by Autumn Dawn
This new Scorpio was tall and broad-shouldered, with brown hair cut very short. One of his ears was pierced with a golden starburst, and there was a hands-free communication set around his ear. He was obviously this ship’s counterpart to Ryven.
Ryven smiled. “Shiza. You deserve to crash with only men. This is the translator to the alien ship, Lieutenant Xera Harris-daughter. She is injured and would like to rest.”
“Of course,” Shiza said, instantly solicitous. “Is a doctor needed?”
“After a rest. My men will escort her to her room to finish her sleep cycle.” Ryven paused and looked at her, as if giving her an opportunity to speak. But what did he expect her to say—thanks for the ride?
He nodded to her and her escort, and then turned to Shiza. “How proceeds the recovery team? Our ship was not too badly damaged.…” Xera missed the rest as she was led off.
She was happy to see her room had a real padded bunk, not a steel slab or something equally obnoxious. Rock had been bad enough.
Sufficiently tired that the lack of a porthole didn’t distress her, she listened as Brirax gave her a brief rundown on the lavatory and water dispenser. She was surprised that there were even a few supplies left inside for her—a new hairbrush, for one. A glance in the mirror told her she needed it desperately. He left her with a pouch of rations and wishes for a good slumber.
Sleep be hanged, she dove into the ration pack before the door was closed. There were various food bars, a pouch of dried fruit and some kind of sweet dried vegetable that she instantly loved. It sure beat the pants off slug soup.
Maybe it was the endorphins of actually having real food choices again, but she was able to lie down after that and nap.
She woke to the sound of an electronic tone. Wondering what it was, she sat up and looked around, then remembered. Ah, yes. She was hitching a ride on an enemy starship. Lovely.
The tone ceased as soon as she got out of bed and stowed the blanket and pillow. She used the lavatory and the ray shower, wondering idly if it were possible to do both at once. It didn’t take long to brush her pageboy, and she smiled, amused to think some women spent hours in the bathroom. They wouldn’t last long around here.
A new tone sounded at her door. It was Delfane, and he was there to escort her to breakfast.
They entered a galley full of males, and Xera had to take a breath to steel herself against their curious stares. It helped that the room smelled wonderful enough to make her salivate. Delfane handed her a tray, and then helped himself. She didn’t ask what anything was, unwilling to ruin it. Instead, she just dished up a tiny bit of everything.
He grinned at her overflowing plate as he juggled his own. “I don’t like slug soup, either.” He then found them a quiet table off to the side, and she saw that most of the men were filing out of the room. They must have arrived at a shift change, and she wondered if that was deliberate. She quelled the natural urge to ask what time it was: it hardly mattered on a ship that operated on an artificial clock.
The food was good, for the most part. There was one odd-tasting purple vegetable, but she quickly removed it from her mouth. It was metallic and bitter, and she couldn’t imagine anyone willingly eating it.
“Very like my daughter,” Delfane said dryly.
She made a face at him. “Will you be seeing her soon? I bet she’ll be excited to see you.” Her mouth started to tingle and go numb, and she frowned, wondering if it was something she’d eaten, and if so, was it a normal reaction?
“I talked with her and her mother last night,” Delfane said with a relaxed, satisfied smile. “We will reach our home planet in two days. I hope I will not have to leave again for a long while.”
She nodded politely, not really listening. The numbness had spread to her throat, and she was having trouble breathing.
Delfane looked at her sharply. “Are you well?” It took only a moment of observation to answer his question. He stood up with a spate of rapid-fire speech into his headset and hauled her up by one arm. By that time she was seriously fighting for air.
She was a little fuzzy on what happened next. Maybe he carried her to the med lab. She did notice when she was laid down on a padded table, but spots danced before her eyes, distracting her. There was a sharp poke, and slowly faces above her started to resolve into individuals. Delfane she knew, hovering in the background, but the others above her were strangers. Glad she could breathe, she decided she didn’t care and closed her eyes, the better to suck in sweet gulps of oxygen.
“Severe pulmonary distress,” she heard someone explaining.
“Yes, we can see she’s not breathing—what I want to know is why.” That was Ryven Atarus’s curt voice.
“Let them do their job, my friend. See? She is breathing better now,” came Shiza’s voice.
Instead of answering, Ryven began to grill Delfane.
Which was all very interesting, but Xera’s back hurt from all the wheezing. She decided it must have been something she ate—maybe that awful purple thing.
“I think it was breakfast,” she croaked out in her native tongue. She still wasn’t thinking clearly.
“What?” Ryven came to stand over her.
She frowned in concentration and repeated herself in his language. “Yucky purple vegetable. My mouth started to go numb right after I tried it.”
“Yucky?” he repeated with a frown.
“She called the slugs that,” Delfane put in helpfully.
“What did she eat?” the medic wanted to know. “This could be an allergic reaction. We’re still downloading the medical information recovered from the alien ship’s wreckage, and it hasn’t all been translated. I don’t know what else this might be.”
Delfane rattled off a list of foreign objects. “The only purple thing we had was yur root.”
