Crux: A Sci-Fi Romance (The Jekh Saga Book 2)

by H. E. Trent

  “Oh.” He smiled and nodded. “It is wheat. Thank you for your concern, but this small corner won’t devastate my system. I’ve been finding that I’m developing something of a tolerance.”

  “Still, don’t overdo it. This whole area has one doctor. If you get sick, there’s not much I can do for you. Please don’t get sick from eating Terran grains.”

  “Yes, Mom.”

  Her eye twitched, and he laughed.

  “You picked that up from Owen, didn’t you?”

  “I believe I did.”

  “Spend less time around him. He’s a bad influence.”

  “Duly noted. Tell me more about your grandmother’s farm. Was it like this one?” He wanted to know all the bits and pieces that made up the big picture of Erin McGarry. The things she thought were so mundane about her life he always found to be fascinating.

  Erin rolled onto her side and turned her toast on its corner, furrowing her brow. “Nah. No way. Her family had been what you’d call subsistence farmers. They didn’t make any money from the gig at all, except what they needed to pay property taxes and that sort of thing. They were just trying to survive.”

  “Did they stop farming over time?”

  “Kind of had to, you know? The land is still in the family, and I think my uncle lets folks park trailers on plots for rental income, and that pays for the property taxes, but that’s what’s become of it. Most of the family moved into cities to find better paying work. My grandmother ended up in Boston, of all places, only because she fell asleep on a bus and missed her transfer to New York. She didn’t have enough money to keep moving, so she just stayed put. Worked out okay for her. She met the guy who would be her husband in the taxi she asked to drive her to the hostel. They’re so cute together. He really dotes on her, and I’m glad, because she adores him. They deserve each other.”

  And does Erin want to be doted on?

  Smiling again, she nudged eggs onto a piece of her toast with the back of her fork.

  For a while, he just watched her eat, taking special note of how she kept pushing her bacon to the side of the plate, only occasionally taking a bite after having consumed a much larger proportion of her eggs.

  Rationing.

  He’d noticed that Courtney did the same thing. Whether they just liked saving their fatty protein for last, or if they were, mentally, trying to make the meal stretch, he couldn’t tell, but he found the habit to be an interesting one. They weren’t women used to excess. That was probably why they made do so well. They were better suited to life on Jekh than they probably thought.

  “So. I found a promising listing for a matchmaker in town yesterday,” he said.

  “Yeah?” Erin stopped chewing. She didn’t quite meet his gaze.

  He furrowed his brow. “I haven’t contacted the person yet, but I will later. Perhaps after my lunchtime nap.”

  “Oh. Well, don’t rush into anything, okay?”

  “I’m being most careful, I promise. We’ll find the right person. I know that’s important.”

  “Mm-hmm.” She resumed her chewing, faster than before, and then struggled to swallow everything.

  “Drink, drink.” He gestured to the full cup of coffee he’d set on the nightstand.

  Courtney had stood beside him, squinting malevolently into the mug while he’d poured. Apparently, Trigrian had cut her coffee ration for the duration of her pregnancy, and Courtney was taking her withdrawal out on Erin.

  Erin sipped the hot brew for several long seconds then set the cup back on the stand. “Man, when you set your mind to something, you really move fast, don’t you?”

  “I don’t understand. The matter seemed an important one to you, and I figured you’d want to resolve the circumstance as soon as possible.”

  “Well, yeah, I don’t want to leave you on the hook indefinitely. I’m a little afraid, I suppose.”

  “Afraid? Why?”

  “I…” She shrugged. “I just don’t want the implosion to be my fault if a match doesn’t work. I mean, I’m not a safe bet on the best of days, and I realize that what could be a good match for you might not necessarily be one for me. I don’t want to ruin your shot at finding a guy you click with.”

  “What is this talk of ruining? If he does not suit you, I doubt he will suit me.”

  “You’re sweet to say that, but you and I both know you’re the easier of the two of us to get along with.” She leaned forward and planted a chaste kiss on his forehead.

