Beth's Stable

by Amanda Milo

  “Where did you learn then?”

  “Here and there, I suppose. A lot of trial and error. I bought a stalk of something pretty one day and wanted to keep it.” I give her a deprecating smile. “I even named it.”

  “Did you?” Her hand flits up to cover where a heart would be if she were Na’rith, as if she’s touched by my admission. “Did it live?”

  I suck my lower lip over my teeth, missing how raptly she watches me do it. “Killed it by naming it alone, I think.”

  She laughs, like I intended her to—although the story is no exaggeration. I expound with, “It’s taken practice to cultivate success with greens; though I developed an interest in them, I lacked teachers. None of my koundreths—the men who raised me, who make up my parent crew—or my spawner ever remember any of their parents spending time in a growing room—so if the trait trickled down, it’s from an ancestor a ways back and I didn’t inherit much in the way of ability. I had to build up to what I manage now. But garden cultivation was a skill that paired well when I joined this crew. Creator knows none of these other machaii care to raise our food.” I start to snip off an early stalk of lukaacha, but I point it out to Beth instead, indicating she should cut it. I don’t smile, but inside, I’m already amused as I wait for her reaction.

  She nearly drops her shears. “It looks like it’s bleeding!”

  “Sap,” I explain, and my cheeks feel like they’re swelling. The muscles in my face aren’t used to smiling, and even though I’ve restrained myself around her, they’re still getting a workout, even in small doses and displays. “Take a bite of the shoot and leaves.”

  Beth laughs a little, and my eyes narrow—struggling to determine what about my suggestion prompted her amusement.

  Seeing my reaction, she only laughs a little harder. Dutifully though, she takes the shoot and chomps on it. “Like a carrot,” she says thoughtfully around her mouthful. “And a sticky graham cracker. Weird.” Then she grins. “Okay, so on Earth, we have this thing called a Panda bear…”

  She proceeds to tell me of an Earthen creature who eats plant leaves, along with the woody shoot stems that they grow on, and she tells me of a rather popular blague among her people that’s humorous because it’s a play on her Earthen words.

  “See, ‘shoots’ has two meanings: one is the plant-type, and one is a bang-bang from a weapon type. And ‘leaves’ has two meanings: one grows on a shoot, the other is an action, you know, when you walk out…” she sighs. “And in your language, these are all separate words entirely, so this joke is literally lost in translation.”

  Bravely, I place my hand on her back, and rub up and down slightly. For some reason, the idea of this seems more intimate than even a pat, therefore, I’ve been debating with myself for several clicks as to whether I should comfort her with the polite touch on her shoulder, or this more personal connection as soon as she began to flounder in her explanations. “Plants don’t tell many blagues. I spend a lot of time with them. Consequently, I’m afraid I’m not used to reacting to humor.”

  From the doorway, Ekan scoffs. “The lighting in here is simulated sunlight. Secretly, we keep hoping it will supply him a vitamin that can make him a cheerier bastard.”

  In my somberest voice I turn to Beth and deadpan: “Is it working?”

  Hearty laughter bursts from her. I’m so enchanted and taken with the sound that I start when her hands land on my arm and she leans heavily on me, chuckling.

  Rut the simulated sunlight—just give me Beth.

  Ekan joins us, eying our closeness. He reaches out to draw Beth his way.

  I block him. “She just found some calm. Do not start rattling her cage,” I warn him sternly. “For Creator’s sake, she’s full of spawn. Acquire some compassion.”

  Beth starts humming, and oddly, uses part of what I just said to make up a song in different voices, as if she’s enacting a play all by herself. “It’s Phantom of the Opera,” she says dreamily. “I would never have given Gerard his ring back, never. It’s really fine that she didn’t keep him and Raoul—I mean I would have, but this way, at least I’d get one. Dark and damaged is fine by me. Mine, mine, mine, all mine.”

  As with any alien, it’s expected that they’ll lapse into periods in which you have not the faintest of what they’re skipping about. I roll my shoulders as I run my thumb over her cheek, wiping away a smear of dirt.

  Beth’s lips tilt up shyly.

  Ekan sighs—lighter, my intuition tells me, than he wants to. “My sire warned me that someday I’d have to learn to share.”

