomfortable as Tix, Jay and Tumi, then its gaze flicked back to the open expression on Inras‘ face. Had something besides Subah‘s flesh rubbed against it? A dose of...luck, perhaps? ―Oh. Tumi was supposed to do that job. Guess she‘s happy that you came along. Aren‘t you Tumi?‖ Tumi looked like she was shackled in a med-dent chair that had just run out of anaesthetic juice. ―Yes,‖ she finally ground out, when it looked like Inras was going to pursue the subject.

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Heron repressed a smile just as Georg Sessen walked through the door. As soon as the day‘s briefing was done, the five of them split off and went their separate ways, but that didn‘t stop Inras giving Heron a cheery wave before he left, surprising it into an answering twist of its own hand. What a month of surprises; first Subah, now Inras. Heron wondered if its run of luck would continue till its regular meeting with Acqui K‘liven at the end of its shift. Thinking of K‘liven brought up a topic that had slipped Heron‘s mind for the past few weeks, while it was indulging in more, pleasurable, activities. The hermaphrodite tugged at its tool-case, where the translucent orange mem-stick was still nestled. In all the excitement—both its and Subah‘s—it had forgotten, or chosen to forget, about the data it downloaded from the Ops room console. Heron strained to recapture the unease that had compelled it to trudge through screen upon screen of log files. Did one really believe that there was potential for sabotage being set up on the orbital? And by Security Chief K‘liven himself? The more one thought about it, the more ridiculous it sounded. K‘liven was a fixture at the station and probably had enough clearances to turn the orbital into a mess of exploding shrapnel within five seconds and with two button-presses. Why would he even consider spending hours tampering with the backup circuits? Heron shook its head as it reached the major Life Support junction. Maybe its boredom had caused it to see conspiracies where there were none, a featureless present, combining with an active mind, to find distractions in the most mundane of tasks. Until Subah had walked into its room, starting a liaison that still had the potential to sear its skin whenever it thought of it. The hermaphrodite grinned to itself as it began work, happy to accept that everything was as it should be, just as it was for the past three weeks. It would let its doubts fade into forgetfulness and move on with its life. However, the smile was slowly wiped off Heron‘s face during the hours that followed, and it quietly cursed to itself. It hadn’t been imagining things. The previous weeks, it had discovered unexplained linkages between Life Support and Sanitation, and Atmospherics and Sanitation. Now—it consulted the readings on its padd and cursed again—it found something new and even more ominous, that same maze of interconnections between backup systems but, this time, between Life Support and Primary Energy. Some inadvertent

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mix-up between Hydroponics and—say—Life Sciences was perhaps understandable. But the link to Primary Energy suggested that something more sinister was at play here. And Heron didn‘t doubt that it would find the same name tagged to the changes. It stared down at the unblinking data etched in glowing blue. What should it do now?

―You must be halfway through your audit by now.‖ ―Almost.‖ Heron didn‘t want to be in Acqui K‘liven‘s office, but now it was for an entirely different reason. Its previously childish fantasies of destruction had revolved around the ignominy of having to turn up on a regular basis, like a dog being trained. Heron didn‘t like it, especially after holding such an exalted position in the Republic‘s hierarchy. Compared to its rank in the Space Fleet, a mere security chief on some obscure space station was like an errant bug crawling on its arm. Worthy of only a second‘s consideration before— Heron terminated that line of thought abruptly. That was how it used to feel, a venting of past injustice. It didn‘t want to be here now, tonight, because it didn‘t know whether or not the administrator was planning to blow up the orbital and everyone on it. ―And how is the audit going?‖ K‘liven asked. Was there something more than mere curiosity in his voice? Or was one getting too tangled in second—and third—guessing every movement and word that emanated from the heavy-worlder? ―Fine.‖ It sat back in its chair, feigning nonchalance. ―No, anomalous readings? Problems with any of the primary or backup systems?‖ Heron stared at K‘liven. Why did he keep pushing this subject? Was there something he knew? Or was trying to tell it? ―Standard so far,‖ it replied. ―A few minor issues, easily remedied.‖ ―In another couple of months the audit should be over. Do you have any preferences for reassignment?‖ ―I told you I have experience across several areas,‖ Heron replied, then thought of Inras Idis. He said he was a refit engineer. Would it be possible for Heron to transfer to his

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section? Perhaps start building up a wider social circle? After all, it was more or less imprisoned on the orbital for the next five years. ―Maybe the Refit section could use me,‖ Heron suggested aloud, and saw K‘liven‘s eyes narrow. ―An area like that could use my versatility,‖ it finished defensively. No, its run of luck had definitely run out. ―I‘ll see what I can do.‖ But the chill in the chief‘s voice belied its offer. There was nothing left to say after that and, with an unsettling mixture of indignation and lingering curiosity, Heron took its leave. It roamed the station‘s nearly vacant corridors aimlessly. If it went back to its quarters, it would be surrounded by the aroma, the essence, of Subah, and that was not good for its self-discipline. Just one look from those smoky eyes was enough to have desire shooting through it, inflaming mind and cock. There was something one should have done at least two weeks ago, but had let slip after Subah‘s provocative entrance into its bedroom. Heron really needed some space away from the sensual engineer in order to do some serious thinking. But, regardless of where it should be, Heron‘s mind kept skipping back to the family quarters wedged next to the Hydroponics section. What was it about Subah Doisson that was so intoxicating? At first, Heron thought its six years of incarceration had caused its obsession with the lush human female, but now it was starting to believe that it would have been attracted to Subah regardless of whether it was an ex-prisoner or never-incarcerated. And Heron‘s ability to fuck then leave its sex-partners had lessened in direct proportion to its attraction to her. Was this involvement, then, on its way to being a permanent thing? Heron didn‘t even want to begin speculating in that direction for the simple reason that such thoughts terrified it. A hermy, actually settling down in a serious relationship with a non-hermy? And not even a Shapeshifter—wouldn‘t that be an interesting coupling, matching versatility for versatility—but a human? Heron finally settled at a corner table in one of the Orbital‘s canteens; in fact, it was the same canteen where it had eaten its first station meal, while trying to put the pieces of its life back together again.

