Erstwhile: A Sci-Fi Romance (The Jekh Saga Book 1)

by H. E. Trent

  She was right. Trig wasn’t going to argue with her. He didn’t want to take chances with his lover’s health, and the chance of curing him completely of The Ague was worth whatever Court had traded. “We’ll pay you back,” he said.

  She shook her head and pulled the seal off the packet of meat. “Don’t worry about it. I’d rather have a light conscience than jewelry. I just wish I could have gotten another one.”

  He passed his thumb over the dull end of the cylinder and nodded. Indeed, a second vial would have bought them a safety net, but Trig believed he was probably fine. He didn’t feel ill anymore, though that could change at any time. “I’ll go wake Murk.”

  “Okay. I’m going to get half this sandwich down. My stomach is gnawing itself. I’ll be there in a minute, if you need me.”

  “No, enjoy your sandwich. I’ll be quick.”

  He had the seal broken and the dispenser ready to deploy before he even tapped the lamp back on.

  Murk’s eyes fluttered open. He sat up slowly, pupils dilating in and out in quick adjustment to the light. Brow furrowed, he looked to the door.

  “She’s home,” Trig said. “Having a late dinner in the kitchen now.”

  Murk slumped back against the sofa and pushed his hair out of his face. He probably wouldn’t bother putting his hair back up unless they had to leave the house for some reason. His actions struck Trig as improper, but Trig knew there was no arguing with the man. If he wanted Courtney to see his hair, she was going to see it.

  “She got this for you.” Trig held up the vial. “Marscadrel. Still viable. Has two years left before expiration.”

  Murk leaned in, squinting at the cylinder.

  “She met some traders at the desert edge. Gave them some jewelry in exchange.”

  Murk gave his head a hard shake.

  “I didn’t like that, either, but the act’s already been done. We can’t send it back, and there’s no reason to let good medicine go to waste. Where do you get the injection? It’s intramuscular. Slow release. Ass?”

  Murk rolled his eyes and pushed the vial toward Trig. “You use it,” were the words his lips seemed to form.

  “Don’t be ridiculous. This’ll give you the boost you need. So, shoulder? Thigh?”

  Murk pushed the Marscadrel back again and made a deep, grunting sound that startled Trig into stillness. Murk hadn’t been able to talk, much less groan, for months. “Nooo,” he croaked and Trig felt the sting—the burn—in his thigh before he realized that Murk’s hand was over the trigger and the needle pierced through Trig’s pants into his thigh.

  He looked down, appalled. “Murk…”

  Murk let out a sigh, closed his eyes, and pulled his legs up beneath him on the sofa. He laid his head against the cushion, closed his eyes, and swallowed.

  Trig pulled the needle out, cringing at the tearing sensation, and fitted the syringe back into the cylinder. “Fuck. Why did you do that?”

  Of course, Murk didn’t respond.

  They’d have to get another, somehow. Courtney could. Or maybe if he were to go with them, he could explain to the traders who the medicine was for—how the first dose had been wasted. He’d find something to trade with them. There had to be something of value in his bag that they’d want. Something from his old life, maybe.

  Courtney padded in, wiping her hands on a cloth napkin. “All set?”

  “He wouldn’t take it. He injected me instead.”

  “What?” She knelt beside Murk, who was reaching for her.

  He cupped her face, brought her down for a long kiss that seemed to rob her of both words and balance as her legs shook in front of her.

  She pulled back with a gasp and put her hand over Murk’s lips to bar another kiss. “Why would you do that? You needed it more.”

  Shaking his head, he pointed to Trig.

  “No. You should have been worried more about yourself.”

  Murk didn’t bother responding. He sat up and let Courtney pull him to his feet. Bedtime, he seemed to be implying.

  “I’ll turn off all the lights,” she said.

  Murk wouldn’t let her walk away. He pulled her along behind him toward the staircase.

  “I’ll get the lights,” Trig said.

  “You’ll join us?” she asked, looking over her shoulder as Murk guided her forward. Her wide-eyed plea made his heart stutter. She’s not afraid, is she?

