Chapter 3

 

When the guy just continued to look at their bumped knuckles, Amy let her maimed hand drop self-consciously. She hadn’t meant to imply anything about his dark purple skin color… “I guess we should start with what’s your name?”

“Luc,” he said after a moment. “If you see the footage from the Great Space Race, you may hear me referred to as Luc Amaveo, of the Flamewalker clan.” His gaze shifted shiftily away from her. “It’s just a name.”

She smiled. He definitely reminded her of some of the kids in her old classes: a little hesitant, a little geeky, wishfully hoping to fit in. But…hot. No wonder he’d gotten involved in this cosplay stuff. “Well, my ‘just a name’ is Amy, of the Long clan, I guess.” She shook her head. “I think it’s crazy that you knock people out to bring them here, but…I guess it’s not that much crazier than making them live on a desert island or whatever, naked and afraid.”

“I don’t want you to be afraid.” His voice was low, sincere, but the word he didn’t repeat—naked—hung unsaid in the air between them.

Hidden in her slightly too large costume, her whole body flushed with the memory of crouching in front of him sans clothing. Maybe it wasn’t that big a deal, considering he was apparently gay, but it sure was an awkward way to start their teamwork. Was that part going to be aired in the show footage? Ugh, hopefully not. She was still carrying part of that extra freshman fifteen around her thighs even though she’d dropped out. Seemed like to be fair, she should get to see him naked.

It was kind of embarrassing to realize she’d sell her dignity for riches, but considering her parents had abandoned their home and history just for the hinted promise of more opportunities, maybe it wasn’t that much of a stretch. No point being fussy now.

“Amy,” he said slowly, drawing it out to almost three syllables—aye-em-ee—in a way that sounded more exotic than her birth name had to her early schoolmates. “Would you like to see the footage so far?” He glanced away from her. “It’s just…a game, as you say, but studying it might help you play the part.”

She gulped. Studying… Bleh. “I love to study,” she lied. Studying was all she’d ever done, layers of obligation and hard work as thick as scars.

It was the closest she could get to dreaming.

He set her up at a computer station that didn’t look like any PC or Mac she’d ever used. The controls were all voice activated and touch sensitive. With such cutting-edge technology, no wonder this show could afford riches for the winners. While Luc settled at the other screen, she scrolled through the interactive video offerings, more impressed—and more alarmed—with each clip.

The premise was insane and the production values were out of this world. It was one thing to have a hot tub that fit twenty in the back of a stretch limo; it was something else entirely to have pretend spaceships for every single team. And the costumes and prosthetics were amazing. She was grateful for her own simple leather costume. Some of these contestants must be spending hours in the makeup chair. Although if the prizes were anywhere near what Luc implied, no wonder everyone was willing to play their parts. She frowned to herself as she watched a clip talking about the schematics of the race ships, although they seemed different from this ship, the Blissed. But man, they put a lot of effort into this game. She needed to get an actual dollar figure from Luc.

The video clips had quick, clever biographies of the other teams, and Amy watched a few, intrigued by their “competition”. She fast-forwarded through a few more until her gaze snagged on an image of Luc, shot from a low angle in bright sunlight so his impressive stature and dark skin shone against a hazy skyline. The video cut to an image of giant birds—no, dragons, racing across the same sky.

Dragons! With a little gasp, she used her fingertip to rewind and play at regular speed.

The voiceover explained in juicy tones, “Draklings are known for their prowess in battle…and in bed.” The announcer chortled. “But there will be little time for pleasure, not with the astronomical adversity and trans-dimensional dangers of finding the Firestorm Queen’s Prism.” A melodramatic dum-duh-braaaaaam! sound effect accompanied more footage that showed Luc frowning at something on a screen. “Luc Amaveo of the Flamewalker clan was overheard at an accounting conference on trends in transgalactic investing discussing the hypothetical value of this long-lost treasure. And of course, draklings know their treasure. Who better to find the diadem of a queen?” Another really impressive montage of the crazy-realistic CG dragons floated across the screen.

