Barbarian's Choice: A SciFi Alien Romance (Ice Planet Barbarians Book 12)

by Ruby Dixon

  My mother smooths my mane away from my face. “If you worry over Chahm-pee, we will take care of him. No one will eat him. He will live to a very old age and be fat and happy.”

  I feel my eyes fill with tears again. “You are wonderful, Mother.”

  “I am your mother. I will love you and honor whatever decision will make you happy.” Her eyes shine with tears of her own. “Even if it takes you far, far away from me.”

  11

  MARDOK

  For three days, we stay with the tribe with no answers from Vektal or his people.

  Captain Chatav is growing upset at the delay. I don’t blame him—every day we linger is another day that our delivery window gets a little narrower. From the sounds of it, this delivery will break him—and the crew of the Lady—if it’s not delivered on time. He’s agitated, but his soldier’s code won’t let him leave without an answer. Leaving someone behind would be the wrong thing to do, and Chatav is a man of his word. He won’t leave until he gets a definitive response.

  Niri and Trakan are restless. Niri spends most of her time at the ship, sometimes running scans on the villagers when asked and mostly keeping to herself. Trakan spends his time with the hunters and Farli’s father, Borran, who is the tribe’s brew-maker. Trakan’s already traded a couple of trinkets for several skins of the stuff called sah-sah. He’ll have to drink it before the next port, though, because I’m pretty sure it’ll never pass a single quarantine law.

  As for me, every day seems to be too short. There are always new faces to meet, tasks to be performed, and food to be cooked. The day is filled without a moment of time to squander, it seems. I fall into bed each night with Farli at my side, and I am exhausted.

  In a strange sort of way, I enjoy it. Living on the ship doesn’t allow me to be physical, so unless I spend my time at the ship’s gym, I end up sitting on my ass all day. This reminds me of back when I was a soldier, working with others on a physical, sometimes menial, task. There’s always a feeling of satisfaction once it’s done, and the camaraderie is far more pleasant than with my cold shipmates.

  The planet’s still horrible, though. My face feels wind-burned and numb from the cold. I’m pretty sure I’m going to lose a toe, and I’ve resorted to wrapping my tail from stem to tip because it feels like waving an icicle otherwise. It’s snowed every day since we arrived, and while the sa-khui aren’t much bothered by it, it’s harder for me to move around when it feels as if I’m frozen.

  Nights are spent in Farli’s bed. We haven’t fully had sex yet—not yet—but we’ve licked and touched and explored each other for hours on end. We hold each other close each night and talk about everything and nothing. I love her mind and the way she approaches life. She hasn’t asked me why I won’t come inside her. I think she knows. She hasn’t pressed and asked me to stay. I think she sees how miserable I am in the cold and how unhappy I’d be. So every night, I tell her about my world—the spaceports in deep space, the beaches of Homeworld, the greenery of my own planet. My time as a soldier. Heck, I even tell her about the exotic foods she could experience if she comes with me. She hasn’t said yes…

  …but she hasn’t said no, either. I’ll take that for now.

  We’re running out of time together, though. Chatav’s antsy and told me in private last night that Vektal has until the end of tomorrow to get all the decisions from his people. We’ll leave then.

  It doesn’t feel like enough time.

  But it’s what I’ve got, so I’m going to spend every waking minute at Farli’s side and making her happy.

  Like right now. We’ve taken a small crew to the place they call their ‘Elders’ Cave.’ Turns out it’s an enormous old spaceship turned on its side. The tribe tells me that it happened during the last big ‘earth-shake,’ and they made use of the computers there until then. Seems only fair that we get things going for them again, and I’m eager to get my hands on the engine, see if I can’t poke around with it and make things run smoothly.

  We use The Tranquil Lady to tow the ship back out of the gorge. When it falls back onto its side, the boom of it is deafening, and I wince, anticipating utter destruction of the equipment inside. But the tribe is pleased, especially the orange-haired human, Harlow. It seems that of all the humans, she’s the one with a mechanic’s mentality, and this wreck of a ship is her baby. She tells me she’s tried to make equipment to help improve their lives here on Kopan VI, but she’s limited by her knowledge and that of the ancient computer.

