eye out for his crew, mainly Alexa.
Deeper in the station were shops, hundreds of them, enticing those who were traveling to spend all their money and credits on items that they might not be able to get elsewhere. Stations like Libra were ruled by the government but since they were not rooted on a landmass of any kind, the laws were murky. Something that may be illegal on Earth or Gliese, might not be illegal on Libra. No one cared if you had stolen shells from Tau-Ceti here or bought a Coke with coke in it. As long as the systems ran and taxes were paid, those in charge paid no attention.
Though, if you did break one of Libra’s precious laws and were caught, you’d spend the rest of your sentence regretting it. The jails on ports like this were some of the seediest. It was easy to forget about people in a place like Libra.
Which was why Hysterian averted his trip to Atrexia a little while longer. He could get his relief, and then expunge the security systems of his passing entirely. Systems, electricity, and power surged everywhere, ready to be manipulated and digitally fucked.
Hysterian made his way deeper into the hollowed-out halls of the port, lit up by neon signs, smoke, and the occasional exhaust outlet. Hecklers for wares called out to him while exotic scents, mixed with chemicals, invaded his nose.
Ahead, he saw the first strip of pink lights indicating the district change. The crowd wasn’t nearly as big here as it was near the main shops.
He came to a stop in front of a giant, pink neon heart. A partially naked dancer swayed within it. She wore braids of shimmery white lingerie, that reflected the pink glow of the lights.
When she realized Hysterian was watching her, she bent forward and blew him a kiss. Her nipple slipped out.
This was the type of woman he needed. Someone without shame. Someone who wasn’t easily offended, and knew the lascivious dance between a man and a woman. He wasn’t interested in an inexperienced woman. Damsels in white gowns, the kind who needed saving, were better off being saved by a man who wasn’t him. His patience was limited. His ability to be gentle almost didn’t exist at all.
Hysterian rubbed his chest where Alexa had rested her brow. She was better off seeking comfort elsewhere, even with Raul.
His jaw ticked. Anyone but Raul.
It was bad enough knowing that Alexa had kissed him, really kissed him, when Hysterian was desperate for the brush of her lips and fingers on him. He hated Raul, was jealous of Raul, and he wanted Raul’s blood in a jar for that reason alone.
Hysterian was created by some of the best minds, the best tech in the universe, and he couldn’t even have someone like Alexa? He twisted the wristcon on his arm and swiped some credits toward the dancer.
Pink hearts filled the smoky air above her head to shower down upon her. She danced amongst them. He smirked.
“Thank you,” she purred, lifting her arms above her head. “Would you like to meet me inside?”
Hysterian powered off his wristcon. “I have an appointment.”
The dancer pouted. “Too bad.”
“Too bad.”
He couldn’t take her up on the meeting even if he wanted to. She was a human. He couldn’t touch her.
If he could…he’d be fucking Alexa right now, and wouldn’t be here at all.
Hysterian turned toward the entrance as a group of men took his spot. Pink hearts flashed around him as he shoved the drapes of cloth aside to head in. Thick incense enveloped him. The bustle of the port disappeared as the cloth settled back into place behind him. The brothel was dimly lit, with pink, red, and purple cloth draped over every wall and every table. Pillows were scattered across the floor, surrounding little tables where some patrons sat and drank and fondled the females entertaining them.
He went straight for the headmistress, an Amazon of a woman smoking a hookah with several others behind the entryway counter. Hooded eyes met his when she looked at him. Smoke trickled from the sides of her mouth.
She rose and sauntered to him. There was a deep scar on her chin, sectioning off part of her face. It didn’t distract from her appeal, though, instead enhancing it. Hysterian would bet a hefty amount the headmistress accepted clientele—if they were willing to pay enough for her attention. Her enormous breasts alone were a young man’s wet dream.
“How can I help you