The man was afraid of her. If he’d known she was a fifty year old woman, perhaps he wouldn’t be. She was enshrouded in her police suit; the heavy fabric, armor and helmet hid every clue that she might be a woman. She was tall and muscular from years of servitude to the Galactic Government, making the illusion complete.

“Papers, please.” Her androgynous voice echoed about the space station’s dome.

The man’s arms were shaking. His eyes darted from her reflective visor to the two-headed creature coiled about her left arm. He held the papers out the window of his space craft, almost dropping them.

“If you’re not a criminal, you have nothing to fear.” She said reassuringly.

The papers had almost become a formality. She checked them against his ID just in case, but the real test for this man was in answering the next few questions—questions she asked every being who passed through.

“Have you stolen recently?” She asked.

“No.” The man almost whispered.

She waited a few seconds for the Kliig, the creature wrapped about her arm to react. The first of its two heads stared at the man, its black eyes never leaving him. The other head swayed rhythmically up and down. Yes—he was telling the truth.

“Have you killed?” She continued.

“Yes, but not illegally. I was a soldier.” Again the Kliig’s second head bobbed up and down. Truth.

“Lastly, is there any criminal reason I might have for detaining you?” This was the all-encompassing question that she may as well have started with. But these questions were the ones she was trained to use—she was a good cop and she wasn’t going to go against them.

“No.” The man visibly shivered.

The Kliig took a moment to review whatever minor offenses the man might be thinking about, then bobbed its head up and down once more. Minor offenses were usually let go.

“You may go.” She handed the papers back to the man, careful not to tear a hole in them with her meshed fingers.

“Thank you officer…” the man squinted as he looked at the name printed on the badge hanging from her armor on the left side of her chest. “…officer Jarrett.”

Without waiting longer, the man shut the cockpit to his spacecraft, headed to the circular exit of the dome, and then off into uncharted space. Not many people headed into the uncharted regions given how dangerous it was and how long travel took without Galactic Government Speedways. Criminals were the main population on the outside, which was why having a Kliig to test for them was important.

There was no one else in line, so Jarrett headed back toward the office building, an efficient, white building with no trace of beauty or charm. She climbed the few steps that led into the entrance and waved at the projected images of officers milling about. The projections were for her protection—to deter unlawfuls from trying anything stupid. This watch zone was so under-visited that Jarrett was the only police officer the crumbling Galactic Government could keep employed here—they called this particular zone the “Desert” for a reason.

The projections waved back, and she went inside. She sat down at the lone table and took a moment to look through travel logs. No one else would be coming through today, and that was just fine with her.

She took off her helmet and plucked a beer out of the refrigerator close by. She drank it slowly, ruminating on her servitude. She’d been a police officer for twenty years. She simultaneously hated it and loved it.

She loved it because her position in the Desert was peaceful, leaving her much time to spend doing nothing but rake in money. She hated it because she’d initially been forced into her career by the Galactic Government as a way of ‘paying her debt to society’. She hated what they’d done to her.

Before bed, Jarrett closed down the office and did her daily exercises as prescribed by her manager. She showered herself off, put on a dumpy night shirt and pants, and looked into the mirror as she applied lotion to her rough skin. She looked nothing like how she’d looked twenty years ago; where once she’d been soft, she was now tight and coarse. And, being fifty she seemed to sag just ever so slightly. Her eyelids sagged, the skin on her muscles sagged, yes—even her hair seemed to droop off her head like a wilted flower.

The next morning would be fairly busy for a day in the Desert. Ten craft were coming through, which would translate to a thousand craft at the busiest posts. Jarrett took the Kliig out of its terrarium and let it wind its snake-like body about her arm, its dozens of tiny legs clamping onto the dense fabric of her uniform.

“Have you stolen recently?”, “Have you killed?”, “Is there any criminal reason I might have for detaining you?” were the three questions she asked to every passenger in each of the space craft.

Finally she came to the last ship; a short spherical one with two passengers. They seemed confident and easy going enough until their eyes caught the Kliig wrapped around her arm. The passenger looked like he might panic.

“They didn’t have a Kliig last time I was here.” the driver, a human in a handsome camel hair coat remarked.

