by Layla Nash
He loved when she said his name. The Earther accent turned it into something sibilant and soft and wholly foreign. But he definitely did not appreciate her calling herself low class, even for a mission. “This is not translating correctly. Piracy is not a bad occupation in our culture. In some ways it is the only true warrior class anymore, unless the rebellion is an option. So. We will aim for the middle.”
“I like the gray,” she said, gesturing at the two sets of robes that had already been set aside. “Those are fine. Let’s go.”
Trazzak growled a little in irritation, giving her a dark look over his shoulder. “You have your expertise, this is mine. We’re going to do this right.”
Before she could argue, the owner of the shop returned with a full tray of food — Xaravian as well as Earther delicacies — and served it with a flourish on the small table in front of Jessalyn. Her jaw dropped, but she managed to stammer thanks to the cheerful merchant. Trazzak and the owner went back to discussing cuts and quality of fabrics, negotiating for some of the higher-class robes with embroidery and bones and charms, though he kept an eye on her to make sure she ate. He needed to talk to Mrax about what was going on with her — whether it was the poison still affecting her, or something else.
He glanced at the merchant and kept his voice low, so Jessalyn wouldn’t overhear. “Something pretty for her. The blue, maybe.”
“Excellent choice, sir.” The owner retrieved a few sets of blue robes, then snapped his fingers and disappeared into the small back closet. He reappeared with a mass of fabric. “And these might suit her nicely.”
Trazzak frowned, though he knew immediately those were the robes for Jessalyn. They were a soft purple, maybe lavender or lilac, and embroidered with vines along the hems. The fabric fell soft and delicate across his callused hands, and in a brief flash, he imagined her wearing the robes on the sands of Xarav, and him taking them off.
The merchant grinned, no doubt noting the way Trazzak’s scales turned blueish-green, and tilted his head at the back room again. “I also carry underrobes, sir.”
Blasted sandsnakes, the man saw right through him. Trazzak fought back irritation and nodded. “Fine. Two sets of underrobes, the two gray, one of the blue, and this one. Wrap them up, please.”
As the owner scurried away to begin packaging the mass of fabric, Trazzak eased into the chair next to Jessalyn and helped himself to some of the spicy cabbage. It tasted homemade.
Jessalyn looked a little better, and her eyes held that challenging sparkle once more. “Do I get a vote in this?”
“Did I get a vote in that list you handed over to your friend?” Trazzak arched an eyebrow, though he wanted to point out that captains seldom led democracies. No votes would be cast.
“He’s not my friend,” was all she said, and reached for some of the dried meat on the tray.
“You’re right about that.” Trazzak handed her a glass of water. “Drink more. And you’re better than him. Than all of them. You need to raise your standards.”
Jessalyn snorted, though she sipped the water before setting it down. “You’ve got awfully high standards for a barbarian.”
Trazzak handed her more food and glanced behind her to make sure no one else dared enter the Xaravian store. “You have no idea.”
“We had a saying,” she said, slowly, after the silence stretched. As if she didn’t want to admit it. “You can’t catch the devil if you’re wearing angel’s wings.”
“This does not translate in Xarav,” he said. Something about the set of her mouth upset him. He didn’t like seeing that look on her face — uncertain, uneasy, maybe sad.
“It means… in my business, you have to get your hands dirty. You can’t afford to have high standards because the people with high standards don’t have the information we want, and we need to blend in. They don’t inhabit the places we need to go. So it’s no use pretending to be something I’m not. I’ve spent the last ten years living in the mud. It doesn’t matter how much I want to be in the stars, barbarian. I live in the mud. That’s just how things are.”
And again Trazzak wanted to shake some sense into her. “What you do is not what you are.”
She smiled with only half her mouth, and her response disappeared as the merchant returned with large bags, ready to go. Trazzak squeezed Jessalyn’s shoulder as he stood to pay, ignoring the move she made as if to get her own money out, and frowned as he considered how to carry all the loot and Jessalyn as well.
