by Ruby Dixon
I could be happy out here if I can’t make it back home again. I think.
It’s taken me time to get used to the idea of not making it back to Earth. I sip my tea and contemplate the stars. Maybe it’s that I was thrown into such a crazy situation that I never had time to properly grieve until I was already numb. Kivian and his crew have made it pretty clear that going back there isn’t an option, no matter how much they like me. If they do, they run the risk of having the Fool confiscated and spending their days in an intergalactic prison. No one likes the idea of that. I can’t let them destroy their lives just to…what? Bring me back to my dead-end receptionist job? My family is distant, my friends moved away after college, and my job sucks. I’ve had relationships, but nothing exciting. I’ve just been drifting since college, not really sure what to do with my life. Seems like fate stepped in and decided for me.
No matter how I look at it, Earth—and my life there—are distant memories.
But even if I want to stay, I’m not sure I can. Will they want to keep me? Right now I’m an interesting houseguest that tries to stay out of the way. I’m also going to eventually be a drain on resources, because I need to eat and breathe and use water. There’s no room for another bunk on the Fool and I don’t know any useful skills.
I’m also a highly illegal species. All of this could be bad if they decide that I’m too much trouble, and no matter how much Kivian thinks of me as a little sister, even little sisters can get annoying.
My fate continues to hang by a thread. I’m still at the mercy of others.
That sucks.
Duh, Fran.
I finish my breakfast soup and put the cups in the cleanser. As I step out I head toward the bridge to see who’s on shift. The cloaking signal that keeps the Fool hidden has to be continually re-jiggered, from how I understand it, so someone always remains on the bridge to keep an eye on things. It seems that even in their very high-tech society, some things just can’t be trusted to a computer. I’m a little surprised to see the big medic, Tarekh, seated at Alyvos’s seat at the bridge. “Is it your shift?” I ask him, moving to sit in Kivian’s chair. Not because I envision myself as the captain, of course, but because I know he won’t get mad if I curl up in it. I’m not there with the others yet.
Tarekh just shakes his head and leans back in Alyvos’s spot, looking bored and lazy as lines of positions and codes and star charts scroll past his screen. “Just giving Alyvos a break today. He’s a little frayed at the edges. Waiting’s not his favorite thing to do.”
I know how that goes. We’ve all been in limbo the past few weeks and it’s making Alyvos and Sentorr prickly since they’re the ones constantly monitoring the feeds. I think they’ve been expecting to get a go-ahead to move on from Kivian, but we’re still waiting. I’m not exactly sure what we’re waiting for, just that Kivian isn’t ready to move us on yet. I worry that I’m the reason and the others are going to resent me. We all get along fine, but I know it can quickly flip if tempers get short. “Do you know what we’re waiting for?”
Tarekh shrugs. “A sign that it’s safe to move on and deliver our cargo. Don’t worry. Kivian’s got good instincts for this sort of thing.”
I think about Kivian, asleep in the bed we share, and I get that weird flush moving through my body again. If he’s got good instincts, then maybe I really am just a little sister to him or he’d have realized how much I’m hung up on him. Maybe he does realize it, and he’s waiting for it to fade.
Ugh.
“You look unhappy,” Tarekh points out as I chew on a fingernail. “Everything well?”
“Just thinking.” When he gestures that I should continue, I hesitate and then decide to pour it out anyhow. I need to talk to someone. “Do your people have something we humans call Stockholm syndrome?”
“Never heard of it.”
“It’s where a woman falls in love with her captor just because he’s the one with power over her. She glamorizes him and the control he has over her life, and she makes her entire world about pleasing him.”
“Ah.” He thinks for a minute and then studies me. “Yeah, we have a word for that.”
“You do?”
“Foolish.”
I frown at him and resist the urge to throw something at his big ugly head. “You suck.”
“That’s a human phrase saying I’m unpleasant, yes?” He chuckles.
“It’s a real thing, you know.”
