by Delia Roan
It was a foolish whim that made me wake her.
Syrek tightened his jaw and turned. Her opinion mattered not. What mattered was the Ykine liaison, waiting for Syrek’s call. Waiting to hear if they had successfully captured the goods they’d been hired to gather.
He kept walking, even as Ancain scurried next to him. “What are you going to do?”
“Go check in with Gymari. I want to know how many resources we have left.”
Ancain nodded, and peeled away at the next intersection. “I’ll report back as soon as I have information.”
Syrek’s quarters were further into the heart of the ship. He took the long way, knowing it would be less populated. While he walked, he took in the rusting panels, the rattling vents, the clanging pipes and the drips of unknown liquid along the corridor. Each flaw irked him, until his irritation grew.
Slaves.
The word crawled under his skin like sand under scales, making him rankle. His brain hauled up the memory of clattering shackles. The dragging scrape of the chain across the floor. The gentle hands, brushing his face, stroking his shoulders, promising him everything would be all right. That if he and Cyndrae just held on for a little bit longer…
His fingers curled around the heavy yellow gemstone hanging around his neck. The Promise Stone was warm from where it touched his skin, but the day he had claimed it, it had been cold. Cold as metal chains. Cold as bare floors. Cold as his mother’s cheek beneath his trembling fingers.
Slaves.
He had never shirked from spending lives to obtain his goals. Yet that single word was enough to derail him.
Slaves.
Syrek stopped short in the corridor and leaned his forehead against the wall, letting the cool surface ease his headache. He frowned and took a step back, raising his hand to run it over the wall. Warm to the touch. Perhaps a hot water pipe?
A worker scurried down the hall, and Syrek straightened. He nodded to the worker, then continued on his way, aware that any sign of weakness from him would spread gossip through the ship. While his father had always admonished him to maintain the facade of strength, another of Zathlassan’s witticisms involved killing any subordinate who spoke ill of his master.
The humans might be slaves, Syrek thought, but I’m the one not getting paid for my work.
By the time he reached his quarters, he came to the conclusion that he would have to stall. He would learn more from Ancain about the humans. Maybe they could wake the sleepers in shifts, spreading out their impact on Haven.
He still pondered the logistics of such an action, when he entered his room and closed the door behind him.
“I’ve been waiting for you,” whispered a husky voice from within his room.
Syrek groaned internally and turned to face the bed. “Clez.”
The light from the habitat wall lit her lithe body. She sat on his bed naked, except for a gossamer strip of fabric held to her body by static. An open bottle of fruit wine sat on the bedside table, and she sipped from a full cup. She smiled alluringly, but to Syrek, it carried the usual undertone of viciousness he had come to associate with Clez.
“I didn’t invite you here, Clez.”
The feathers on her cheeks stirred as she fought to keep her smile in place. “You didn’t have to. I know you are tense after that mission.” She ran a hand over his bed. “Maybe I could help you relax?”
Syrek stared at her. “It’s been a long day, Clez. Why don’t you go back to your quarters?”
The smile slipped, but she rallied. “Syrek, don’t be coy. I know you Ennoi value your soul mates, but you’re not going to find your Avowed out here. There isn’t another Ennoi within a hundred planets. Maybe even a thousand.” She spread her arms. “But I’m right here.”
“Clez, you should go.” The irritation crept back into his voice. The mention of soul mates on Clez’s coarse lips had tapped out his patience. He didn’t need a reminder that he would never attain that particular blessing.
Blessing? More like curse.
She extended the cup to Syrek. “We hit it big, Syrek. We should celebrate!”
“Clez…”
“Syrek, I don’t understand…” She fluttered her long lashes. “Don’t you want me?”
He dropped his head and rubbed his forehead. With a soft curse, he marched to the bed. Clez rose up onto her knees and extended her arms to him. Her lids drooped and her lips pouted. She squealed when Syrek grabbed her forearm. The drink splashed across her negligee, making the fabric almost disappear. Her secondary arm reached out and stroked his knuckles, but Syrek averted his eyes.
He hauled her off the bed and dragged her to the door, grabbing the gown draped across the back of his chair. “Clez, you know the rules. No fraternizing.”