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There was nothing it could do—nothing it wanted to do—about the first question in its life, what to do about its burgeoning relationship with Subah Doisson. But perhaps it could start clearing the clutter from the second, what the hell was going on within the station‘s walls? Heron dug the mem-stick out from its tool-case and laid it on the table next to its work padd. Then slowly, line by line, it started comparing the readings from the day‘s work with the log files it had copied long ago in the Ops room. Small knots of workers and individuals swirled past Heron as it worked, but it didn‘t notice. The sounds of conversation, body movements and furniture scraping registered as sounds from a parallel universe; they existed, but they were irrelevant. In a way, it delighted in the current tangled and messy puzzle. Six years at e‘Bultar had barely strained Heron‘s brain, beyond the drive to stay safe and stay alive. But, finally, here was something worthy of its mettle...worthy of the intellect of a former officer of the Republic Space Fleet. So it was with conflicting emotions of pride and dismay that Heron finally sat back in its chair, after arriving at a completely unpalatable conclusion. Its neck ached from the cramped position it had sustained and it massaged its neck absently with one hand as its mind raced. It thought that there were separate, but deep, connections between Hydroponics and Life Support, and Energy Systems and Sanitation. But—Heron looked up at the canteen‘s chronometer and widened its eyes with surprise—after five hours of laboriously sifting through the data, it was wrong. The web of interconnections weren‘t separate. They spanned almost every secondary backup system on the orbital. It took only seconds for Heron to realise what that meant. Correctly configured, with a convenient accident to take care of several primary systems, the simple act of turning on a tap in someone‘s quarters could initiate a cascade-blast throughout the entire Castor Xeni Orbital, blowing all of its inhabitants into the vacuum of space. And it looked like the man behind the entire operation was Acqui K‘liven.

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Chapter Seven Subah glanced at Heron. After a handful of weeks—a score of days—of glorious, uninhibited sex in virtually every corner of the habitation unit, something was wrong. Two more days had passed, and Heron had still not lost its preoccupied expression. Was it something she did? She pulled two drinks from the cooler and tried to look casual as she sauntered over to the armchairs. Heron took the proffered can with a smile but said nothing. She would not ask, Subah told herself as she sat down. She would not ask if the silence was her fault. That would make her seem tawdry and insecure. Now that she had discovered her inner sex-vixen, she would use that drive, that satisfaction and project it outwards. She would say good-bye to the old, cautious Subah, and start living life as a take-no-prisoners, take-only-pleasure woman. And part of that transformation meant that she should not— would not—ask if anything was her fault. ―Was it something I said?‖ she asked, grimacing inwardly. In truth, as much as she‘d like to deny it, there was still a big difference between where she wanted to be, and where her insecurities still mired her. She couldn‘t help herself. She was thinking it, and the words came out before she could stop them. ―You said?‖ Heron looked puzzled, the crooked smile warring with the frown on its face. ―What makes you think you did anything wrong?‖ It was the hermaphrodite‘s expression that described the gulf between them more than the differences in their physical makeup. Heron was a person who did as it said and damn the consequences. Its incarceration was proof of that. If it did something to someone, it was deliberate and unambiguous. That was the way it lived its life. Whereas Subah... Subah had already resigned herself to being a bystander to others‘ more exciting lives. Even when she was with Erdonn, she had agonised over every sentence, every action. Being an emotional chameleon—doing what she thought everyone else expected of her, subsuming her own desires in the wishes and desires of others—had left her blank and empty. How strange, then, to find her fantasies rekindled, reborn, by a cocky and careless hermaphrodite. If only it knew what its person was starting to mean to her. ―It has nothing to do with you,‖ Heron continued, beckoning to her.

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Heron was sitting in an armchair, with room to seat only one adult comfortably. When it indicated that she should join it, Subah couldn‘t suppress the small smile that curved her lips. She nestled herself facing it, straddling its hips with her legs, thinking carnal thoughts of what she could do in such a position. After all, if she had turned into a sex-obsessed animal, it only had itself to blame. Heron drained its drink in a couple of long swallows and put the empty container on the floor beside it. ―I have stumbled across a puzzle,‖ it said. ―One without an easy solution.‖ ―Is it about work?‖ ―If affects my work.‖ ―Is it something Georg can help you with?‖ Subah didn‘t know Georg Sessen that well, but she knew he was Heron‘s supervisor and that the man had always been polite to her when they‘d met. ―Georg and I, er, don‘t talk much.‖ No. Subah saw its eyes flick away and tightened her lips. She kept forgetting that Heron was not only a newcomer, but a true alien in human Republic space. It made her angry just thinking about it. Couldn‘t they see that Heron was more than just its genetic predisposers, more than the stereotypical rumours? Were they deliberately blinding themselves to its candour and sense of honour? ―Is there nobody else you can talk to?‖ she persisted. ―What about Chief K‘liven?‖ Heron shot her a wry smile. ―He may be part of the problem.‖ Oh. She decided to take another tack. ―Have you had this puzzle for very long?‖ She didn‘t ask what the puzzle was; she already knew her tenant-lover well enough to know it wouldn‘t tell her. ―I had bits and pieces of it for a little while, but it all only fell into place a couple of days ago.‖ That was when it had started distancing itself from her. Subah felt relieved. ―Is it an important puzzle?‖ ―I think so.‖

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Heron might think it was important, but that‘s not what its body was saying. As they were talking, its hands started stroking her arms, and now they had moved to her shoulders, to begin gently massaging them. Subah couldn‘t believe the jolt of power that coursed through her at the thought that Heron couldn‘t help touching her. ―Do you need to solve the puzzle right now?‖ she asked. The images whizzing through her brain made her voice husky and she moved suggestively against its thighs. ―I...‖ it dragged Subah forward and kissed her deeply, relinquishing her with reluctance. ―I should. I really should.‖ Subah reached for the fastener on her top and unzipped it down to her waist. She wasn‘t wearing anything underneath. She took a deep breath, shifting the material so it folded away from her body, exposing gleaming brown flesh. ―How long has this puzzle been around for?‖ Heron‘s gaze was fixated on her chest, on where cloth covered all but the tantalising curve of a full breast. ―I, er, it‘s been around for months. If the logs are right.‖ ―Months?‖ Subah wriggled out of her blouse. ―In that case, I think it can wait another hour or so. Don‘t you?‖ ―I want to do it.‖ ―Subah...‖ Heron tried keeping the tinge of alarm out of its voice. How could it have known what it would unleash by approaching the engineer Doisson for accommodation? In its wildest dreams, it couldn‘t have wished for a more enthusiastic and energetic bed-mate, but what she was now proposing was...exciting? Arousing? Painful. ―Subah, I don‘t think–― ―Bring out those toys of yours, Heron. Or I will.‖ With a sigh, it opened the drawer underneath the computer, and withdrew several sex aids. It and Subah had already tried a few, but not all of them. Heron had been planning a slow, ever increasing, voyage of mutual discovery. Trust Subah, the newly-converted sexfiend, to short-circuit that elaborate and careful plan. ―What‘s this?‖