  He craved more, but knew he wasn’t going to get the incendiary affections he desired until the matter of their lover was settled. His motivation in that matter increased by the second.

  “The guy who works for you would need to not only be intuitive enough to know when too much has been asked of you, but also would be able to take a bit of pushback from a self-confessed shrew.”

  “You’re not a shrew. You’re wonderful, and fearless. An arousing trait to observe from a woman, for sure.”

  Her cheeks blazed red and she pinned her gaze on her toast yet again. “You’re deluded, sweetheart, but thank you. Listen, the guy’s gotta know that I’m not gonna hide away in a lady’s house and maintain a separate space away from the action. I’m gonna be all up in his business the way Earth girls tend to be, and he’s gonna have to deal with that.”

  “We’ll tell the matchmaker that, then. Certainly he or she would have to understand there are special considerations when human women are in the mix, and I don’t doubt for a minute there aren’t plenty of Jekhan males who’d set aside established conventions to join a trio with you.”

  “I think you overestimate my appeal, Headron.”

  “No. You trivialize your appeal, and while I appreciate that your behavior keeps most suitors at bay, I also believe there’s some man around you’ll let get close. You must be willing to give him a try.”

  She pressed her fingertips to her closed eyes and rubbed, forcing a spent breath through her open mouth. “I understand the need for efficiency but, shit, the speed of this…”

  “It unnerves you.” He pressed a hand to her shoulder, working his thumb into the dips and grooves the way she liked while kneading the tense muscles of her neck.

  Eyes still closed, she put her head back and sighed. “Unnerves. Yes. Makes me anxious. Court, Murk, and Trig have such a natural give-and-take between the three of them and, as much as I try to understand their chemistry, I can’t pick out any specific thing that makes what they do work so well.”

  “A combination of things, perhaps. Personality plus effort.”

  “Personality plus effort.” She righted her head and went back to eating. “Yeah. I suppose that’s as good an equation as any.”

  He nudged her bacon toward her fingers, set the napkin he’d been carrying onto her lap, and stood. “Don’t worry. I’m certain any man willing to consider an arrangement with a poor baker like me will believe you’re the one bringing value to the trio. I’m just a background player in all this.”

  “Whatever, Headron.”

  He moved toward the door and had one foot in the hallway when she said, “Headron?”

  “Yes?”

  Her brow was furrowed and she was breaking her last piece of bacon into four tidy, same-sized pieces.

  Must trade for more bacon.

  “You know what?” she said. “Never mind. Don’t let me hold you up.”

  “You’re not delaying me. I’m waiting for bread to rise.”

  “Still, I know you’ve got a bunch of things to do before your nap. I’ll catch up with you later.”

  “Are you certain? Is all well?”

  “Yeah. Fine. I’m just battling a bit of morning grogginess, and I don’t even have a good excuse. You were out on patrol all night, and I know you’re exhausted. Ignore me.”

  “As if such a thing were so simple.”

  She smiled softly and then, slowly, reached for her coffee mug.

  Something seemed off about her, and although he liked to believe he
knew her well, what he really knew was the idea of her. He needed to break down her walls and get to the essence of Erin, and that way he’d always know for sure if she were happy or just faking.

  He moved through the house into the kitchen, waving at Brenna who was at the table smoothing labels onto jars of preserves. He stepped down into the sunken secondary kitchen where the larger of the house’s two ovens had been relocated. The appliance was old and due for replacement. When it was on, the house heated far too quickly. Trigrian and Owen had moved the oven to what had once been a sort of sunroom to try to keep some of the heat out of the central space. The scheme seemed to be working pretty well so far, and Headron often went into the room when he needed to be alone with his thoughts. Having been raised in a bakery, he was used to the heat. The stifling temperatures didn’t bother him the way they did most other Jekhans.