Amy shook her head. What a wacky race. Well, if nervy, nerdy Luc the accountant wanted to be a dragon, good for him. She was playing a famous interstellar explorer, apparently, so she shouldn’t make fun.

She skimmed through the rest of the videos, but it was mostly fluff and filler. Nothing about her character, which seemed weird, but whatever; by now, she should be used to being forgotten. She replayed the images of Luc and dragons again. Wouldn’t it be cool if there really were dragons? She pushed back from the computer console. Not every geek got to be a role-playing-game hero, just like not every first-generation Asian kid became a doctor or first-chair violinist.

She studied Luc from the corner of her eye. But really, with those wide shoulders, he could be a dragon…

She cleared her throat. “So this diadem thing. What’s it worth?”

“Nothing, since it doesn’t exist. It’s just a metaphor for the game and the prize.”

She wrinkled her nose at his literalness. “Okay then, what’s a metaphor worth in terms of money?”

He swiveled in his seat to face her, squaring his big hands along the armrests. “I just checked the exchange rate. Minus bank fees and transfers, your cut after the first successfully completed stage will be approximately three point seven million, with additional prizes going up algorithmically from there with each successfully completed task—”

She held up one hand, the oversized sleeve slapping at her knuckles. “I’m sorry. Say again? Three point seven million of what?”

He glanced over his shoulder at the screen behind him. “I believe your nation-state uses a currency called dollars. Or…the equivalent to twenty-five million yuan.” He glanced back at her. “Yes?”

Yes? Yes yes yes! Three million and more bucks?! And the yuan she could send back to her family? Good thing she was sitting down.

Except… Her racing pulse slowed, and she narrowed her eyes. “Are you fucking with me?”

He blinked. “Am I…fucking you?” He straightened abruptly. “No! Oh no. That’s not—this is not that kind of show.”

Geez, was it getting hotter in here? How embarrassing. “I meant, are you lying to me?”

He dragged a hand down his face and slumped in his seat. “This is harder than I thought,” he mumbled.

The embarrassed heat in her face chilled again. Was he having regrets? “Too late. You said it was too late already. You can’t kick me out now when I’m on board.”

He grimaced. “You wanted me to space you.”

“I changed my mind.” She tapped her boots on the metal decking, a hollow sound. “But I just…I don’t want to get taken for a ride.”

“Taken for a…” He shook his head. “Amy, the Blissed is going to take us all over the Paragon Galaxy to solve our riddle.”

“I don’t want you to take me for a ride,” she clarified.

His expression stilled. “I can’t do that anyway. I have no wings…” He clamped his jaw shut abruptly.

He was playing his part really seriously. Which made him seem a little crazy. And in an even crazier way, it reassured her that this was real. Well, not really real, but the race itself, the game, her participation—most importantly, the money—was really happening.

She let out a slow, steadying breath. This wasn’t like college, where the pressures and the bills and her anxiety kept mounting. This was just a game. A game where she might make some money if she didn’t make her teammate think she couldn’t handle it so that he got sick of her and spaced her. Unlike him, she needed to stop taking things so seriously.

She jolted to her feet, the too-big boots hitting the deck with a solid thunk. “Okay, I’m in.” She held her fisted knuckles out again, the right hand this time that had all her fingers.

He stared at her hand then lifted his gaze to hers. “We did this ritual already.”

“Right.” She dropped her hand. “Well, I said I was in. But I wasn’t in-in.” She winced at his dubious look. This was why she wasn’t a doctor—she’d never convince even a dying person that she was confident and capable. But honestly, she was totally committing this time. To a purple dragon-man.

Her ancestors would be rolling in their graves. Or maybe not—the dragon in China was a venerated symbol. “Hey, did you know my last name—Long—means dragon in Mandarin? It’s like we were meant to be teammates.”