  If she was, then of what?

  He’d wanted to give them space. Room for them to connect as was customary for a man and a woman in a trio. As the older of them, it was Murk’s prerogative to have her all to himself for a while. Murk hadn’t asked for that, but Trig assumed that was the way their arrangement would play out.

  “Please?” she called from the staircase.

  He turned off the lamp and pointed his steps toward the kitchen. “I’ll be there in a moment.”

  He yearned for the day when she’d ask for him because she wanted him, and not simply because she was confused. For the moment, he’d take what he could get.

  Trig was tired of bringing up the rear. He needed his hand held, too.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Courtney’s days at work began to blur to monotony. The same shit again and again. Walking an uneventful beat, responding to the occasional call only to have a couple of male LEOs step in and push her aside as if their raison d’etre—the fount of their masculinity—was derived from issuing citations to shitty drivers and drunks stupid enough to show themselves during the daylight hours.

  For a month, she walked in circles, avoided Festus, and had the occasional giggle with Brenna during lunch. Those were her days. Nights, though, were always unpredictable. She usually came home to find dinner already made—some different feast every night under Trigrian’s patient tending—and Murk waiting for her near the door.

  Every day, he typed a little more of his story for her.

  Every day, she became less certain she knew who he was.

  Without his voice, she’d thought him sweet and charming, but the longer she spent in his company, the less sure she was of that.

  He was alluring, yes, but sweet?

  No.

  She’d confused his gorgeous smile for laid-back recalcitrance, but he’d been hypnotizing her all along.

  Murk was born wealthy in a family of traders. Educated. Worldly. He’d seen all there was to see on Jekh, and some nearby planets as well. He was used to getting what he wanted, and Court couldn’t help but to feel she was counted amongst those things.

  He’d much rather paint than do business.

  Stargaze than make plans.

  Fuck than make money.

  But, he’d fight if he had to, and not just in a romantic, metaphoric sense.

  He’d killed a man to protect Trigrian during the removal. Yet another reason he and Trigrian avoided getting chipped.

  “Do you care so much?” he kept scribbling onto his tablet. “What I did?”

  He didn’t seem convinced when she finally told him no, but she did care. She cared that with his more belligerent personality that he was divergent from his Jekhan peers, and that made him hard to peg. She’d always been better at pegging people, and she’d gotten him wrong.

  That was what she was pondering when Brenna showed up beside Court’s desk at the station where she was writing a report about an attempted robbery in Six.

  “You want to hear the result?” Brenna whispered.

  “No.”

  Pissing on a pregnancy test stick while at work probably hadn’t been the most brilliant plan Court had devised in the past twenty-eight years, but between fretting about Murk and the niggling suspicion that her period’s failure to return didn’t have anything to do with stasis side effects, she could hardly concentrate. She needed to clear one thing out of her brain—yes or no. If she knew the answer to one thing, maybe she’d know what to do about the other.

  She thought she already knew.

  Brenna nudged her glasses up and twined her fin
gers together atop Court’s desk. “I got rid of the test. Put it in a disposable coffee cup and tossed everything into the trash chute. If anyone finds the test before the incinerator fires, there are three other women in the building who could be suspects.”

  “Was the test positive?”

  Brenna nodded.

  So did Court, and she kept on tapping out her report until her eyes bleared and the words on her holo-screen became unrecognizable symbols.

  “Do you…need to do something about it?” Brenna whispered.

  Court scoffed and swallowed hard to push down the nauseous taste in her mouth. “I, uh…need to get off that fucking registry, for one thing, since this obviously isn’t Reg Devin’s kid.”

  “Whose— No.” Brenna shook her head. “Don’t tell me that. Don’t tell me stuff. That’s your secret and I’d lie for you, but I’m so bad at lying.”

  “I know you would, honey. I won’t say anything else about it.” The “it” in question shouldn’t have been possible, as far as she understood things. The Tyneali genetics were supposed to make Jekhan-human crossbreeding nearly impossible without scientific intervention. Another lie someone planted.

