Ronan

by Leslie Chase

  It didn’t matter how many times I repeated that to myself, though. My fear of flying wasn’t rational, couldn’t be argued with.

  “This was a mistake,” I muttered under my breath, fumbling for my wristband and conjuring Athena’s hologram form. She hooted sadly, sending out waves of calming ultrasonics which took the edge off my fear as I tried to ignore how high up we were.

  7

  Ronan

  The mountains were behind us now, the skies ahead clear. No dangers showed on the sensors. I gave the autopilot full control and turned to look at my khara.

  Becca stared out of the window, her face pale as snow and eyes too wide. Her AI companion sat on the console, a small ball of holographic feathers emitting a strange, comforting sound that filled the cockpit that did little to help Becca. She gripped the armrests as though her life depended on it, and her breath came in quick gulps. Her whole body trembled.

  Something was wrong, badly wrong. At first I wondered if she feared being alone with me, but no. Her fear was directed outward, out of the windows. I felt my muscles tense, body preparing to fight whatever hurt her so.

  Except this wasn’t a problem to solve with claws or fangs. She had no enemy to slay, no foe to conquer. Her horrified gaze out towards the landscape below told me what I should have realized earlier.

  My beloved human was afraid of flying.

  It was almost unthinkable for me — since the destruction of our homeworld, every prytheen had lived aboard a ship in flight. Any of us who feared flight had died long ago.

  The same wasn’t true of the humans, though. They were used to having a solid planet beneath their feet, and they had no reason not to. My khara hated to be in the sky.

  And I couldn’t bear to be tied to the ground.

  Forget being different species, this was a gulf I had no idea how to cross. How could I comfort her when her worst fear was my greatest joy?

  “Why did you agree to come on this journey?” I asked. It had to be torture for her, and she must have known it would be.

  Becca swallowed, tearing her eyes away from the vista that frightened her so. The grim expression on her face covered terror and my heart ached for her.

  This will not do. She should not suffer so. For a moment I considered turning the flier around, taking her home to spare her this suffering. But no — she valued this mission, and while I did not want to see her hurt I would not crush her dreams.

  Instead, I unstrapped myself and stood. Her pupils, already wide in terror, dilated further as I loomed over her and unfastened her harness.

  “Do not fear,” I said, aware that it was a foolish order. If it was that simple she wouldn’t have this problem. I tried again, speaking slowly. “The autopilot is well designed, skilled. We are high above any obstacles. It can handle the flight for the next few hours and will call me if there is any problem.”

  It wouldn’t need to. There were few enough fliers on Crashland, and nothing else to get in our way. Unless someone set out to intercept us we would make the rest of the flight without difficulty, only needing my attention when we arrived at our destination.

  Until then, I would focus on more important matters. Lifting my khara from her seat, ignoring her protests, I carried her back through to the cargo bay and away from the window.

  Perhaps if she didn’t see how high up we flew her fear would abate? I saw no other comfort to offer her, and I had to hope that it would be enough to free her from the grip of her fears.

  Sitting in my nest of blankets, I held her tight, stroking her long fine hair to comfort her. For minutes nothing happened and I began to fear that this wouldn’t work. Then her breathing steadied and she clutched at me, holding me tight and taking a long, wracking breath.

  “You are well, and you are safe,” I promised her fiercely. “Be at peace, khara. Soon this flight will be over.”

  She tensed again at the word flight, letting out a string of swearwords in her strange human language. I might not know the words but I understood the intent perfectly.

  “Why?” I asked again, quietly, running a hand through her hair. “Why did you do this to yourself, khara?”

  For a long moment she stayed quiet, tense in my arms. When she spoke it was with a quiet intensity, her voice harsh.

  “How else am I going to get off this fucking mud ball? I didn’t come to space to be trapped with assholes like you on the wrong planet. Arcadia was going to be great, I’d meet aliens from all over. If I can get there, I’ll never have to leave the ground again.”