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Heron looked at the innocuous stick that lay on the bed. It was slim and about twelve centimetres long, widening at one end. ―It‘s a memory-vibe.‖ ―What‘s a memory-vibe?‖ ―A memory-vibe,‖ the hermaphrodite searched for words, but failed. It blew out its breath and started again. ―It‘s made of a memory polymer, with some firmware built in at the base. It only reacts to moisture and heat and slowly expands until it reaches its configured dimensions.‖ Subah licked her lips. She looked magnificent in her nakedness, not a shred of selfconsciousness left as she faced it. They had already slaked their desire once but Subah was ready for more. Heron, for once, found itself in the position where it was being the ‗responsible‘ one and the side of its mouth quirked. There was an answering sparkle in Subah‘s eyes. ―The configured dimensions,‖ Heron drawled, now reconciling itself to the fact that she was unstoppable, ―are eighteen centimetres in length, with a slightly smaller circumference.‖ Subah‘s eyes widened. ―I bought the deluxe model,‖ Heron added, watching her closely, ―with a mini-mouth pseudopod.‖ Subah swallowed and cleared her throat. ―I see.‖ And, in a split-second, the tables were turned. Heron hadn‘t wanted to move this quickly, but since its adventurous mate had started down this path, she had kicked off a series of images that were now impossible to resist. ―You insert it into yourself,‖ it explained, picking up the vibe. ―You only need to keep it in position for a couple of seconds before it starts working. And then it‘s your turn to hold onto something.‖ It saw her mouth form a wordless ‗o‘. Heron knelt down in front of her, edging her legs apart. She smelt of sex and was still wet with both her own juices and its cream. A thin stream of whitish liquid ran down the inside of one of her legs and Heron licked its saltiness, following it up to the apex of her thighs, feeling her shiver beneath its touch.

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The memory-vibe slid in with little resistance. Heron only held it there for a moment, to watch as it began expanding and a small nub started forming on one marked end. It stood, and plastered a stern expression on its face. ―You will tell me if I go too quickly.‖ ―Yes.‖ It wasn‘t so much a word as a breath; an exhale, followed by a quick inhale as the memory-vibe began its work. ―Or if I hurt you too much.‖ ―Ye–oh, Heron.‖ Subah gasped and clung to its shoulders. ―It feels...‖ The hermaphrodite smiled, remembering its own first experience with a memory-vibe. It forgot to mention the ‗vibe‘ part to her but, by the looks of things, she didn‘t really mind. Maybe this was the best way to try this after all. With gentle hands, it turned her around and bent her over, so she was standing on straight spread-eagled legs, clutching the bed-end with both hands. By now, the vibe‘s pseudopod should have formed and would be sucking on her clitoris, putting her on a slow burn. While its toy did its job, Heron retrieved a small jar and flicked the lid open, spooning out a thick dollop of cream with two fingers. It reached for the crease in Subah‘s buttocks, using the cream to slide its fingers between them and start caressing her back passage. With a second dollop of creamy lubricant, Heron inserted one finger, pausing as Subah gasped. Subah gasped. She couldn‘t believe so many distinct sensations could emerge from the one small area of her body. She had never felt anything like the memory-vibe in her life. First, the bulk of the vibe inside her expanded and pulsed, filling her with its expanding volume. The feel of it encouraged her to spread her legs even further as the vibrations rippled through her body. Then there was the feel of the mini-mouth. It felt exactly as it was described; a firm set of lips nibbling on her erect clit. She expected a frenzied rhythm from the piece of hardware, but there was a surprising slowness to its movements, gently teasing her as she climbed the spiral to orgasm, one soft—yet inexorable—step at a time. Then, behind, Heron was doing something else to her. There was pain, quickly overrun by another intense, yet different, stab of pleasure.

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Subah moaned, pushing herself back into Heron‘s fingers. ―Is this hurting you?‖ Heron asked, and she smiled as she heard the concern in its voice. She didn‘t want to answer because the honest reply was a ―yes‖. But, mixed with that pain, was also a pleasure that she wanted to experience more. ―Now,‖ she panted. ―Please Heron.‖ She felt another slash of cold as more cream was massaged into her backside, then Heron slid into her. Subah exhaled with a loud cry. But also pushed back against Heron‘s slim penis. It hurt so much, but it was also unbelievably arousing. Heron drew back, then smoothly plunged into her again. All reason told Subah she should tell it to stop; she hadn‘t expected such needle-like discomfort, but ending it meant ending everything, because every sensation undulating through her was an inseparable combination of the vibe, the vibe‘s mouth and Heron‘s thrusts. All Subah wanted to do was throw herself into that maelstrom. The pain made the pleasure even more intense, and she knew she could endure the knifelike stabs for the payoff of her imminent orgasm. When the mouth finally brought her to climax, Subah cried out again, her legs buckling. She would have crumpled to the floor if she hadn‘t been held in Heron‘s tight grasp, panting as she felt it frantically driving into her. ―Are you okay?‖ Subah wasn‘t sure. She felt cold and hot at the same time. Thankfully, the mouth had wound down its sucking actions, although the vibe still filled her. A tremor ran through her body. ―You need to rest,‖ Heron told her and she was touched by the concern in its voice. ―A clean-up first. Then rest.‖ Subah‘s voice was faint. ―Okay.‖

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Chapter Eight Heron brushed Subah‘s hair back from her forehead, watching her as she slept. It knew it had to leave her bedroom soon; it was on early shift and Sessen hated tardy workers almost as much as he seemed to hate hermaphrodites. So where did this sudden surge of tenderness come from? Its contentment in watching one of its fuck-mates sleep? Such a rough, yet concise, word. Subah was its fuck-mate yet was also so much more. Heron knew all about fuck-mates, had entertained scores so far in its life. But it had never watched one sleep. Never been concerned with how much discomfort one was enduring. It had almost pulled out at Subah‘s scream during their first anal encounter—and to hell with its own pleasure—and the remembrance of that impulse gave it pause. Heron knew it and Subah made an odd couple—the dependable, trustworthy engineer coupled with the irresponsible, rootless hermaphrodite. But most people couldn‘t see beneath the surface, to the bonds of mutual respect and hot appetite for sex that tied them together. For the first time in its life, Heron met a match for the contrasting facets of its own character. Cold and heat, care and impulse. There was more that drew them together than just lust. More‘s the pity. Heron slowly rose, switched off the light, and walked back to its own room. It was the universe pissing on it again, giving it a person worthy of a lifetime of consideration...and an impossible conspiracy that only it knew about. What was it supposed to do now? Go to the person who had his fingerprints all over the circuit reroute work? Go to its supervisor, who wouldn‘t spit on it if it was on fire? Find some way to leave the station, damning the intolerant inhabitants to hell? It was easy to discard the last suggestion. As emotionally satisfying as that fantasy was, Heron knew it would be tracked down and sent back to prison, based purely on suspicion, if anything bad happened at, or to, the orbital. Approach Sessen? The man could barely stand to look at it although, if Heron couldn‘t confide to anyone else, he would—unfortunately—be its best bet.