She landed outside his door with a squawk. The robe floated down around her as Syrek closed the door on her stunned face.
Syrek engaged the lock for good measure. As spirited as Clez was, he was never fond of her cruelty. She enjoyed making others suffer and that trait hit too close to home. His father had been the same way, taking twisted pleasure from tears.
Syrek liked his fire to burn purer.
Like the flash of heat in the human’s eyes…
No, if he knew one thing, it was this. Fraternizing lead to trouble. Now that the human was aboard his ship, she was part of his freeholder crew.
He had more pressing concerns than a pair of lovely brown eyes in a lovely face.
Like what he was going to tell the Ykine.
And his crew.
CHAPTER FOUR
MARA
Ancain found Mara waiting by the side of the ship, her face hot with tears while she watched the aliens scurry around her. She flinched at his approach, still startled by his strange appearance. However, over the past few days since her awakening, he had been the only one to attempt to befriend her.
He crouched down beside her and scratched at the scar around his neck. “Are you well?”
“Th-this is all a little overwhelming,” Mara admitted. “I don’t even know where I am.”
“Haven seemed overwhelming to me when I first arrived, too. You will find your way. Come.”
She trailed after him, too afraid to disobey any order given with authority. Haven. She filed the name away, wondering if the translator behind her ear told her the true meaning of the word. It seemed such a benign name for such a sinister place.
After making her wait outside an office door for a few minutes, Ancain left her in the care of the alien woman inside. She introduced herself as Gymari and gave Mara the once-over with shrewd eyes. “Not much to you, huh?”
The collar of Mara’s overalls slipped down over her shoulder, and she tugged it back into place. “No, ma’am.”
“Come on, then.”
Gymari waddled ahead of Mara. Her stubby legs worked overtime to keep her round body moving. She resembled a turnip, in shape and in color, and a bit like boiled cabbage in smell. So far, she’d been matter-of-fact and brusque while she showed Mara around Haven.
Her tour guide gestured with a thick arm. “That way is the compression chambers, the sanitation chambers, mechanical and the emergency hazmat suits. If there’s ever a leak, don’t bother rushing down there. The suits don’t work. Back at the dock, you’ll find the lifeboats. Again, don’t bother. Half of them are rust at this point.”
Mara tried to keep up, but every time one of the inhabitants of the ship walked past, she found herself staring, unable to hear the words Gymari spoke. The sheer variety of bodies, scents, shapes and voices made her head spin. The Sykorians had been homogeneous, and indistinguishable from each other.
A spindly alien with wispy tentacles floated past, powered by a humming motor strapped to its side. Gymari waved. “Going okay, Oyoyoi?” The creature puffed, and Gymari nodded. “Of course, of course.”
When the drifting alien turned to her, Mara shrank back. She’d never liked jellyfis
h after being stung on vacation by an Australian bluebottle.
When Oyoyoi left, Gymari sniffed. “You’ll never make friends like that. Come, girl.”
They walked past the kitchens and the scullery, where the heat and smells of frying food made Mara swoon. Her mouth began to water, but Gymari kept moving. “Simple rules, girl. You work, you eat. You don’t work, you don’t eat.”
Mara licked her lips and pushed aside the grumbling in her belly. “What sort of work will I do?”
Slaves don’t get to pick.
“We’re janitorial. Ship cleanup. Always looking for new hands in the laundry.” She shot a glance at Mara’s delicate fingers. “You might do well picking grubs off plants with those twigs on your wrists. I’ll show you where you’re sleeping.”
The barracks were located on a sub-floor. Mara and Gymari slid under a floor panel and climbed down a narrow ladder. The ceiling above echoed with footsteps that faded as the pair walked further.
Mara winced when she spotted the beds. They jutted from the walls in rows on either side of the narrow room. Many of the beds were occupied, and as Mara braced herself for their stares, she remembered Gymari’s warning. She smiled and nodded tentatively at a few of her new roommates, but she dropped her head when her overtures were met with sneers and scowls.
So much for making friends.
