Twins For The Alien Warrior

Chapter 1

 Sonya

Smoke drifts up lazily from the end of my dopamine stick, lending its haze to the flickering light hanging over the Big Chance Casino’s decidedly unglamorous rear exit. Up front it’s all glitz and bright lights, but back here…plain gray stone and a crumbling façade.

It strikes me as a metaphor for my life and career. Up front, it’s all glitz and bright lights. But peek behind the curtain and you’ll see things are rotten. 

I peer up at the green and white orb dominating the night sky. Lykar 5, the largest planet in the Lkyar system, and an uninhabitable gas giant.

One of its twelve moons is habitable, though. Kylax, where I have made my home for the past six months. Unfortunately.

When I took Orbahn’s deal, I was assured I would be the headliner at his brand new casino. Only he didn’t tell me the whole story. He never said it would be a rinky dink casino on a next to forgotten frontier moon.

He also didn’t tell me I’d be working for Calfan. That would have been a deal breaker had I known what I’d be in for. I know Calfan pays tribute to the Nine and Orbahn in particular just to run the casino. Technically Orbahn owns my contract, not Calfan.

But just try telling that to my boss. He seems to think that because I sing on his stage he has some sort of claim to me. No matter how many times I correct him in ways both subtle and overt.

I never should have left Glimner to come here.

The rear door opens, and I glance over with casual disinterest. A short, green scaled sapient with a cheap, bad fitting suit and three eyes appears. All three of the eyes narrow when they see me.

“What the hell are you doing out here?” he sputters, flecks of spittle flying out toward me. “It’s almost showtime, and the house is packed! You’re standing here in a bathrobe with no makeup.”

I sigh and crush out my stick.

“I was just grabbing a smoke before showtime, Calfan. Chill the fuck out.”

“But the customers are expecting a show, and at this rate you’re going to keep them waiting.”

“Then let them wait,” I say with a shrug. “I hear it’s good for the soul.”

His face twists up into a grimace.

“You’re lucky that you have such a smoking hot body, Sonya. Otherwise, I’d—”

“You’d what?” I turn fully on him and loom over his four foot ten inch ass. In heels I’m like a giant compared to him. “What would you do, Calfan? You don’t own my contract.”

“That’s right, Orbahn does, and he lent you out to me.”

“As a stage act,” I snarl. “And you won't do shit to me. You wouldn’t dream of harming Orbahn’s property.”

His face turns a darker green, and his third eye rolls back into his head.

“Don’t get all pissy,” I say with a sigh, rolling my eyes to the moon…that is, to the planet. We’re on the moon. “And stop using your x-ray vision to peer through my dress. Trust me, nothing’s changed since the last time you peeped on me.”

His eye returns to normal and he heads back into the casino.

“Hurry up,” he snaps, then closes the door to guarantee he gets in the last word. Calfan is the type of man who worries about that.

I stare up at the night sky and try to figure out why I’m feeling so melancholy tonight. I’m not the kind of woman who’s given to questioning her existence or waxing philosophical. So why am I feeling this way?

I think about my life on Kylax. I think about my tiny apartment where the water is shut off for ‘repairs’ at least three days out of the week. I think about how my boss is just a sniveling little pissant who thinks he’s a lot smarter than he actually is, and uses punitive measures at the drop of a hat to ensure loyalty. But most of all, I think about how unless I’m on stage, my life feels really…empty.

“Shit,” I say as I turn toward the rear door. “I guess I’m just lonely. Never thought that would happen.”

When I re-enter the casino, the smell of roasted Yinnot reaches my nostrils. I know Calfan got a deal on the meat, but I can tell it’s past its prime just by the smell. No matter how many spices you put into it, stale food still doesn’t taste as good as fresh food.

I hate the frontier.

I head through the back of house to what laughingly passes for my dressing room. It’s blatantly a bathroom that’s been refurbished. You can still see the outlines of the urinals on the wall, for crying out loud.

I’ve added some touches to make it feel homier. For instance, the velvet curtain whose crimson sheen hides most of the bathroom tile on the rear wall. Not to mention the sofa, where I’ve been known to nap for hours on end.

The mirror and vanity were provided by Calfan. I can tell it’s stolen merch because the EIDs have been soldered off. I sit down on the hard backed chair and stare into the mirror. The reflection that looks back at me seems both bored and unhappy. That will never do. Calfan might be a jerk, but the people who come to my shows deserve to see what they paid for.

I open up my cosmetics box and doll up my face nice and pretty. The stage lights are pretty unforgiving, so between the foundation and eyelash extenders and everything else it takes a while. I’m at least half an hour past showtime when I finally look at a red lipped, smoky eyed chartreuse. There she is. There’s ‘stage’ Sonya.

I slip on a black evening gown with sparkling sequins. The form hugging dress features a slit up to my left hip and a neckline that, while not exactly plunging, certainly makes no secret of my bosom.

My hair gives me the hardest time of all. I wish Calfan would spring for a hairdresser. I manage to tease it into wavy curls, which shimmer in the light. Okay, good enough, time to hit the stage.

I head out from my dressing room and hear piano music playing. I think it’s Orpheus in the underworld. The house pianist, Drolo, is pounding the ivories with gusto. It’s hardly the first time he’s had to improvise a performance because I was running late.

“You’re late.”

I turn to see a small, furry sapient with a long proboscis and a glittery bowtie standing just off stage.

“Yeah, what else is new. Introduce, will you, Jordo?”

“Of course. It’s my job. But it’s nice of you to ask.”

I always try to be polite to the staff. You never know when you might need them to fend off the advances of an amorous, drunk Odex.

He trots down the steps and goes out onto the lobby floor. The place really is packed tonight. Peering through the glittered curtains, I can see a number of different species sitting at the tables, lounging at the bar, and even standing in the back waiting for my show to start. Standing room only. If a fire breaks out when it’s this crowded we’re all doomed, but Calfan doesn’t care about that sort of thing. He’s not a man who worries about consequences.

Jordo gets up in his raised emcee platform and taps the earpiece on the side of his head, activating it.

“Sapients and sinners, please welcome to our stage tonight’s entertainment.”

The lights dim, and I suck down a gold schlager for my voice. The spiced liquor sends a pleasant burn down my throat as Jordo continues.

“Big Chance Casino proudly presents the Smokeshow, the Golden Throated Maiden of the Stars, the Terrific Terran—Sonya Glaaaaaaive!”

I wish he hadn’t called me golden throated. It creates the wrong sort of expectation with this rough crowd. But an intro is an intro. I lift the mic to my mouth and start singing while still off stage.

Deep Blue might not be heard much outside of Earth territories, but the crowd here seems to like it. They fall into a hush as I step onto the stage. Even the rowdier of them stop their carousing to stare, enthralled.

I can’t help feeling a rush of power as I realize I’ve got them all captivated. A little pop of my hip, making my bare leg thrust out of the dress, is greeted with applause and a few whistles. I smile to show I appreciate it—I’m fine with being appreciated at a distance by these fellows—and go into the next stanza.

Who knows, maybe I’ll find someone in the crowd who can cure my loneliness…for one night only, of course. I’m not looking for anything long term, and I sure as hell don’t want to settle down.

I have enough men telling me what to do as it is.