  Everything’s a fucking lie.

  Brenna gave Court’s hand a squeeze. “Want me to make you a registry appointment for today? I hate that you have to go there in person to request a match cancellation.”

  “Yeah.” Court swallowed again. “For right after work, if there’s an opening. I’m going to…finish this report first.”

  What am I going to do with a baby on this fucking planet?

  She didn’t even know what she was going to do with its father, but she knew one thing—she needed to tell him.

  ___

  Somehow, even with the haze she was in, Court managed to get herself home after her appointment, and immediately got pulled onto Murk’s lap as always.

  Being so numb to the day’s events, she didn’t try to fight him. He wanted to hold her, and at the moment, she needed to be held by someone with a stronger will than hers. Someone who was decisive and certain about things, because she certainly wasn’t.

  He set the pad on her lap. “Did you do it?”

  She nodded. “Mm-hmm. I actually remembered this time,” she said flatly.

  Trigrian stepped into the living room rubbing his hands on a dishtowel. “Do what?”

  “Cancelled my match. I went to the agency after work. The admin and his direct supervisor went on to thoroughly interrogate me for forty-five minutes. They tried to embarrass me for not following through on my promises, and then the came the fun, slut-shaming part.”

  Murk snatched back the pad. Before he could scratch out a missive, Trigrian asked, “Slut-shame. What does that mean?”

  “Slut is an old Terran insult. That’s what some people call women who take many lovers in a non-permanent fashion. A woman who sleeps around, and not for money.”

  “Why would they insinuate such a thing?”

  “Because I told them I was pregnant and that would make a match to someone other than the child’s father very awkward. Amy had suggested weeks ago that I try that lie, knowing they’d be breaching a shitload of privacy laws if they asked me to provide proof.” Court’s tight smile fell away.

  Murk gave his tablet a hard shake and started writing again.

  Trigrian set the towel on a bookcase shelf and strode across the room. “Was that the only excuse you could think of?”

  “Yes, because it’s true,” she said softly.

  His dark eyebrows shot up.

  “But, the question now is…” She drummed her fingertips atop the table and fixed her gaze on his. “How is that possible? Jekhans and humans supposedly can’t crossbreed.”

  Murk erased what he’d written, and tried again. “Who says it isn’t possible?”

  “All the materials we all had to study for the relocation exams. They said your Tyneali heritage makes you genetically incompatible with pure humans, and I assure you, I’m pure human.”

  Murk grunted, shook the tablet hard, and wrote, “That’s a lie. There have been Jekhan-Terran hybrids. I saw the babies. Some conceived of rape during the invasion.”

  “Yeah. I figured out pretty quickly the literature was bunk. Obviously, you’re the daddy, Murk. Congrats. No idea how far along I am. We haven’t exactly been chaste in the past month.”

  He gave her a poke and shook the tablet again. “Why is your manner so bleak? Children are blessings. We’ll have a beautiful child.”

  When she didn’t immediately respond, he grunted and nudged her.

  “Oh, fuck. Well, where should I start? In case you guys didn’t know, consorting with you the way I have is illegal as hell. Normally, what people do behind closed doors would be hard to prove, but if the stars align just so, I’ll be giving live birth to the evidence in eight or so months. I’m going to lose my job. I might get deported for breaking the law. The only interaction I’m supposed to have with Jekhans is arresting you, paying you to cleaning my house, or buying bread from you. That’s about all.” She turned around and met the man’s eyes. “Murk, I could go to jail for touching you and Trigrian, do you understand that?”

  She dug her fingers into her hair and gave it a tug. The heaviness of the situation settled in. “Oh God. What am I going to do?”

  Trigrian pressed his hands to her knees and gave them a light squeeze. “Maybe have some dinner. That’d be a good place to start. And then get some sleep?”

  “I’m not sure I can sleep. The situation is going to be running through my mind all night. The tangle of lies I’m going to have to tell. Oh God.” Her body shook with her crazed laughter. Her circumstances weren’t funny, but she couldn’t stop.