“Oh, I know it’s a real thing. We’ve a similar sort of mental illness in our civilization. In many civilizations, actually. It happens anytime there is power inequality. But I don’t think that’s what’s happening to you.”
I feel a little hint of relief, but I wonder if I’m being set up for another joke. “Why’s that?”
He spreads a hand in a gesture toward me. “Think about your interactions with our dear captain. Let’s say he comes in and tries to steal your morning meal as you eat it. What would you do?”
“Uh, slap his hand?” That’s pretty much what I did yesterday when the exact same thing happened. Kivian just laughed at my outraged expression and tweaked my chin. For a man that goes on and on about hygiene laws, he sure does like touching me.
“Mmmhmm. And if he told you to cut your hair off because he likes a female with a shaved head?”
I chew on my lip. “I’d tell him to go kef himself—like you guys say—because I don’t want a shaved head?”
He gives a sharp bark of amusement. “So you don’t feel the need to change yourself to please him?”
I’m surprised he’d even ask such a thing. If there’s a poster child for obedient slave, it’s sure as shit not me. “God, no.”
“Do you think you’re in danger if you disobey him?”
I shake my head slowly. If anything, Kivian likes it when I’m sassy to him. My tart retorts sometimes get the biggest smiles…and I admit it makes me get a little mouthier as a result.
“Exactly. Then you don’t have this ‘syndrome’ you think you do.”
“Oh.”
“You don’t sound pleased.”
I cross my arms under my breasts, thinking. “It was a lot easier when I thought it wasn’t my own decision. I still feel it’s wrong to have a crush on him.”
“Why? Because he’s blue?”
“No, because…” I stumble around for an answer and can’t find one. Not really. Because he looks different? I actually really like the way he looks. I’m itching to touch that chamois-soft skin again. I’m dying to touch his tail and his horns to see what they feel like. And those obliques… Yeah, his looks aren’t the problem.
I think I’m afraid of rejection. I don’t say it aloud because it sounds so childish, but it’s true. What if I fling myself at him only to find that he thinks humans are ugly and the wrong color and we don’t have horns? What if he really is just tolerating me like a sibling and then little sis tries to make out with him?
“I’m dependent on him for safety,” I say after a moment. “Without the protection of you guys, I’m doomed to be a slave again. Or worse.”
He nods, considering this. “There is a power imbalance, true. Perhaps that’s something you should talk with him about.”
“I’ll think about it,” I tell Tarekh. I’m pretty sure I won’t say any such thing to Kivian, but I’ll sure think about it.
13
KIVIAN
Having a human on board presents a bit of a problem the longer Fran is with us.
I study the four false identification records of the “crew” of the Dancing Fool, now temporarily The Fortune’s Fool. We all have new names, but I’m not entirely sure what to do with Fran. She can’t have an official ID, but if we’re searched, we need to have some sort of information on her. I eventually decide to mark her down as “cargo” and “pet.” I’m sure she’s going to give me a mouthful later, and I don’t blame her.
It doesn’t sit well with me, either.
I wonder if my brother, Jutari, ever has this
problem with his mate, Chloe? If others treat her like she’s practically an animal instead of a thinking being? It’s both perplexing and infuriating. I’ve learned enough in the small time that I’ve known Fran to know that her people are not as crude as they’re made out to be. They’re experimenting with space travel, for kef’s sake. In a few hundred years, maybe a thousand, they’ll be ready to join the rest of the universe.
It’s not so very long a time. She should be treated like any other sentient being. The unfairness of the situation gnaws at me. We could hide Fran in the cargo bay at security checkpoints, but then we’re no better than all the others that treat her like a parcel instead of a person. It’s not something that bothered me when my brother introduced his Chloe, and I feel guilty that it took me losing my heart to realize that it’s wrong. All of it’s really, really wrong. How many humans have I seen on the black market being sold and walked right past because it didn’t concern me? How many females have been snatched from everything they know like my Fran and forced into a new, awful world?