His jade green eyes widened. “Mates?”

How did he keep picking out her most awkward words? Maybe that was her as-yet-undiscovered skill: to not make sense to anyone. Even though she’d worked so hard to master English. “Teammates,” she emphasized.

“Well then, mate,” he said. “I should warn you. We are running behind the other teams since your trans-dimensional transference was delayed.”

She nodded dutifully, in case she was being recorded. “Those trans-dimensional transference thingies. You just can’t trust them.”

He raised one eyebrow at her knowing tone. “We are still a few hours out from our first stop. If you need to eat or rest, now is your chance.”

Now is your chance. His words rang in her heart with more urgency than he probably meant. This was her chance. So many of her teachers had told her that, echoing her relatives, as if she didn’t know that, as if she wasn’t trying as hard as she could. But everything she’d tried her hand at had guttered out to nothing. Better than blowing up in her face, she supposed.

She squared her stance and gave him what she hoped was a famous interstellar explorer stare. “All I need is a ray gun,” she said boldly. And then her locked knees wavered. “And a cup of coffee. There is coffee in space, right? Or we’re gonna have a problem.” She staggered. “Why am I so…”

When the starry sparkles appeared at the corners of her eyes, he was at her side in a heartbeat, his big hand cupped under her elbow. Only that strong grip kept her upright when she swayed.

“Easy,” he said. “Moving through spacetime takes its toll.”

“Maybe I should lie down for a couple minutes.” She swiped one hand across her eyes as if she could erase the dizziness.

As he guided her down the short corridor, the low thrum of the “engines” vibrated subliminally in her bones. Wow, this pretend spaceship was so realistic. A separate hatch door swished open almost silently as they approached it and he led her through.

In the middle of the room, taking up most of the small space, was a huge, round bed, overflowing with satiny sheets and tasseled pillows in every lurid shade of scarlet and violet. Was that a…a disco ball overhead? Not quite, it was a pyramid instead of a ball, but it was every bit as ridiculously sparkly. What had happened to the spaceship theme? This looked mostly like the cheesiest, most cliché bordello ever.

Grabbing the jamb, she balked in the doorway. “I thought you said this wasn’t that kind of show.”

Rather than trying to pull her into the lecherous little cave, he leaned against the jamb opposite her. “It’s terrible, isn’t it?” He let out a gusting sigh. “I mentioned that we’re running late? Well, we also got one of the leftover ships.” His fingers drummed restlessly on the door. “It’s reclaimed from what I suppose you’d call a honeymoon cruise ship.”

“A…honeymoon ship.”

He glanced down at her, and after a moment, the corner of his mouth quirked. “What could be more romantically metaphorical than a newly mated couple—or threesome or moresome, depending on your preferred configuration—blasting off into never-ending abysmal blackness of space.”

She choked out a little laugh. “If you tell me there’s a hot tub…”

He tilted his head. “The bathing room has a miniature waterfall.”

She sputtered. “I was joking.”

“So was the remodeler of this ship.” He huffed out another breath. “This resting area is garish, but the bed itself is comfortable.”

She narrowed her eyes again. “Have you slept in it?”

“It’s the only bed on the ship.” He held up one hand when she sucked in a breath to let loose a scolding. “But I told you we are behind. If we’re going to catch up and win, we won’t have time to rest, at least not at the same time.”

She waggled one finger at him in warning. “Not only am I a famous interstellar explorer, I’m also a greatly feared muay tai chi ninja.” Or so she was declaring herself—and it wasn’t like the producers would care about the difference between Thai, Chinese, and Japanese martial arts. “So don’t try anything funny.”

He nodded. “Your ferocity will be a valuable asset in our hunt for the prize.”

He was fucking with her this time, she knew, but he could’ve already done whatever he wanted while she was unconscious and he hadn’t. Besides, if anything got really weird, surely the show producers would step in.