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Its mind flashed briefly to its newest friend, Inras Idis. But Inras was also new to the station and, without previously established credibility, there was little difference between one and two mistrusted individuals spouting the same story. And what about K‘liven? The security chief could easily have organised matters so he could blow the orbital into nano-particles without the elaborate charade of getting his hands dirty digging in the backup systems. And why, after years of service, would K‘liven suddenly decide to set up the mechanism for destruction...and then sit on it for months? Because that‘s how long the rewiring had been in place. For months. Just waiting until someone, like the annual auditor, came along and discovered it. Heron‘s thoughts went round and round in circles. K‘liven, Sessen, Subah, Idis, backup systems. It tried getting to sleep, but the errant thoughts kept swirling, annoying it with conjecture, denying Heron the relief of slumber. It was still drowsy, and tired, when it headed to work the next morning. Heron was late but there was still the full contingent of technicians in the Ops room. Plus Sessen. Plus K‘liven. The hair on the back of Heron‘s arms rose. Six pairs of eyes swivelled to watch as it entered the room. ―Is there a problem?‖ Heron was forced to ask, as its heart sank into its boots. ―I say we sack it and send it back to e‘Bultar,‖ Sessen ground out, his florid face even more ruddy than normal. Heron felt its face flush—they know! They blame me!—and must have looked guilty because even Inras‘ expression perked up with inquisitive interest. ―The bastard‘s been trouble ever since he, it, came aboard.‖ ―I thought you told me it was a good worker,‖ K‘liven commented in an even tone. Sessen jabbed his finger at the hermaphrodite. ―That‘s before I found out about this. Did you think we wouldn‘t find out, hermy?‖ he taunted. ―Wouldn‘t have diagnostics to check on the organic audit?‖ ―Find out what?‖ It was more a move of self-preservation because Heron was almost sure it knew what everyone was talking about. ―Don‘t pretend you don‘t know,‖ the supervisor sneered. ―You rerouted all the secondary backup systems, thinking we wouldn‘t find out. Well, we did.‖

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Heron shook its head. ―No, it wasn‘t me.‖ But Sessen wasn‘t listening. ―You hermies hate us humans, don‘t you? We don‘t have enough variety for you.‖ ―That‘s not true,‖ Heron objected hotly, but couldn‘t say anything more without dragging Subah into the mire with it. ―How many systems are affected, Georg?‖ Once more, K‘liven‘s surprisingly calm voice cut through the escalating tension. Sessen turned his head and looked down at the main consoles. ―Almost everything. Life Support, Sanitation, Hydroponics. Transport, Cargo. Even Primary Energy. The bastard really did a job on us.‖ ―That‘s a lot of meddling. Surely it couldn‘t have done this much damage in such a short period of time?‖ Sessen looked down angrily at the heavy-worlder. ―What are you trying to say? Are you siding with this...this perversion?‖ K‘liven shrugged, unperturbed. ―I‘m just asking how it could have tampered with so many systems so quickly? And didn‘t you tell me it hasn‘t even started on the Transport, Cargo or Primary Energy circuits yet?‖ ―Maybe it snuck away during its off-duty shifts.‖ The supervisor‘s voice was sullen from being denied its pleasure. K‘liven sent Heron an oblique look before facing the group of technicians again. ―It hasn‘t. I‘ve been checking on its movements.‖ Heron tried hard not to respond to that piece of information. Oh, have you? ―The law is the same regardless of what species, or sex, the accused is, Georg,‖ the security chief added. ―Innocent until proven guilty. The hermy didn‘t have enough time to do everything you said it did, and you know it. There‘s something else—someone else—at work here.‖ ―You‘re getting soft in your old age, K‘liven.‖ Sessen jerked his head up. ―What happens if you‘re wrong and it ends up blowing us into tiny little pieces?‖ ―Then I‘ll make sure to apologise.‖ It was not a comfortable shift. The blustering went on for longer but, by that stage,

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even Heron could tell that its supervisor‘s heart wasn‘t in it. K‘liven overrode the demand to fire it, which was just as well because there was nowhere else to go...except back to prison. Where, Heron admitted to itself, life was a lot simpler than it currently was on the small orbital. With a snort of disgust and a threat ‗to keep out of my fucking sight‘, Sessen reluctantly ordered Heron to continue with its duties. Inras gave it a small sympathetic smile and half-wave—an exceptionally brave move under the circumstances—but Tix and Jay avoided its gaze, and slunk away, Tumi in tow. Heron picked up its own tools, avoiding K‘liven‘s heavy look, and headed away to work. Whatever it had gone through before, the current atmosphere, crackling with Sessen‘s mistrust, was worse. It had kept silent because it didn‘t trust anyone else and—dammit!—it liked the new shiny puzzle that had been thrown into its lap. But now it realised how wrong it had been to keep everything to itself. Part of it was also because it didn‘t want Subah getting embroiled in the mess. But now it wondered whether Subah‘s knowledge of everyone on the station could actually help. It would have to ask her when it came off-shift. Heron refined its question as it worked. Who else on the station had the knowledge to sabotage so subtly, and yet so completely, the orbital‘s entire systems? It had thought to hunt down Inras at break-time but didn‘t want to face any more censure or accusations from his co-workers. So Heron ate its meals alone in the access shafts and was never more relieved than when its shift was over and it could begin formulating a plan again. It only hoped Subah hadn‘t yet left for work when it got back. Heron was so caught up in its thoughts that it ignored the footstep that clumped heavily behind it until it was too late. Acknowledgement of the sound fired in its brain and it began to turn around when something long and hard caught it across its shoulder-blades and flung it forward into one of the corridor walls. The long pipe struck again, this time along the backs of its knees and Heron crumpled to the floor. Then rough, urgent hands forced something over its head and Heron‘s world went dark. ―Fucking hermy,‖ it heard through the heavy muffling of cloth, and Heron knew it was in for a beating at the very least.

