Wyst

by J. A. Hornbuckle

  “Since you couldn’t be considered and Rykhan was our first,” she started, grabbing the next stack of clothing and stumbling to yet another unit. “We only had Tyshar, Arbrynt, Gyard and Bronsyn to choose from. My money was on Ty and Bronsie.”

  He did not like this. Did not like this at fracking all, even though he understood no more than a few words of her declaration. He was getting better at English and would soon master the slang and colloquialisms his feminine, quasi-warrior-companion used. But there were still some things he didn’t understand. “What does pussy mean?”

  He called out his question across the aisle between where he leaned against some of the shorter, squat equipment and the large machines she’d chosen to use. A space not too far away, but as soon as he uttered his question she raced to his side with an expression that was a combination of horror and trepidation as her eyes darted to the other customers. “Shh, Wyst. For god’s sake!”

  Obviously he’d performed another faux pas, but that had been a daily occurrence since they’d landed, so he wasn’t overly concerned. Everything was ‘cool’ as his Pam-ah-lah was wont to say, if no one noticed and reacted to him.

  As for Wyst, he didn’t give a fracking rat’s bottom. That was if he’d gotten the idea of one of his pixie’s phrases right to indicate he didn’t care.

  She rushed to a stop beside him, gripping onto his canted elbows, one of the arms he held against his chest as he leaned back against the one of the low-lying washers before she rose up onto her toes. “Americans don’t, like, use that word outside the bedroom. At least not if they want to be considered as upstanding folk, anyway.”

  Tilting his chin down in what he knew was an imperial gesture, he stabbed her with his gaze. “And exactly what word is that, little one?”

  Shooting her eyes around the place of cloth-cleansing, she leaned against him and whispered, “Pussy.”

  The tone and manner in which she uttered the word caused his eyebrows to raise without his permission. “And this is socially unacceptable how?”

  “Because it’s slang for what a woman has between her legs and is, like, a slur if a guy says it to another male. Geesh! What’s on those fucking sleep tapes anyway? Didn’t you learn anything about my world before you landed?”

  Keeping his eyes on hers, Wyst thought through what she’d explained. “A pussy refers to the triangle portion of the plump, fragrant flesh of a female’s core, correct?”

  With unblinking eyes, his pixie nodded.

  “Which I’m guessing is because of the fur humans grow to cover their sex organs during puberty. Yet your mons are bare, mica jain. Why is that?”

  She dropped her eyes to the floor and he watched as color suffused her cheeks as the whole of her body stiffened. There was a noise coming from her mouth, but even with his enhanced hearing, he couldn’t catch her words. “Say again?”

  “It’s because I shave. You know, like, down there.”

  He couldn’t bear the ashamed and embarrassed feelings rolling off her in waves, so Wyst decided to go a different direction. “And for a human male to call another a ‘pussy’ is an insult?”

  “Without a doubt,” she admitted, her gaze slowly traversing up his body in order to connect with his again. “A slam of the worst sort.”

  After more than a few seconds of their eyes engaging in a way that had his tailpor lengthening, Wyst gave into his curiosity. “Why are you embarrassed to explain this?”

  She grabbed the top layer of the last stack of clothing and headed to what she called a ‘washer’. “Because this is a conversation that needs to be done in private.”

  She stopped mid-movement and glared at him over her shoulder. “Wait. How did you know I was embarrassed?”

  That was a reasonable question, but Wyst didn’t have a ready answer. At least not one he liked. In fact, the more he thought about it, the more he hated what his mind told him was the truth.

  He could feel his pixie’s emotions.

  “Oh no you can’t,” she yelled, as a wave of disbelief and frustration washed over him. “Uh-uh, there is no way in hell you and I are that connected! Being able to hear each other’s thoughts when we don’t shield them is one thing. But to tap into my emotions? Gonna have to call bullshit on that, dude.”

  The fact he hadn’t sent her a direct thought, but she’d easily received, was scary enough. But to feel each other’s private feelings was going to really, as his pixie would say, suck. “Can you feel mine?”