Yur root. She was never eating it again, she decided with a grimace.
It turned out she was allergic to the alien root and one or two other foodstuffs she’d have to take care with. The medics ran a full diagnostic on her, which took quite some time. They even had the audacity to kick Ryven and their captain out at one point, as the pair was getting in the way. Delfane was allowed to guard the door.
The medics also sent a team to test the other humans for allergies, just in case.
On the bright side, the medics had a healing accelerator for her foot, and they promised it would be as good as new in a day or two. They also gave her a special wrist bracelet with a medic alert symbol and patches that would deliver medicine to her bloodstream if her body went into allergic shock again.
Ironically, she was cleared to leave sick bay just in time for lunch.
“I’m not sure I’m hungry,” she said warily to Delfane as she walked out of the chamber. She was barely limping, thanks to the healing accelerators, and not looking forward to facing the cafeteria line.
“Don’t worry. Lord Atarus has instructed us to join him and the captain for a private meal. Your food will be carefully selected to eliminate potential…misfortune.”
“Who knew my most dangerous enemy on this trip would be the food?” she muttered in her native language.
Ignoring Delfane’s curious glance, she looked around. The hallways here were quieter than they had been when she first entered the ship. There was some kind of nonslip surface like rough rubber underneath her.
“Why is he so interested in me?” she asked after a moment. She didn’t really think Ryven’s underling would answer, but she wondered. She hadn’t been interrogated or sexually importuned, for which she was profusely thankful, but she was also confused. Was she remaining braced for something that would never materialize? “He treats me like a guest. Am I not your enemy? Does he have a family?” she couldn’t help adding after a moment. A wife, for instance?
“Ask him yourself. We’re here,” Delfane said without inflection.
An automatic door opened in front of him and Xera, revealing a private cabin. Ryven Atarus was there, as well as Toosun a
nd Captain Shiza. They were all seated at a table but rose when she entered.
Shiza smiled broadly at her. “Ah, the beauty awakens! Are you well again, Lieutenant?”
She inclined her head. “Thank you, I am well.”
“We have food here that will not sicken you,” Ryven put in. “Join us at the table and we will talk.”
The notion of talking made her a little wary, but she smiled pleasantly and sat at the small table anyway. Delfane remained outside the room.
She was much daintier about eating this time. The question still turned over in her mind why the Scorpio were being so nice to her. It began to worry her. To distract herself she looked around the room, which was comfortable but not extravagant, with two couches and two overstuffed chairs that looked like they doubled as storage. They filled the tiny sitting room. The only other furniture was the table at which the group currently sat. The walls were caramel with coffee-colored trim, and red, black and gold accents. She glimpsed a bed through an open door in a room she assumed was Shiza’s cabin.
They let her get halfway through her meal in silence before Ryven spoke. “Your room was comfortable?”
“It was, thank you.”
“You seem comfortable with Brirax and Delfane.”
This time she answered slowly. “They are pleasant enough. I have wondered if they are bodyguards or guards. Perhaps you mean them to be both?”
“Perhaps I do.” He considered her. “You have a unique position here, and in your crew. You are the only one who speaks our language, and you are…polite. You seem to possess discretion.”
She blinked. Discretion demanded that she not reply.
“The other members of your crew, including your captain, will be treated as hostages. We will bargain with them.” He looked at her with utter gravity. “Another captain would simply treat you as spoils of war.”
She stilled. She might have paled.
Shiza smiled pleasantly at her from his place beside Ryven. If he was the captain involved, she could see what he would do.
Ryven claimed her gaze and spoke again. “I am in a position to offer you more.”
More? What did “more” entail? Marriage? A bed in his harem? Was she brave enough to slit her own throat?
“My people have a custom of selecting their own ambassadors from other races. We have need of one from your race. I will suggest to my father that we give you that position.”
Okay, that was a lot to think about. Perhaps relief was premature at this point, but Xera felt it anyway. To be an ambassador sure beat being an after-dinner snack.
“Who is your father?”
“One of the rulers of our people. He governs the second continent of our home planet, Rsik.”
Which made Ryven a very important person to have on her side. She thanked God he thought she was sensible. “I see.” She debated blathering on about being honored and decided against it, not sure what the etiquette here was. She didn’t ask what would happen if his father refused—she didn’t want to know and suspected it would be bad. She took a discreet, steadying breath. “How soon until I meet him?”
His gaze moved over her. “We will have a few days to practice first. You have much to learn about our customs.”
A rebellious brow quirked up at that. “If I have made mistakes, it was not deliberate.”
“Yes,” he agreed, which left her feeling uncomfortable. She picked at the rest of her food, too wound up to enjoy it now.
“Should you be accepted as an ambassador, you will be given much respect. Regardless of what happens, it is not our custom to mistreat women.”
She didn’t dare comment on that. She lacked information, and he had been kind to her, an enemy of his people.
“You will not be allowed to return home.”
The food on her plate got a little misty as her eyes teared up, but she bit the inside of her cheek and mentally kicked her own butt. She’d been prepared for that. It was nothing she didn’t expect.