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There were several attackers, and they took turns kicking it as it lay on the ground. Heron heard the pipe as it hit the ground—knowing it meant that they were going to take their time, using limbs instead of metal tubing—and tried to protect its body and head but it seemed that no matter which way it turned, there was always a foot or fist ready to pummel it some more. This was not the first time in Heron‘s life that a small mob had decided to take some offence at its existence, and all it could do was put its hands over its head and curl up in a ball in an effort to ride out the storm. Finally, one of its assailants said in a hushed tone, ―Someone‘s coming!‖ And it heard multiple footsteps dash off, back in the direction of the Engineering section. Heron was left lying on the floor, panting heavily, and wishing that its pain could have left with its attackers. It hurt to breathe. It hurt to move. Hell, it hurt to live. Heron cursed as it saw who burst into the station‘s infirmary. It should have been thinking, instead of wallowing in its own pain. And now, things were only going to get worse. Standing around its bed were Georg Sessen and Acqui K‘liven. Even through the ache in its head—and one eye that was almost swollen shut—Heron was amused when it saw the security chief jogging into the medical facility. It was impressed with how light on his feet the heavy-worlder moved. K‘liven was the first to arrive after Heron had been half-carried into the infirmary by a couple of off-duty pilots who were staying on the station while some repairs were carried out to their scoutship. They were cleared immediately and dismissed by Doctor Kiz Vin E, before even a hurrying K‘liven could arrive. The doctor explained this all to Heron as she gave it a thorough examination, flashing lights into Heron‘s eyes, pressing along its limbs, and referring to its own diagnostic equipment. ―You certainly annoyed someone,‖ she told the hermaphrodite. ―The pilots were fresh and in unstained clothes. Considering the condition you were brought in—this was much more than a brawl, and you didn‘t get a chance to get any hits in, did you?—I don‘t think they were involved.‖

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Heron agreed. ―They ran off. My attackers. More than one person,‖ it croaked, then coughed. Then regretted coughing because it hurt too much. Vin E picked up the bag that Heron‘s assailants had thrown over its head at the start of the beating. She looked at it speculatively, rubbing the material between her fingers, just as K‘liven charged through the door. ―Doesn‘t look like they meant to kill you,‖ she said. ―Not at first. If they did, they would have used plastic.‖ ―What did they use that for, Kiv?‖ K‘liven asked. ―According to this, ah, person‘s rescuers, it was over its head when they found it.‖ The security chief shifted its keen gaze to where Heron half-lay on the med-bunk. ―So you couldn‘t identify the attackers.‖ Heron didn‘t say anything, just shook its head. ―So they didn‘t want to kill you. Just wanted to teach you a lesson, I suppose. Do you know how many of them there were?‖ Heron swallowed. ―Maybe three. Maybe four.‖ ―Any DNA traces on the bag, Doctor?‖ Vin E grimaced. ―This bag is commonly used throughout a few sections on this station. I can‘t begin to guess how many DNA samples are already on it.‖ The next to arrive was Georg Sessen. His eyes darted around wildly. ―What happened? Who—― Then his brain took in the scene, the doctor and security chief conversing, with only one other, battered, occupant in the room. He slowed to a stop. ―Oh, it‘s you.‖ His look pinned Heron, bereft of sympathy. ―Georg, where were you an hour ago?‖ K‘liven asked. ―Me? Wha–You don‘t think I had anything to do with that, do you?‖ He pointed at Heron. ―I‘m just asking, Georg. Where were you?‖ ―Asleep, until I got that call from your section to come down here.‖ His jaw worked. ―I thought it was something important.‖ ―You don‘t think this was important? One of your workers getting attacked after coming off-shift?‖

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―After what happened today? What we found out today? Come on, Acqui, get a sense of perspective. Who cares if one miserable hermy dies on the station?‖ K‘liven‘s voice was all the more intense for its quietness. ―I do, Georg.‖ But the team supervisor wasn‘t swayed. ―What‘s the matter? Afraid it‘s going to affect your perfect record on the station?‖ K‘liven‘s face tightened. ―That‘s a lousy thing—― And Subah arrived. Heron‘s heart leapt at the sight of her, its beloved frantic valkyrie. The colour was high in her cheeks, and sparks of anger flashed from her eyes. She was as magnificent clothed as she was naked. And she was about to walk into a giant mistake. Heron was paralysed, unable to think of a single thing to say to stop what it knew was about to play out in front of everyone present. ―What happened?‖ Subah demanded, tension roughening her voice. Her gaze flicked from Sessen, to Vin E, to K‘liven, finally resting on Heron‘s clobbered form. Heron would have to have been made of stone not to feel a jolt of pride from the range of emotions it saw crossing Subah‘s face. First amazement, then disbelief, then righteous anger. It tried to move, to edge off the bed, but it was too late. ―Who did this to you?‖ Subah demanded, crossing the floor of the medical facility in a handful of steps. She took in the extent of its injuries, from the cuts and bruises on its face to the scuff marks and patches of dried blood on its overalls. Her eyes widened...then she lent forward, took Heron‘s face in her two hands, and kissed it soundly on the lips. Even hurt, even drowsy from the painkillers, with a black eye, bruised body and choking throat, Heron delighted in the warm softness of her lips meeting its own. It even managed to dart a quick playful stab of its tongue into her mouth before pulling away. But the damage had already been done. Everyone—K‘liven, Sessen, Vin E—stared at her as if she had grown two heads. Heron knew what they were thinking. Who was this? Because this couldn‘t be staid Subah Doisson. The woman who had whirled into the infirmary, spitting sparks and ire, was not the person they were used to seeing. The news of this one event, it knew, would flash around the orbital quicker than someone could draw breath.

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And Heron knew what that meant. Of course they would blame it—the dirty hermy— for somehow corrupting their proper and dependable hydroponics engineer. And Heron was happy to take such blame upon its shoulders. It knew nothing less. But they would also blame Subah for succumbing to its perverted blandishments and declaring her loyalty so openly. With a sinking heart, Heron realised that it had just turned Subah Doisson— wonderful, captivating, seductive Subah—into a pariah. ―How did this happen?‖ Subah demanded of Acqui K‘liven. ―How could you let this happen?‖ The heavyworlder put up two hands in a gesture of supplication. ―Subah, please...‖ ―Fuck please, Acqui. Is this how you run the station? By putting newcomers in harm‘s way?‖ ―Subah, you don‘t understand—― Her lips tightened. ―Don‘t tell me I don‘t understand. I‘ve had it up to here,‖ she put a hand in line with her jaw, ―with your patronising attitude and the attitudes of the rest of the so-called sentient beings on this orbital.‖ She looked from one bystander to another. ―Whatever happened to innocent until proven guilty? Whatever happened to giving people a chance? You should all be ashamed of yourselves.‖ To their credit, both men looked abashed, although Heron caught a quickly-masked smile on Vin E‘s face. ―Any questions you want to ask can damn well wait. Now tell me what I need to do so I can take Heron home with me now.‖