  She stared at him before swiftly turning back to her chore. But he heard her thoughts and was broadsided by the irritation she tried hard not to let him see. Fuck you, Wyst.

  This was bad.

  This was very, very bad.

  Inhaling deeply, Wyst leaned against the unit next to her as she added detergent and a rinse agent to the machine before adding enough coins to make it engage. “I do not want the connection we share either, leca purvya. It is too intrusive and does not allow either of us any level of privacy. But this is not of my doing. I am, like you, appalled and upset by the abilities we share.”

  Closing the lid of the machine with a thud, she turned towards him. “So you didn’t ask for this?”

  “Gyed, no!” How could she even think that? “The Mycalyte Trivajni we share is the stuff of legends, only spoken of by the priestesses and others who dedicate their lives to religious service on Galaxia and Nutrol. And until I actually heard your thoughts when you and Rykhan’s mate were battling for escape, I didn’t believe a link like ours was even possible.”

  “Well, I just wanna go on record as saying this freaking stinks!”

  He knew she did because he could hear the cacophony of her mind, the whirlwind of her emotions. And he unequivocally agreed. “If it was in my power to change it, to remove whatever it is that binds us, I would, mica pixie.”

  “How do we handle it then? I mean, do we stay as far away from one another as possible or shield both our thoughts and emotions?” She stood before him, blue eyes questioning, searching his as she, like him, struggled to find an answer. “What do we do, babe?”

  “I don’t know,” he replied without thinking. “But I feel the need to move. To run as far and as fast as I can.”

  Her face lifted enough so he could view her eyes, the ones who were so close to his but still so far away.

  “To escape our connection? Didn’t we kind of do that when I was on the Searcher? From what Bronsyn said, your starship is, like, tucked in a crater on the far side of the moon, yet you still heard what was churning in my brain. And now you can hear my heart-stuff? Freaking eww, dude.”

  He hated she’d named, and therefore claimed, whatever it was between them and had been for some time. “No. I don’t have any need to test the distance of our link.”

  But, his hearts thudded with the need to get out, to stretch his muscles and just fracking well move as he tried to find a solution to all the current problems they faced. He was a male of action and the enforced inactivity of the last few days chaffed on his last nerve. But she didn’t need to know that, since she’d shown no interest in trying to discover the man behind the body he knew she desired.

  “Yes, but we were operating in extreme circumstances. Perhaps when we are both calm and rested, when our bodies and minds are not under duress, our connection will not be as strong.” He caught her encouraging nod out of the corner of his eye. “How long will it take for our clothes and linens to be ready?”

  “I’m not sure, but I’m thinking a couple of hours.”

  “Then I will stay away for one point five of Earth’s hours and we will test our Trivajni. Will you agree to this?” He held his breath as he waited more than a few seconds for her reply, hoping she couldn’t read his need to run away, to put as much distance between them as possible.

  “Yeah. I will, big guy. But I gotta say, this is some really funky-assed shit.” Her eyes found his and created another ripple in what was flowing between them.

  Thinking it was the appropriat
e moment to enact a gesture he’d always wanted to try, Wyst held up his hand, palm toward his beautiful traveling companion. And she didn’t leave him hanging for any longer than it took to breathe as she slapped her hand to his. “I will see you soon, mica azjani. Call out if you need me.”

  “Yeah, you will. I just, like, hope I don’t goddamn hear or feel you while you’re gone.” Her smile was rueful as if she wanted to take the sting out of her words, but he knew what she meant.

  “As do I, little one.”

  Chapter Twenty

  “Thank you all for joining me today,” Bronsyn started after all the formalities were completed, his eyes on the split screen. Allwyne and Smyrta appeared politely curious while Stege’s face held an expression of studied indifference. But Bronsyn had prepared well, compiling notes of what had transpired in the weeks he and his warriors had landed as well as vid clips of his communiqués with the quest Commander.