  “Implying you can manage to?” I mutter.

  “Ha!” Beth says. “And what did you think of that?”

  Ekan feigns incredulous outrage. “Narra, I thought he meant toys, not a woman.”

  CHAPTER 21—OQUILION

  OQUILION

  One rotation later…

  (In humanspeak: the next day.)

  As I show her how to fit a pre-measured meal sleeve into the nonparticulate radiator heating slot, Beth observes, “I can handle this. We basically have these too: microwave entrees with dubious nutrition.”

  “They’re nutritious,” I contend. “You must not care for your microwave meals overmuch?” We’ve found that our mate is a bit of a hesitant eater. These are easy for her to prepare when she’s hungry… unfortunately, they just aren’t much to her taste.

  She grimaces.

  “We’ll keep trying things, narra. We’ll catch something you find palatable.”

  “Where?” she asks with a laugh. “At an outerspace grocery store?”

  My translator offers ‘Grocery, grocer; a person who sells items in gross.’ I shake my head. “Nothing quite so extreme. We’ll net a ship, and appropriate—”

  “Steal,” she corrects.

  “Raid,” I counter.

  She makes a face caught somewhere between horror and discomfort. “Raiding sounds worse than stealing!”

  I give up on attempting to soften the reality of our favorite activity. “If they don’t have what you want, we’ll net another and steal again.” I chuck her chin. “Don’t fret, we’ll keep at it until we find what you need.”

  She pushes my hand down. “I’m not ‘fretting’ because I’m afraid you won’t find foods I like to eat.” She squeezes her eyes shut and takes a long breath like I’ve only seen her wrestle with when she’s conversing with Ekan.

  I don’t like to think that I’m anywhere as near a challenge to her as Ekan. Problem is, I fail to see where I’ve navigated wrong. “Then what is causing you to fret?”

  “Oquilion, you can’t just rob someone of their food.”

  I can only stare at her. “You’re objecting to the method in which we obtain goods? How are we supposed to eat?”

  “A good start would be not stealing.”

  My brows nearly crash together, and my lower jaw falls. “Beth—you’re on a pirate ship.”

  “Don’t I know it,” she groans.

  Next she’ll claim she wants to be involved in no skullduggery. Thinking for a moment, I try to approach this from another angle. “We won’t be taking their property by force.” Technically.

  Beth’s expression lightens considerably, despite looking more confused than ever. “You won’t?”

  I nod, taking her under my arm. “See—provided we’re not taking the stealth route—we immobilize a ship, board them, look over what they’re carrying, and ask them where they’re headed. We make sure their shipment gets delivered.”

  Her eyelids lower, and her lips puff together as if they’re asking for a kiss. “Out of the goodness of your hearts huh?”

  I roll my shoulders. “For a price.”

  Beth drops her fork to the table like she’s lost her appetite. “You should have just stopped at ‘you don’t take property by force.’”

  I retrieve her fork and press it back into her dismay-limped fingers. “I’m beginning to see that.”

  Prow’s boots thud down the stairs, and he appears i
n the side doorway. “Beth!” he calls, pleased to see her.

  She leaves me to embrace him, hiding her face against his side. His smile fades as he sets his hand on her mane. “What’s upset you?” He looks around. “I didn’t even think Ekan was down here…”

  Beth snorts and pulls back enough to speak. “For once, it’s not him. Not directly,” she adds grimly. “I just learned that this ship charges other ships to rob them. That’s… that’s beyond wrong.” She bites at her lips.

  “Kayzeh,” Prow says, sending me a bewildered, worried glance. “Dispossessing a couple beings of their property? This is where the skip is?”

  Beth makes a face. “You say that as if I have a frayed wire or something.”

  Prow’s brows bounce subtly, but he keeps his yammerer shut to that. “Let’s see how we can patch this.” He takes her by the shoulders, forcing her to face him full on, giving her the full power of his light-hearted, empathetic gaze. “Narra, we escort ships and their goods. We provide a useful service—we stop them from being attacked by violent pirates.”

  Her eyes are narrowed, perhaps considering.

  “Na’riths have cultivated a reputation for guaranteeing that goods arrive to their destination docks on time and unscathed,” he continues.

