Shalia's Diary (12 page)

As I walked them the three steps to the door, I dared to take Dusa’s hand.  “Please don’t blame yourself for what happened to that woman.  It could be you’ll have to see this happen again and again, and I’m afraid it will affect you emotionally.”

He grimaced.  “I hope not, Shalia.  It hurts to know there might be nothing I can do to stop Mataras from hurting themselves.”  He found a hint of a smile for me and squeezed my hand.  “Thank you for being concerned about me.  It helps.”

He shot a glance at Mom, and I turned to see why.  She was deep in her own little world, not paying the slightest attention to us.  When I looked back at Dusa, his face was right there.  I had an instant to register his breath on my lips before his mouth found mine.

The kiss was barely half a second in duration, just a quick brush, really.  Yet heat zapped through me at that sweet instant of contact.  I forgot how to breathe.

“Good night, Shalia,” Dusa whispered.  With a slight smile, Esak bowed to me and followed his Dramok out into the night.

It’s crazy, it really is.  But my lips are still tingling from that kiss, as innocent as it was.  I’m a ticklish, aching mess inside.  How I’m supposed to get to sleep now is beyond me.

September 14

Fuck.  Fuckfuckfuckfuck.

I should have known better.  I did know better.  And yet, I was completely stupid anyway.

FUCK!!!!!!!!!

I am so mad I can’t see straight.  And scared.  And depressed.  Bitches.  Those fucking bitches.

Obviously I’m enjoying just another day in paradise.  I was working on the presentation for Nang when Imdiko Weln brought Mom back to the room.  She was crying – no, more than crying she was sobbing her heart out, and he couldn’t calm her down.  The instant she walked in, she shot across the room to me and collapsed to her knees in front of my chair.  Wrapping her arms around my legs, she pressed her face against my thighs and shook with despair.

“What the hell happened to her?” I demanded.  I wished I could stand up to confront Weln, but Mom had me pretty much pinned down.  I stroked her hair, which someone had carefully braided for her.  It looked pretty.  They’d even woven a couple of yellow ribbons, her favorite color, into the plait.

“Matara Shalia, I’m sorry.  None of us can get her to stop crying, so I brought her back here.”  Weln looked devastated.

“What happened?” I pressed.

He hunched his shoulders.  His gaze dropped to the floor and he refused to look me in the eyes.  “You know the women she usually eats lunch with?  Mataras Deirdre, Patty, and Fran?”

“Yes.”  I had a bad feeling, remembering the blatant snub the night before.  The Pageant Trio had made it plain they weren’t my biggest fans.  I was also shocked to know it was already past noon.  I’d missed lunch myself.  Whatever had gone down, I should have been there to head it off.

Weln swallowed hard.  It was obvious he was having trouble sharing whatever he needed to say.  I guess he thought I wouldn’t like it.

However, I do like Weln.  He treats Mom like a queen, even though she’s given him hell on occasion.  I told him, “I won’t get mad at you.  Please tell me what happened.”

He blew out a big breath.  “She went to sit with them, like always.  I kept my distance, since they’ve made it clear they don’t like Kalquorians much.  I didn’t hear what it was they said to Matara Eve, but she suddenly started to cry.  I went to her immediately, Matara Shalia.  I wanted to see if I could help her.”

“Of course you did.  Then what?”

“As I came close, I heard Matara Patty say, ‘Everyone knows what a traitor your daughter is.  She’s a hellbound slut, consorting with the enemy.  How many of them has she opened her legs for?’”  Weln cringed as he spoke the ugly words.  He looked ashamed for having repeated them.

My veins turned to ice in that instance.  Mom moaned against my leg.  I couldn’t say a word.

“I got her out as fast as possible, Matara.  Eve kept asking for you.  She wanted to know that you were all right and no one had hurt you because of the accusations.”  He finally looked up and locked eyes with me.  “I am so sorry I didn’t get her away from them sooner.”

“That’s okay, Weln.  You did your best.”  My voice seemed to come from far away.

The other Earthers now knew I was friendly with the Kalquorians.  As I’d feared, they had immediately supposed the worst.  They’d tried and convicted me without asking a single question.  No doubt they wanted to pass sentence as well.

How long do I have until someone knocks on the door with a blaster or knife in their hand?  How long before they put a noose around my throat and hang me from a tree with a sign that reads
Whore
nailed into my chest?

The worst part was that those bitches made Mom cry.  She was scared for me.  I am scared for her, since with her dementia, she is so much more vulnerable than I am.  If she got hurt because I’d kissed Dusa or because I was working with Nang ... to make things better for their sorry pageant bitch asses, no less! ... I’d never forgive myself.

Mom kept crying no matter how we tried to calm her down.  We finally called her specialist Dr. Ginna to ask for help.  Minutes later Dr. Nayun himself was at my door.  I was so relieved to see my big teddy bear of a Kalquorian dad.  He gave Mom a sedative and we put her to bed.  She should sleep the rest of the day, so Weln reluctantly went back to his other duties.

Nayun sat down at the table with me to talk.  He was both disgusted and upset to hear what had transpired.  “We keep seeing this,” he told me.  “The least little bit of kindness passes between Kalquorian and Earther, and the majority of your people turn against that person.”

“Has anyone else been hurt over such things?” I asked.

He patted my hand.  “No, Shalia.  Simply ostracized, though that is bad enough.”  His eyes narrowed.  “Have you heard anything that would make you in fear for your life?”

I shook my head.  I was a little relieved to hear that friends of Kalquorians are only ignored, not attacked.  Still, I realize I have put Mom in a bad situation.  Her mental state is such that she doesn’t need to hear how awful her daughter is.  I never again want to see her come running to me, bawling like that.