She hasn’t asked for anything except for me to take her back to Earth…and I refused. Because it’s dangerous for us. I didn’t think about her.
Troubled, I push away from my desk and head out of my quarters.
I think about heading to find Fran, but long years as captain force me to tend to duty first. I head to the bridge and to my console, checking our position and the logs of the last few hours. Nothing new. Nothing but quiet. It’s almost too quiet. I expected the ooli to come after us long before this. The fact that they haven’t gnaws at me. What are they waiting for? I’m sure they have a plan, but I can’t figure out what it is. In a way, it’s a good thing. The longer we stay hidden in the asteroid belt, the less chance they have of finding us. But the crew’s starting to get a little stir-crazy and I don’t blame them. Four weeks is a long time to sit, waiting.
I might be the only one that doesn’t mind it. Each day that passes is another one I get to spend with Fran. It’s nice to be in such a small, confined area like our ship. It means that no matter what we do, we’re around each other all day, every day. I never thought it’d be so enjoyable to have another person underfoot, but I look forward to seeing Fran and her smiles, her laughter, even her frowns. They’re usually directed at me and something I’ve said, but I enjoy them anyhow.
She still doesn’t know she’s my female, though.
It’s been difficult to keep my hands to myself, especially with her so close. But when she first came aboard the Fool, she’d just been torn from one bad situation and I didn’t want to put her into another. I didn’t want her to feel like she had to spread her thighs for safety. Just the thought makes me murderous. I’ve waited, doing my best to be patient and hoping that she’d come to enjoy my teasing and perhaps turn to me at night instead of crawling to the far end of the bed.
It’s taken time, but she no longer has that hunted look on her face. She doesn’t flinch at the slightest noise and scowl at everyone on the ship. In fact, I think she rather likes my crew.
Me, I’m not sure what she thinks. Sometimes she laughs at my jokes. Sometimes she shakes her head at me as if I’m an idiot that must be tolerated. I flirt with her during sticks. I touch her every opportunity I get.
I even sleep naked next to her.
Fran hasn’t noticed. She never reaches out to touch me. She’s flirty when I flirt with her, but the moment we leave the sticks table, she puts it away as if it’s a game like any other. Sometimes she pays no attention to me at all, not even when I stand so close that my cock responds in painfully obvious fashion.
If she’s interested in more than friendship, she hasn’t indicated such. So she needs more time.
In a way, I’m rather glad that the star charts continue to show no one in the vicinity. It means more time for us to hide out here amongst the forgotten rocks of space…and more time for Fran to realize that I’m quite the charming fellow.
My mouth twists in amusement at that, picturing Fran’s snort of disdain at the thought.
“You seem cheerful,” Tarekh comments as he turns around from Alyvos’s chair.
I shrug and pretend to look at nav charts when all I can think about is Fran. Fran and her pretty smile and the sensual way she moves. Fran and her soft, soft skin that’s such an odd—but enticing—color. “Just in a good mood. Why shouldn’t I be?”
“Because it’s day thirty-three and no sign of the ooli? I know that’s enough to sour Alyvos’s mood.” He crosses his arms and gazes at me from his seat without getting up. “Myself as well. I don’t know if you noticed, but the Fool’s running in top shape and even that leaky spigot in the mess hall’s been fixed. There’s absolutely nothing for your mech to do. Or your medic. Or anyone else.”
I grin at him. “Shall I cut my finger on my nav panel and let you pat away my sorrows so you have something to do?” I adjust the cuff of one sleeve. “We just can’t get blood on my clothes. This shirt’s rather new and a favorite of mine.”
Tarekh just shakes his head at me. “You’re impossible.”
“So I’m told.” I gesture at the station in front of him. “Alyvos retreating to his bunk?”
“He’s tired of staring at the same keffing shit. I know the feeling. About the only entertaining thing to watch on this ship is Fran.”
My eyes narrow and I can feel a surge of jealousy rush through me. “Oh?” I try to keep my voice light.