  All true… He’s only leaving out the part about our cut.

  Prow wraps an arm around her back, and as she returns the gesture, I’m left to trail a little behind them as he guides her to a seat at the table, wondering how I managed to lose my Beth-time.

  I need to learn to manage her better. This inhibition she has with stealing is a foil to the progression of our relationship.

  She takes up her foodsleeve, fighting not to grimace as she squeezes the paste into her mouth. “So you guys are trying to claim that you’re basically a hybrid of a floating space mafia and Robin Hood?”

  From the door nearest the tanks, Ekan bounds into the galley. “What is this I hear? What’s a mafia?”

  Beth covers her eyes. “Forget I said it—you’re not going to get any bad ideas from me.”

  The idtrek moves into the empty chair beside her and tosses his heavy thighs over her lap. Which is mind boggling, because with her stomach puffed up with spawn, she doesn’t have much lap to offer. “Beth; bad ideas are often the best ones—and I definitely want to hear all about yours.”

  I scowl down at him. “You’re going to crush her, machaii!”

  He doesn’t so much as spare me a glance. Ekan takes Beth’s hand, dragging it down his throat, making her stroke him. “I’m not sitting on her. She’s fine. She’ll like it.”

  “She,” Beth growls, “Thinks you’re nuts.” But she doesn’t tell him to move. And she doesn’t fight him for her hand’s freedom—although this may be simply because she’s aware of the futility.

  After all, once a Na’rith gets ahold of what he wants, he tends to consider it his.

  “Nuts, hmm. I’m getting a couple options from my translator,” Ekan says, idly toying with her mane as she spears him with slitted eyes of fire. “But I like the one that means you believe I’m big-balled.”

  Beth slaps herself in the face, and keeps her hand there until Ekan collects that one too. Now the fool’s got both her arms, and he’s still pinning her legs. She purses her lips at him. “It seems I’ve got five options to choose from on this ship, with at least three of them being on par with your hotness, but significantly less wacky. You should know that in a game of Bang, Kill, Marry, you’re going to get rubbed out, and not in the way you’ll like.”

  “Explain,” Ekan purrs.

  “Get off of her,” I order him.

  The look he sends me is not playful. “I’ll use my toy however I like.” As Beth stiffens in his grip, he begins nuzzling the top of her mane. “Besides, she’s growing fond of me.” He drags his nose along the side of her face. “How am I to learn how to treat her unless I practice? If she doesn’t like something, my Beth will tell me.”

  “Your Beth has tried!” she shouts. “You don’t listen.”

  “Sorry love, what were you saying? Just joshing, just joshing. Can you fault me for finding it more fascinating to listen to what you don’t say?” He nips her rounded ear, and even Prow bristles beside them. “Whisper your every Ekan-punishment fantasy to me, narra,” Ekan flicks the length of his own ear to encourage her, adding what’s probably supposed to be a deviously handsome smile. “I might like it.”

  The smile or the words must actually work, because Beth’s blood changes the color of her face. She doesn’t let him win her easy though. She pins him with a stare that would wither a male if he possessed a bigger receptor for fear.

  “Your confidence is astounding,” I mutter to him.

  “So is the size of my cock,” Ekan shares easily. He tips his head like he’s sharing a confidence with me. “Think there’s a correlation?”

  Beth stands, dropping his legs to the floor. She takes up her meal and strides off, calling, “Enjoy swinging that around—by yourself.”

  CHAPTER 22—PROW

  PROW

  With Beth still not quite feeling well, we mostly leave her to recover—even Ekan tones down his ass-headed teasing. When she regains her health, she begins to venture to us, sharing her company, and seeming to enjoy ours just as much, if possible. Our Beth is a treat, and we love her pluck.

  We’re all at the table, everyone present but Qolt, and we’re teaching Beth to play tay mek lokk, when a beeping emanates from Ekan’s suit. He steps back and starts slapping himself; the pocket on his left upper quadrant, the pocket on his right, followed by his hip pocket, his rear pocket and across his body to his other hip.

  “Hey Macarena!” Beth calls out—and then she giggles to herself, much to our collected bemusement. Finally, she asks, Ekan, “What are you doing?”

  Ekan answers absently. “Looking for my Comm.”