Of course, they were the ones who had accidentally kidnapped her, so…

If worse came to worse, maybe they would pay her just to not press charges. She angled away from the door and from Luc, peering around as she eased into the room.

“I’m a light sleeper,” she warned him, pretending that their first introduction hadn’t been while she was unconscious. But honestly, when she wasn’t knocked out, she’d learned the trick napping on the night shift at the local convenience store when she’d also been taking full-time classes at the community college. All her classmates had come in for the cheap beer while she’d stayed for the catastrophic health insurance. Though her head still spun woozily, she wouldn’t be taken unaware again.

After a nap in that ridiculous bed. Then she’d be totally good to go.

With a last suspicious look at Luc, she crossed the room to put her hand on the mattress. Not too soft, not too hard, perfect. She was pretty much as far from being a Goldilocks as was physically possible, and yet here she was.

For the first time, a quiver of excitement rippled through her. Great, that’d just make it harder to sleep. Ye-ye would’ve said excitement was for people who didn’t have to get up early. Of course he’d thought nothing of making monster fireworks in his courtyard, much to the consternation of his neighbors, so he probably had a skewed definition of what constituted excitement.

She sat tentatively on the edge of the bed with a silent sigh, letting her wobbly knees and shaky spine go slack.

Luc, who’d been watching wordlessly, averted his gaze again. “You’ll be all right.” His voice walked a middle line between question and assurance.

She nodded. She’d left behind everything she knew as a child, mastered a new language, and struggled to figure out a place for herself when no one—including her—seemed sure who she was. Getting to “all right” would be a step up. And maybe this little fantasy role-playing accidental vacation was exactly what she needed after all.

 

***

 

She woke to a hand on her shoulder.

“Amy?”

She recognized Luc’s voice right away, despite the strange setting. His was only the third male voice besides her ye-ye to whisper so close in her ear. And one of the other three was the day manager at the convenience store, waking her from her exhaustion. Still, she flinched in surprise that he was so close. The scent of him reminded her of the campfires at Sunset Falls, resin and smoke curling into a dark sky. She caught her breath and jackknifed upright.

Luc withdrew a step. “I called your name through the comm, but you didn’t answer. Since you said you were a light sleeper, I thought…”

“What, maybe I left?”

“We’re on a spaceship,” he reminded her.

As if the show producers wouldn’t let her step off the set? She blinked away the haziness in her eyes and her brain. “What’s going on?”

“I would’ve let you sleep, but we’re at the first stop. And I didn’t want to leave you here defenseless.”

For a heartbeat, her throat tightened. No one had ever cared about leaving her by herself.

She swung her legs over the side of the bed. It seemed almost as if her borrowed clothing had gotten a little smaller, fitting her more closely. Like she was growing into this role. Wouldn’t that be something?

Luc stepped back as she rose and tugged the fake leathers straight.

“So where are we?” She made little quotation marks with her fingers. “Some mysterious new planet?”

He watched her hands. “Not so mysterious. It’s Primaera, capital planet of the Central Alliance Sector. On second thought, maybe you should wait with the ship while I meet with our contact here.”

She grimaced, lowering her hands and setting them behind her back. “You don’t think I’ll be able to convince anyone I’m a famous interstellar explorer? Well, let me tell you. I helped design the set for a race- and gender-swapped version of West Side Story, and when one of the Jets got sick, I was the understudy.”

He eyed her. “That’s…good.”

“Good? How many singing, dancing, Asian girl gangsters do you know?”

He squinted. “None?”

She gave a sharp nod. “Now you know one.”

His jaw worked, like he’d encountered an unpopped popcorn kernel, but he finally nodded.

She strode past him out the door, her shoulder nudging his arm. He really took up more than his fair share of the space, with that big body. His steps behind her were quiet; the only way she knew he was there was the looming sense of his presence. And that smoky aftershave that made her nose twitch. In a good way.