And yet it hurt so much. To never see her family again…
“Delfane has an electronic book for you to look at it. It has many things you will want to read about our culture, and further language studies. You may go if you like.”
She rose and nodded without meeting anyone’s eyes. Feeling oddly stiff, she left the room, hoping her face was as frozen as it felt. She didn’t want anyone to guess at her turmoil.
Delfane took one look at her face and looked politely away, but not before she saw a flash of sympathy. So it did show, then.
Xera made it to her room before she broke down and cried.
“I think you nearly broke her by reminding her she’ll never go home,” Shiza commented. He took a sip of wine.
“I would do her no favors to let her keep illusions,” Ryven said grimly. “She will realize she is fortunate in the end.”
“Especially since she will not be your ‘spoils of war,’ ” Toosun pointed out. “She seemed particularly horrified by that idea.”
Ryven gave him a cold look.
Toosun looked away and scratched the back of his neck. Casually, he asked, “What will you do with her if Father refuses?”
“You know he won’t.”
“Very well, he won’t. Will you keep first claim to her? Her rank would make her nearly your equal, and she will be sought after.”
“Mm,” Shiza put in thoughtfully.
Ryven’s eyes slid darkly to him. “I haven’t decided.”
“Give it some thought,” Toosun urged. “I might be interested if you’re not.”
“You don’t need another woman,” Ryven scoffed. “They follow you like iron filings to a lodestone already.”
“As they do you.”
“You are too young for a wife.”
“I’m two years younger than you. You’re thirty-three,” Toosun pointed out, as if his brother had forgotten.
“This is a matter for another day,” Ryven said irritably. “We have other things to discuss.” He steered the conversation to another path, away from the exotic alien woman.
Chapter Six
Xera cried, moped and had a nap. Afterward she felt good enough to sit up and scan the e-book. What she read made her cringe.
She should have been addressing Ryven as “my lord,” or “commander” at the very least, though she did not recall ever using his name or title to his face. The next time she saw him she would have to acknowledge his rank. Rank was very important to his people. A man might not be looked down on if he didn’t have it, but he’d better acknowledge those who did. Toosun also ranked as a lord.
Their society was governed by twelve lord governors, each of whom ruled an equal portion of their home planet, Rsik. While the title was hereditary, any governor who was found unfit to rule could be cast out, the title passed on their sons. Those who served in lesser positions were elected by the voters in their precinct.
There was a list of some of the Scorpio society’s laws, and she saw that their code of conduct basically mirrored her own, but they had very harsh laws for offenders. It was a very bad idea to commit a crime against them—they didn’t take it well.
There was some entertainment media in the e-book, and she watched a few shows to get a feel for how men and women interacted. The women were very respectful to the men, but not subservient. There was some humor, but always a line that wasn’t crossed. Heroes treated women well, sometimes even tenderly. Villains often ended up dead.
Women were definitely not warriors, and they didn’t serve on warships in any capacity. Xera also saw with a wince that they tended to have long, often elaborately coifed hair. That didn’t bode well for her—she’d never had long hair and didn’t want it. She hoped Ryven didn’t plan on giving her extensions to please his father. The robes she saw the women wearing would be challenging enough. They were colorful, feminine and looked somewhat oriental in design. There tended to be a lot of feathered headdresses. On the bright side, many of the long tunics had pants under them, and she
could handle that.
She declined Brirax’s invitation to escort her to dinner. She just wasn’t hungry enough to face a crowd. A little later he brought her a tray and set it silently on the bedside table. She knew he waited just outside the door, probably taking on the nightshift. She wondered if he and Delfane would remain her bodyguards for long, or if she’d be assigned new ones on the planet. Which reminded her: she’d been so busy that she’d forgotten to look up anything about any planets to which they could be going. Of course, they might be heading for a moon or even a space station.
Suddenly she couldn’t sit still one more moment. She could study when she had to, but right now she needed to move. It had been days since she could do more than hobble, and she was in the mood to sweat. It would be good for her to work off some of her anxieties, and she could do it better in a bigger space.
She went to the door and opened it. Brirax looked at her, alert.
“Is there somewhere I could go to exercise? I’ve been inactive for a long while, and it would be nice to do something.”
He studied her, then spoke into his headset. He was quiet for a moment, probably listening, then nodded. “Follow me.”
They went down two decks and walked what seemed like half a mile through corridors until they reached a large gym. There was a lot of unfamiliar equipment and only a few men using it. Brirax led her to a treadmill and showed her how to turn it on. Xera started out at a brisk walk, careful not to reinjure her foot.
“What time are we docking tomorrow—early or late?” she asked.
“Early,” he answered. He still looked unusually alert, as if she might try something desperate.
She couldn’t imagine what she could do in a ship full of aliens in the middle of nowhere, so she ignored it. Maybe he had a better imagination than she did. “Are we going to a planet or a moon?”
“A planet.”
“What is it called?” she asked, though she already knew. It would get him talking.
“Rsik.”
Boy, he’s talkative, she thought wryly as her machine inclined. “Is it winter or summer there?”