by Delia Roan
“You know I mean no offense.”
“None taken,” Syrek said. It was the truth.
“What do you think?”
“About what?”
“About growing up on a merc ship?”
His childhood hadn’t been a pleasant one. Even when mother… He brushed aside the thought. “It was a childhood. I never knew any different. Neither will your children.”
Ancain nodded. “True. But deep down, I will always know.” He set his untouched cup aside and stood. “Thank you for the drink. I must get back to work.”
When he reached the door, Syrek stopped him. “Wait.”
“Yes?”
Syrek raised his cup. “Congratulations on your little one, Ancain.”
Ancain’s face lightened, and he beamed. “Thank you, Syrek.”
“We will make this payload and life on Haven will be worth living again. Your child will grow up on the best ship in the known universe.”
Ancain shrugged. “It is just a ship, Syrek. It cannot love my child.”
Even after Ancain left, Syrek sipped jukkad brandy and remained seated on the bed. Ancain’s revelation had left a hollow feeling deep within Syrek’s chest, and even the warmth of the booze couldn’t burn away the emptiness.
What else could Ancain do? This is the only life we know.
It is the only life you know, his mind whispered. Ancain and Luall’s children could lead better lives.
He drained his cup and slammed it onto the table. No, that was a traitorous thought. It did not belong in his mind. In the height of her glory, Haven had been the envy of every Ennoi citizen. With the money he would earn from the PETL Cells, he would make Haven worthy of her name again.
While he was at it, he would also stop sulking over a woman like a lovesick fool. He was the son of a powerful warlord. There was nothing outside the reach of his grasp. Not wealth, not sex, not a woman.
What about love?
He poured himself another drink. “That,” he muttered to the rapidly emptying bottle, “I definitely do not need.”
With the pleasant buzz of alcohol running through his veins, he felt unstoppable. He carried the cup to the habitat wall and studied the flowers within.
No, nothing would stop him.
He would rebuild his world. The fumes from the booze stung his nose, but he drank again, draining the cup. As he swayed, he leaned against the glass in front of him, enjoying the coolness of it. His vision blurred, and he blinked, trying to clear it.
I need to sleep, he thought. That last cup crept up on me fast.
Eyeing the empty bottle, he shook it over his head, trying to get the last few drops. Empty. “Bu’ thash okay,” he mumbled to the room. “I kin buy another boddle. I’m Ar’Za’zish.”
He staggered to his bed and collapsed into it. He spotted Ancain’s discarded cup and snatched it up in victory. “To ‘Ncay ‘n Luaaall.”
Downing the final cup, he curled up on his bed, letting sleep wash over him. A thought prickled at the back of his mind. Somethin’ about the plants? When he cracked open an eye, his vision wouldn’t clear enough to study the habitat wall.
Oh, well. Tomorrow.
He rolled over, and with a belch, fell asleep.
If he had taken a closer look at the habitat wall, he might have noticed the fading petals on the Rift Crocus.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
MARA
When Gymari had asked for volunteers for the gardens, Mara had been the first to raise her hand. The farms were far enough from the hub of activity that she could keep her head down. Both Clez and Syrek would never be found in the hydroponic gardens.
It was the perfect place to hide out.
Not that she was hiding.
Not from Clez.
And certainly not from Syrek.
But it helped to keep her focus on work. Gymari had been right in that work was rewarded on Haven. Mara’s efforts over the past few days had ensured she’d risen back into Gymari’s favor. While the garden crew was different from the aliens she usually worked with, Mara found fitting in a lot easier. All she had to do was introduce a few stories from Earth, and that was enough to break the ice.
Still, it did her no good to get too familiar, so once she learned everyone’s names, she kept her head bent and her focus on the plants in front of her. Around her, the aliens sang songs as they worked, and soon, Mara hummed along to the strange melodies.
This morning, she was tasked with picking toron pods. The pea-like pods yielded hard seeds that could be used in a variety of meals on the ship. High in protein and dense in nutrition, the toron plants grew well in hydroponic beds.
They grew vertically on wheeled partitions that could be moved to rearrange the garden. Artificial light shone from the panels in the roof, and pipes carried water from the sanitation department. It was a sophisticated system, and Mara admired the effort it took to grow the food that nourished the inhabitants of Haven.
Gymari’s counterpart in the garden was an elderly man everyone called Cook. When not tending the gardens, he maintained the kitchens. Cook carried an enormous basket strapped to his back. His three fingers were warped with age, but they moved quickly across the plants as he plucked toron pods. The pods were deposited into the basket, and he moved to the next panel.
“Keep going, Mara,” Cook called. “You’re doing fine for a newcomer.”
Mara admired his work, but her basket was considerably smaller, and it was taking her far longer to clear a single panel. The sap from the pods stuck to her fingers, but unlike the laundry dust, they didn’t burn.
As she worked, she kept an ear opening, listening to the chatter around her. A mention of Syrek’s name made her prick her ears up.
“He’s locked himself up in his room,” one worker said. “Heard he’s sick.”
“He’s Ennoi,” snorted the second worker. “Hard to kill.”
