That had been an enjoyable occasion. Some of the other events he had attended or officiated at on the station had been far more uncomfortable, such as the memorial for the soldiers who had died in the Glacian attack. Recording apologies for those families who couldn’t come, and then standing there amid the kin of those he had killed, had been among the most excruciating experiences Makkon had endured in his life. He had been relieved that the president had spearheaded the negotiations for reparations, which had included offering land and a chance to settle on Glaciem to the kin of the fallen. Nobody had taken her up on it yet, but perhaps a generation or two of development would make their moon more appealing.
“I’m told it’s kale,” Tamryn said, pointing to the green stalk. “I’m sorry we couldn’t find a more appealing first vegetable to grow for your people, but we had to pick something hardy.”
“Hardy is good.” Makkon wrapped his arm around her waist. “My people like hardy, so they will like kale.”
“I can’t believe your people never had vegetables, aside from that edible moss-thing that grows by the geysers. However did your muscles get so big?”
“Good genetics. It’s likely our children will have them too.” The thought of their first child pushed aside the grimmer thoughts of funerals. Makkon smiled, feeling shy, almost like an intruder as he rested his palm against Tamryn’s belly. She wasn’t showing yet, but the doctor had confirmed that she was, indeed, two months pregnant.
“Good genetics? Or muscles?” Tamryn laid her hand atop his, inviting him to keep it there.
“Both.”
When Makkon had first met Tamryn, having babies had been the furthest thing from his mind—who would think of bringing a child into a world of starvation and deprivation? But he had quickly grown intrigued by the idea once they had taken up residence on the station and the food situation had been resolved for his people. Now that the future held promise, he was quite contented, if nervous at the notion of being a father. He hoped Tamryn was contented, as well. She seemed to be, but this was an even greater change for her, so different from the military career she had imagined for herself from an early age.
“What if it’s a girl?” Tamryn asked.
“She’ll still be strong.”
“So, my womb is going to get some abuse, no matter what the sex?”
“I will massage it to make it feel better.” Makkon stepped behind her, slipping both arms around her and bending to nuzzle her ear. He knew she liked his massages, and a variety of other touches too. “And I will glare at your assistant to ensure he is never late with your vitamin drink in the mornings.”
“James Powell’s new civilian position is chief security officer, not my assistant or coffee fetcher.”
“With that new bionic arm, he ought to have no trouble juggling both mugs and guns.” Makkon breathed in her scent as Tamryn leaned back against him. He enjoyed having her in his arms and being here on the surface of Glaciem, witnessing together this new start for his moon. “You know he won that arm wrestling contest he challenged me to last week?”
“Good. You need challenges to keep you from growing fat and docile at your desk job.”
“Docile?” Makkon nipped at her earlobe. “Are you ready to go hunting? I will show you who is docile and who is not.”
They had both brought bows and daggers down to the moon, as well as laser rifles, in case they encountered something too tough for blades to handle. The stygors weren’t brought down easily, and the scientists tracking the repopulation efforts had promised many had grown to full size, so many that the population might need to be thinned slightly until other lesser animals had a chance to reproduce and fill the lower niches of the food chain.
“Good,” Tamryn said, resting her head against his shoulder, clearly not alarmed by his nips, perhaps even reveling in them. “We had best enjoy the hunt. Speaking of fatness, I won’t be able to outrun those big shaggy lion things when I’m as round as this moon.”
“Afrans,” Makkon said, though he suspected she had no trouble remembering the names of the species. “I can always carry you.”
“No, thanks. I’ve had you throw me over your shoulder before and tote me around. That would not be massaging and pleasant for my womb.”
“We’ll think of something.” He turned her in his arms so he could kiss her on the lips.
Makkon was aware of someone approaching from behind them and identified the newcomer by scent, but he hoped the man would go away. He was enjoying having Tamryn and their kale sprout to himself.
“Aren’t you two tired of that yet?” Brax asked, walking up and standing to the side of the sprout. He was the last person Makkon would have expected to care about a tiny green stalk, but he supposed everyone wanted to see this promise of the future.