“Oh? That must’ve been some time ago. I’ve been working here a solid twenty years and I’ve always had one.” She said blandly, then looked to the passenger, an immense four-armed Ghat who was now fidgeting with all his limbs. “Have you stolen recently?” she asked the alien.

“No.”

The Kliig’s first head stared into the Ghat’s eyes while the second head rose and fell. Truth.

“Have you killed?” Jarrett fingered the pistol at her side. She’d worked at the Desert long enough to know when things might be about to go wrong.

“No.” The Ghat said after a deep breath.

The Kliig’s thousands of legs tightened about her arm and the second head shook from side to side. Liar.

“Sir, please step out of the craft. You’re being detained until the proper authorities arrive.” The projections of officers gathered close by, some staring and some holding out their weapons. It was all fake of course, but with a show of force most criminals went easily.

Both men stepped out of the vehicle. The Ghat nearly stumbled; his enormous frame shook with fear. Though the Galactic Government was in chaos and ineffective in most cases, it was still up to snuff when it came to crime and punishment.

Jarrett locked the Ghat in a holding cage, then brought the driver in the camel hair coat to the office and began asking him the questions; “Have you stolen recently…?” she began.

“-Wait a second.” He said in his middle-toned voice. “No need to ask that. I’m not headed to the ungoverned zone.”

She raised an eyebrow under her helmet, then shrugged. “Okay. You’ll still have to wait here to be questioned for association with the Ghat.”

“Fine by me.” He said, a little relieved.

Jarrett was surprised when further questioning revealed the driver had no association with the Ghat. Apparently, the man in the camel hair coat was only driving him to the platform where he would take a taxi the rest of the way. That was it. He wasn’t wanted for crime on any known account.

They arrested the Ghat, who was sobbing, and the man, whom the authorities called Hevel Adelman was left alone with her in the little office.

“Alright, Mr. Adelman, You’re free to go.”

“Call me Bob.” He said.

“Alright... Bob. You’re free to go.” She repeated.

“Can I see your face, ma’am?”

Jarrett started. “How did you know I’m a woman?”

He seemed confused, like it was obvious.

“No, you should go.” Jarrett opened the door for him.

He ignored the door and opened the refrigerator tucked away in the corner of the office. “I’ve known a lot of criminals in my time. I think you’re one.”

She let the door shut and she crossed her arms indignantly. “You do know I’m an officer of the law? I’m no criminal.”

Bob grabbed a beer, looked about at the small office and out the window at the rest of the Desert. “Yes, but this is a small, desolate job. You were indentured at first, weren’t you? May I have this?”

“You’re astute.” She said blandly. In the past she wouldn’t have talked to a criminal this long, but she’d become haughty, irritable and somewhat uncaring in recent years. “I was indentured here for breaking the law decades ago. When my time was up I elected to stay. And yes, go ahead and drink that. They provide too much anyway.”

“And if you hadn’t stayed, would you consider going out with me?” He asked, taking a swig.

The suggestion blindsided her. “Maybe if I was younger and you weren’t a criminal.”

Bob smiled. “But I’m not a criminal. I have no record.”

“You’re a criminal. Why else would you want to avoid the three questions?”

Bob thought for a moment. “True enough. I’d be fine by the first two. But the third… not so much. Why didn’t you ask me them? Any normal officer would’ve asked.”

“My job description is to detain those illegally entering the ungoverned territories.” She said simply. “You weren’t headed to the ungoverned territories, so you’re not my problem.”

“Like I said,” he smiled at the corners of his mouth. “You’re a criminal. Not necessarily on paper, but up here.” He tapped her helmet with one finger.

He was right. After what the galactic government had done to her all those years ago, she’d been rebellious in her head. She’d dreamed and even fantasized about charging onto the Central Planet and holding the leaders hostage, asking for her daughter back.

She sighed.

He seemed to sense she was having a moment. He gave her a minute then continued, “Are you allowed to procreate?”