Some of the beds boasted luxuries, like paper screens for privacy, reading lamps, or fluffy blankets, but Gymari led her to a spartan bed in the corner.
“Yours,” Gymari said. “Better get used to it. It’s home now, but don’t go bringing partners to it every night.”
Mara tried not to shudder at the thought of making love to any of the freaks she had seen today. Do aliens have bedbugs? Crabs? Gymari gave a short, humorless laugh at Mara’s expression, and thumped her shoulder before staggering away. “Welcome to Haven. Work hard. Don’t die. And keep your eye on the prize!”
Mara eyed the neatly-made bed next to her bare mattress. A fluffy orange blanket, which appeared to be made out of flowers, covered the bed. A fresh, fruity scent drifted up to tease Mara’s nose. Fairy lights hung along the head of the bed in a manner that would have made preteen Mara very jealous.
The bed on the opposite wall was a stark contrast. The sheets lay in a jumble, with a wrapper sticking out from under the blanket. Mara spotted a stone carving of a demonic warrior in the clutter gathered on the bedside table.
She tilted her head, stepped closer, and peered at the sculpture, trying to make out the details in the arms. Is it carrying a severed head?
A fist jabbed her in the shoulder, hard enough to bruise. With a yelp, Mara turned to face the two aliens who had approached silently. The ones scowling at her seemed familiar.
“Keep your hands to yourself,” the alien hissed, stepping between Mara and the bed. “Thieves get flushed around here.”
“I-I’m sorry.” Mara stepped toward her own bed, rubbing her arm. She recognized the bird-like one who had spoken. She had been on the Sykorian ship, and later on the caravel. Instead of her flight suit, she wore some sort of robe loosely wound around her body.
“Ease up, Clez.” The second alien flopped onto the orange bed and crossed her lanky legs. “The new girl was just looking.”
Muttering under her breath, Clez pulled a box out from under her bed. She grabbed a cosmetics bag and a change of clothes.
“Keep your eyes to yourself, fresh meat!” With one last snarl in Mara’s direction, she stormed off.
“And keep your eyes on the prize,” chirped the alien on the orange bed. She rolled to a sitting position, tucking her four legs beneath her. Her ears flopped over her shoulders and her wide eyes studied Mara with wary interest. “You weren’t going to rob Clez, were you? Because if you did, you’d pay for it with your blood.”
“I’m not a thief.”
The alien’s head tilted in a condescending manner. She looked like a bunny crossed with a deer, but a deeply suspicious one. “Of course you’re not.”
“I’m not!”
“Pleased to meet you, Not. I’m Luall.”
“Mara. My name is Mara.” She extended her hand, and Luall peered at it in puzzlement until Mara dropped it. “Sorry, I guess you don’t shake hands here. It’s a greeting.”
Luall grinned, exposing several rows of sharp little teeth. “We mostly bow. Not everyone here has hands. You’re from the Sykorian mission.”
“How did you know?”
“Gossip spreads fast on Haven,” Luall answered. “But I know because I was the pilot on that trip.”
Mara’s eyebrows shot up. “You’re a pilot?” It seemed strange for someone of Luall’s status to sleep down here with the slaves.
“Was,” Luall clarified. “I gave all that up for a glamorous life in the janitorial department. But the caravel is Thoon-built, and I’m the only Thoon capable of piloting it.”
“Thoon.” Mara pronounced the strange word carefully. “Thoon. What is Gymari?”
Luall shrugged. “Don’t know. Don’t care. Ancain is Rynangian. One of the last of his people. Syrek is Ennoi.”
Mara started at Syrek’s name. Ennoi. By the way Luall said it, she clearly expected Mara to be impressed. “I-I don’t know what that is.”
The cute bunny mouth quirked. “Ennoi, like, the Ennoi? The one-true-love, your-heart-beats-as-mine, forever-and-ever-soul-mated Ennoi? No? Not familiar?”
Mara shrugged. She didn’t much believe in love. Her father had dissuaded her of that notion years ago by falling for every attractive woman who crossed his path. “It sounds romantic, but no, sorry. I haven’t heard of the Ennoi back on Earth.”
“And you are human, right?” Luall continued. Her tone was clinical. Not hostile, but not friendly, either.
