The Edge of it All

by Jessica Grayson

  He stares at me in horror.

  "What?" I ask, mildly annoyed at the look he's giving me.

  "Are you”—he hesitates a moment before finally asking—“fully matured?"

  My jaw drops, but I quickly snap it shut again. "What kind of question is that?"

  "Well," he begins, and I can tell from the tone of his voice he's being cautious with his words, "you are very small, your claws are short and blunted, your fangs are pitifully tiny, and they do not appear to be sharp."

  A quick puff of air escapes my lips in a surprised laugh. "Pitifully tiny fangs? Really?"

  He nods in earnest, and I realize he's serious.

  A sobering thought hits me, and my heart sinks. My gaze drops to my hands. "I am a stranger in a strange land," I whisper more to myself than to him.

  His reflective eyes search mine, so familiar and yet so foreign. "I have upset you," he says softly.

  I open my mouth to deny it, but the words won't come. In truth, I know he meant no harm, but his questions have upset me...more than they probably should. Folding my arms on the table before me, I blink back the tears that threaten to come. "Ever since I woke up in this nightmare, I haven't seen another Terran. None of the masters or any of the other slaves even knew what I was. They always just called me 'the V'loryn.' Every time someone mistook me for them, it was like a blade through my heart because it reinforced the fact that my planet must be really far from”—I look out the window at the stars blurring past the viewscreen—“wherever this is."

  I swallow hard against the lump forming in my throat before I take a deep breath and push down my sadness. "And just for the record, I am considered fully mature for my species. Are you”—my gaze travels up and down his form—“fully mature?"

  To be honest, I wouldn't even have thought to ask him this question, given his overly masculine appearance. But there's a lot about this part of the universe I don't understand, and I shouldn't take anything for granted.

  Looking down at himself as if my question were ridiculous, his eyes snap back up to meet mine, and he puffs out his chest as if to emphasize his massive form. His mildly insulted expression tells me he obviously didn't expect me to ask this either. "Yes, of course, I am."

  I stop just short of rolling my eyes when I realize I've probably wounded his pride. Frowning, I turn my attention back to my nutrient bar. I'm going to have to figure out how to eat this thing.

  "May I?" he asks, reaching for my food.

  I nod and hand it to him.

  He takes it from me and breaks it into several smaller pieces.

  Carefully lifting one to my nose, I sniff first before taking a small bite. I chew slowly, and the dry chunks coat my tongue. It tastes kind of like cranberry and apple mixed together with sawdust. I smile. Not bad...not bad at all. Definitely much better than the liquid nutrient packet.

  His piercing gaze studies me. "You...like it?" he asks a bit cautiously.

  I grin and take another bite. "Best thing I've tasted in a long time." And I mean it.

  He smiles widely in return, and it makes him appear almost Terran. And for the first time, in a long time, the tension eases in my neck and shoulders. Tr'lani's okay. I'm okay. It almost seems too good to be real. Part of me worries I'm going to wake up back in a cage, finding that this was all just a dream after all—a small reprieve from the hell I've endured these past several months. My thoughts drift to my crew, and I shudder inwardly as I conjure all sorts of horrors of what may have happened to them. I've got to find them, somehow.

  He gives me a concerned look. "What is wrong, Liana?"

  "I was just thinking about my crew."

  "How many of you were there?"

  "There were seven of us total. I'm the commander." A wistful smile crests my lips. "We were on our way back to Terra from Mars. We went into stasis for the journey, and I..."

  Clenching my jaw, I lower my gaze to the floor, struggling to push down the maelstrom of emotions swirling within.

  When I finally lift my eyes to Soran, he gives me a sad look. Anger fills me. I don't want his pity. I don't deserve it. "It's all my fault this happened."

  His brow furrows deeply. "Why do you blame yourself?"

  "I was the commanding officer. It was my job”—I place my hand to my chest for emphasis—“to make sure everything was working properly before we went into stasis. I... There must have been something I missed, something I forgot. I just don't understand how we were taken without the ship waking us up. It's supposed to alert us when something is wrong."