  A baby? Oh, God. What can I do?

  She was a little too Catholic, genetically if not in practice, to consider a termination, but she hadn’t relocated to Jekh to do the barefoot and pregnant thing. She’d relocated because she wanted answers, and because she was sick of ‘McGarry’ being a curse word.

  “Children are blessings,” Murk typed again. “Worth the fear.”

  “Well, I am scared. This isn’t a normal situation, Murki. This is so far from normal that it’s perverse. Under calmer circumstances, I might be excited. Things would be easy on Earth. I’d schedule my appointments. Have my work responsibilities adapted for my condition until after my maternity leave. Nobody would care, except my family and friends. But this?” She scoffed and gave her hair another yank. “Neither of us could say we wanted this.”

  “I did.”

  “What?”

  “You’re our third. A child is a natural consequence of a healthy Jekhan relationship. I wish for several.”

  “Wait—”

  Trigrian gave her knee a squeeze. “What he’s saying, but not saying well, is that when we’ve partnered off, we tend to…aggressively try to get our woman pregnant because our women don’t always stick around for long.”

  She turned on Murk’s lap and glowered at him. “Is that what you were doing?”

  He shrugged and wrote, “I wasn’t trying, but you are my mate. Does carrying my child not prove that?”

  “All it proves is that we’ve got a hot mess on our hands. God, I feel sick. I need to barf or make a call or something.”

  Murk held her tighter.

  “To whom?” Murk’s mouthpiece asked.

  “My sister. Murk, let go of me. Now.”

  Murk let go of her, though the soft growl in his throat indicated that wouldn’t have been his choice.

  I’ll deal with him later.

  She hurried into the office with the men on her heels. With shaking hands, she powered up the interstellar communication device and forced herself to breathe.

  “I have no idea what time it is in Boston or even what the date is there,” she said, sitting. “I doubt Erin will be too angry, either way. We don’t get to talk much lately.” Court input in all the necessary codes and listened to the line buzz as it attempted to connec
t. She always imagined electrons pinging from one satellite to another through space and finally shimmying down a cable cord into her sister’s apartment, and the thought made her laugh.

  She needed to laugh so badly.

  The buzzing stopped, and a disheveled Erin popped onto the display wearing her wrinkled EMT uniform. Her coarse hair stood up in an unkempt halo around her head, and even her usually pristine eyebrows were mussed.

  She rubbed her eyes. Sighed. “Sissy? I got off an hour ago after a sixteen-hour shift. Shit. Read a clock. Get one of those watches that has dials for two time zones or something.” Her gaze settled in the general direction of Court’s eyes, but slowly drifted away—to the men behind her sister.

  “Are you…all right?” Erin asked, her dark gray eyes widening. If she wasn’t awake before, the call certainly changed that.

  Court forced a swallow down her tight, parched throat. “Yes and no.”

  “Do you need help, or… Do you want me to…?”

  “No, listen, Erin. This is Trigrian and Murki.”

  “They’re—”

  “Jekhan. Have you spoken with Owen?”

  Erin nodded slowly. “Uh-huh. He said that you said that Granddad was right about some things. That seems to be the case.” She leaned forward a bit as if trying to get a better view of the holographic image on her end. “They look human.”

  “Well, they’re human in a lot of ways, inside and out. Anyway, they live with me.”

  Erin gave them a little finger wave, still looking from one man to the other. “You didn’t tell me you had roommates, Sissy,” she said flatly.

  “They’re not exactly roommates. I’ve got a problem.”

  “Mm-hmm.” Erin dragged her tongue across her lips and nodded. “What sort of problem? Are you…okay, or…”

  Court shook her head. “Not a safety issue. At least, not yet.”

  “Okay, then hold that thought. Before you say anything else, I’m walking out of camera range to get a cup of coffee. I still haven’t installed receivers throughout the apartment.”

  And she probably never would. Like the rest of her siblings, she was too paranoid to have more than the one receiver that could be set up in a room apart from where she did most of her living.