  The damning evidence in how the peoples of Galaxia and Nutrol were lied to about the Searcher’s glorious mission.

  “You have spoke of this before, Bronsyn,” Allwyne cut-in. “I and my other Herald leaders discussed it at length, but told Stege was unavailable to meet with us for another few rotas.”

  Smyrta frowned and nodded. “The Nutrol Conclave received the same response. It is not that we disregarded your allegations, Bronsyn, but wanted to meet with Stege and obtain his response before voting.”

  The blonde Stege waved a hand dismissively while uttering, “I am a busy man with a number of responsibilities and cannot be expected to drop everything for yet another chit-chat session. I send you weekly reports and those should answer any and all your questions regarding the quest.”

  Allwyne shook his head and sat back in his chair. “I think you want us to believe your reports are complete and thorough in all that is happening with the mate search, but after Bronsyn’s last call to me directly, I find that not to be the case.”

  “I agree,” Smyrta joined in. “I went back and personally reviewed all the updates provided by the Committee and found them sorely lacking, especially in light of the ground Commander’s claims.”

  “Are you calling me a liar?” The affront in both Stege’s face and tone was hard to miss and Bronsyn felt a measure of satisfaction in putting the male on the spot. Although it rather felt like he was being a tattle-tale, going to the leaders to disclose the less than honorable intentions of the Committee. “Is that what this is about?”

  “What else would you call it? Our original mission was to find females to mate with and return back to our home world in order to raise a family. But as soon as it was discovered Rykhan’s mate was with youngling, we discovered an entirely different strategy was intended.” Bronsyn pulled up the supporting vid of a very drunk Stege when he’d called to report Rykhan’s Leah was breeding a female hybrid.

  “As if I hadn’t receive that bit of news more than two heras previously,” Stege mumbled before his lips met the rim of his glass to take a deep, long drink. “We are celebrating their joining and the youngling’s gender, Bron. With fervor, if you must know.”

  As well as everyone who had been involved in the first quest would be, Bronsyn thought. The fact that a Picari sperm cell had actually penetrated an Earthling’s ovum and created the first ever Picari/Earth zygote would be cause for celebration on both Galaxia and Nutrol. And to discover it was female would put the resulting festivities over the top.

  “Be that as it may, I respectfully request how you wish me to proceed with our mission.” Bronsyn felt his stomach clench.

  Smacking his lips, Stege peered into his device as if to spear Bronsyn with his gaze. But the man was too drunk to perform the action with any level of authority. “You are to go on as you have been doing. Your females still have yet to complete their assignment.” The male took another sip of what was in his glass before speaking again. “And it is not your place to ask questions…”

  But Bronsyn felt it was time to get to the truth. “Oh, but it is! As the commander of the quest while on planet, I need to know and understand the full scope of this mission.”

  Stege’s image showed the drunken sod as he blinked deeply.

  “My warriors have been questioning why our star-ship has one full level dedicated to medical while their quarters, those supposed to house both them and their mates on our return trip, are so small.”

  “You don’t know anything, Bron.” His commander and long time friend was getting drunker by the minute and Bronsyn felt he only had but a few lesps to speak plainly was a small window before Stege passed out.

  “Tell me what’s going on, Gwynt. As the mission commander, I needs clarification of the Gal-Trol plans.”

  “Let’s just say that because Rykhan and that human female have successfully mated, all our dreams for the future have come true,” Stege muttered, tipping the last of his glass into his mouth. “The Picari Alliance will never again have to worry about any funding or the infestation of humans as we move into the future.”

  “How so?” But Stege only wavered in his chair as Bronsyn demanded. “Tell me, Gwynt! Why don’t we ever have to worry about funding or the humans?”

  “Because you and your males will never bring the stench of a human female back to either Galaxia or Nutrol.” The high-pitched, sing-song voice of the male hovered in air of the room and made the skin on Bronsyn’s arms and legs prickle with goose-bumps. “No. We will secure any and all of the hybrid offspring, bring them back to our worlds only allowing them to be raised by those who have the deepest pockets and the brightest futures.”

