by Ruby Dixon
My keffing sweet girl. She's talked to Alyvos about this? There are no words for how I feel right now. She cares so much.
I'm so keffing lucky.
With a groan, I squeeze her in a tight hug. "Love you," I choke out. "Whatever you want, we'll make it happen."
"I want to grow old with you," she tells me, smiling. "And to wake up without you in pain. Can you make that happen?"
I'm sure going to try, because I don't think I could refuse this female anything.
72
JERROK
The planet of V'tarr is a gold and green swirled ball spotted with a thick cloud cover. It looks beautiful, which is surprising given that it has an artificial ring around the entire planet, and that artificial ring is cluttered with so many stations, ships, private residences, and keffing whatever else they could launch into the skies that it looks like the planet itself is swirling with garbage.
Kinda reminds me of my spot in my asteroid belt, actually, with all the dead ships floating around. The thought brings a faint smile to my face.
"It's…wow," Sophie breathes at my side as we gaze out at the view from our spot in the rec room. There's probably a better view on the bridge, but we don't belong there. We're not crew. Sophie makes another noise in her throat as she stares out at the massive planet in view. "I can't decide if it's pretty or not. What's the point in keeping the planet pristine if you're going to junk up all the space around it?"
"Because no one on the ground cares?" I give her a wry smile and put a hand on her shoulder, liking that I can give her a possessive touch. I love that she's mine and she leans in when I reach for her. "They don't have to have it in front of them, so they don't care."
"I guess. From this view it just seems…hideous." She wrinkles her nose, leaning in to watch a city-sized piece of machinery churn past. "I bet it's pretty on the ground, though. All that green. Will we get to see it?"
"Probably not." I hate to disappoint her, but I also don't want to lie. "Our clearance probably won't take us past this ring. The spaceport we're heading to is somewhere in this mess, so we'll likely just head there and continue on our way once we retrieve the Sister."
Her hand steals down to her side, where Sleipnir is rubbing against her thigh. "And that's where carinoux are from? Down there?"
"Protector-kin are native to the moons, I think. They're supposed to be very green and lush."
She looks over at me, her eyes lighting up. "Can we take Sleipnir home, then?"
"Sophie…"
"I know he's worth a lot of money." She turns and sits down at the window seat, tugging on my hand so I'll join her. The carinoux bounces up onto the seat on the other side of her, rubbing his big head against her hair in a cry for attention. Absently, she raises a hand to pet him, her attention still on me. "But he was taken from his home, just like me. If we can free him, we have to take that chance—"
"Love," I interrupt gently, rubbing her hand. "I don't think that's possible. Sleipnir has been raised around people, likely since he was born. That's why he's so comfortable on stations. He can't go back into the wild. He won't be able to survive."
"Oh." Her eyes grow glassy, and she turns toward her pet, who promptly gives her a sloppy lick on the cheek. Sophie chuckles, but I can tell she's sad. "I just want to do right by him, you know? He's smart, and he's a good boy." She rubs the carinoux's head. "And if he'd be happier freed—"
"He's happy with you," I point out to her. "You're his home now. As long as you're good to him, he'll be happy." When she tugs her hand free and swipes at her cheeks, I know she's upset. "Just because his story had a bad beginning doesn't mean it has to have a bad ending."
She turns to me, and her smile brightens again. "You're right. I'm going to do my best for him. But…what if we have to sell him? To rescue the others?"
"You won't," I say firmly. "I won't allow it."
"But—a ransom—"
I shake my head. "It's not going to come at the cost of something you love. I brought more than enough credits for our contribution. I know we brought him as a bargaining chip, but I've changed my mind. You shouldn't have to sacrifice your happiness—and his—for another. There'll be another way. There always is."
I'll sell my keffing limbs one by one before I let them take her pet from her.
Sophie flings her arms around my neck, letting out a choked sob. "You're so good to me, Jerrok. I love you so much."
"I love you too." I stroke her hair, and then her back. I want to touch her everywhere. I want to squeeze her to my chest and never let her go. I want her to smile for the rest of her days, because she deserves happiness. She brings so much joy to me, I hope she feels a fraction of the same. "You know I love you."