  My claws slipped from their sheaths at the sound of pain in her voice, and I longed to avenge her suffering. But that was impossible. I’d helped rob her of the home she sought, as much as any of the other prytheen on Crashland. My heart lurched at the thought. Like every member of the Silver Band, I shared responsibility for my khara’s suffering.

  I swore to myself that I would make up for my part in that. Whatever the future held for us, right now my khara was in pain and I would not allow that. Her body shook, muscles tense as she fought her fear, and I held her tighter. As though the strength of my arms could squeeze the fear and pain from her.

  Every instinct cried out to strike down whoever had frightened her like this, but there was no foe to fight. I did my best to relax, stroking her long, soft hair, and offering my mate what comfort I could.

  “We will make it worthwhile,” I promised. “I swear it by the stars themselves — I will get you to the planet you call home.”

  How I’d fulfill that oath I didn’t know yet, but I would. I promised myself that Becca would get her wish even if it killed me.

  8

  Becca

  Sniffling, I clung to the broad expanse of Ronan’s scarred chest and tried to control my breakdown. The panic that flooded me was bad enough, but I didn’t want to show weakness in front of him.

  At least he wasn’t laughing at me. His strong hands were gentle, brushing through my hair and soothing me. The sharp points of his claws touched my scalp almost like a comb, and somehow, impossibly, I started to relax. In the arms of this alien monster I almost forgot that we were hurtling through the sky—

  No. A sharp intake of breath as I pushed that thought aside, focusing on the warmth of Ronan’s hug. The powerful, steady beat of his heart, its rhythm lulling me into an almost-calm where I remembered to breathe.

  This close, Ronan’s scent filled the air, a manly, musky smell that somehow made me feel safe and warm. Another deep breath, and another, and the panic slowly withdrew to the edges of my mind. It wasn’t gone, not completely, but I managed to stop shaking and sit up.

  Ronan watched me, his strange, alien eyes focused on me and a frown on his face. Was that concern in his expression? Or annoyance? Reading an alien’s body language wasn’t easy, and none of my books had taught me how.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, not quite sure what I was apologizing for. He growled, a vibration that I felt more than heard, and shook his head.

  “Do not apologize,” he said, his commanding tone oddly comforting. “You have done nothing wrong. You are safe, and I will keep you safe. Focus on that.”

  Amazingly, that did make me feel better. His gravelly voice spoke straight to my hindbrain, and a shadow of a smile came to my lips.

  “It’s not that easy,” I told him. “You can’t just order me—”

  “Hush.” Ronan reached up and laid a finger across my lips. I hushed. “I told you not to think about it. We will discuss it later, but for now you will focus on something else.”

  I found myself nodding, and my cheeks burned with a mixture of embarrassment and anger. Who did he think he was, bossing me around like that? And why was I letting it work? I bit my lip and tried to ignore the warmth at my core, taking a deep breath and letting it out.

  “Fine,” I said, doing my best to ignore the vibration of the flight. “Okay, so what do I do?”

  Ronan sat up too, moving back and giving me a little space. He picked up a blanket, wrapped it
around my shoulders and stroked my cheek. The touch sent a shiver through my body, one I tried to hide from him.

  Tried and failed. I heard his sharp intake of breath, saw the answering tension in his body. His hand slid lower, fingertips trailing down my neck, claws gently tracing across my skin. I let out a little moan at that, and Ronan growled in response.

  A flush rose on my skin and I bit my lip. As ways to distract me went, I liked this one. Ronan’s smile showed his sharp teeth, and he pushed me down into the blanket nest with gentle but irresistible strength.

  I held back my instinctive objection. Ronan leaned over me, his bulk pinning me, and I should have felt trapped. Instead, I felt safe. Secure. His body was between me and harm, protecting me, and I knew that he’d keep me from harm.

  It was almost a disappointment when he sat back, controlling himself with a visible effort. His hand stayed on me, stroking down my side and making me tremble as he spoke.

  “You must eat something, drink some water,” Ronan said. “Build up your strength.”