  “You’re talking about selling the younglings that might result from a mating of our warriors to the highest bidders or to those of the elite of our planets?” Everything within Bronsyn rebelled at Stege’s words.

  “Of course! This hybrid of Protector Nillr and his disrespectful human female has already been promised to the pair who lead the technology sector on Galaxia.” Stege’s chin was almost on his chest and the male was drooling even as he spoke. “We’ve already received over five hundred thousand credits in payment for it.”

  Bronsyn’s lips felt like ice, but he needed to press on, to discover as much as he could. “You have already sold Rykhan and Leah’s youngling?”

  “Gyed’s veil! Isn’t that what I’ve been telling you?” Stege’s head bobbed up, but his eyes couldn’t seem to focus on any one particular image. “We’ve even got the necessary equipment in place on the Searcher in order to transport the hybrid.”

  “What else? What else don’t we know about?” Bronsyn was leaning into his unit and only realized his fists were clenched by the pain his fingernails generated as they dug into his palms. A pain that seemed to help center him somehow.

  “There might be the matter of a rysling,” came the low, slow mutter before Stege’s voice drifted off into a snore.

  Bronsyn switched off the vid and waited for a reaction from the other leaders.

  “I wholly object to this…this piece of chicanery. It is obviously a falsified, doctored portion of video whose only function is to disparage my good name and my authority as the quest Commander!” Stege sputtered, so angry he was spitting as he yelled.

  “I wondered why you requested the approval of a rysling. Such an unusual request in light of the original quest parameters,” Smyrta drawled with a curl of his lips. “But the ground Commander brought up a good point. Why was the Searcher crafted with so much space dedicated to medical facilities and so little given to our worthy warriors?”

  “That alone speaks of a pre-knowledge none of us were made aware of or, dare I say, would have approved had we known.” Allwyne’s words were condemning and Bronsyn felt hope flare in his chest. “I also take umbrage at your assessment of human females. I believe you even called their proposed presence on our planets a ‘stench’. Can you explain what you meant by that, especially in light of the vow you took when you became the Supreme Commander of our lofty mate quest?”

  Bronsyn wa
tched his old friend’s face flush as the male opened and closed his mouth several times. “You can’t honestly expect me to explain all the intricate details of the mission in a brief conference! They’re too scientific for men such as yourselves and too numerous to explain in just one meeting.”

  “Try anyway, Gwynt,” Allwyne urged, firmly yet quietly. “Give us an overview of what you and the others on your Committee have proposed to do.”

  “And not just for the current mission but the upcoming one,” Smyrta added.

  Bronsyn felt the need to expose another piece of information the two leaders obviously didn’t know. “The Seeker already launched two days ago. In addition, the Supreme Leader has demanded an operating theatre be built in the leased housing I and my warriors currently occupy. I was told this was so a multitude of human ovum could be extracted as quickly as possible.”

  The tension in the silence that fell was sharp, deep and carried a vague sense of utter astonishment. That it went on for so long made it even worse.

  “I will immediately call for an emergency meeting of the Galaxian Herald,” Allwyne started, the somberness of his gaze giving evidence to his words. “Where I will call for Gwynt Stege’s resignation as the Supreme Commander of the Mate Quest. This may or may not include his arrest for crimes again our two worlds.”

  “Cr-crimes? What sort of crimes can you bring—”

  “And I will be doing the same with the Nutrolian Conclave,” Smyrta announced, his voice loud enough to override Stege’s bellows. “We will, of course, inform you when a new leader has been chosen, vetted and appointed, Bronsyn.”

  “Thank you, sirs,” Bronsyn replied, holding a fist over his hearts and bowing his head. The relief of the moment was only superseded by the exuberance in proving Stege was not the right male for the job. “I wish you Tsiran’s strength and protection as you do what must be done.”