"I do." She sniffs and buries her face against my neck. "I'm sorry I keep crying. I really am a softie."
I like that she's soft. I don't think we would have ever understood each other if she was as broken as me, so I'm grateful for her soft heart. So very, very grateful. "Be as soft as you want with me."
Sleipnir leans over her and slurps us both with his abrasive tongue, and Sophie squeals in delighted laughter. It's like that creature knows he can get away with everything now that I've promised he can stay forever. I'm doomed to have carinoux-sized shits in the terrarium for the rest of my days, it seems…but if it makes Sophie happy, it makes me happy.
She wipes at her face, giggling, and then wipes at my cheek for me. "Sleipnir loves you, too."
"Lovely," I say in my best cranky voice, but she only smiles wider. She knows I'm all talk. I can't intimidate anyone anymore, it seems.
Her laughter dies down and she studies me. "Do you think we'll find them here?"
She doesn't need to say who “them” is. "I don't know. But the Little Sister is here, and it's a good place to start." I rub her shoulder, tucking her against my chest again. "We'll find them."
"How are we going to get to the city—to V'tarr—if we can't get down on the planet?"
A good question, and one I've been asking myself. But I've been reassured that the crew of the Jabberwock has it all under control. "Credits talk. Kivian and the others will bribe their way to where they need to go. I'm told there's a plan."
"Kivian's plan?" Sophie makes a noise in her throat. "I'm scared to ask."
Kef me, I am, too.
73
SOPHIE
I do my best not to fuss over Jerrok's appearance as he and the other guys suit up in crew uniforms, ready to head out to one of the many V'tarr spaceports. They are all dressed in generic tunics with utility belts and black trou, the tunic a deep blue with a shiny chromatic pinstripe at the edges to hide the auto-fasteners. The logo of their “ship”—The Silver Mistress—is emblazoned across the shoulder. Or so I'm told—I can't read the symbols that make up mesakkah written language. To a one, though, Alyvos, Sentorr and my Jerrok are dressed alike. It's been decided that Tarekh will stay behind with us because his ugly face will pull more notice than Jerrok's prosthetics and cybernetic eye. I'm sure some of it is that Tarekh is going to be our protector, in case anyone tries to board, and they know how he is in a fight.
I wish it was Jerrok staying, but he is determined to go with them. I get it, since they're taking his credits, and he's just as good with ships (if not better) and their various engines as Tarekh is. It's the selfish, worried part of me that wants him out of danger. So I don't fuss over him, much as I want to.
Fran does not give a shit about fussing. She toys with Kivian's flared collar, smoothing his hair and buffing one of his horns with her sleeve before adjusting his belt. He wears the same uniform as the others but…he's accessorized. He looks like a damn peacock, but I guess that's all part of the show. His horns—and ears—have been adorned with jewelry, and his neck is encircled with several shiny chains. His fingers are ringed and his boots wing out above the knee, finely tooled and made from something iridescent that had better NOT be carinoux skin. His shirt is more puffed sleeves flamboyantly open to his n
avel (the better to show off his bling) and he just…well, he'd be ridiculous if he didn't carry it so well. As it is, he just looks extravagant. Like he knows he's pushing the boundaries of good taste but he also knows he can get away with it.
I look over at my plainly dressed mate with his mis-matched eyes and scarred face, his hair only vaguely brushed, and he looks grimly determined. I know he's tolerating all of this because it's important to me, and my heart swells with love. When Fran brings baby Jasmine out to kiss her father goodbye, I move to Jerrok and kiss him, too.
"Come back safe or I'm going to be really mad," I whisper to him.
"I will. Don't you worry about me."
Oh, I'll worry anyhow. But I nod and move to stand with Tarekh, Cat, Iris and Zoey. Iris doesn't seem ruffled by the fact that Alyvos is heading out with a massive gun strapped to his waist, but I can see frustration on Zoey's face and know she wants to go with them. She can't, of course, because a human with a mesakkah crew means she's someone's pet, and pets aren't always safe or welcome. I can't count the number of times I was groped, fondled, or mishandled while waiting in a “safe” spot for my praxiian owner to return. It's best if she stays with us, even if she hates it.
