by Erin Tate
Chapter Seven
As she wished?
Four weeks later, and Joyce wished the bitch Martins would find her way out an airlock. She also wished she hadn’t shoved the commander, Kede, away quite so hard. She’d needed time, time to make her way toward accepting her new position in life.
Her quarters were luxurious, if monotone. The food was delicious, the chef even taking the time to learn Terran dishes to satisfy Joyce’s yearning for home. He had yet to make a good mocha iced coffee, but he was close. Tidbits of home somehow made their way onto the ship, a new gift appearing here and there after some of the warriors visited Terra’s surface. The males sensed her mood and more than one had tried cheering her up.
Slowly her outlook improved, gradually acceptance eased into her, and she became more comfortable on the Vehly. It wasn’t home, but she’d begun looking at home and realized home had nothing on the ship. True, she dealt with stares. Not because she was “fluffy,” but because females were never allowed on starships. The exceptions were ambassadors.
When she asked why they didn’t give Ambassador Martins the same treatment, she’d added several new curses to her vocabulary.
After that, she stopped asking. She never saw the woman, her acclimation completed prior to Joyce’s arrival. Plus, when she did run into Martins, the rage pouring off of her was palpable. Joyce had yet to figure out if it was directed at her or her situation.
Considering ambassadors were volunteers, she supposed it was at her directly. Well, a person lured more bees with honey and that woman was all vinegar. She couldn’t blame the males on the ship giving her a wide berth.
“Enner! Pay attention.” A metal spoon whacked the back of her hand and she turned a glare on Yare.
“I’m paying attention,” she snapped at the massive soldier.
“That’s why your precious chocolate is burned? You did that on purpose?”
She flung her attention at the pot before her. “Dammit.”
She dug her spoon into the gloppy mess, hoping to salvage it, but the alien chef was correct. She’d burned it. Her intent was chocolate devil truffles. They’d determined the necessary ingredients were safe for Doshans and they’d been like puppies fighting over a bone when she’s shared a small bar of chocolate. They’d love these. With the sweet offset by the heat of the pepper Yare provided. She’d asked for cayenne, but ended up with some weird Doshan spice. It tasted hot, so she went with.
“They’re gonna be so disappointed.”
“They are warriors, Enner, not young ones.” That had her snorting. They were large, muscular, sexy as hell, puppies. They just wouldn’t admit it. “Do we have enough for me to try again?”
“You spoil them.” He shook his head.
“So that means yes?” She grinned.
“You know you’re not supposed to be working in the kitchens. Always poking at things. Prodding things.” Yare wandered off toward the pantry. He called it something else, but she couldn’t help but think of its Terran name.
“It’s not like new ambassadors have come aboard, Yare. I’m bored. I need something to do and you’re the only one who would let me help.” Yes, she whined like a child.
He reappeared with a familiar package in hand. “This is the only job that couldn’t kill you if you made an error.”
Snatching the package from his hands, she stuck her tongue out at him, enjoying the light banter. Each day, her heart lifted, the pain of her arrival slowly easing. Easing enough for her to occasionally look for Kede or slyly ask about him. Considering some of the looks directed at her, she wasn’t sure she was all that sly.
Spinning toward the stove, she elbowed one of the pots, sending it twirling and then flying. It flung through the air, spinning and spilling its contents. Burnt chocolate, hot and near boiling, splattered and sprayed. The pot hurled its contents in different directions, but the bulk, the dark globs and masses found one primary target.
Joyce.
The pain didn’t register at first. No, shock overwhelmed her and her initial thought was to the mess she’d made, to the chocolate coating the floor and appliances. She reached for a towel that hung nearby, intent on cleaning the disaster. Yare shouldn’t have to deal with the destruction she’d caused.
But then…
Then the agony assaulted her. It rained blow after blow on her mind and overtook her thoughts. The chocolate coated her skin, the liquid clinging to her in burning globs. The right side of her body was covered in the sugared treat, sinking into her, spreading the pain.
She screamed, loud and long, the torturous throbbing shoving air from her lungs. She stumbled, unable to remain upright on her own.
A hand reached for her and she grasped it, squeezed the fingers as the pain intensified. It continued digging its tendrils into her, burrowing deep.
Other hands, fingers, arms…
But there was only pain. Each breath, each shift of muscle, each blink.
More. More. More.
Joyce recognized yells and orders and voices that were so familiar. One was louder than the rest, one overrode the others and demanded that his word be heeded.
The hands listened. They did as asked, stripping her, tending her, healing her.
Fingers stroked her arm and slowly replaced Yare’s. Her poor friend. She wondered if she’d broken any bones. He wouldn’t be able to cook without one of his hands and she didn’t think she could help him just yet.
“Yare is fine. Do not worry about him.” The words were growled, warm air fanning her cheek and moist lips brushing her ear.
Above all, the voice brought safety. Comfort washed over her, blanketing her in the feeling and for some reason, she knew the speaker would care for her. She could depend on him.
“Always, little Terran. Always.”
That was good. She liked feeling safe.