  He checked the temperature in the cranky old oven, and then went to work checking the proofing of his dough. He sniffed his sourdough starter experiment, and shrugged at the bubbling concoction. He didn’t know if the mixture was behaving quite right, but experience would come in time. Uncle had always taught him to learn the chemistry of a new recipe before he ever made a loaf.

  Headron picked up a big vat of dishe grain dough and overturned the mound onto the large wooden table.

  The dough needed to be manually kneaded for at least fifteen minutes, until the grainy toughness broke down and the outside became satiny. If he didn’t do his due diligence, the bread would have a dull, chewy crust and the inside would be far too dense. Dishe bread was a Jekhan baker’s daily nightmare. Kneading required so much exertion, and the chore was usually relegated to junior bakers who were still earning their aprons.

  Headron had never minded preparing it. Working the dough was as satisfying and meditative for him as prayer was to others.

  While he slapped, punched, and rolled the dough with hands that remembered all the right movements even when his brain wasn’t completely engaged, he thought about Erin’s fears.

  She worried that she wouldn’t be right for any other man, and Headron hoped that would be the case. He didn’t feel any compelling urge, beyond the biological one, to have a traditional Jekhan trio.

  Yes, he wanted children.

  Yes, he was concerned about his long-term health. His hormones would unbalance over time without frequent, intimate contact with another male, but certainly there were ways to offset those issues.

  He hoped that the matchmaker would tell him that there was no one, and that way, he’d be forced to find some other solution. A medical one, perhaps.

  He was a baker with few credits to his name and who’d never had a woman. He didn’t care. He still didn’t want to share her.

  For the first time in his life, he had a reason for people to envy him, and their jealousy would be even more delicious to him than butter.

  CHAPTER NINE

  CITY OF BUINET, PLANET JEKH

  Lillian Devin—the long-serving commissioner of police—sat in her small, windowless office with the door closed and with one of her loyal associates pacing by it.

  Detective Edgar Salehi had good reason to be nervous, and Lillian shared his concern, but she was used to the mental turmoil. The highs and lows of doing what they did had become part of her routine, and she was only ever surprised when things were calm.

  Lillian had been trying to quietly undo the Terran colonization on Buinet from the moment she’d stepped foot onto the planet fifteen years prior. She wasn’t a known Jekhan sympathizer. For the sake of the planet’s native denizens, she needed to keep her affiliation with the Jekhan Alliance quiet. That meant allowing her own son to get away with certain depraved acts, like stalking and trying to buy Courtney McGarry. That meant pretending to look the other way when officers under her jurisdiction used their positions to smuggle vice onto the planet and to move Jekhan women off of it for sex work.

  That meant the gradual erosion of her morals with every lie she told and every sin she let go unpunished.

  Opinions were slow to change on Earth, but they were changing. She took solace in that, because she’d found the right operatives to help change them.

  Those McGarrys… Always leave the hard work to a McGarry.

  Rubbing her eyes, she chuckled softly, knowing Edgar worried about her always-tenuous mental state.

  “I’m all right. Just give me a moment to think,” she said.

  “Okay. I was wondering.”

  Owen McGarry had transmitted enough damning evidence to news organizations on Earth to have halted new recruitment activities entirely for six months. She didn’t know if he even knew what he’d done yet.

  While opinions were changing on Earth, the situation on Jekh was still in turmoil. Jekh was still a planet invaded by men looking to make quick money—men looking to create their own version of the Old West on a planet that had boasted a perfectly lovely culture and economy before they’d arrived.

  Although Lillian had agents everywhere, she didn’t have enough of them. If she wanted to see real action getting the Terrans off Jekh, she needed to resort to more aggressive strategies. She needed more aggressive agents, and Jekhans didn’t generally have the personalities.

  Too many lives hung in the balance, and so her time to move her pawns had come.

  At the knock on her office door, Edgar nearly jumped out of his boots and straight through the drop ceiling.

  “I’ve got a tea you should try,” she said quietly. “It’s supposedly good for nerves, though I hardly make a good testimonial.”

  “I’m sorry. I have no fucking idea why I’m so skittish. I was Special Forces back on Earth.”