  She sets her cards down. “You’re going to have to be more specific. What does your Comm look like?”

  “It’s about eleven standard space parameters long, and six and a half standard increments wide,” he explains.

  “I didn’t ask you how big you wished it was,” Beth snickers to herself.

  We all erupt in laughter.

  Ekan’s wearing an expression so proud, you’d think Beth had just given him something he’s wanted very badly. “That was a good one. Who knew I’ve been sharing my bed with such a sharp-tongued female?”

  An arm wraps around the back of Beth’s chair—making Ekan’s smile for Beth turn into a glower for Oquilion—who, in fact, had the honor of hosting Beth last night.

  Oquilion is undeterred. “Don’t fret, Ekan. I’m happy to have Beth under my blankets as much as her tongue prefers.”

  Beth’s cheeks heat, and she rolls her eyes as if exasperated with both of them. She picks up her cards and makes a show of studying her hand.

  She doesn’t dislodge Oquilion’s claiming arm.

  I wonder how deep an indication of her favor this nonaction is. Ever since Ekan played his prank with her reaction to sneezing, she’s rotated between each of us, spending the entire sleeping increment in each of our berths. It’s as if Ekan’s game broke down a barrier, making her feel comfortable enough to spend the nocturnal hours with us.

  My gaze shifts to Tiernan, because we likely have him to thank for this. Ekan too, once he relaxed enough to share the wealth—but if she hadn’t felt safe with Tiernan, if her experience hadn’t been pain-free and a positive one, it’s doubtful she’d have tried any of the rest of us.

  Pain free. Yes, we’ve all noticed Beth’s little flinches and onset of nerves when she encounters loud, sharp sounds, raised voices—and raised hands.

  Ekan finally locates his Comm and taps out a reply to whoever contacted him. Then he stands and swiftly exits—walking out of the game without a word.

  “Should we wait?” Beth asks, her wrists resting lightly on her belly as she holds her cards.

  I reach across the table to refill her
drink—another tea that Tiernan brewed from a blend he had Beth taste test to her liking—and I give her a quick shake of my head. “Not a snap. The only way any of the rest of us have a chance at winning is if he leaves the rutting game. Let him chase whatever’s got him preoccupied.”

  Two of Ekan’s turns get skipped, and I filch three of his cards. Beth catches me, and before her admonishment can leave her lips, I steal a kiss. It’s short, but so sweet, I want to drag her off with me the moment I pry my mouth from hers.

  But while I steal from her lips, Oquilion’s arm doesn’t move off her shoulders. I watch out of the corner of my eye as I razz her, but his muscles don’t tighten. I decide this isn’t so much a territorial display. He just doesn’t want to let her go, and I don’t blame him. I’d want to hold onto Beth too, especially if she’d spent the night in my bed.

  Strengthening this impression, Oquilion doesn’t try to dissuade me from wooing her as the rest of the game rolls on.

  When I move to lift another one of Ekan’s cards, Beth grabs me by the jaw and pulls me down for a kiss. I’m shocked into a sputtering silence.

  The kiss goes on so long, my fingers go numb and I drop my own cards. By the time she pulls back, I’ve forgotten all about Ekan’s—which, by the way Beth is blushing and grinning and trying to dart her eyes between me and anywhere else but me—was exactly her intention.

  She looks pretty—and she looks pretty pleased with her result, too.

  So am I, narra.

  Oquilion laughs at my dumbfounded floundering, even Tiernan is smiling—Tiernan!—and Beth takes pity on me and helps me collect my card pile.

  When she sits back down she takes my hand—the one with fingers, not cards—and holds it in hers. Oquilion dropped his arm from her when she stood to help me, and now as a clear bid to reconnect, she leans a bit, just enough that she lightly rests against him.

  Looking a little stunned and a lot hopeful, Oquilion raises his arm again and tucks her under it. His awestruck gaze meets mine over her head, and I relax entirely. There’s no competition here. Oh, sure—it won’t be long before we have a great time vying for her attention. But for now, we recognize that Beth needs to be eased into a Na’rith mating arrangement, and everything she’s giving us is more than worth waiting for. Better to take our time and be cautious rather than move too fast and upset her. Our Beth is fragile.