Jessalyn pushed to her feet, standing for a moment as she adjusted her balance, then she walked slowly but steadily to the counter where the owner waited. She thanked him in passable Middle Xarav, for the robes as well as the food, then glanced at Trazzak. “We should be going.”
“Yes. Should I carry you as well?”
She gave him another dirty look and the proprietor smiled. Trazzak managed to keep a straight face as Jessalyn took one of the bags of fabric and headed for the exit. “Only if you fancy getting stabbed.”
Trazzak snorted and followed quickly after her, wanting to make sure the rest of the market was safe before she rushed into danger, and resisted the urge to tell her that what she said was dangerously close to Xaravian flirting. Better that she didn’t know, at least for the time being. With her walking in front of him, he got to enjoy the view of her behind once more, and didn’t mind a bit.
Jess
Jess couldn’t think about anything but the way Trazzak kissed her, even with all the additional information from Nathan and the chaos of the market. As fatigue wore her down, her mind wandered back to the safety and strength of his arms. For a brief moment she even considered taking him up on the offer to carry her back to the ship, particularly as she lugged one of the bags of fabric and it grew heavier with each step.
He lumbered along behind her, periodically growling whenever someone strayed too close to her path, and Jess wondered if he really wanted the job of being her bodyguard. Jess paused to catch her breath, pretending instead to survey some trinkets at a busy market stall, and the big Xaravian took up a great deal of space next to her. His fingers drifted down her arm, igniting sparks as soon as he touched her skin, and Trazzak grumbled as he reached for the bag. “I’ll carry this so you can look.”
She didn’t want to surrender the bag on a point of pride, but her shoulders ached and her fingers tingled on the verge of numbness. So Jess handed him the bag and poked through the mineral statues from a distant planet, hoping the stitch in her side would fade quickly. She needed to get back in the gym immediately; the stupid poison had already weakened her too much. She couldn’t afford to let it steal what remained of her stamina.
Jess selected one of the statues and reached for the pouch of tokens she carried, but the proprietor just held her hands up with a smile, refusing the payment. Jess smelled a rat immediately, and scowled at Trazzak.
He raised his eyebrows and feigned innocence, looking around as if to search for the perpetrator.
Jess gritted her teeth. “I don’t need you to buy me things. I’m going to pay you back.”
“You can try,” he said. Trazzak nodded to the alien behind the counter, and gently took Jess’s elbow to guide her away from the stall. “But I’m reasonably sure you would not be successful. Let’s get you back to the ship before you fall over.”
“I won’t fall over,” she said. It sounded more like one of the Xaravian growls than a human voice. Jess didn’t dare pull out of his grip, though, just in case he was right and she pitched over from sheer stubbornness. She’d never live it down.
They made it only a few more feet before Trazzak grumbled and looped his arm around her back, gripping her side to keep her close, and subtly lifted her off her feet so he could stride faster and carry her along. Jess fumed but the market tilted around her and her vision started to gray out, so she didn’t argue with his tactics.
Trazzak sounded just as irritated as she felt. “You stubborn Earther. Next time tell me when you’re going to pass
out.”
“I didn’t pass out,” Jess said. It took a lot of effort to remain conscious and pissed off. “I’m just tired. If you hadn’t taken so damn long looking at froufrou robes, I’d have been fine.”
He snorted, and his arm tightened around her, his palm sliding against her side. Jess shivered and focused on the ramp to the docks, just ahead of them. She regretted not wearing a uniform or something that didn’t have a hem, because the moment his scales touched her skin, Jess couldn’t focus on anything else. Heat rushed through her, sparking low in her stomach as she considered the unreal effect he had on her. And imagine — he carried her and all the bags at a fast clip without breaking a sweat or even looking like he exerted himself.
Jess thought she’d make it back to the ship with at least a shred of dignity, but that hope evaporated when she saw both Frrar and Maisy waiting in the dock, wide-eyed and grinning as they watched Trazzak carry her the rest of the way. Jess scowled as Trazzak passed them and both onlookers got ready to speak, and said, “Not a word. Not a single damn word.”