  Maybe I should have been relieved by that, but instead a wave of disappointment washed over me. That wasn’t exactly what I’d expected him to suggest. I didn’t want him to push my boundaries, but a part of me — the part that responded when he snapped an order at me, or when he gave me one of his looks — whispered that there was something which would keep me distracted.

  Shut it, brain, I snapped at myself. I’d set my boundaries and he was respecting them, though it obviously took an effort. I saw the bulge between his legs, felt the tension in him, and the temptation to give in surged through me. All I’d need to do was ask, and he’d be on me. In me.

  No. Bad idea. Bad! My body might cry out for him, but my mind knew better. Aside from anything else, the idea of distracting Ronan from piloting reminded me of how afraid I was.

  Instead I nodded and reached out for one of my bags, the one that stored my food. A tub of mush would… well, it wouldn’t hurt anything except my morale. And I was hungry, now that he’d drawn my attention to it. My panic had left me exhausted and starving.

  “I wish I had something nicer to eat,” I said, offering Ronan a sealed container. If I had to suffer, he might as well join me.

  “Do not fear, little one,” Ronan said as he pulled the top off the covered bowl and grabbed a spoon. “I shall hunt us food that is more to your taste once we arrive. For now, this will serve.”

  He dug in eagerly and started to devour the goo. I ate a bland spoonful with a grimace, while he spooned the stuff up as fast as he could.

  “You like that mush?” I asked, incredulous. Ronan looked up from his bowl of goop and laughed.

  “When you’ve lived aboard ship as long as I have, any new food is something to savor,” he told me.

  “This is the most basic food paste we can make,” I said, stirring my own meal with distaste. “We only eat it when there’s nothing better.”

  Ronan put down his container and I saw that it was almost clean. While I’d forced down two mouthfuls, he’d devoured his portion with a gusto I envied.

  “I’ve been eating the prytheen equivalent for years,” he told me. “Unless I’d hunted something fresh, ration bars were all I had.”

  He opened a pouch on his belt and pulled out a brick of something dark red, offering it to me. Disturbingly rubbery to the touch, it weighed more than I’d expected. I looked up at him, questioning.

  “Try some,” he encouraged, pulling a knife and cutting a sliver from the brick. I took it dubiously, sniffed it. No smell to speak of.

  Another encouraging nod from Ronan and I put the rubbery stuff in my mouth. At first I tasted nothing, but once I started to chew a thick meaty flavor filled my mouth. Spicy too — strong enough to burn my tongue. I swallowed convulsively, coughing. Tears welled in my eyes.

  “Not bad,” I said, coughing and trying to hold on to my dignity. And honestly, it wasn’t. The overwhelming spicy flavor might not be my thing, but it beat the blandness that came out of the colony’s food makers.

  Maybe I could get used to it. I took Ronan’s knife and shaved off another piece, chewing slowly this time. More tears, but under the pain it had an interesting flavor.

  “I’ve got an idea,” I said, shaving off a few more bits and adding them to my bowl. The combination was… well, it wasn’t good, but it beat either food alone. I could work with this.

  “Here, try it,” I offered, passing Ronan the bowl. He took a spoonful hungrily and somehow it warmed my heart to see the way his eyes lit up.

  At least something’s coming from this trip, I thought. Even if we never found the mysterious signal, we’d have a new dietary contribution to Crashland’s culture.

  I had to laugh at that thought. Great — my ambition had risen to the level of introducing a new food that was marginally better than the worst food our two species produced. What a recipe to start a business on.

  Ronan looked up, curious, and I started to fill him in on the joke. Before I finished my explanation, a deafening klaxon from the cockpit interrupted and Ronan leaped to his feet. I squealed, remembering where we were.

  Our brief respite from the troubles of the world came crashing to an end and panic flooded back.

  9

  Ronan

  Torn between two instincts, I leaped to my feet and out of the cargo bay towards the cockpit. Becca’s panic made me want to hold her, comfort her. But whatever was wrong, it wouldn’t go away if I ignored it. I needed to face it. My beloved human followed, her face gray.