  All of this makes me eager to try my hand at it, of course. Maybe that’s arrogant, but I’m curious to see what I can do to help. I’ve got more modern equipment and an entirely different set of skills than the humans do. I know I can help out.

  Maybe it’s my way of apologizing for the fact that I want to take Farli away from them.

  “I don’t have to ride the sled,” Harlow tells her mate as we disembark from the Lady to cross over to the Elders’ Cave. “I can walk. Really.”

  He just growls and points at the sled, piled high with warm furs.

  She sighs and takes her seat on the sled, and her mate pulls it, carrying her forward. She does look a hundred times better than when I first saw her. The painful hollowness is gone from her face, and even though she’s still weak, she looks more vibrant every day. She puts her arms out, smiling, and her small son crawls onto her lap, trying to get comfortable next to her big belly. I might be taking Farli away from them—hopefully—but I’ve given them back Harlow. It’s something.

  I’m trying to justify it in my mind, I know. I can’t help it. Farli walks at my side, smiling and happy, and I can’t get over the feeling of guilt that I’m going to be taking her away from a people that adore her and dropping her into my world, where she’ll just be another person. Another refugee in a galaxy full of refugees of one kind or another.

  But I can’t bear the thought of giving her up. She’s mine.

  As we approach the ship, I eye it speculatively. The hull is completely compromised, with gaps between metal panels and missing bolts. I’m surprised it’s managed to stay together as much as it has. It’s ancient, all right. I’ve seen vids of Old Sakh space vessels, and had a good laugh at how clunky and crude they seemed compared to the sleek modern versions. Seeing one in front of me fills me with a sense of history and wonder, and I can’t wait to get inside and poke around.

  Once inside, Harlow takes charge. She powers up the decrepit computer and runs a diagnostic, just like I would. Immediately, the system comes back with a ping. “Completed,” Harlow says. “No errors. Huh.”

  Something sizzles. We both look over at one of the panels, where sparks are flying out from the metal.

  “No errors, eh?” I say. “Pretty sure that’s wrong. The Lady’s computer is pretty new, and after a tump-over like that, she’d be throwing errors all over the place. Let me take a look.”

  “Please do,” Harlow says, moving to the side.

  “Rukhar, why don’t we clean up in here and start a fire?” Farli says brightly. “We can get this place like it was before while your parents and my mate work.” She takes the little boy by the hand and leads him deeper into the ship’s main storage area. It’s full of debris, most of it tossed to the far end of the bay. “I remember this place from many seasons ago. Do you? You were just a tiny kit then.”

  I put my hands on the input terminal for the old computer. It doesn’t have an intuitive interface—where I can direct it with a few flicks of my hand or a strong, pointed thought from my cranial implant—so I’ll direct it manually. I decide to start with a simple scan of all functional areas of the ship, just to see what it comes back with. “Might take me a few to get up to speed on this thing,” I tell Harlow. “It’s a little older than what I’m used to.”

  “Oh, I’m sure it’s a dinosaur compared to yours,” she says with a grin. “It’s what, almost three hundred years out of date?”

  I give her an odd look. “Three hundred? Try over a thousand.”

/>   She frowns at me, her pale brow furrowing. “It can’t be. The computer’s given us detailed accountings of the crash here, and it happened 286 years ago. Well, okay, that was when we first arrived, so I guess it’s been…” She pauses and counts on her fingers. “Two hundred ninety-four years total. Not a thousand.”

  “It’s been at least a thousand,” I correct her. “Probably more. The language you’re speaking is Old Sakh. This type of ship,” I say, pointing at the terminal I stand in front of, “hasn’t been in use for millennia.”