"If you're not back tonight…" Fran begins, worried.
"We'll be back tonight," Kivian promises. "I won't stay on station. Far too dirty." He puts on a pristine white glove with a flamboyant cuff and smirks at his mate. "And you know how much cleanliness means to me."
She just snorts, holding her baby close.
"You have her ready to dock, Tarekh?" Kivian asks, turning his attention to the big, burly alien.
He nods, stepping forward and sliding into a chair on the bridge. "Just say the word and I'll acknowledge that we're pulling in."
"And the females?" Kivian asks, turning to look at our little group.
"Heading to our hidey-hole," Fran reassures him. Zoey looks unhappy, but nods.
"The plan is to bring the ship back. The Silver Mistress is my personal ship and it's not designed to tow, but we'll make do." He tugs at his gloves, adjusting them as if the fit of his cuffs is the most important thing in the world. "We're towing this hunk of junk as a favor to a good friend of mine, and I'm already on a rushed schedule as it is. Are we following?"
"And if they don't buy it?" Sentorr asks.
"Then we bribe. And if that doesn't work, we take by force." He gives the group a sly little smile that indicates he wouldn't mind if this were the case.
I swallow, trying not to panic. Suddenly, this isn't a good idea. I want to go home…with Jerrok. I want to leave and abandon everyone and everything, because I'm terrified. What if this goes wrong? What if everything fucks up and something happens to Jerrok? What if—
Jerrok's gaze meets mine. He offers me a silent thumbs up, the gesture strange on an alien hand, but it's the thoughtfulness of it that calms me. He knows I'm worried, but he's telling me silently that he's got me. I nod back, and he smiles.
I can practically hear his praise. Good girl.
Once Tarekh acknowledges The Silver Mistress is ready to land, Fran ushers us all to the cargo bay. There, she touches a secret panel in the wall and reveals a keypad. She presses her hand against it, then types in a code, and the wall slides open, revealing a cozy nest of benches decorated with tossed pillows, a small bookshelf, and a crib in the corner. It's still a closet, of course. It can't be enormous because it has to look natural in the ship itself. But this has Fran all over it—small touches that acknowledge that she's making it as comfortable as possible, and something tells me that the women on this ship spend time here regularly.
"Come on, Sleipnir," I murmur to my buddy as we file in.
Once the door is shut behind us, Cat flops down on one of the cushioned benches and puts her head down on the pillows. "Wake me up if something happens."
Zoey sits next to me, picking up a book, but she doesn't glance at it. "I don't know how you can sleep at a time like this."
"It's easy," Cat mumbles. "You stay up all night having wild monkey sex knowing you're gonna be spending downtime in this closet the next day." She waves a hand at our surroundings.
It is a bit like a closet. It's well lit, if a touch warm, and there's plenty of seating, at least. I pick through the stack of books as Sleipnir drops himself onto the bench next to me and thumps his head in my lap. A gaudy purple cover catches my eye, and I pull out a romance novel.
Warrior's Woman by Johanna Lindsey.
"That's a good one," Fran whispers as she walks past me, setting down her daughter in the crib.
I haven't read it. And I tell myself I can't possibly read a book at a time like this, like Zoey. That I'm just going to sit and be anxious and worry. But Sleipnir rubs his jaw against my thigh, and the paperback is just big enough to hold in one hand, so I crack it open and start to read.
74
JERROK
"She's dented," Kivian cries out in disgust, making some of the V'tarrians look over at us with frowns. "Who dented her?"
Alyvos shifts nervously at my side, and Sentorr frowns. I sincerely hope that Kivian isn't picking a fight. Now that we're on the ground with the port authorities, I can't help but notice there are a lot of armed V'tarrians crawling all over this station. They're easy to make out, with their crested yellow plumes and feathered skin, and they walk with a strange gait, their knees bent backward. It's clear that the V'tarr are descended from avians, but they also seem a little…predatory. I remember the old histories of Sakh Empire wars with the Slatran Consortium, and even though those times are long gone, the hard feelings remain. We get several ugly looks from the V'tarrians, and Kivian's flamboyant act isn't helping things.