“Not at all.” Makkon paused the kiss, but he kept Tamryn close and was contented when she laid her head against his chest to look at Brax. With Arkt’s passing, Brax was the highest-ranking officer in the small Glacian military unit, but he still looked like more of a thug than an officer to Makkon. Maybe even more so, since he had shaved off his hair, revealing a scarred scalp.
“Makkon has an insatiable libido,” Tamryn informed him.
Makkon grinned, both at the words and at the way Brax sneered.
“I don’t need to hear about such things,” Brax said.
“Then perhaps you shouldn’t have wandered up on a kissing couple.”
“I was afraid you would crush our first plant. I came to protect it.”
“We weren’t planning to fling ourselves to the ground and roll around,” Makkon said. “This is a public place.”
Brax gave him an edged smile. “So was that space station.”
Makkon decided it was time to leave for that hunting trip. He released Tamryn and nodded toward the trail that would take them through a construction zone and to an entrance to the tunnel system. “Good to see you, Brax. Enjoy the plant.”
“I will.” Brax clasped his wrists behind his back and considered the sprout. “One more thing, Makk?” he added as they started away.
“Yes?”
“Did you hear that President Shenta isn’t planning to run for reelection?”
Makkon nodded. “I did.”
“Some people are bandying your name about as a potential candidate.”
“Oh? Are they sober people?”
Tamryn snorted and swatted him on the chest. He wasn’t really joking. Considering everyone had been irked with him when he left the team on the station and showed up with a single prisoner, he wasn’t sure why everyone had been so quick to decide he now had some kind of hero status. Tamryn had been the one to orchestrate everything. He had merely agreed to her orchestrations.
“Well,” Brax said, “those imported beers and vodkas have been popular. My point is that I’d vote for you, if you ran. I don’t have any hard feelings over the fact that you fled the station with your lady friend and left the rest of us locked in a freezer. Not many hard feelings, anyway.”
“You escaped. You didn’t need my help.”
“You never did explain how that happened exactly,” Tamryn said.
“One of your charming scientists made the mistake of throwing some ration bars in when she thought we were sleeping. We weren’t sleeping.”
“Ah.” Tamryn’s face wrinkled, like she wanted to say more, or call Brax an ass for taking advantage of a woman being thoughtful, but she kept the words to herself.
“How’s that research going?” Brax asked. “I deliberately kept your linguistics officer alive, so she could continue with her work.”
“I’m sure she’s grateful to you for that.”
Brax grinned—his grins always had a lupine aspect. “Not that I noticed.”
“We have tea a couple of times a week, and she tells me that the research is progressing. They found some extremely useful language samples down in your tunnels. We’re probably still ten years out from a prototype engine. Unfortunately, the milita
ry may beat my grandfather’s corporation, since they have at least one engine already built.”
“If your corporation is looking for volunteers to go on the first mission, I would be pleased to go.” Brax waved at the plant. “This is vaguely more appealing than death, but I’d like a chance to conquer a new system.”
“I’m sure you would,” Makkon murmured.
“No insults, now,” Brax said. “Or you won’t get my vote for president.”
Makkon waved an acknowledgment, then led Tamryn away.
“President, hm?” she asked as they walked arm in arm.
“Would you be daunted to be married to someone with such grand stature?” he joked, knowing full well that her family had far more power and influence than the Glacian president would ever have.
“It depends. Does your nation have more than five hundred citizens yet?”
“No, but many more babies are due. Having food has made my people randy.”
Tamryn swatted him again. “From what I’ve seen, you were always randy.”
“This is true. Maybe after our hunt, I’ll demonstrate that randiness for you again.”
“Will we actually wait until the end of the hunt, this time?”
He grinned. “We’ll see.”
THE END
Afterword
Thank you for giving Frost Station Alpha a try. If you’re looking for more adventures and haven’t read my other books, you can check out Mercenary Instinct for free in most stores. If you’ve already read my other stories, please sign up for my newsletter to learn about new releases. You can also follow me on Facebook.
Frost Station Alpha 1-6: The Complete Series Page 35