Chapter Nine Home. Even days later, the word continued to resonate in Heron‘s mind. Doctor Vin E had sent it back with Subah to her quarters, together with a week‘s leave and some medication. ―It looks worse than it is,‖ Vin E commented, trying to assuage Subah‘s obvious concern. ―But it will still hurt like hell for a few more days.‖ Despite the pain, Heron enjoyed the novel sensation of being fussed over. Sex was out of the question, so Heron was shown another side to Subah. She commandeered two fellow workers to help her move Heron‘s bed to the living room so it could while away its solitary

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hours watching the latest vids. She stopped by during breaks in her shift, to make sure it was taking its medication. She was brisk, efficient, and caring. And Heron realised it was falling in love with the formidable, yet gentle, Subah Doisson. It also knew the revelation sharpened the need for some serious thinking about its future on the station. A future it needed to contemplate alone. Heron waited until Subah was away at work before slipping away. It was time for the monthly cleaning and recalibration cycle, so it knew she would be busy for the entire shift. This was good because what Heron had to think about was likely to take more than a couple of hours and it didn‘t want her coming back to empty quarters. It wasn‘t due back at work for three more days and, by now, Heron could walk almost normally and take deep breaths without feeling that something was puncturing its torso. The bruises on its face had lightened to a yellow-orange and the flesh felt tender but no longer tight or swollen. It was midnight, which also meant there was only a skeleton staff working the station. Heron liked that. This was the first time it had ventured out of Subah‘s quarters since it had been discharged from the infirmary and it wasn‘t keen to subject itself to the curious—or hostile—stares of the orbital‘s other inhabitants. Heron headed for the one place it considered its private sanctuary; the access well in the Life Support section where it had first started work on the station. It was light, airy, and the six radiating tunnels from the shaft meant that Heron would have advance notice of anyone approaching it. Not that it was paranoid, it thought with an uplift of its eyebrows. As it expected, the well was deserted, and Heron sat on the lower lip of one of the intersecting tunnels, looking down at its boots as it freed the warring thoughts that whirled through its head. I have to get out of here. Surely the attack on it had ruined any chance of finding a normal life on the Castor Xeni Orbital? Why should it even try staying to fight the kind of prejudice that had dogged it all of its adult life?

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It was Heron ―fuck ‗em and leave ‗em‖ Meed, proud of its freewheeling reputation when it was with the Republic Space Fleet. Its personal philosophy had never done it wrong. In fact, the only time Heron courted disaster was when the hermaphrodite had allowed its ethics to override its general sense of emotional aloofness. It wasn‘t going to let the same thing happen again. However, the major obstacle to moving was that it hadn‘t even finished six months of its five-year probation period. Leaving the orbital meant Heron would have to move to another extraplanetary facility and it had already painstakingly been through the meagre list once already, while it was still in the e‘Bultar Detention Centre. Besides, a move was no guarantee that it could escape the stigma of what happened here. It remembered K‘liven‘s look in the infirmary. Despite its injuries, the chief was still suspicious of it; Heron saw it in his eyes. Even if it managed to find somewhere else willing to accept it, K‘liven‘s security report—no doubt with juicy suppositions—would continue to dog its heels, and make its relocation look like an act of implicit guilt. That‘s why it liked planets. Planet populations were measured in millions, not handfuls of thousands. A being could lose itself on a planet and live out the rest of its life in contented obscurity. But on a place like the Castor Xeni Orbital, news travelled like lightningfast manacles, breeding mistrust and suspicion in seconds. How long would it take to finally clear its name? And was such a move even worth it? And what about Subah? What would happen to her if Heron pulled its usual trick and shot off into the blackness of space? Subah had already been tainted by association; tainted by her sense of fair play and her generous nature. Could Heron stand to face the thought of her suffering for nothing more than a sense of empathy and compassion, while it took the easy way out? What kind of reward would that be, spurning the one person who had made life on the station bearable? No, Heron had to stay. And do what? A series of increasingly impractical ideas presented themselves and were quickly discarded. Kidnap Subah and commandeer one of the ships scheduled for upgrade; present Subah with two concrete offers of relocation and get the hell out; head back to Morhea; hijack the next transport and head for the nearest densely-populated planet.

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No. Its sense of frustration was creating ridiculous scenarios. What was next? Hunting down a small population of shapeshifters and claiming asylum? A metal clang brought Heron‘s head up sharply. ―Who‘s there?‖ it called, getting to its feet, desperately hoping it wasn‘t the same bunch of thugs coming to finish off the job. ―It‘s okay,‖ a voice called out. ―Oof! It‘s me. Inras.‖ Heron relaxed and offered the engineer a hand as his head emerged from one of the tunnels. ―Welcome to my lair, Inras.‖ The man straightened his spine, and stretched his neck back. ―These tunnels are too small for a guy my size. Give me the underside of a fusion reactor anytime.‖ He looked around. ―You like this place?‖ Heron shrugged. ―It‘s quiet.‖ ―Yeah, it is. Isn‘t it?‖ The words themselves were innocuous, but they weren‘t what started the alarm bells ringing in Heron‘s head as its gaze flashed to the engineer‘s face. It was the hint of a sneer in its voice, the feral gleam in its eye and, in a flash, Heron knew that it was face to face with the station‘s saboteur...and well and truly stuck in one of the Life Support manifolds. Heron‘s place of meditation had just turned into a deadly cul-de-sac. ―I like coming here,‖ Heron continued, keeping its tone light. ―Gives me space to think.‖ What the hell had it ever done to Idis? Why was the man looking at it like that? ―I think a lot too,‖ Inras replied as he gazed down heavily on the hermaphrodite. And, for whatever reason, Heron knew that expression well enough to know Inras wasn‘t going to let him leave the well alive. It couldn‘t run. Inras Idis would catch its scrabbling form in seconds with those long, muscular arms. And there was nobody around to hear its screams for help, if it could get one out. Heron swallowed...and charged the larger man, knowing it had no other choice. Inras‘ breath whooshed out of his lungs as he was slammed up against the shaft‘s circular metal wall.