“Calm down,” Tarekh says in a lazy voice. “I know better than to eyeball another’s mate. It’s clear you’ve decided she’s yours. You already announced that to us, remember? This face may be ugly, but the ears hear well enough.” He taps one earlobe and then smirks at me. “I’m just curious when you plan on letting her know.”
“Not until she’s comfortable and feels safe. And not until she indicates she’s ready.” I give the medic my best playful grin. “Can’t exactly announce that she belongs to me moments after I just saved her from slavery, can I? Don’t think she’d take that well.”
“Didn’t stop you before.”
“She didn’t believe me then. I don’t know how she’d react now.”
“You’re being surprisingly patient,” Tarekh admits. “For you.”
“I think that’s a compliment. I’ll take it.”
“I must say I’m impressed.” A big grin spreads across his rough-hewn face. “Which is why I feel comfortable pointing out to you a conversation I had recently with a certain female.”
That wild surge of jealousy rushes through me again. I fight it back, because it’s sheer stupidity. Tarekh knows she’s mine. She’s certainly allowed to talk to him. In fact, it makes me glad she gets along so well with my crew. But the animal instinct that fires up inside my mind can’t be calmed. It wants to snarl and demand that no one look at her but me. I pause for a moment to control myself, then ask, “You were talking with Fran? About what?”
“Medical conditions,” he says calmly.
I grip the console in front of me with tight hands. “Is she sick?”
“She thought she was. Thought she had a mental condition where she was having feelings for her captor. I talked to her and made her realize that it wasn’t an issue. She’s allowed to fantasize about people without it being psychological.”
I’m astounded. Then jealous again. “Who is she fantasizing about?” Sentorr? She spends a lot of time with him. Alyvos?
“You truly have to ask that?” Tarekh shakes his head at me. “You are rather turned around by this female, aren’t you?”
“Me?” I can feel the grin spreading across my face. “Now that’s good news indeed.”
“Thought you might appreciate that.”
“What did she say?” I feel like an eager child, waiting for a sweet.
The look on his face is amused. He turns around in his chair and studies his screen for a moment before calling over his shoulder. “Said she had feelings for you and didn’t know if they were true ones. She was afraid to act on t
hem. I told her that was wise.”
I push out of my chair so quickly that metal scrapes along the floor. “You what?”
He chuckles. “Actually, I don’t remember what I told her. But I’m going to give you some advice. You know how to play it smooth when it comes to the ooli or anyone else we’re thinking to rob. Might not be a bad idea to play it smooth with her, too.”
“Of course I would.” I’m indignant at the very thought. Haven’t I been patient for weeks now? I’ve been so patient it’s downright obscene.
“Really? You look like an eager young boy about to get his cock wet for the first time.”
I scowl at him and run a hand down my face. Sure enough, I’m grinning like the mad fool my ship is named after. He’s right in that I should ease off and not charge forward at Fran with my own confession of how much I need her and want her. I’ll play it easy and calm, like a game of sticks, where half of the challenge is convincing your opponent you have exactly what you need and know just how to play it.
I can do the same for my lovely Fran.
14
KIVIAN
I find Fran with Alyvos in the cargo bay. They’re seated on two crates of the stolen crystals, but the gear spread in front of them is guns, dismantled and pulled apart. As I watch, Alyvos picks up a component of one—a rather dangerous black-matter discharger—and shows it to my mate. “Do you know where this belongs?”
“Not in her hands,” I say smoothly, strolling up. “What’s going on?”
Fran looks up at me, wiping her hands with a greasy rag. “Alyvos is showing me how to take care of the blasters. He’s going to let me check the guns for efficiency and maintain them for you guys.” She looks excited at the prospect of handling such a menial chore.
“Thrilling,” I say dryly. “He’s such a gem to ‘allow’ you to do this for him.”
Alyvos just snaps the discharger into his weapon and shakes his head. “She volunteered. Asked if I had any tasks I felt she could do.” He glances up at me. “She’s got small hands. Lots of fingers. She’ll be good at it.”