"Slaves?" Clementine repeated, her voice breaking.

This is a movie. My life has turned into a bad sci-fi movie.

"Like slaves who do hard labor," she asked, "or like, sex slaves?"

Does it matter?

Another strong vibration ran through the ship, followed by the sound of weapons fire. She gripped Inlan's arms and jerked her head towards the ceiling.

"The Vreem are not as advanced as we are," he said, "socially or technologically. Their vessels are far smaller and less powerful than ours."

"Can they get on the cart? Or Lota?" Horrible images of her parents and Tierney being tortured by grotesque aliens flooded her mind.

"The cart's defense screen is always on, so no one can convey in or out without entering the correct access code, and that changes every two minutes. And Lota is guarded by multiple Squad vessels. Your... family... is safe."

Hearing the English word family in the middle of a long stream of Relican cut through her nightmarish visions, bringing her focus back to Inlan. Did they not have a word for family on Relica? Clementine knew more than most about the Relicans because she'd pumped Tierney for as much information as she would give. But she'd never mentioned how they were raised. Did he even know his parents? Did he wish he had a family?

The question made her think about him having kids, which reminded her of Onaka's comment, which made her suddenly keenly aware of how close she was to him. His hands were tight on her shoulders, and she was clutching his biceps. His big... hard... biceps.

Letting go of his arms, she started to step back. For a split-second he didn't let her go, but then, also looking rather startled at their nearness, he released her. She sat on the bench and wiped her moist hands on her shorts. Billowing her tunic tank top, she created a warm breeze that fluttered her hair.

"You guys really like your heat, huh?" she asked with a high chuckle, though she couldn't be entirely sure it was the temperature making her suddenly feel so flushed.

"Our bodies are meant for desert or tropical climates," he said, eyeing the broken glass of the karmantui. "Tierney never mentioned it."

"She wouldn't," she muttered.

Clementine had spent the better part of her life being jealous of her sister, but the volatile grudge had fallen dormant when she became serious about music. Or so she thought. Every time Inlan mentioned her sister, the old voices stirred within her, accusing her of being less: less ambitious, less attractive, less noble -- less Tierney.

Was he attracted to Tierney? Clementine had been thinking this whole time that he might be into her, but what if it was really about her sister -- like everything so often was?

Two quick shots struck the ship, and Clementine gripped the edges of the bench, willing all of the unhelpful fears away. Whether Inlan was attracted to her or Tierney didn't matter. Tierney was with Tausson, and she was with Zack.

Wasn't she?

"Why were the first two shots so bad, but we can hardly feel them now?" she asked, desperate for a distraction from her train of thought. "And why didn't you and Onaka fall?"

"Our defense screen wasn't on for the first two strikes. Now it is." He spoke casually, but the worry in his face wasn't masked as well. "And the feet of our mechasuits magnetize to the floor if the ship experiences a sudden jolt. Most furniture items are bolted to remain secure."

He gestured to the table, bed, and the bench she was sitting on, all of which had remained fixed, then pushed a panel on the wall. It was steel, like the rest of the wall, but had two white circles painted on it, each slightly overlapping the other like in a Venn diagram, with an ivy-covered sword in the center. The panel slowly popped out, revealing the mouth of a black rubber tube about six inches in diameter. He pressed a button on his mechasuit, and then extended the tube towards the glass on the floor, which was quickly sucked out of sight.

As she watched him vacuum the remains of the karmantui, Onaka's words resurfaced, refusing to be ignored. Maybe she was blowing them out of proportion. Maybe there was a reasonable Relican explanation. She'd just ask Inlan and get it out of her head. Just ask him straight out.

"Onaka is your boss?"

Coward.

"He's a higher rank than me, but we're in different specialties. He's Protection, I'm Planetary."

"Is that why you have different color mechasuits?"

"The color indicates rank, except for medics, who all wear white. Scrubs are yellow, the lowest rank; Tins are graphite; First Tin is a fashionable mud," he smiled and gestured to his skin tight uniform, "Stratum, which is Onaka's rank, is smoke; and Command Officers are iron."

"Like Tausson," she said, remembering his black mechasuit.

His smile dimmed, and he lowered his eyes back to his sleeve, turning the vacuum off.

"Yeah," he said, "like Tausson."

He returned the hose to its mount and picked up the wooden cone. The thin wood had cracked in several places, and several of the mounts held only the jagged remains of the glass rings.

"I'm really sorry about that," she said, acutely aware of the inadequacy of the words but unable to think of anything better.