  I close my eyes briefly, and the painful memories rush in. Subconsciously, I reach up to touch behind my left ear, wincing slightly when my fingers trace over the small piece of metal that rests just on top of the skin from the embedded translator the Zovians gave me.

  "What is that?" Soran reaches for me, but I jerk away quickly. After so many months of beatings and shock sticks, it's hard to not flinch when he tries to touch me, and a short puff of air escapes my nostrils in frustration. I'm stronger than this.

  He quickly retracts his hand, and the smooth, shimmering red scales on his face darken slightly. "I will not harm you. I would sooner end my own life than ever hurt you. I swear to the Creator."

  His eyes stare deep into mine; his words sound sincere. The look on his face is nothing short of wounded, grief-stricken that I fear him.

  But I'm not afraid of him. He and his brother have been nothing but kind to Tr'lani and me since our escape. I meet his gaze evenly. "I believe you, Soran."

  I reach back and twist my long auburn hair and pull it over my shoulder to one side, turning my head slightly so he can see behind my left ear. I take his hand in mine and place it lightly over the small metal nub protruding from the skin.

  His touch is soft—light as a feather—as if he's being very careful not to hurt me.

  "I think it's some sort of translator. When they put it in, it hurt like hell, but I think it's the only reason I could understand them...and probably the only reason I can understand you now. I've had a couple of headaches since then but..." I frown. “Don't you have one of these?"

  His eyes are wide with concern. "How did you survive this?"

  "What?"

  "That is a Cerdolion translator. They have a high implantation death rate."

  Already a closet hypochondriac, his words send me into full-blown panic mode. "Could it still kill me?"

  He shakes his head. "Tr'lani would surely have already detected any issue when she scanned you. I do not believe you are still in danger, but we will have another Healer check you once we arrive at my home world. Perhaps we can have a V'loryn Healer assess you since you are so similar to their species."

  Although his words aren't entirely reassuring, it's enough that my entire body sags in relief. "Wait a minute." My head snaps up to meet his gaze. "I'm not speaking Terran Common, am I?"

  "No, you are speaking Mosauran—the Draken dialect."

  "What?"

  "Your translator enables you to speak my language without realizing it."

  "I. Am. Speaking. Mosauran." I punctuate each word deliberately, listening carefully to how it sounds as it leaves my mouth. Closing my eyes, I concentrate and speak again. This time I make sure to speak in Terran Common. "Can you understand me now?"

  He cocks his head to the side, blinking several times in confusion. "I do not understand your words. Is that your native tongue?"

  "Yes. Why can't you understand it?”

  "Your language is not programmed into the translator because your species is unknown."

  "What does that have to do with it?"

  He explains. "Adding a new language to the translation database is a great undertaking. That is why first contact with any new species can be difficult. It often takes many cycles for teams of translators to ensure the new species' language is properly converted into each and every language the embedded translators are programmed for."

  "And...everyone uses these embedded translators?"
r />   He shakes his head. "The V'loryns do not use them."

  "Why not?"

  "The 'legal' ones”—he makes sure to emphasize the word legal—“are a Mosauran design. The V'loryns do not trust us, and therefore do not trust the translators. Besides, their people are very adept at assimilating languages. And every species in the known universe speaks V'loryn because almost everyone trades with them for their L'sair crystals."

  "What are L'sair crystals?"

  "A type of mineral used for fuel. They power ships and, in many cases, entire planets. It is the most efficient, clean energy in the known universe, and they only exist in the V'loryn planetary system."

  I sink back in my chair, filing this information away in my brain for later use. The realization that there's so much I need to learn about this part of the universe is daunting, to say the least. But I've always been the kind of person who enjoys a challenge.

  Deciding to start with something basic, I look to Soran. "So, there's more than one Mosauran dialect?"

  "Yes, there are three, but the one we are speaking is the most common. Does your language have multiple dialects?"