Maisy skipped after them as Frrar began to secure the ship so they could depart, and when Jess tried to break free of Trazzak’s hold so she could walk the rest of the way, the Xaravian’s scales rattled. “Straight to sick bay for you. No arguments.”
“What happened?” Maisy went from teasing friend to medical professional in a blink, whipping out one of the scanners to run over Jess’s arm. “A relapse? Fever or chills? Did you get faint, Jess?”
“She did,” Trazzak said, just as Jess muttered, “No I didn’t.”
Maisy turned her attention to Trazzak, since clearly Jess wasn’t going to be a cooperative patient. “Did she faint, or just get wobbly? Any change to her skin? Shaking at all?”
“All of the above.”
Jess elbowed him, using some of Griggs’s moves, and Trazzak dropped her. Jess wanted to shout in triumph but it ended with a grunt as her knees buckled and she collapsed on the floor. Exactly like he’d said she would. Maisy and Trazzak stared down at her, then the Xaravian shook his head in exasperation and dragged her back to her feet. “Stubborn Earther.”
“Oh, like a barbarian has any room to talk,” Jess said.
Maisy smacked her shoulder. “Be nice, he could have left your ungrateful ass in the market. We’re going to run some tests and figure out if you overexerted yourself or if it’s something else.”
“How could I overexert myself by walking through a market and looking at robes? Sitting in a cafe and getting a drink? What the hell is going on, Maisy?” Jess’s voice cracked at the end, as some of her fears bubbled to the surface. What if she was never back to her old self and strength? What if the Xerxh poison permanently weakened her? She’d be of no use to anyone. She’d be helpless.
And there was no way in all of space that she’d be able to survive another attack by bounty hunters. Maybe the Xerxh bounty hunter managed to kill her after all.
Maisy squeezed her hand as Trazzak put Jess on the single bed in the tiny sick bay. “We’ll figure it out, girl. You have to give yourself time to heal.”
“There isn’t time to heal,” Jess said. She cleared her throat a couple of times to try and get rid of the odd rasp. “There are bounty hunters out there right now searching for me, planning to kill me. If I can’t fight back or even run away, I’m toast. I can’t afford time to heal. It’s going to —”
By the time Trazzak caught her shoulders, Jess’s voice had spiraled into panic. Thoughts raced through her mind, all the terrible possibilities that awaited her at the hands of the bounty hunters and the Alliance. She’d never survive. Even on a hostile planet in some rogue sector, they would find her and punish her. She’d strayed too far from the true path, too far from where her compass guided her, and all of her old sins would come back to haunt her. Just like her grandmother used to tell her — the only people who worried about the devil knocking on their door were the ones with something to hide. All the old superstitions flooded back, and Jess felt her lungs collapsing in a sudden rush.
“Well, shit,” Maisy said. She started grabbing equipment, fumbling through the unfamiliar cabinets, but kept an eye on Jess. “Keep breathing. In and out. Slow it down, girl. You’re going to be fine. This is just a panic attack. It’ll pass.”
Just a panic attack? Jess felt like she was dying. Her heart stuttered and stopped, her lungs couldn’t seem to get enough air, and every part of her gushed sweat. Jess’s teeth chattered until she couldn’t speak. She searched for something to anchor herself. It had to pass. It had to. She couldn’t die, not yet.
Trazzak squeezed her shoulders and dragged her around to face him. He sat on the end of the bed and leaned forward, forcing her to look into his eyes. Jess hiccupped as she got caught in his gaze, mesmerized by the silver flashes in his eyes. The Xaravian nodded, his thumb gliding across her cheek. “Good. Breathe with me. In.”
Jess stared at him, unable to follow instructions with the feeling of the entire ship collapsing around her. Maybe they were already out in space and the ship would come apart as a horrible cosmic joke and they’d all die in silence. Everything grew dark around the edges until the only thing she could see were Trazzak’s eyes.
He grumbled and his scales rattled, swirling with green, and Trazzak caught her hand and placed it on his chest, right over where his hearts beat. Then he put his palm against her chest, above her breast so she didn’t flip out, and tapped his fingers against her skin. “Breathe with me.”