He gave the broken work of art a sad smile. "Last I heard, Uba still resides in Jilaffa. Perhaps she will spare some wood for another one." Turning back to the wall, he dropped the instrument into a chute beneath the vacuum.

"What did Onaka mean about being alone with me?" she asked, taking advantage of him facing away from her. "And why did he say bronze like it was a bad thing?" she added, unable to leave the words hanging there in the open.

He kept silent as he closed the panel, then began moving among the rest of his instruments, picking some up that had fallen, putting others into metal cases.

"There's a stereotype for each kind of Relican," he finally said. Then, speaking in a rhythmic manner that sounded like a poem or nursery rhyme, he said, "Golds are gifted, leading the throng. Silvers are soldiers, selfless and strong. Bronzes are boorish, baring their bare. But without Irons, none would be there."

"I'm guessing you don't mean bear as in the animal on Earth," said Clementine.

A series of shots landed, causing the floor to tremble more than it had since the shields -- or whatever he'd called them -- had been turned on, and the corresponding roar was far louder too. Did that shot land right above them?

Inlan was looking at the ceiling too, his forehead creased with worry. But when he caught her gaze, he straightened up and went back to his inspection.

"I still don't get it, though," she said, eager for the distraction.

He held up a clarinet-like instrument that hadn't fallen and looked fine from where she was sitting, but he squinted at it and spent several seconds studying it before responding. "Bronzes are generally more susceptible to... We have a harder time suppressing..."

"Your sex drive?" she prompted. If that was true, then maybe she was right. Maybe he was attracted to her.

Or Tierney.

"It's not always true, of course," he said, his cheeks almost chocolate brown. "There are many silvers who prefer a life spent on Relica, and not all golds join the Council."

"So Onaka meant it as a joke?"

He let out a heavy breath. "Yes, a joke."

"I thought you guys didn't joke about that stuff."

"I didn't say it was a good one."

She laughed, and he looked up, startled into a smile of his own. He was so much more relaxed when it was only the two of them. He'd barely looked at her when Onaka was there. Why had he been there anyway? Her mom had said that she wanted to go because the idea of both of her daughters being on different celestial bodies was too much to bear, but Clementine knew it had more to do with her being alone with a cute, young guy. The fact that he was Relican and didn't have sex for pleasure wouldn't sway her, considering Tausson had also been raised with the same moral code.

Was that why Onaka had been there? As a chaperone? If Relicans perceived bronzes as more likely to lose it every time they got near a vagina, then that would make sense.

But Inlan wasn't like that at all. Sure he was more relaxed than Onaka, or even Tausson -- he'd been so stiff when he called up asking for advice on how to propose to Tierney properly -- but Inlan was never disrespectful or lewd. The only time she'd been creeped out was when he sniffed her, and she'd obviously imagined that. Both times.

"What about him?" she asked, wanting some dirt on Onaka's stereotype. "Red wasn't in your poem."

"He's the offspring of an Asteroid Mate. His --"

He was interrupted by a volley of weapons fire that lasted longer than Clementine could hold her breath. As the avalanche of sound faded and the ship ceased shaking, she was suddenly filled with a longing to return home. Not the cart, but home. Earth. She wanted to go back to not worrying about asteroids, back to not knowing the answer to the question: Are we alone? She wanted to be able to go to the store and buy candy and cheese and grape juice. Her stash of toaster pastries was running low, and soon she'd have nothing but green mush that tasted like mashed potatoes, but wasn't actually mashed potatoes.

"Clementine?"

Her head was spinning, and she gasped for air that would only come in short, quick bursts. Hunching over, she hung her head between her knees and loosely covered her mouth and nose, breathing as deeply and slowly as she could. In the distance, she felt Inlan's hand on her back, and heard him speaking in Relican to someone, though she had no idea if anyone was actually in the room with them.

"Can I go back?" she heard herself asking.

"I can't convey with you until the defense screens are lowered," he said, his voice calm and quiet. He was kneeling in front of her now, and she became vaguely aware of his hands: one on her shoulder, the other rubbing the back of her neck. "I've contacted the Medic Lab. They're coming to assist."

The gentle massage eased her tension, and her balance began to return. "It's just... a stupid... panic... attack," she said between deepening breaths.

Eyes closed, she focused on his hands, how cool they were on her hot skin, how firm and comforting. Goosebumps broke out on her arms as the hand at her hairline shifted lower, settling on the base of her neck.

He's trying to keep you from fainting, not turn you on, she chided herself.

But even as her mind told her it was wrong, her body spoke even louder, strumming an invisible string that stretched from his touch directly to her core. It tightened and tugged with every caress, sending ripples of pleasure all the way to her finger tips.