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It should have been an unequal battle—Heron had learnt self-defence techniques against a range of species in the course of its Fleet training—but it was still hurting from its previous fight, the environment was constricting, and Idis had a definite edge over Heron in terms of height and reach. The engineer recovered quickly and loosed a power-driven punch to Heron‘s midriff, and it was the hermaphrodite‘s turn to collapse against the wall. ―What‘s the matter, hermy? Out of condition from fucking Doisson too much?‖ ―Why did you do it?‖ it gasped, trying to gamble for more time. It dodged a slow left cross, sidestepping, but there wasn‘t enough room to properly sidestep to. ―The station?‖ Inras grinned. ―Let‘s just say I have business associates who‘d appreciate less competition.‖ He feinted right then caught Heron in a headlock. ―The plan‘s blown now, but we‘ll think of something else.‖ The grip of his arm tightened against Heron‘s throat, cutting off air. ―Then...why...kill...‖ If Inras‘ plan had failed, what was the use in killing it instead of escaping? ―Why would I want to kill you?‖ Inras caught the side of Heron‘s captive jaw with his hand and spun the hermaphrodite to the floor, where it collapsed into heap. ―That‘s just for fun.‖ It was too much. Maybe if it was in better condition, in a bigger space, it might have had a fighting chance. But trapped in the Life Support tunnels, it knew it was about to have the life beaten out of it. Heron opened bleary eyes, calculating its diminishing options. The choices seemed to be either fighting back, and getting killed, or lying in one place, and getting killed. And kill him Inras would. What his problem was, Heron didn‘t know. Maybe the man was mentally unhinged, with contrasting personalities playing for dominance in the one body. Maybe his overtures of friendliness were part of some complex game that would have eventually led to its death, regardless. Maybe it was enough just to look different. Whichever supposition was correct, even Heron‘s concussed brain recognised that there was something irrational about how the burly engineer thought. His decision to track down and kill Heron rather than using the time to escape was proof of that.

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Heron watched helplessly as Inras stepped forward and leaned down. Its head lolled to one side, despite its best efforts to keep it straight. It wouldn‘t be much longer now... Oh Subah, I love you. There was sweat in its eyes—I didn’t want to die like this—shrill ringing in its ears, followed by a dull thudding. Thudding? And the strange thing was, it wasn‘t just a symptom of its injuries, because Idis seemed to hear it as well. He stopped, Heron‘s collar clutched in his hand, fist poised for another blow, before suddenly dropping it and diving for a tunnel. Heron‘s head hit the non-slip floor—it saw jagged flashes of light before its eyes— then, in one final jerk of strength, it levered itself up on one arm and launched itself at Inras‘ retreating form, catching the cuff of his trousers and holding onto it with desperate clutching fingers long enough for the small cadre of security guards to finally arrive and take him into custody. ―You know I don‘t like to do this, Acqui.‖ Unlike its last visit to the infirmary, both it and the security chief were ensconced in a small private room. Doctor Vin E‘s voice was soft with reproof, even as she injected Heron with another dose of painkiller and cognitive stimulant. ―It‘s for a good cause, Kiz.‖ Heron‘s head felt like it was a balloon, floating in the air on the end of a long string. It didn‘t know whether it was lying on a bunk, or sitting in a chair. There was little pain, and so little awareness of its own body that it wanted to smile. It thought of Subah bursting in, willing to rip someone to shreds all over again because of this newest assault on its person, and wanted to smile some more—all in the face of K‘liven‘s usual, grim expression. The doctor left after delivering the shot and quietly shut the door behind her. From the looks of things—the schematics on the wall, the number of book-sticks lying around— they were in her office. ―I‘m sure you want some answers.‖ Answers. Yes, definitely some of those. Heron closed its eyes and concentrated, trying to pull itself together. It had to focus. The tone of K‘liven‘s voice told it that he wouldn‘t be so forthcoming in the future.

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―You knew.‖ ―I knew Idis was the saboteur. What I didn‘t know was how stupid you were going to be to go hide yourself in one of the most inaccessible spots on the orbital.‖ ―How long?‖ If it kept its queries short, it found it could concentrate more on the answers. ―I knew it was him before you came on the station.‖ ―Before?‖ Despite the woolly feeling from the analgesics, Heron knew it hadn‘t mistaken the suspicion on K‘liven‘s face, both before and after the attack on it. ―But you still didn‘t trust me.‖ ―No.‖ The word was pulled out of the heavy-worlder like a tooth from a jaw. ―I didn‘t trust you. Not because you‘re an hermaphrodite,‖ he added slowly. ―I‘ve seen all types in my career. As far as I‘m concerned, it doesn‘t matter who—or what—you are, as long as you do your job.‖ ―Then...why?‖ ―Because I had an inkling you might have been Idis‘ partner.‖ ―Sexually?‖ ―Sexually, psychologically, it didn‘t matter.‖ Heron frowned. ―But you must have known about Subah?‖ It doubted any movement on the station missed those intense, heavy-lidded eyes. The cognitive stimulant part of the shot was kicking in, making Heron‘s thoughts more lucid. Of course K‘liven knew. There wasn‘t anything on the station he didn’t know. ―I thought she was a decoy at first. A dalliance to put me off the track.‖ ―When did you change your mind?‖ K‘liven hesitated and a smile stretched his lips. ―Tonight.‖ ―You,‖ Heron needed to get this straight, ―you thought I was guilty until you found Inras trying to kill me?‖ ―Something like that.‖ Heron collapsed against the chair‘s back. It had thought it was reckless—ruthless with its casual fucks and the disdain with which it treated most people—but all that paled into insignificance beside Acqui K‘liven‘s single-mindedness. The man was willing to destroy a

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woman‘s ego, let an innocent almost get killed, in his own quest for justice...and a perfect record as security chief on the station. Heron shivered. ―You don‘t have to like what I did,‖ K‘liven said. ―But it‘s my job.‖ Heron almost thought it had heard enough, but there were still important, unanswered questions. ―Why did you think I was Inras‘ partner?‖ ―Do you know where he spent two years?‖ Heron shook its head, but thought it already knew the answer. ―The e‘Bultar Detention Centre. He was released five years ago. It was enough for a one-year overlap between the two of you. So, when I read your record and found out that‘s where you came from as well...‖ he shrugged. ―That, plus the fact that he became friends with you faster than anybody else. Except,‖ he cleared his throat, ―Subah, of course.‖ ―How did you know where to find me? In Life Support?‖ ―I instructed Doctor Vin E to put a nano-tracer and audio-receiver just under your skin.‖ Heron looked down at itself, alarmed. ―It‘s by your ribs. I‘ll have them removed, of course.‖ ―So what now?‖ Heron demanded after a long pause, and felt a slow burn begin in its chest. ―Do you trust me now?‖ It felt bitter, used. ―You played a valuable role, Heron Meed,‖ K‘liven answered. ―You helped complete the case on Idis. I don‘t forget things like that. I also don‘t like owing favours. So how about I pay you one and we can call it quits.‖ Heron narrowed its eyes. ―I don‘t understand.‖ ―I‘ve been a security chief for a long time. Long enough to build up a fair amount of influence. If you like, I can give you a letter of recommendation repealing the rest of your probation. You‘ll be able to book passage planetside tomorrow if that‘s your wish.‖ A planet? Could it be true? To breathe in nature-laden, microorganism-rich planetary air, rather than the endlessly flat and recycled atmosphere on the orbital? To dig into the ground beneath one‘s feet and get dirt on its hands? To— Heron stopped its fantasising with a lurch. ―What about Subah?‖