“Hard all over,” laughed the first worker, ignoring the scandalized look the second worker shot their way.
A knot formed at the base of Mara’s skull. She thought about Syrek lying in his bed, the sheets rumpled around him. That sultry look in his eye. That sinful mouth…
Hoo, boy.
Even with her sleeves rolled up and her overalls unzipped, a sheen of sweat coated her body. The gardens were hot and humid, and Mara would have killed for a breeze. Fanning herself, she stepped toward the far wall. She raised her hand to the vent, but sighed when she didn’t feel any movement in front of the grate.
Well, if I stopped obsessing about Syrek, maybe I wouldn’t overheat.
She wiped her forehead on her sleeve, and studied the plants growing here. Unlike the toron pods in the center of the room, these plants were immature, their leaves tightly furled. She studied the leaves, trying to remember Cook’s crash course on fruit and vegetables.
The fern-like leaves belong to…
“Oh, man, I suck at this,” she said softly.
With a delicate touch, she moved some of the leaves, then frowned. “That doesn’t look right.”
She flagged down Cook, and he ambled over. “What is it, human?”
“These leaves. Are they supposed to be brown here?”
Cook bent closer, and frowned. “No, they should not.” He plucked a leaf and sniffed it, then popped it into his mouth and chewed. “These plants are sick.”
Another gardener stepped closer. “Blight?”
“Can’t say for sure yet,” Cook said. “But you better stay back. All of you, better stay back.”
“Why can’t you tell?” Mara asked as the other gardeners backed away.
“Not enough resources,” grumbled Cook. “I pray the Ykine arrive soon. Once they pay, we might be able to spare money for diagnostic tests.”
Mara’s heart sank. The Ykine. They were coming for the cells. She tried to hold faith in Syrek’s promise that the humans would be unharmed, but doubt gnawed at her.
&
nbsp; With a muttered curse, Cook seized the side of a partition. “Let’s quarantine these sections. Mara, help me.”
Heaving with all their might, Mara and Cook pushed the seedlings away from the rest of the garden. The wheels groaned as they slid across the floor, but if Mara threw her entire weight onto the partitions, they moved. When they were lined up to the side of the wide room, Cook took his basket from his back, and gestured to Mara to hand over hers.
“We have to throw these out.”
“Why?” Mara watched as Cook dumped the contents of her basket into his own.
“If it is blight, we cannot afford to have it spread.” He gestured to the neat rows of crops behind him. “These plants nourish the entire ship. We cannot afford to lose any. I will take these to the incinerator and then check the pantry for signs of blight. It usually starts with the harvested crops. You go clean up. Know how the disinfectant foam works?”
Mara nodded. “I used it in janitorial. I’ll get back to work once I’ve been disinfected.”
The old man waved his hand. “No, you go tell Lord Syrek about the blight issue.”
Mara froze. “What?”
“If it is blight, it is a crisis. He needs to know.”
“I-I don’t want to tell him!”
Cook patted her arm. “I know Lord Syrek has been rather cantankerous of late. However, he will understand the gravity of the information you bring. Don’t worry, he will not blame you. This is not your fault. Be brave. You’ll find him holed up in his rooms, most likely.”
The old man hobbled away, leaving Mara staring after him in dismay.
After all my hard work to avoid… him. And this happens?
“The universe is out to get me.”
A half a bell later, she stood outside Syrek’s door. She tugged at the hem of the dress she had chosen from the communal pile. It had been too wide in the middle, but she had wound a length of ribbon around her waist and had tied it into a bow. A second bow held her hair in a loose ponytail.
“This is stupid,” she muttered to the door.
After cleaning off, she hadn’t wanted to face him in her work overalls. As much as it irked her, she had raided the pile of clean laundry to find a suitable outfit. She patted down her clothing and bit her lip. It was stupid. So frivolous. And shallow.
So, so shallow.
It wasn’t shallow. It was an infatuation. Despite her best efforts, she’d gone and fallen for him. The one guy on this tin can floating in space she should have avoided.
First date jitters are for first dates. This is not a date.
She slicked down her hair, checked her breath, and stuck out her chest before she rapped on the door. For all her fear of seeing him again, anticipation bubbled in her belly. She ran through the words in her head: Cook sent me. He says the garden might have blight.
And then what?
She shook herself and knocked again, this time louder.
At his call, she squared her shoulders and stepped through the door, leaving it open behind her. He studied an ornate digital diagram by his desk, and the soft glow from the hologram washed his gray skin in pale light. The towel draped over the back of the chair explained why he wore no shirt. His strong back and arms flexed as he leaned on the desk. When he heard her step inside, he raised his head. His eyes widened in surprise.
Mara’s throat worked, but her brain had abandoned her. “Blight sent Cook,” she stammered out. “Might garden.”
His mouth quirked. “Care to repeat that?”
She kicked herself. “Cook says there might be blight in the garden.”
“Might or has for certain?”
“Might.”
His face revealed no surprise, just a dull acceptance. “Fine. I’ll get to it after the other thousand matters screaming for my attention.” He turned back to the image hovering over his desk. “You may go.”