Her jaw opened at such a forward question. Luckily, he couldn’t see her loss of composure under the helmet. She was about to reach for the door again and shoo him out, but her inquisitive nature was awakened. “Sure. But not with law offenders. You said you’d be caught on the Kliig’s third question. I know that you’re a criminal of some sort, so I’d be guilty if I learned the details and didn’t report you. My own Kliig could give me away.”

“Devilish things, aren’t they?” He stared at the second head of the animal still attached to her arm. “Good thing they’re such a rarity. Still…” his eyes flitted back up to her helmet. “May I see your face?”

He was so polite about it she couldn’t resist. She carefully lifted it off, knowing he’d be unpleased enough when he saw her. Surely he must have thought she was younger.

He looked, and she could only guess what he was thinking to see a woman his own age.

“You can go now.” She said after a moment.

But he didn’t leave. “I propose a game.”

Another surprise. “A game? We don’t have many around here.”

“Not that sort of game.” He paused and continued to look at her. At first she thought he was trying to intimidate her, but then she realized he was just trying to gauge her response. She smiled a bit. “Go on.”

“I propose we play a game…” He said again, smiling at how ridiculous he knew he was about to sound, “We pretend we’ve been lovers for years. We pretend I’m not a criminal. We stay with each other as often as possible. We never talk about the details of work. All we do is make each other feel… well, happy.”

It did sound ridiculous. Perhaps what he really wanted was to blackmail her later on for breaking the law. Perhaps he was trying to form a relationship so he could trick her into smuggling people into the ungoverned lands. Then again, he might be sincere; he was surely a criminal, but he also seemed tired and isolated. Ten years ago she might’ve called him stupid and sent him away, but again her curiosity won out.

She looked to the Kliig on her arm. She could just ask about his motives.

“And no Kliig.” He added.

“Hah. And why not? You know I’m not stupid, right?”

“Of course you’re not. But, if you were to ask the Kliig everything about me, that would break the mystique of The Game. Making pretend wouldn’t be the same with a Kliig telling you it was false the whole time.”

She’d been good at ‘pretend’ once. She’d played it daily with her daughter.

“You can quit any time. You can tell me to leave any time.” He said, adding rules onto The Game.

“And a pause button.” She threw in, surprising herself. “We should be allowed to pause for anything serious that crops up.” It seemed the Desert had made her lonely enough to try such an idiot thing.

A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth again, happy that she was considering such a silly game. “Other than that, The Game is that we simply pretend to have been in love for years, and we never talk about the details of work.”

This was her chance, however small, to be rebellious—to stick it to the government that had turned her into the shell of a being that stood now before Bob. But moreover, she found the thought of companionship, however fake, to be enticing. “Let’s give it a try.” She shrugged.

She took the Kliig from about her left arm and returned it to its terrarium.

He came close to her. As tall and muscular as she was, he was taller still, so finding her face wasn’t difficult. It felt odd to be held by a stranger, but it was comforting to be with someone after so long.

It was true he might be attempting to use her, but she wouldn’t let him do that, and she’d play The Game by the rules, so long as he did.

She awoke next to him the following morning. She sat up and wrapped one of the two blankets about herself against the cold. There was no sun nearby, and so it was always dark and cold at the Desert. She could swear the heater did almost no good.

Bob woke up a moment later. She watched him carefully, waiting to see if he actually wanted to continue The Game past one night. Even though she was wrapped in one of the blankets, she was still cold and she shivered slightly.

Bob wrapped the other blanket about himself and sat up next to her, but made no move to leave.

“Pause.” He said quietly—it was too early to talk above a whisper. “Do you prefer darling, dear, dearest, honey or… whatever your first name is?”

She blinked away some sleep and rubbed at her eyes with one hand, the other keeping the blanket up against the cold. He was still playing The Game. She pursed her lips in a smile. “My first name is Jan—and don’t say it together with my last name. My parents thought they were being clever by making it alliterate.” She thought for a moment. “Dearest, I should think.”

“Un-pause.” He said and wriggled closer to her. He opened up his blanket, and reached to open hers. She was reluctant for a second, but she let him take the ends of the fabric and he pulled her towards him. He wrapped both blankets about them—it was much warmer and she allowed herself to snuggle close to him. “Good morning, Dearest.” He said, and kissed her forehead.