  Harlow seems troubled. “I know there are things that don’t add up, timeline-wise. Like, how is it that the oldest of the sa-khui don’t remember anything about the crash if they’re so long-lived? They’ve been here for generations upon generations, but if I math it out, it should only be two or three generations, max. Someone should remember this being a ship and not a cave.” She shakes her head. “But computers can’t think for themselves, so when it tells me 286 years, I believe it. Plus, it knows human languages. Specifically, it knows human English, which has only been around for a few hundred years. So the crash couldn’t have happened that long ago.”

  I shake my head. I think I’m starting to understand why Harlow is so convinced that the crash is more recent than it truly is. I know I’m right, though. These people have been here longer than a mere 300 years. That doesn’t make sense at any level, not when I’m looking at just how ancient this ship is. I know my Sakh history. “Let’s test a few things,” I say when the computer comes back with another clear diagnostic.

  “All right,” Harlow says, and crosses her arms. “Go ahead.”

  “Computer, can you hear me?”

  “I can. May I be of assistance?”

  I glance at Harlow, then speak aloud to the computer again. “What is the current year?”

  “The current year is 9,546. Day 18.”

  “Is that right?” Harlow wants to know.

  I shrug. “We don’t reckon things by Old Sakh calendars anymore. It could be. I’d have to math things out. According to the Lady, and by current reckoning, this is Druzhal Year 742. It’s just a number.” I think for a moment and continue. “Computer, tell me, what model is this ship?”

  “This ship is a Szentali 16.”

  All right. “And how old is it?

  The computer pauses for a moment, as if processing, then continues. “This szentali is 286 years old.”

  Harlow gasps.

  “And how long ago did you land on Kopan VI?”

  “The system malfunction that caused the captain to set the ship down occurred 286 years ago.”

  I nod to myself, because I’m starting to see the problem. “Do you have a history database, computer?”

  “I do.”

  “When was the Old Sakh empire established?”

  “The sakh people were the ruling government of the planet Kes. Sakh governance was established in the year 7,989.”

  “And the current year again?”

  “9,546.”

  I rub my chin, thinking. “And how many years has it been between the establishment of the Sakh governance and the current year?”

  “It has been 286 years.”

  “Son of a bitch,” Harlow breathes.

  I begin to type, sending commands to the computer’s database, requesting different diagnostics on specific systems. “That’s what I suspected. I’ve seen these kinds of processing loops in older systems before. There’s probably corruption in the database somewhere. It can process information fine, but when it’s required to calculate something, it keeps spitting out the same number—286.” I crack my knuckles and then continue typing. “It’ll take some time to determine where the corruption is, but that’s why you’re getting that answer. The computer thinks it’s correct when we know it’s not.”

  “But I don’t understand,” Harlow exclaims. “How is it that it picked up English if it’s been crashed here for a thousand years like you said? Or longer?”

  “It’s entirely possible that it’s been picking up distant satellite signals. That could explain how it’s got more modern information than it should.”

  “Wow. I never thought about the computer being corrupted. It happens on Earth, too, but our technology isn’t even close to what you have here.” She shakes her head, amazed, then pats my arm. “Well, that answers a question that’s been burning in my mind for a while. Thank you, Mardok. Too bad you’re not staying. I could use someone like you to help me get this old girl running and see what we can salvage out of her.”

  My pleased grin slowly dies. Helping Harlow fix this old ship—or at least tinkering with her parts—would be a fun project, but I won’t be here for much longer than a day or two. I’ll be lucky if we even finish a single detailed diagnostic. “I’ll do what I can while I’m here,” I say, my tone brusque. I glance back at Farli, and she’s picking up debris with little Rukhar. They’re laughing, and it looks as if she’s making a game of cleaning, comparing her pieces of scrap to his. She’s so beautiful when she smiles, and my heart aches all over again.

  She has to come with me.

  “You get this slag heap up and running yet?” Trakan calls out from the doorway.

  I turn, scowling in his direction. “What are you doing here?”

  “Got bored on ship. Bek and Vaza went hunting. Didn’t wanna go with ’em.” He shrugs and heads inside, immediately turning toward one of the broken, loose panels and poking at the wiring. “Thought I’d come help out here. You fix it all up yet?”