  "Yeah, but everyone learns the common tongue. More than a century ago, Terra experienced great earth shifts and drastic climate changes. They could have been more devastating, but all the Terran governments got together and formed one United Planetary Government with a common language—Terran Common—so we could work together to stabilize our planetary ecosystem."

  Soran leans forward a bit in his chair. "Your world sounds...interesting."

  "It's beautiful, actually." A wistful smile curves my mouth as my thoughts turn to home. "My mom is a botanist, so she always has a huge garden year-round, you know. Half of it is organized into long, neat rows full of edible plants, while the other half is wild, full of vines and all these vibrant, blooming flowers." A sharp pain stabs at my chest as I picture my mother's face. "She always wanted me to follow in her footsteps."

  He cocks his head slightly to the side. "Was she upset that you chose to become a pilot instead?"

  A short huff of air escapes me as a smile crests my lips. "How could she be? She always said I was more like my dad. And”—I shrug—“I guess she was right."

  He smiles his devastatingly handsome smile again, and I feel an answering blush warm my cheeks.

  "Your father is a pilot as well?"

  "Yeah, but he only does planetary transports now. No more trips back and forth to Mars Colony." Tears swim at the edge of my vision as I think of him, but I blink them back. "He can't stand to be away from my mom for very long."

  Soran tips his head slightly to the side. "They sound very close, your parents."

  "They are. What about yours?"

  Something akin to sadness flashes briefly behind his eyes and he lowers his gaze. "My parents were very close before my father was killed." His voice is thick with emotion.

  My heart clenches at the visible pain in his expression. "How did he die?"

  I regret the question as soon as it leaves my lips. Despite the fact that I want to know more about this man who has haunted my dreams for years, it's none of my business and I shouldn't have asked. But now that I have, I cannot take it back.

  He continues. "One of the other Great Houses betrayed us. They stormed the palace, intent upon murdering my family as we slept. My father died protecting us."

  I reach out and place my hand on his forearm. "I'm so sorry, Soran."

  With a slight clench of his jaw, he nods. "Thank you. It was many cycles ago. We were very young when it happened."

  Silence settles in the space between us a moment before he lifts his gaze again to mine. "Your species...they have close attachments to their mates and offspring?"

  My thoughts turn to my sister's worthless ex-husband. "Most of us do."

  He gives me a puzzled look. "What do you mean, 'most'?"

  I shrug. "Well, my older sister's husband...I mean, her mate—” I correct myself, using the proper term he'll understand. "He left her and their daughter almost three years ago. He just decided one day that he didn't want a family anymore, I guess."

  His eyes widen in shock. "He abandoned his family?"

  "Yeah."

  "Does this...happen regularly among your people?"

  "I don't know how regular it is, but I know it happens. That's why we try to be really selective about our mates. We want someone who is not only compatible, but who is as invested in the relationship as we are, you know?"

  His brow furrows deeply. “He did not deserve them. At least he had the basic decency to stay long enough to guard the egg."

  I look up at him in confusion. "Egg?"

  "Their fledgling," he explains. "Your niece. Before she hatched."

  My eyes go wide. "Your people lay eggs?"

  He gives me an incredulous look. "Yours do not?"

  I blink several times in shock and then shake my head. "No. Terran women...our babies gestate inside us before they are born."

  His jaw drops, and all the color drains from his face. After a moment, he snaps it shut and clears his throat, studying me as if I were the alien here. Which...I guess, technically, I am.

  "Do you have a mate?" he finally asks.

  My thoughts drift to Jeff. "Sort of. I mean, we were friends, but it was turning into something more."

  He cocks his head to the side.

  "It's...complicated. He was on the ship with me."

  Closing my eyes, I can still picture their faces asleep in the stasis pods. I was their Commander, and I failed them. I look to Soran, meeting his gaze evenly. "I have to find my crew. They're out there somewhere, and it's my job to find them and bring them home safely."

