Jaxar

by Nancey Cummings

  Where’s the canteen? How do I requisition supplies? The toilet in her quarters made a high-pitched whine, so who should she contact to fix that? Basic newbie questions. She got to know her new neighbors and she went an entire week without speaking to Jaxar.

  Win-win.

  The first day had been a hectic series of introductions. A woman escorted by grim-faced warriors introduced herself as Mercy, the warlord’s wife, and hustled Van from a physical in Medical to Security, where she had been given a sleek new comm unit and access to ship’s systems. Lunch in a large dining hall followed, where Van had been introduced to too many new faces—all women mated to warriors—to remember. Most of the women were human, all mated two years or less, and a few even brought their babies to lunch. The happy women holding their healthy babies brought the sting of being an outsider, but it did not overshadow the friendliness of the welcome. Not even when one mom shoved a fussy red-headed baby into Van’s arms so the mom could clean a bit of spit-up.

  The child squirmed, twisting in Van’s awkward grip to get back to his mother like a cranky football, and it was all she could do to keep from dropping him. He was a cute thing with his freckles and gummy smile, then he burped up more milk and Van was happy to hand him back to his momma. She might have felt longing or envy or even a touch of nostalgia for her lost baby, but the sour smell of milk lingering on her hands, even after scrubbing them with caustic soap, proved to be a powerful anti-baby charm.

  Her quarters were on a level that appeared to be otherwise empty. At least, she never saw anyone in the corridors. She only had her own footsteps, the dim lighting, and the occasional bot rolling by. Oh, and the rattle of the ventilation system.

  Lonely? Yes, but Van reveled in the solitude and the quiet, both luxuries she never had before. She loved her mom, but her mom had been the type of person who needed background noise. The TV played all the time to empty rooms, just for the noise. Young Van had to hide away in her bedroom to hear herself think.

  Life in the orphanage had been crowded and loud with too many kids in small rooms. No one ever stayed long—except for her—and it wasn’t unusual to have a new roommate without warning. It might have been different if the roommates had stayed long enough to become friends, but they were always strangers.

  Dorm life in college was more of the same, only the roommates brought home their dates. Van moved off campus into a tiny apartment with paper-thin walls. She heard every argument and always knew what the upstairs neighbors were watching on television. Even Esme’s violin practice lost its charm after she repeated the same melody again and again and again.

  Peace and quiet were luxuries Van had never enjoyed and her quarters on an empty level felt positively palatial. The space was basic, one bedroom, with an attached cleansing room and a larger central space for mixed use including cooking, entertainment, and lounging. All that and she didn’t have to share it with anyone.

  As her first week on the Judgment ended, Van had to admit to herself that the transfer was a good thing, even if she refused to admit that to Jaxar. She hadn’t spoken to him since arriving and she was happy to keep it that way. An engineer named Fennec explained her duties and the equipment she’d be using. Any question she had, she asked him. She could have asked several people, someone was always wandering despite the severe unpopularity of algae, but Fennec had an adorable little stutter when he spoke, and he couldn’t seem to look her in the eyes.

  Jaxar hadn’t even tried to visit her. He sent Fennec as a go-between with messages and little presents, confections or flowers, and once a basket of soap and lotions. A gift basket. Who does that? She sent the gifts back, every single item, but not once did he try to speak to her himself.

  It hurt and she hated that it hurt that he couldn’t be bothered to show his face because she was furious with him and didn’t want to talk to him anyway.

  Still. He didn’t even try.

  Van stretched out on the sofa and queued a film to play. Another benefit of life on the ship was a stable network connection. She had several star systems’ worth of entertainment at her fingertips and never had to plan downloads around stray asteroid-induced outages.

  She hadn’t had a chance yet to speak to Esme, because the Vel Mori moon was once again in the midst of an outage, but she sent three recorded messages. The first message was basically all about the enormous soaking tub in the cleansing room and the massive window that made the tub feel like it was floating in space. When only a thin layer of glass—even if it wasn’t technically glass—separated her from death by vacuum, she expected to be unnerved by the deep darkness of space, not comforted by the calm silence.