Now that she stood before him, she wasn’t sure she could just leave. Her heart pitter-pattered in her chest, and her hands grew clammy. He was so damn fine and she could stare at him forever. She watched his face as he frowned at the bright points of floating light before him.
Time to leave, her brain urged her, but her traitorous body had other ideas. She stepped closer and peered at the map.
“What’s that?”
He grunted. “Star map.”
She inched forward, fascinated by the lights. The door swung shut behind her with a quiet click. “Those are stars? How does it work?”
He cocked his head at her, and poked his finger through the lights. “Bright spots are stars.”
Her curiosity won. She walked up beside him and peered at the lights. She tried to ignore the way the warmth from his arm caressed her when she brushed against him. Despite his disheveled appearance, he smelled like spices, honey, and expensive cognac.
She wanted to drink him in.
“Where are we right now?”
“Hmm, approximately here,” Syrek said, jabbing at a dot no different from any of the others.
“Where is Earth? My planet.”
He shrugged. “I do not know. The universe is a big place, and this is merely a slice of it.”
“Oh.”
The disappointment in her voice made him look up. “If you so wish, I can make some inquiries. Get the location.”
She smiled, and a warm glow filled her chest. “Thank you, that would be wonderful.”
The silence between them stretched out. Mara ducked her head after a while, breaking his gaze. “I should get going.”
Deep down she hoped he would flirt or make a sarcastic comment, but he merely grunted again. She bit her lip. “Are you okay?”
“Why would I not be okay?”
“It’s just that… Everyone says you’re not yourself.”
“Everyone says that?” He raised an eyebrow. “It’s good that everyone has time enough to gossip about my well-being.”
“It’s not gossip,” Mara insisted. “It’s… concern. People genuinely seem to care about you.” When he stared at her, she crossed her arms, feeling foolish at the pains she had taken with her appearance.
Especially since he hasn’t even noticed.
“I don’t see why, though,” she said. “You’re a bit of a jerk.”
He nodded. “I concede that point.” His voice was soft.
It never occurred to him that his crew could care about him.
Why wouldn’t they? His recent health issues weighed heavily on the ship, and if Mara had to be honest, she worried too. Syrek might be rough around the edges, but his love for his ship couldn’t be any more obvious. How many leaders would crawl into greasy ductwork? He took his responsibilities seriously. While his job meant his morals might be dubious, he had a code, and he lived by it.
The habitat wall, Haven, everything around her, was a labor of love.
Anyone would burn out working like he does.
Mara frowned. “You should go lie down.”
“After I figure out how many jobs we can sign on,” he peered down at the star map. “If we move closer to Getor-P13, we might be able to extend our reach.”
She squeezed his shoulder, and nearly yanked her hand away when the heat of his skin scorched her fingers. “Syrek, this can wait. Go lie down.”
His eyes flicked to her fingers and then up to her face. Inch by inch he straightened, until he stared down at her. Mara gulped. The spark was back in his eye. When the corner of his mouth twitched, she felt like a slice of dessert, laid out on a plate, waiting for him to nibble.
This time, she didn’t feel like running. Mara felt like standing her ground and seeing how far she could push back.
Clez’s warning flashed through her mind, but she shoved aside the thought. Clez isn’t here.
She lifted her foot and skimmed it up his leg. A shudder ran up his body, from his feet up to his scalp.
“Go lie down,” she said, “and I’ll lie down with you.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
SYREK
He closed the distance between them slowly, as if hunting a timid animal through a dense forest. Every other time, she had fled from his advances, and frankly it exhausted him. If she wished to leave, let her do it now. Not when he was riled up with want and need.
This time, she tilted her head and met his eyes without flinching. He reached a hand for her face, but when he hesitated, she spoke. “I’m ready for you to touch me now.”
It was all the invitation he needed.
The ribbon in her hair unwound with a tug from his fingers, and her hair tumbled down. He tangled his fingers into her locks and pulled her closer, until her chest bumped into his stomach. When his lips met hers, the pounding in his head didn’t matter. The ache in his bones faded. All was right in the world because he could touch her.
A groan left his throat against his will, and she murmured back. Her hand slid up his ribs and around his back, the coolness of her fingers brushing away the fevered heat from his body. Her hair tickled his chest. She was soft and pliant in his arms, and he deepened the kiss, letting his tongue slip into her mouth.
To his surprise, she broke the kiss and pulled away from his embrace.
“Don’t tell me to stop,” he whispered. “I might die if you do.”
A smile played across her lips, and to his relief, he saw desire burned in her eyes. “We wouldn’t want that.”
She tugged his hand and led him to the bed. He dragged his heels, not because he didn’t want to move their activities there, but because with her walking ahead, he could study the way the fabric of her dress swished against her rear.
Magical.
“I told you to lie down,” Mara said, her voice slow and sultry. She placed her fingers on his chest and pushed gently. Where she touched his skin, electricity radiated out, sending jolts of pleasure down his body.
“Mmm, I’m terrible at following orders.” But he lay down on his back, propping his arms behind his head. A few hours ago, his bed had been a prison, trapping him within his suffering body. When she stood at the foot of it, biting her lip, she transformed his humble berth into the most wonderful place on Haven.