  Soran

  My heart clenches when she mentions her mate. From the devastated look on her face, I can tell that she must care for him very much. Unbidden jealousy rises in my chest, but I push it back down. How can I be jealous? I barely know her, and...she is not mine.

  It is decided, then. I will not tell her anything about the fated bond. She has already made her choice, long before she met me, and I will not try to persuade her to change her mind.

  Chapter 6

  Liana

  After we finish eating, Soran leads me down the hallway to crew quarters. Stopping in front of one of the rooms, he instructs me to place my open palm on the plate to code it to recognize me. When we step inside, my jaw drops at all of the space. A large bunk in one corner, a desk and chair in the other. There's even a sofa and a set of storage lockers along the other wall and a small door across the way.

  "I apologize for how small these quarters are," he says. "But this is only a glider. They are designed for stealth, not comfort."

  Everything has a sleek, minimalist look to it, but then again, he did say this glider was built for efficiency, so I wasn't really expecting plush furnishings or soft touches here. I arch a brow at him. "If you think this is small, you would be absolutely claustrophobic on a Terran ship."

  He darts a quick glance around the space as if he can't believe what I've just said. After a moment, he gives me a teasing grin. "Until we find your home world, I will just have to take your word for it."

  I laugh. I like how he says, "until we find your home world," as if he's completely confident that we'll find my planet.

  Inhaling deeply of the clean air, I smile as I take it all in. I move to the center of the room and extend my arms. Tipping back my head I close my eyes and spin once in a slow circle, marveling at the fact that I can stretch my entire body and not touch cold metal bars. I've lived in a cage so long, I almost forgot what it felt like to be free--to have a space that's all my own.

  When I open my eyes, I look to the small door on the far side of the room. "What's through there?"

  He opens it and moves aside for me to enter. "Each cabin has its own cleansing room."

  Anxious for a bath, the idea of a shower sounds amazing. But when I step inside, the space is completely bare, and my gaze sweeps the room
in confusion. "Where is everything?"

  Soran's head jerks back slightly in surprise. "You have never used a cleansing room before?"

  "Not like this." I gesture at the empty area.

  He presses an opaque crystal near the door. I watch in wonder as a sink and what I can only assume is a toilet come out from hidden panels in the wall.

  He frowns. "What are Terran ship cleansing rooms like?"

  "We have the basic stuff, but none of it magically comes out of the wall like this."

  "Magic?" He smirks and then arches a condescending brow. "Your people must be far more primitive than I thought."

  Instantly offended, I snap. "What? We're not primitive. Just because we don't have things that slide out of the wall, doesn't mean—” I stop abruptly at the slow grin that spreads across his face.

  He laughs. "I was only teasing you."

  I narrow my eyes, and he laughs even louder. "For one so small, you are very fierce. A creature of fire. Like my sister, Caryn."

  His words catch me off guard. I'm not sure how I feel about the "fire" comment, but I am very curious about his family. "You have a sister?"

  "Yes."

  "Where is she?"

  "Back home on Mosaura." He smiles. "I believe the two of you will get along well."

  His expression falters a bit on the last sentence, and I wonder what's wrong, but he quickly changes the subject, showing me how to activate the shower and everything else in the room.

  When I ask him about a change of clothing, he leaves briefly and then returns with a small bundle of surprisingly soft fabric. He gives me an apologetic look. "It is an emergency shirt, meant for one of my people. I wish I could offer you something better, but at least this will cover you. If you need anything, I'll be on the bridge."

  I wait until he's out of the room and the door whooshes closed behind him before peeling out of my clothing and making use of the shower.

  As the warm water flows over me, the tired muscles of my neck and shoulders begin to unknot. I haven't felt this good in a long time.

  When I'm done, I pull the clean shirt over my body. The soft fabric falls just below my knees, and the arms are so long they extend past my hands. I roll the sleeves up to my elbows. My auburn hair slips over my shoulders to fall around my face. Reaching up, I run my fingers through the long, dark strands, releasing a sigh of contentment now that I'm clean and my hair is no longer a tangled and matted mess.