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―That‘s up to her to decide. I wouldn‘t like the station to lose such a capable engineer, but I‘m sure we can live with it.‖ Oh yes, Heron could see how he already had everything tied up neatly in his mind. Get rid of the hermy, get rid of the sex-starved engineer, jail the saboteur, write the report, then sit back and enjoy the peace. That‘s not to say, Heron thought as it trudged home almost an hour later, that the idea wasn‘t attractive. It thought of Subah, of sitting somewhere and watching the sun rise; or, even better, lying somewhere and not watching the sun at all. It thought of its growing love for her and how it would feel to leave her. No, wherever it went, Subah had to follow. She was already in their quarters when it entered, her sharp eyes noting the new contusions on its face and the reemergent hesitation in its walk. ―What—― It stilled the question on her lips with a finger, then led her to an armchair, sitting itself opposite. ―They found the saboteur,‖ it told her. ―It was one of the refit engineers, Inras Idis.‖ ―How did they find out?‖ ―I was the unwitting bait.‖ Anger filled Subah‘s face. ―You? If they allowed you to walk into danger again, I‘ll have Acqui‘s head...‖ ―There‘s a pay-off,‖ Heron interrupted. It would explain the full sequence of events to her later. Right now, it kept silent until it had her attention. ―I can leave.‖ ―Leave?‖ she frowned. ―What do you mean?‖ ―As a thank you for flushing Inras out, and completing the case against him, Acqui K‘liven says he‘ll void the rest of my probation period. According to him, I can leave tomorrow.‖ She tried to look happy but Heron could see the effort it was costing her. Her eyes were bright and moist, her smile faltering, and Heron felt like a completely heartless bastard. ―I don‘t have to go alone,‖ it suggested. Subah shook her head, using the movement as a pretext for rubbing errant tears from her eyes. ―No. I knew this day would come. I just didn‘t think...‖

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―You knew this day would come?‖ Heron repeated, intrigued and more than a little dismayed. Was all the emotion on its side, then? The ultimate casual lover finally caught in a trap of unrequited love? How ironic, to be released from one prison only to find oneself firmly ensconced in another. Subah took a deep breath and met its eyes squarely. ―Of course I knew it couldn‘t last, Heron. I mean, how could it? You and me are complete opposites. It‘s just—― ―Why did you seduce me that night, Subah Doisson?‖ Heron asked suddenly. It was vitally important that she answered the question, for its own sanity, if nothing else. ―Why?‖ Her lips were trembling. ―Because I wanted adventure, I wanted to break out of that mould of dependable Subah Doisson.‖ ―And what did you find? Did you find adventure?‖ Its voice was soft. She laughed. ―Oh, Heron, if only you could have seen yourself when we first met. So angry, so cocky. It was part of why I was attracted to you in the first place.‖ Heron took her hand and held it. ―And now? Am I still angry and...cocky?‖ ―I think you‘ll always be assertive.‖ She tilted her head to one side. ―I will always love that about you.‖ Heron‘s breath caught in his throat at the mention of the word. ―How much, Subah Doisson?‖ ―How much, what?‖ ―How much do you love me? Enough to leave with me? Find new adventures with me? How long will it take you to pack?‖ There was a mischievous glint in its eye. Reluctantly, she withdrew her hand. ―Heron, I don‘t know. This is such a big decision. I can‘t give you answers to such questions now.‖ Heron swallowed its disappointment before another option occurred to it. Ever since it started living on the station, it had been confronted by the same question over and over again. What now? And it came down to this again, deciding what was more important, which route its life would take—get off the metal-plated station...or Subah? It licked its lips and smiled tentatively. ―Let‘s not make it a big decision, then. Let‘s start with one or two little ones.‖ ―Such as?‖

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It could see Subah was prepared to be swayed by the hopeful expression on her face, and pressed its advantage. ―Such as the fact that I love you too.‖ It recaptured her hand and kissed each of her fingertips. ―I love your body, your mind, your feelings, your energy, your enthusiasm...I want to visit the galaxy with you, explore every one of my own fantasies with you, run through my whole cache of toys with you, and then start all over again. Subah, my darling Subah, there is so much I want to do with you, to you, on every planet in Republic space. But, for now, how about we just decide to love each other. The rest can wait. Until tomorrow at least.‖ Heron smiled a wicked smile. ―Would that please you?‖ This time the tears ran unchecked down Subah‘s cheeks and she squeezed his hand...hard. ―I wanted, how I‘ve wanted to hear you say that, you wretch,‖ she choked, exasperation threading through her tears. Her eyes glittered with deep emotion. ―And you‘d better heal quick, because there are a lot more things I want to try out with you. And as soon as possible. I‘ll wear you out before I let you slip so easily through my fingers.‖ They kissed gingerly and tenderly, with an unspoken understanding of more. One step at a time. Yes, the more Heron thought on it, the more it liked that idea. It was a good strategy to take with Subah...and it was a good strategy to take with its restarted life. And, besides, that gave it more time to annoy the hell out of Acqui K‘liven. Heron was sure nothing would get under the security chief‘s skin more than an unpaid favour. And it was determined to remind the man of that favour at every available opportunity.

About the Author I am a child of the global South. In the past, I have run my own IT consultancy business, bookshop, gym, swimming pool business and martial arts school. So far in my life, I have been a corporate trainer, lecturer, satirist, martial arts instructor, project manager, political essayist, small business owner and am now proud to call myself a fiction writer. Although I love romance, I have to admit my first love is science-fiction and the opportunity to combine both genres was irresistible! I do hope you enjoy reading my stories. Together with my husband, we have lived and worked in Europe, Asia, Australia and North America. We adore our two children and tolerate as necessary evils our two grumpy, fur-shedding cats. Email: [email protected] KS Augustin loves to hear from readers. You can find her contact information, website and author biography at http://www.totalebound.com.

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