* * *
Kede watched the medicos work, Resane and his staff shouting orders as they sloughed off the brown material coating Joyce’s right side. As more was removed, more of her once pale skin was exposed to the air. Or rather, wasn’t. Chunks were missing, entire areas now raw and exposing flesh.
He clutched her left hand, careful not to crush her small bones while still using her touch to anchor him in place. Movement near the portal drew his attention and his gaze collided with Yare’s.
“Report,” he barked the demand at his warrior.
Resane’s attention snapped to Yare as well. “What happened? What is this on her?”
Yare jumped forward. “She was melting chocolate. It burned. We were talking and she hit the handle on the pot. The liquid covered her.” The male’s attention shifted from Resane and his face paled.
Kede knew the feeling. He’d peeled the flesh off of his enemy’s bones, but to see a female so damaged… It tore at his very soul and he begged the bright light to give him Joyce’s pain.
“Cho-co-late?” Resane stumbled over the word. “Liquid? Acid?”
Yare shook his head. “No, it is a sweet from Terra. The brown desserts the crew has been eating are made from chocolate. Joyce—”
Kede snarled. No one should call her Joyce but him.
“Ambassador Enner enjoys cooking. While she awaits additions to the crew, she’s been working with me.” Tears glistened in Yare’s eyes.
He pretended not to see them. Warriors did not express emotion.
The medico shook his head. “It is not like kitchen damage I’ve seen. It…” He sighed. “You can see the burns continue even though the wounds are cooled. She should not be injured, but…” Resane gestured to Joyce’s leg, to the growing wound. “I do not understand. Yare, repeat the ingredients now.”
Kede closed his eyes against the damage to her body, turning his attention to the undamaged half of her. These are the parts he would remember. If she must go to the bright light, then he shall always recall her pale skin, her smile, the way she glowed from within. He finally opened his eyes to stare at her face, at the line of her unblemished c
heek bone. Her right side was yet another splattering of wounds. Not as prevalent as her torso and leg, but small burns slowly grew.
“It is primarily made from cocoa beans, a plant on Terra. We scan all foods that arrive from the planet. Nothing is harmful to Doshans and it is a common sweet for Terrans.”
“She added nothing else?” Resane constantly worked, machines scanning, others processing the chocolate. “An item which would wound Doshans? Did she wound herself instead?”
Kede growled and glared at the medico. “She would not do such a thing.”
The medico glared at him. “It must be asked, Commander. She was not happy to be chosen. She may have decided injuring one of us would get her back to the planet.”
“Never,” he snapped.
Joyce would never do such a thing. His harae would never do such a thing.
Kede’s heart stopped. The title sprang forward before his mind had a moment to comprehend the word. Was Joyce his heart, his love, his one?
More of her flesh burned away, peeling from the muscles beneath to expose the bone.
“What else did she put in there? She makes cakes, treats, this candy. It is more than one item, Yare. What was she working on today?” He knew his voice was harsh, deeper and more primal, but he needed to save his harae. He could lose her now that he’d accepted her.
“She called them,” Kede could practically see the thoughts spin through Yare’s mind. “The Terrans call them Chocolate Devil Truffles. It is a term to mean hot. Spicy with the sweet, she asked for…” All color left the male’s face, leaving his normally browned skin pale and nearly white. “She asked for cayenne, a spice easily found on Terra. She described it and it sounded much like our cilotha. She put some in the chocolate.”
Kede didn’t bother cursing as the medicos and Yare both released their own string. The medicos froze, hands no longer working rapidly against the cilotha.
“What are you doing? Why are you stopping?” he snarled at the males.
“Commander, you know that once exposed to the blood, cilotha will continue to consume her.” Resane’s gaze held a combination of agony and regret. “You should notify Terra and decide how you would like us to terminate.”
His body stopped. It froze. His heart did not beat, his lungs did not draw in air and his blood no longer moved through his veins.
“We can’t…” He did not recognize his own voice.
“There is nothing, Kede.”
More of the plant’s seed powder consumed Joyce. That was the beauty and curse of cilotha. A plant found only on Dosha, it was a delicious spice as well as a deadly weapon against enemies. Those not of Doshan blood were easily destroyed once the powder hit their blood. Consumption was acceptable. Touch would do nothing. But an open wound and a drop of the cilotha and the enemy was destroyed.
To those not of Doshan blood…
“Resane?”
“Yes, Kede?”
Kede. Not commander. Friend, not leader.
He tore his gaze and focused on his friend. They played side-by-side, grew up together, trained together. Now he would ask the male to risk his position, his future, for one Terran female. His Terran female.
“You have scanned her, processed her genes?”
“When she boarded and was leaking.” Resane nodded and Kede almost corrected him.
When she’d been bleeding.
“Terrans are close to Doshan.”
“Yes, but, Kede…”
“How close, Resane?” He stroked her unmarred cheek, hoping and praying his friend would give him the answer he desired. He realized his life lay on the table, not just Joyce’s. He would embrace the bright light, even if it meant being thrown into the darkness, rather than live without her. “How hard would it be to make her Doshan?”
Resane leaned forward, bracing himself on the platform that held Joyce’s small frame. His gaze remained locked on Kede and then he sighed.
“Clear the room.”