  “I haven’t forgotten, but this isn’t Earth. We’re trying to be human in spite of the fact that others of our kind have forgotten what that means.”

  “That’s what messes me up—that they could forget so easily.” He went to the door and put his hand on the knob, waiting.

  She nodded, and whispered, “Make sure no one in the hall sees you.”

  “Yeah.” He moved to the hinge side of the door and pulled the knob.

  The guest had her fist poised to knock again and her forehead furrowed both from the unavoidable creases of middle age and probable confusion. Visitors to Jekh didn’t generally get summoned to government offices unless they were going to get screwed over in some way, and they all knew it.

  The woman’s gaze settled on Lillian behind the desk, and her eyes widened.

  Lillian waved her in. “Have a seat, please, Ms. Conroy.”

  Eileen took a few tentative steps toward the chairs and turned quickly to look behind her when the door shut.

  “That’s Detective Salehi,” Lillian said, twining her fingers at the edge of her desk. “He’s just here waiting for instructions from me. You can speak candidly with him in the room.”

  Eileen pointed at her. “You’re the police commissioner?”

  Lillian nodded curtly. “I am. Most people assume that ‘L. Devin’ is male, and I tend to prefer that the public thinks that.”

  “Can’t say I blame you.”

  “Mmm. Moving through Buinet and undoing things my so-called subordinates do is easier when people believe I’m some settler’s wife and that I don’t have any power.”

  “Crafty lady.”

  “I certainly try to be.” Lillian had been on Jekh longer than almost everyone. She’d unknowingly arrived on the same transport as her corporate shark of an ex-husband and the son who’d turned on her when he’d decided that her ambitions weren’t grandiose enough. In the divorce, he’d followed his father, but they’d all ended up in the same place.

  Lillian had always just been a lady with a badge who wanted people to get along. At nearly sixty years old, she could admit she was still something of a Pollyanna. She couldn’t abide that people were suffering, and that was why she’d been interested in community policing. She’d been part cop, part social worker, and she’d loved the neighborhoods she’d worked
in, but when positions opened up above her, she’d applied. She’d needed to be able to earn her own way because even a Pollyanna like her had known that her marriage wasn’t destined to last.

  Eileen didn’t sit, but Lillian understood why she would have been uncomfortable. People who got comfortable in Jekh always managed to get hurt somehow.

  “Your time is valuable, so I’ll dispense with the pleasantries and tell you why I summoned you here.”

  Eileen nodded, gritting her teeth. “Yeah. Summoned is right. No one ever really has a choice on this rock.”

  “You had a choice, but I must admit I hoped you wouldn’t exercise it. Listen, I know that you’ve been visiting various police stations asking if anyone has been able to find your coworker—”

  “My friend,” Eileen said tartly. “Amy was my friend. I took care of her for a lot of years. You get real close to folks on those long flights between here and Earth.”

  “Yes, I’m sorry. Of course she was your friend. I just wanted to let you know that you can stop asking about her.”

  Eileen gripped the back of the chair she stood near, and her face blanched. “She’s dead? Oh, God. Don’t tell me she’s dead.”

  “No, no, no. I didn’t mean to insinuate that at all. She’s not dead.”

  Eileen clutched her chest, and breathed. “Damn. Don’t yank me around, lady. I can’t take it.”

  “Believe me or not, I do understand. You’ll be pleased to know that during the start of the riots six months ago, she was taken out of the city with a party I know to be trustworthy.”

  “But that was six months ago. Anything could have happened since then.”

  Smart lady to be skeptical.

  But Lillian knew Eileen was smart. She’d been tracking her actions for some time. She knew how Eileen had broken rules to keep Courtney McGarry out of trouble.

  “You’re right to be suspicious, Eileen. Given all that’s happened here, I would be, too. Hell, I’m more suspicious now than ever.” Lillian nudged forward a disposable electronic tablet that held a few recent pictures of Amy along with some ladies Eileen should have found familiar.