In the pretend cockpit, the simulation of a large planet filled the front screen. Animated brackets were centered over a large land mass, and the same scribbled half Arabic, half Cyrillic alphabet that had been etched on the black box was illuminated next to the target. After a strange wavery moment, the letters rearranged into the symbols of written Chinese characters and then morphed into English and back again. She blinked. As if it knew she could read both, but wasn’t sure which she preferred.

“Primaera City,” she read. “It looks really…” She swallowed as she studied the tall, intricate spires and blinking lights of the expansive cityscape.

“Really what?”

She couldn’t very well say really real, not when it was supposed to be real, or she was supposed to pretend like it was real. “Could I maybe get a cup of coffee before we land?”

He shook his head. “I’m sorry, but when I programmed the nutrition system I only added food and beverages suitable for draklings. And coffee makes us…restless.”

She frowned. “Well, it does that for me to, but at least that means I’ll be awake.” Not dreaming.

“I can show you how to program your favorites when we return from the planet.” He focused on the screen ahead of them, his long fingers gliding over the controls as if he was actually guiding them down. “I’m sorry I don’t know more about Earthers. You’ll have to tell me what you need.”

Technically, she didn’t need those long fingers playing on her skin, but she wondered anyway what they might feel like. That one time she’d told her ye-ye she was going on a date with a musician, he’d asked which chair in the violin section the boy was seated. She hadn’t had the courage to tell him the guy was lead guitar in a rock band who’d dropped out of school before she had. She ended up canceling the date, so she never found out what those nimble fingers and pounding beat could do for her…

Within the disguise of her costume, her skin buzzed with excitement. Okay, at least this line of thought was waking her up even if there wasn’t any coffee.

“Welcome, Great Space Racers,” said a robotic voice from the ship’s computer, “to Primaera City.”

Though Amy knew this whole experience was nothing more than an elaborate videogame, she kept silent as Luc eased them down through increasingly heavy spaceship traffic to the planet below. Of course it was just a screen, and CGI kept getting better and better, but still, she let out a short, relieved breath as their ship settled with a gentle jolt between the occupied pads of the landing port around them. With a stronger jolt of nerves at the idea of stepping out on the stage in a leading role for the first time, she spiked her hands through her hair. If only she had a little gel to mohawk the long strands straight up—like when the static electricity had shot through it—it would’ve looked perfect with her costume. Maybe she’d ask Luc’s makeup artists for a little something.

As he pushed back in his seat, she bounced upright. “What’s our first mission?”

“Nothing yet.” He rose more slowly behind her. “I’m meeting a contact here who will give us a token for safe passage through some of the more difficult segments of the race.”

She frowned. “Wait, we’re cheating?”

He scowled back. “Not cheating. You know that your reality television shows aren’t real, right?”

She lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “I know that,” she said defensively. “But still, cheating…”

“Not cheating,” he said through gritted teeth. “It’s a well-planned, strategic advantage.” He strode past her.

She snorted as she hurried to catch up. “Spoken like a politician.”

“Accountant, actually.” He jerked open the doors of a cabinet near a portal in the side of the bulkhead and withdrew a small satchel that he slung over his head. “And as an accountant, I know how to calculate the best outcomes.”

She edged out of his way as he reached past her toward a control panel next to the portal. “Accountant explains why you’re taking the fun out of this game.”

He shot her a fulminating jade glare. “We’re not here for fun. We’re here to win.”

He slapped his palm over the control, and the portal irised open.

Air washed over her, a gust stinking of overheated metal and then a cooler draft with the tang that reminded her piercingly of Beijing, the myriad fragrances of innumerable people going about their lives. She raised her gaze to the double suns, one hanging high, one sinking toward the shimmering spires of the alien city. Her cheeks burned, not so much from the alien suns as a sudden, inescapable, piercing realization.

It was alien. It was real. All of it.

She’d been abducted by aliens.

A laugh burbled up from her gut, but despite her best intentions, it emerged as a scream.