He took an exaggeratedly large breath, his massive chest expanding against her hand, and Jess tried to do the same against the weight of his hand.
The Xaravian nodded. “Good. Again.”
Jess didn’t manage the same smooth inhale-exhale that Trazzak did, but after a few attempts, the room stopped spinning and some of the panic receded. Maisy hooked a machine to her arm and started pressing medication, but Trazzak didn’t stop in his careful breath-coaching. She felt caught in his gaze, frozen even though her skin warmed at his touch. Everything else disappeared as Jess stared at him, and her lips parted. He was the rock she could hold onto.
Trazzak’s other hand touched her cheek, and the skin around his eyes creased as he smiled. “There we go.”
“What the hell kind of magic was that?” Maisy demanded, elbowing between them so she could shine a light in Jess’s eyes. The doctor frowned fiercely and examined the reddened skin of Jess’s poisoned arm. “And this isn’t good. Have you seen this before?”
Jess shook herself, needing to pay attention as they both studied her arm. But all she could focus on was the warm heft of Trazzak’s hand, still resting on her chest, and the soft fabric of his robes as she touched him.
Trazzak
Trazzak almost kissed her again, even with Jessalyn in the middle of a panic attack and her friend in the same room. The tentative feel of her hand on his chest sent his hearts into overdrive, and the urge to carry her to safety in his quarters flooded through him. He should have thanked Maisy for interrupting, since Jess was in no condition for making out, but he wanted to throw her off the ship at the next port instead.
He didn’t like the look of the red and purple striations on Jessalyn’s arm, though — it looked like more poison, somehow, or a growing infection. Not good news for Jessalyn, that was for damn sure. Trazzak waited until Maisy finished with her scanners and the blood-cleaning apparatus to lean away and finally break the connection to Jessalyn. “You should search the sick bay here for any information on the poisons the Xerxh use, see if there’s a guide or antidotes or anything. This is a Xerxh ship, after all.”
“I haven’t found anything so far,” Maisy said. She poked Jessalyn’s side. “So quit exerting yourself until we know what’s going on. Got it? Take it easy.”
“I’ll try,” Jessalyn said, but Trazzak didn’t believe her for a second. She didn’t exactly excel at taking orders.
Maisy snorted and held up a set of restraints. “I’m underwhelmed by your enthusiasm.
If I have to, I’ll tie your ass down. You’re going to rest here for at least an hour, then it’s straight to bed. Understood?”
“We don’t have time for this bullshit,” Jessalyn said.
The restraints distracted Trazzak, though. He could just imagine how interesting it would be to tie Jessalyn up, in his bed or her bed or anywhere. He cleared his throat and retreated before his thoughts showed up in his scales. “I’ll be in my quarters if anything changes.”
Jessalyn watched him go; he couldn’t decipher her expression. He couldn’t linger, though, not with Maisy studying him with a sideways look. No doubt the observant doctor suspected something was up, particularly after he used some Xaravian meditation practices to help Jessalyn breathe through the panic attack. One of his sisters used to suffer from flashbacks from when their parents were killed, so Trazzak had a great deal of experience in working through those episodes.
He ducked out of sickbay and made his way to the bridge, where Frrar cheerfully navigated the ship and set them on a course for Dablon Seven’s sector. Trazzak reviewed the course and the Heva’s various status screens, and had to admit it was a lot nicer to fly a ship that wasn’t as old as the Galaxos. Nothing leaked in the corridors, no alarms went off randomly, and he didn’t have to worry about pieces falling off the ship, inside or outside.
Trazzak clapped Frrar on the shoulder. “I’m going to the gym, then I’ll be in my quarters if you need anything.”
“Aye aye,” Frrar said, a curious saying he’d adopted from the Earthers. The engineer patted the navigation console. “We’re all set.”
Trazzak hoped so. He didn’t know how much sleep he’d actually get that night, with Frrar at the helm, but the only way for the officer to get more experience was to actually do the job. Eventually Vaant wanted to expand the original crew to their own ships, until it was the Galaxos fleet instead of just the Galaxos itself. To make that a reality — or at least an effective reality — they all needed to be captains.