Clementine opened her eyes and lifted her head. Inlan stopped rubbing, but kept his hands on her. The throbbing between her thighs demanded that she close the space between them, but all she could do was stare into his eyes, those pale eyes that mirrored her own fear, torment, and desire.

Who moved first, she wasn't sure. But suddenly her lips and tongue tasted copper, and his rock hard arms were wrapped around her, pressing his unyielding chest against hers. More than one string quivered inside her now. Everywhere he touched, a new one was born, sending shudders of bliss to her swollen core.

The door to Inlan's room clicked, crashing into Clementine's mind like a sledgehammer. Inlan jumped up, giving her only a brief, horrified look before running to meet the medical personnel as they entered. Wearing white mechasuits, a silver man and an iron woman rushed in.

"Have you lost consciousness?" the woman asked.

"What have you eaten today?" asked the man.

Clementine watched Inlan, who remained by the door. He was staring blankly at the two Relicans, but when he met her gaze, he turned around and pressed his hands to the wall.

"I'm okay," she said, finding her voice enough to respond to the Relicans' questions. "I was panicking about us being attacked, but I'm better now."

Maybe not better. She couldn't get Inlan's expression out of her mind. Was he mad at her? Afraid? Was he going to report her?

"Would you like me to scan you?" asked the woman. She held out a metal tool that looked like a pen with a small fan on the end. "It's painless," she added, pressing a button and passing the light that emitted from it over her own gloved hand.

"No," said Clementine quickly. Could they detect that she had been aroused? What if they could tell she'd just been kissing someone?

The woman nodded, looking strangely relieved as she stood, and said, "Notify us if you experience similar symptoms."

Inlan, looking more composed, stood by the door and thanked them as they left. When the door closed, he stood with his back to her, silent.

A thousand fears raced through Clementine's mind. Was she in trouble? Could they arrest her? But Inlan had kissed her too, hadn't he? Or was that her imagination? He certainly hadn't stopped it, but maybe he'd been too shocked. Did he think she was using him to satisfy some sort of alien sex fantasy?

"I have a boyfriend," she blurted out.

Why did I say that? He'll think I'm not interested. Wait. Am I interested?

"I mean, I think he's my boyfriend. It's only been a few weeks. We don't talk much."

Great. Now I sound like a slut.

Clementine's whole face was on fire. Luckily Inlan was still facing the door.

"Lawad Inlan, nakal."

The voice in his sleeve startled them both.

Do they already know? Is he in trouble?

Perhaps having similar thoughts, he didn't respond immediately, but after a few long seconds, he lifted his arm to his chin.

"Firka, alkad."

A stream of unintelligible Relican commenced, and Inlan's emotionless face told Clementine nothing. The person on the other end sounded more grim than mad, but that wasn't necessarily a good sign. When Inlan finally did lower his arm, he appeared relieved, but still said nothing.

"What did he say?" she whispered.

The door swung open before he could reply, and Onaka rushed in, glancing suspiciously at both of them. Seemingly satisfied at seeing them so far apart, he leaned against the wall and said, "Ready?"

"For what?" she asked. If Onaka was back, did that mean the fighting was over? She realized she hadn't heard or felt any gunfire in a while, but she had been rather distracted.

"Your return," the giant red Relican replied. Clementine hadn't noticed how much taller he was than Inlan -- nearly a foot. He had to be over seven feet tall.

"But I only got to see one instrument," she protested, "and that one got smashed."

Pressing buttons on his mechasuit, Inlan started walking towards her. "I'm needed in Planetary," he said.

A heavy disappointment pressed down on her. Trying to keep her voice calm, she started for the conveyance platform. "I'll see you at rehearsal tomorrow?"

"Not there," barked Onaka, preventing Inlan's reply -- if he was going to give one. "All non-critical power is being routed to recharge the defense screen in case the Vreem return. He's bringing you down himself."

Inlan's head was still down, engrossed by his sleeve.

"Oh, okay." She moved nearer to him, unsure of the best way to hug him without appearing inappropriate.

"Ready?" Inlan asked, still tapping his forearm.

"Mm-hmm." She took another step closer. With one last press, he reached out and held her tight against him. Caught off guard by his sudden movement, her arms were trapped at her sides, unable to reciprocate.

Though they were the same arms, and it was the same hold, there was no warmth in this embrace. She held her head straight, not giving in to the desire to rest it on the statuesque body in front of her.

"Don't get too used to it, bronze!" called Onaka's voice, his body already disappearing into a dark mist.