The V'tarrian with a data pad in front of us makes a noise that sounds like a cross between a cough and a squawk. "An asteroid hit her and set off proximity alarms. That was how she was discovered, abandoned." The V'tarrian makes a sign with his hand, twitching.
Kivian puts his hands on his hips, shaking his head. "She looks dreadful. Who's going to clean this mess up?"
"Are you the owner, then?"
"I could be." Kivian grins broadly, his expression growing flirty.
The avian isn't impressed. "It is a simple yes or no answer."
Sentorr clears his throat, and Kivian changes tactics. "I am not the owner, but I am very, very good friends with him." He toys with one of his rings, and I sure hope the bribery angle works, because I'm not sure we can take on an entire station full of V'tarrians. I start counting heads, just in case. Two at a shipping panel, the one here with the data pad, four along each wall, a second station nearby with the same set-up, a control room above us…
"Where is the owner, then?" the V'tarrian asks.
Kivian strokes his chin. "Well, he should have been on this ship. Your guess is as good as mine."
The V'tarrian makes the hand gesture again from earlier, the gentle touch of one hand to the opposite ear, as if he's blocking the words. I've seen that gesture somewhere before, and when I glance at the other avians at the panel, I see they make the same gesture. A tidbit about our past floats into my memory, and I remember that the wars with the Slatran Consortium were fought over religion. Are they still religious, then?
"I need a release from the owner," the avian says.
"Well, I'm quite certain he would give you one if he weren't so very dreadful at leaving his toys unattended." Kivian's smile is bright and easy, likable. He toys with his rings again. "I'm sure we can come to some sort of agreement."
The avian just squawks, his downy feathers ruffling. "Do you think to bribe me, sir?"
"Bribery?" Kivian pretends to be shocked. "Not at all."
I turn around, as if politely adjusting my clothing, and duck my head. As I do, I speak into the communicator wired along the curve of my ear. "Try a religious angle," I whisper. "Tell them you need the ship for a vow to the gods of some kind."
"It's just…" Kivian continues smoothly. "I made a vow to the gods."
As I turn around, tugging at my cuff, I see the V'tarrian cock his head in a very avian manner, his round eyes blinking rapidly. "A vow?"
"Yes. I promised to the gods that if something ever happened to my brothers, I would do my best to bring them home." He affects a pious expression, bowing his head. "I'm not sure what happened, but I can at least bring their beloved ship back."
The avian makes that strange finger-to-the-ear gesture again. "A vow to the gods is very important."
"It is," Kivian assures him. "I will twist in the darkness of the Black Hole of sin for all eternity if I do not keep my vows. My ancestors will weep tears of sorrow! My descendants will—"
"Bring it down a notch," Sentorr warns quietly.
Kivian ends with a cough, clasping his hands over his heart. "Let me just say…much rides on my vows."
The V'tarrian blinks again. He types something into his data pad and then puts his clawlike hand out. "I would not wish to keep you from a religious vow. Swear to your gods that the ship is meant to be yours?"
"I swear it by Holy Mother Fran and the Holy Daughter Jasmine." Kivian's look is utterly sincere as he puts his ring-covered hand into the V'tarrian's grasp.
It is a bit like the human handshake I have seen the females do, but when Kivian pulls back, his rings are gone from his fingers and the V'tarrian tucks something into the front of his clothing. "Come back in six standard hours. You will need to pay an acquisition fee, an offworlder fee for taxation purposes, a docking fee for how long we've held your ship, and any other tickets or fines she has acquired in her stay here."
"Fine. Lovely."
The V'tarrian keeps typing. "Until then, please leave my dock."
Kivian clasps his hands, smacking them together loudly. "I shall do so! Perhaps I will spend the time praying—"
Alyvos surges forward, tugging the captain by his arm. "Let's go pray in quiet at a cantina somewhere, yes? Get out of this nice male's feathers."