  I resist the urge to go over and slap his hand away. “This would be a very long-term project, not a short-term one. I’ll help with what I can, but getting it totally functional isn’t on the table.”

  “Mm. So it’s salvage?” There’s a speculative gleam in his eyes. He grins

  I fight back the growl rising in my throat. So that’s his angle. He’s not here to help the tribe as much as he is to help himself. Salvage—especially from a ship as old as this one—would go for a pretty penny on the black market. “It’s not salvage,” I tell him, putting a note of warning in my voice. “The people here are still using it.”

  He gives me a sardonic look. “You mean the people dressed in leather skins? The ones carrying around bone spears and eating raw meat? They’re using computers and a spaceship, huh?”

  “Those same people,” I tell him, turning back to the computer. I’m not going to dignify his comments by giving him attention. “You’re not removing this ship, and that’s final.”

  “Or what? I bet the captain would be real interested in salvage rights in exchange for our assistance.” His expression is innocent.

  Harlow looks worried, and anger begins to burn in the pit of my belly. Is he trying to blackmail me into silence, hoping that I’ll back down? I turn away from the computer terminal, face Trakan, and crack my knuckles. Slowly. It’s a reminder to him that I can brawl with the best of them, and I’m not afraid to show him my skills.

  Trakan’s slick smile fades a little, and he pushes away from the broken panel, trying to look casual. “Fine. Fine. You want to let these fur-wearers poke their bone tools at a priceless bit of salvage, be that way.” He tilts his head, thinking, and then gestures at one of the distant broken doors that leads to another portion of the ship. “Say, can I rummage through things? Look for credit chits? If this is a shipwreck, I bet there’s some lying around, and the savages don’t have any use for them, do they?”

  He’s got a point, and it’ll give him something to focus on that isn’t detrimental to Harlow and her people. “Fine. Whatever. Just leave the electronics and the ship itself alone.”

  He gives me a mocking salute and then jogs away, heading deeper into the ship. I can hear him banging about as he crawls over piles of debris.

  Harlow watches him go, then turns to me. “So, just so you know, before the earth-shake, those portions of the ship weren’t exactly stable.”

  “Good,” I growl. “Maybe he’ll fall through the floor.” />
  Harlow chuckles.

  Harlow and I work on the computer for hours. I take one terminal and she takes another, and we both work independently, occasionally calling questions out to each other. The programs and commands I know don’t match up with what this machine has, so figuring out how to make things work as I want them to is a challenge. I don’t even comprehend how much time is passing until Farli appears at my side with a water-skin. “Drink something. You have been at this all day, Mardok.”

  I take the skin and guzzle it, realizing for the first time just how thirsty I am. My stomach’s growling, too. “Didn’t realize it was so late.”

  “You have been very focused,” she says, a tease in her smile. “It is good to see you so happy.”

  Am I happy? I guess so. The big, old ship is like a puzzle that I want to figure out, and it feels good to have a skill to put to use. When her brothers took me hunting, I was a mess. I thought I was in good shape, but the way the sa-khui effortlessly jogged through the thick snow and ran for hours, leaping over rocks and dashing over the edges of cliffs to chase prey? It told me I wasn’t nearly as fit as these people, and I felt useless. This, I’m better at. “I’m sorry I spent so much time on this and not on you.”

  “Silly.” Farli gives a little shake of her head and puts her arm around my waist. “I enjoy just being in your presence. We do not have to stare into each other’s eyes every moment.”

  I laugh at that mental image. As I take another sip of water, I glance around and realize we are alone. “Where is everyone?”

  “Mmm. Rukh made Har-loh return to the Lady to rest. She wanted to keep working, but he would not let her. And I believe Trakan is still digging around in the bowels of the ship. I hear noises from that direction every now and then.” She shrugs and snuggles against me. “I thought I would let you keep working. You seemed to enjoy yourself.”

  “I want to get as much done as possible before I have to leave,” I tell her, capping the water-skin and handing it back.

  “Then do you wish to stay here tonight? I can build a fire and we can camp out near it.”