“Y-yes. I’m sure there’s a better word, but for now, yes, human.” Mara eyed the bed. Her legs ached from standing, but that bare mattress…
“Come on. I’ll show you where they keep the sheets.”
Luall led her back out through the room. Mara dropped her head, and kept her attention focused on Luall’s wagging tail. When Luall caught her staring, she flicked an ear at Mara, and her eyes narrowed. “Eyes to yourself.”
Mara’s face burned. “No! I mean, that’s not-”
“You’re very pretty,” Luall said, “but it’s ship rules. Syrek’s strict about fraternization.”
“Right,” Mara said. “Sorry.” She hunched her shoulders and followed Luall to the linen closet. First Clez and now Luall? Way to blend in, Mara.
Luall reached into the closet and when she turned and saw Mara’s face, she paused. Her mouth quirked, and she sighed. She checked to see if anyone eavesdropped. “This is a secret, but I’m sort of taken.”
“I did. And I wasn’t staring like that. I mean…” Mara bit her lip as Luall raised an eyebrow and piled linens into her arms. “I swear. I wasn’t staring. I just…” She took a deep breath.
I need friends. Luall seems nice. Don’t screw this up.
“I’m a little overwhelmed. Not everyone has been welcoming. I mean, apart from Ancain.” She paused at the sudden flare of possessiveness in Luall’s eyes. “Wait, you said you were taken. Did you mean by Ancain?”
Clapping a hand over Mara’s mouth, Luall pushed her against the wall. “You will say nothing about Ancain and me to anyone, got it?”
Her eyes wide, Mara nodded. “Promise. Ancain has been nice to me. I owe him.”
Luall’s face softened, and she stepped back. “You’re new. You’re strange. It’ll get easier once you’re working. Plus…” Her voice trailed off.
“Plus?”
“Don’t tell anyone I said this.” Luall checked the corridor was empty. “People are angry.”
“Angry? At me?”
“Angry about you,” Luall clarified. “Nobody wants you, or your people. Not on Haven. No offense, but you’re an extra mouth to feed. And the Sykorian mission should have b
een straightforward and easy, but it wasn’t.”
“I didn’t ask to be here,” Mara replied. Her eyes stung. I didn’t ask to be tossed from alien owner to alien owner.
“No, but here you are. And you’re making life difficult for us.” Luall stepped back, putting distance between them. The cozy camaraderie of earlier had faded, and Luall’s demeanor went cool again. “Some friendly advice? Keep your head down.”
“Thank you, Luall. For the advice and the bedding.”
“Eh, you owe me now. Favors are Haven’s currency.” A call from the barracks made Luall’s ears perk up. “Coming! Wait for me!” She turned back to Mara. “I’ll see you around. You got any questions, come ask me or Gymari.”
“Thank you, Luall.”
With a wave of her fingers, Luall left Mara to her thoughts. Mara stared at the fabric in her arms. The coarse weave of the sheets scratched the palms of her hand. She traced the brown and tan pattern with a trembling finger, but her gaze was unfocused and distant.
I’m going to die before I see home again.
A peal of laughter from the other room brought her to her senses. She sniffed and dragged the sleeve over her face.
No, I won’t let them break me. I can’t. Dannica needs me.
She straightened her back and breathed until her nerves settled. In her mind, she replayed her conversations with Luall, Gymari and Clez, noting the information the alien women had given her. Keep her head down. Work hard. Gather favors. Luall and Ancain are together. Syrek’s the leader.
The thought of his mesmerizing gaze lingered in her mind. She shook it away. No fraternizing. That part would be easy. Every creature here made her want to turn and run. Especially Syrek, with those weird speckled eyes.
And stay the hell out of Clez’s way. See, I’m learning already, Mara thought. I’ll survive.
Her arms tightened around the bundle. Raising her chin and pulling back her shoulders, she walked back into the common room. A group of aliens, Luall and Gymari included, sat around a rickety table, playing what appeared to be a game. Smooth, colorful tokens lay scattered across the table. She would have stared, except Clez leaned against the wall. When she saw Mara’s curious gaze, she sneered.