  The other recordings were of the standard “I’m here, I’m fine, I miss you” variety. That tub, though—Van enjoyed a long hot bath every night after her shift.

  A bell chimed, indicating a visitor. Strange. The looky-loos coming by to take a gander at the new person kept their visits to business hours.

  A woman with a warm brown complexion and a friendly smile shoved a food container into Van’s hands when the door opened. “I’m Nakia. These are for you.”

  She waited for Van’s response, dark eyes sparkling.

  “Oh, I’m Van. Vanessa, but call me Van.”

  Her smile brightened. “I hope you like peanut butter cookies. Everyone loves chocolate chip, but I’m all out of chips.” The woman smiled, obviously waiting for a response.

  Van looked down at the container in her hands. “Peanut butter is great.” Then, sensing this did not satisfy Nakia, “Would you like coffee?”

  “That sounds perfect. Cookies and coffee.” Nakia strode into the cabin and quickly had coffee brewing and mugs on the counter. She obviously knew the cabin layout. “How are you settling in? Do you have everything you need? Obviously, you found the stuff to make coffee and you have two mugs, which is more than Rohn had when I arrived. God, his quarters were a sty.”

  “Um, yes?” She wasn’t sure how to answer so she arranged the cookies on a clean plate—one of three plates in her cabinet.

  “I’m sorry,” Nakia said, taking a deep breath. “I tend to run my mouth a mile a minute when I’m nervous.”

  “Why are you nervous? My God, are these still warm?” The savory, sweet aroma of the peanut butter cookies drifted up.

  “I’m not going to bring over old cookies to a new neighbor. My momma would be scandalized.”

  Van’s lips twitched into a grin, not upset that Nakia was obviously there to dig up the dirt. “Do you bring cookies to all the new neighbors?”

  “You’re my first.”

  “I’m honored.”

  “I was the most recent arrival before you, so it’s more from lack of opportunity than choice.”

  “Wow, you know how to make a girl feel special,” Van said dryly.

  Nakia hid a laugh behind her coffee cup. “I do have an agenda. Sorry. The cookies were misleading.”

  Van took a bite of her deceptive cookies, savoring the soft, sugary goodness. No one had made her cookies in years. The hard, burnt-on-the-bottom abominations she made herself didn’t count. “Don’t care. Still delicious.”

  “I saw you on that moon when Jaxar brought you to the medics,” Nakia said.

  “How bad did I look?” Van still had a hole in her memory that ran from the moment her vehicle pitched forward into a crater and ended with waking in Medical, not that she wanted to remember what was most likely pain and terror.

  “Covered in blood, being cradled by a snarling purple horned alien? Kind of badass, honestly.”

  “Are you a nurse? Is that why you were there?” Van had seen a human nurse among the Mahdfel medics, but that woman looked completely different from Nakia.

  “No.” Nakia snorted. “I’m a lawyer, actually.”

  “Oh, wow.” Van snagged another cookie. “These are amazing, by the way,” she said, sidestepping the impulse to confess that she never finished grad school. Talking to Nakia was easy. The woman drew information out of Van
with ease and that made her nervous. It was one thing to be nice and bake cookies for a new neighbor, but now their friendly chat felt like a fact-finding mission.

  “I freaked you out,” Nakia said, as if she could hear the thoughts bouncing around in Van’s head. “You wonder if I’m here with an ulterior motive.”

  “Kind of, yeah.”

  “Jaxar is my friend,” she said.

  Van pushed away from the table. The cookies and coffee sat heavy in her stomach. Disappointment turned her stomach sour, which was silly because Nakia wasn’t her friend, was still a stranger, and Van knew she was just there to dish gossip and gather dirt. “I don’t know what he told you, but I’m not interested. You should leave.”