Objections were quick to come.
“The treaty with the Terrans…”
“…the Planetary Collective.”
“We should…”
“Leave us!” Resane’s voice overrode them all, the passion and rage inside his friend reminding Kede that while the male was a designated healer, his eyes also told of the male’s fierce, deadly nature.
The medicos were suddenly reminded of that fact.
They rushed from the room, the two males tripping over each other in their bid for freedom. Only Yare remained within.
“Yare,” Resane glared at the male and Kede could not find the strength to do the same.
“I would stay. I helped cause this, I will help mend it if I can.”
Kede stared at the male. He was younger than he and Resane, but he saw some of himself inside him. Yare was strong, proud, and willing to admit his wrongdoings and do all he could to correct what he’d caused.
“Let him stay. You will need other hands.” He looked to Resane. “I will be of no use. I cannot force my touch to leave her.” He focused on Joyce. The platform did as it was designed, consuming the blood that flowed from her veins. “She is my harae and I can do nothing but hold her as you do what must be done.”
Yare gasped, but the medico made no sound. He simply walked to the wall and depressed several buttons. Instruments slid from the wall, mysterious items needed to mend Joyce. He remained focused on her, uncaring of the preparations surrounding him.
“Kede.” He tore his gaze from Joyce and let his gaze land on Resane. “Doshan biological material is needed for the transition. I can utilize samples from storage or I can—”
The idea of any other Doshan providing what she needed enraged him. “Never.”
Resane nodded. “Extend your arm.”
Without releasing Joyce, he did as ordered, uncaring of the sting of pain and the whirring of the machine.
He focused on her, and prayed to the bright light that she emerged whole and alive. He begged their actions to bear fruit and that she would awaken. He implored the bright light to return her.
He released every promise and repeated every appeal and then he waited.
The waiting nearly destroyed his soul.
Chapter Eight
Sleep muddled her mind, and she waited for the cloud of slumber to ease. Joyce always took forever to fully awaken which was why she had a healthy addiction to caffeine. Ah, what she wouldn’t give for a steaming mug of coffee. Too bad it’d been deemed a biohazard. Though she had been pretty happy to discover something similar, and much more potent, in the Doshan pantry.
Pantry…
Something tickled the back of her mind. A memory that seemed such a long way off and yet it should be at the forefront of her mind.
Huh.
She really had slept hard. Moaning, she shifted and stretched. She straightened her legs and pointed her toes, frowning at the tightness in her ankles.
“She’s in pain,” a male voice snapped and immediately the shuffle and rustle of clothing reached her.
No one should be in her quarters. She’d demanded, and been assured, privacy.
She squeezed her eyelids and then forced them open. She gasped at the white light shining in her eyes and immediately snapped them closed again.
“It’s too bright. Lower the lighting.” The same voice, panic tingeing every syllable.
“Be at ease, Kede.” She recognized that voice. Resane. The medico.
What the hell was the male doing in her suite?
“Repair her.”
“We have done all we can, Kede. Give her a moment to awaken.” Yare’s words were smooth and cajoling. He’d used that tone on her more than once.
All right, she had three males in her room when one was too many.
“What—” Her voice cracked and she licked her lips, trying again. “What are you doing in my room?”
“You are in medical.” The low, lyrical tone comforted her. “Do you remember what happened?”
She
sensed the lights dimming and she forced her eyes open once again. The familiar mismatched gaze of the commander was inches from hers. He sucked in a harsh breath and she fought to open her eyes more fully.
“By the light, you are beautiful, my harae.”
Her language implant didn’t translate the word for her. “What should I remember?” She tried to shift her position and her muscles protested. “Why do I hurt?”
A glare shuttered over his features and was directed at someone behind her. “She is in pain.”
“She has to be in pain to heal,” Resane snapped back.
“Why do I need to heal?”
“Stay calm, my harae.” The commander lifted his hand as if to touch her and then he placed his palm on the platform once again. “Do not listen to Resane, he does not know what he speaks of. We will make you comfortable.”
Joyce grinned and then thought better of it when pain sliced through her. “Commander, you said he was the best medico the Doshan had ever produced.”
Now the commander’s frown was directed at her. “I did not say he was the smartest.” His frown deepened. “And I am now Kede to you, my harae. Always Kede.”
She tried to shake her head, but more agony assaulted her. “I don’t know what that means.”
“It does not matter now. Your comfort is most important.” That fierce glare shifted from her once again. “Is that not so, Resane?”
Joyce sighed. She did not want to be in the middle of some Doshan pissing contest. “Commander,” the man glared at her now. She wondered if the expression would freeze in place. “Kede, why am I under the care of medicos? What happened? Did my chip…”
A heavy coldness settled into her stomach. Had they discovered what it could do? Had it somehow been triggered? Worry and fear assaulted her. If Terra knew she’d revealed the truth about the language implants, she was as good as dead. If she returned to the planet’s surface, she was as good as dead.
The chip’s very presence ensured her shortened life span. Every day was borrowed.
“Nothing is wrong. You—” He grimaced.
Yare slowly came into view and the cook looked exhausted. “You were making devil truffles, do you remember?”