  I pounced into the pilot’s seat, searching through the sensors to see what had upset the autopilot. No immediate danger threatened: we were still high above the landscape, no storm threatened, the engine readouts still glowed the green color humans used to signify safety.

  But the radar screen showed something else. Blinking lights moving towards our position on an intercept course. I frowned — who would launch fliers to meet us out here? We were approaching our target area, and Auric said that there were no human settlements near here. Those colony pods which had fallen in the region had gone dark soon after.

  Prytheen raiders, local dangers, or something to do with the mysterious signal — any of those might be responsible for the loss. Crashland was not a safe planet. It was also possible that the colonists had chosen to isolate themselves and refused to talk to the Wandering Star.

  Someone had their fliers, though, or at least three of them. They rose fast, coming from a mountain range ahead of us. Empty cargo holds gave them an edge in acceleration and maneuverability, making avoiding them impossible. The fliers were the same model as mine, but they weren’t burdened with a hold full of batteries

  Becca pulled herself into the seat next to me, buckling in with trembling fingers. She stared at the screens, keeping her eyes away from the windows. I reached over to squeeze her shoulder, lending her strength as she tightened the straps holding her down.

  I’d distracted her from her fears, but she was far from conquering them. How would she cope if I had to maneuver violently? Hopefully we wouldn’t need to find out.

  “They’re broadcasting,” she said, pointing at the communicator. Without waiting for my response, she pressed the symbol and answered the call.

  A prytheen face appeared on a holographic viewscreen. Hard, angry eyes, a scar across his face. I tried to place him… Korhmar, perhaps? Yes, that was him. One of Vindar’s clan, specializing in planetary assault. Up in space I’d be the better pilot, but deep in Crashland’s gravity well he’d give me a fight for the title.

  I almost hoped it came to that. Something to distract me, a problem that my skills prepared me for.

  “Surrender your craft and we will not harm you,” he said in Galtrade, with a sneer that didn’t inspire me to trust him. “We will simply take your cargo and — Ronan?”

  He blinked in surprise, and I laughed. “Taking up piracy are you? Look elsewhere for easy prey. I am here on a mission for the Silver Band.”

  �
��Ha.” Korhmar’s sneer widened and he shook his head. “You follow Auric now? Give that up and join us, we could use your skills and your flier. There are opportunities here that you would not believe, and Miira clan pilots will always have a home in my pack.”

  “My mission is more important than anything you could offer,” I told him. “It will help you too, even if you abandon your allegiance to the Silver Band. There is a hyperspace relay near here, and we can use it to contact the Taveshi. We will return to the stars.”

  “And why would I want that?” Korhmar said, his gaze hardening. “Here we can live as kings, we have our own planet to rule and females to mate with. What better fate awaits us out there?”

  I controlled my snarl, though I wished I could put a fist through that smug face. “Freedom is out there, freedom and a better life.”

  Korhmar shook his head and bared his teeth, leaning forward towards the camera. “If you refuse to join me, Ronan, turn back. I will not let you or anyone else ruin the good thing I have here. This area is off limits to all except my allies — and you can tell Auric as much.”

  The three fliers were closing fast and my fingers tightened on the controls. A familiar rush, the feel of the moments before battle, filled me.

  I glanced aside at Becca, turning Korhmar’s offer over in my mind. I already knew what my decision would be, though. Becca had put herself through this flight for the chance to escape this world and I would not make her suffering pointless. Turning back or changing sides, either way Becca would lose her dream.

  “No,” I told Korhmar, my voice cold as death. “Move aside and let us pass, or challenge me and die.”

  Korhmar laughed, incredulous, and his flier sped towards mine. Lighter, faster, and presumably armed if he was threatening to attack. This was exactly the kind of attention I’d hoped to avoid, but now that I faced an enemy it brought back the old rush of conflict.