I have made a big decision.  It hurts me to do what I must, but I can’t be selfish.  I have a responsibility to my mother.  Her welfare is ultimately my burden, so I will bear it.  And once I stop crying, I will take it up.

September 14, later

Let me start off by saying what an unmitigated asshole I think Dramok Nang is.  If anyone needs to listen to a presentation on how to treat Earther women, it’s that guy.  Too bad for all concerned that I’m not going to do it now.

I went to where he has his office, in the old Academy director’s office in the administration building.  I was ushered right in though I’d given no forewarning of my visit.  Seems I had some importance to the Kalquorian uppity-up, which made me think speaking to Nang would go okay.

He welcomed me in and shut the door so we could have a private word.  I guess he doesn’t have to adhere to the same rules about a single Kalquorian being alone with an Earther woman.  At the time, I was relieved.  With what’s happened, the fewer people knowing when I speak to the aliens, the better.

I didn’t waste any time.  “I have to back out of the presentation,” I announced baldly, not even bothering to sit in the chair he offered me.

Nang didn’t look surprised.  “Is it because of what happened with your mother at midday meal?” he asked.

It was a little creepy that he already knew what had happened.  It made me wonder if he was keeping tabs on me.  Surely a bawling elderly woman being picked on by three bitches wasn’t important enough to warrant the site commander’s personal attention.  He’s got what, about five hundred men and nearly a thousand Earthers to worry about? 

But what do I know?  I have no idea how hands-on Kalquorian bigwigs are.

“I can’t put my mother at risk,” I told him.  “She’s my priority, not relations between our people.  I have to cut off contact as much as possible with Kalquorians for her sake.”

“I can protect you,” Nang told me, moving to stand close.  “No one will harm you or your mother.  I’ll assign guards to you both.  You will be kept quite safe, Shalia.”

He wasn’t getting it.  It wasn’t just physical danger I was worried about.  “My mother is crying over this, Commander Nang.  They had to sedate her because we couldn’t calm her down.  I am not doing anything else to make her feel fear.”  My voice trembled, and I thought of how Mom had rushed to me, so relieved to see me safe but terrified I wouldn’t remain that way. 

We’ve had bad patches.  There was even one horrific episode back when I was a teenager when Mom pulled a kitchen knife on me during a particularly ugly argument.  But if anyone else ever threatened me and she found out about it, Mom had always been right there, ready to defend me.  Had she known about Mike or the others who abused me, she would have cut their balls off and shoved them down my tormentors’ throats.

No one messes with Shalia Monroe except Eve Monroe.  You fuck with me, you’re fucking with my mom and nobody fucks with my mom.  I’ve always known how much she loves me despite the rages, and it’s what has enabled me to  forgive the rest.  It was why thinking of her terror on my behalf had me crying suddenly, right in front of Nang.

Yeah, she was hell on wheels before the dementia stole her away.  And I miss her.  I really, really miss her.

I put my hands over my face, sobbing like some weak sister.  The next moment big strong arms gathered me, pulling me against a big strong chest.  Nang stroked my hair and back, whispering softly in his own language.

I swear I don’t know how it ended up with us kissing.  That’s suddenly how I found myself, held in those huge, muscled arms with Nang’s mouth covering mine, his tongue stroking gently, sweetly.  I clung to him, feeling somehow safe and protected even as he held me for his kiss.

It was different from being kissed by Dusa.  Sure, my rescuer had been passionate, his embrace solid and strong.  But Nang kissed with such assurance.  It wasn’t just that he knew what he was doing; there was also this sense that it was his right to do it.  Something in me responded to that, some primitive unthinking creature that I’d gotten only a hint of when I was with Dusa.

My hands ran over the sculpted chest, down to Nang’s waist, around his back to trace all the fascinating hills and hollows that were there beneath that formsuit.  One of his hands slid down to my ass, cupping it and drawing me up so that I could feel him hard and ready.  The other hand slid to my front to caress a breast.  I gasped not so much because he touched me like that but because it felt so good. 

I never liked being touched by Mike or his predecessors.  Never.  It made me feel small and hurt and dirty.  But first Dusa and now Nang ... it was like dozens of fires were being lit inside my body.  All those little flames were working towards each other, trying to become an inferno. 

The strangest part is that instead of feeling like filth at the clandestine fondling, Nang made me feel like I was being ... oh what’s the right word?  Adored?  Worshipped?

That’s it.  Instead of being mere meat for his desires, it was like he venerated me.  As if he thought touching me was touching paradise.  Not that I think I’m a goddess or anything like that, but there was just this crazy feeling of reverence as Nang explored my body.

Between kisses when he looked into my face, I saw a fierce devotion.  It made no sense; after all, we’d only met once before.  There was also another expression, one I knew too well.  Lust.  Need.  But when paired with the more reverent look, it didn’t disgust me.  It just made me softer to his touch.  Heaven help me, I liked it.  I liked being looked at that way.

I didn’t protest when he laid me down on the desk.  I shook when he pushed my shirt and bra up over my breasts, exposing them.  Not with fear, but with a need I hadn’t experienced before.  When Nang’s mouth closed on one, sucking the mound into his hot, wet mouth, I arched and cried out.  An incredible rush of sensation barreled from there to my lower parts.  His tongue stroked my nipple, the roughness of it sending a strange ache that was all pleasure rioting through my senses.  Jesus, Mohammed, and Moses, if there really is a heaven it’s in Commander Nang’s mouth.  Strike me down for my blasphemy, but it’s the truth.