  “Wait! Wait, I’m sorry. He hasn’t told me anything or asked me to talk to you, but I was curious.”

  Just like everyone else. Van didn’t know why that hurt so much.

  “He’s a good guy,” Nakia said, completely clueless about what her so-called good guy had done.

  Van told her.

  “He’s a sneak. Yes, my vehicle got hit in a blast and he pulled me out, but that’s it. We have no relationship. Okay, he did bring food to my house and I didn’t tell him to fuck off because it was a nice gesture, but that’s all.” Other than the kiss, but she kept that to herself. “I don’t know him. Bringing me a damn roast whatever was nice, but it doesn’t mean I’m obligated to get all swoony over him.”

  “Okay,” Nakia said. Van waited for more, for the woman to argue that her friend has the best intentions or that something got lost in translation because Jaxar was an alien, but Nakia kept her thoughts to herself.

  “He wanted me to leave my job and my friends and, I dunno, elope. He asked me three times. Three. I told him no. I gave him my reasons. Yet somehow, he decided that my answer was wrong and that he knew best, bought my contract and here I am.” Van spread her arms wide. “The newest contractor for a bullshit job that anyone could do.”

  “I think they called you a specialist.”

  “Like that matters. I’m no more a person to him than that roast what’s-it.” In her mind that meant something to be consumed. With his fangs and that hungry look in his eyes the last time she saw him, he definitely wanted to eat her up. “Not that I should be surprised. It’s not like the old men in charge of Earth treat me like a person.” Old rancor left a bitter taste on her tongue. She tried to wash it away with the dregs of her now-cold coffee. “Sorry, you’re probably deliriously happy with your husband, but I did this song and dance once before. I never wanted to do it again.”

  “My own happiness has no bearing on how you feel. You’re upset and you have the right to feel the way you feel.”

  Van snorted. That was some lawyer talk right there. Then, without intending it, she spilled all the details about the creepy contractor who threatened her to volunteer again, her ex-husband, the orphanage, and the shock in discovering that her father had been alive the entire time and left her in the orphanage. “So, when I applied for student loans, the loan people wanted a copy of my dad’s income taxes.”

  “No,” Nakia said, enthralled.

  “I asked the director of the orphanage to write a letter telling the loan people that he was dead and dead people don’t pay taxes, but he already had the income tax return waiting.”

  Van rolled the empty mug in her hands, wanting another cup but knowing she’d never get to sleep if she had more but also knowing that what she really wanted was whiskey or tequila. Something potent. She wasn’t particular. No, that wasn’t true. She wanted to drink lukewarm beer in the pub with Esme after a long shift and bitch about their days. She missed her friend.

  “Turns out they found him years ago, but he wasn’t, um, well enough to take care of me,” Van said, finishing her story.

  “Another authority figure made a unilateral decision for you without even discussing it with you.”

  “Yes! Yes, exactly.” Nakia so got her. “I’m sorry I’m snapped at you.”

  Nakia waved her hand as if to wave away her apology. “You see how upset I am.”

  “Obviously crushed,” Van said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

  “I do think you need to file a complaint, though.”

  “Against Jaxar?” The FBIA would be the obvious place to start with to report an infraction of the Earth-Mahdfel treaty, but she didn’t think the tricky-trick of her employer selling her contract to the Mahdfel violated the treaty. Shady as all get out, though.

  In theory, she should be able to take her problem to the warlord, but she knew nothing about this clan or the man who ran it. Back when—God, she hated how Havik was her only reference point because she didn’t want to keep thinking about him and, honestly, he wasn’t such a good example of a Mahdfel—Havik did what he did, the warlord explained the situation to her. The large red male with his tusks and eyes so black they were impossible to read dominated the small hospital room. There had been no compassion in his eyes.

  Van gathered the empty mugs and dumped them in the sink. She rinsed them out, using the time to compose herself, because she was done letting Havik make her cry.

  “No, against that cheeseball contractor who tried to intimidate you,” Nakia said. “Chad? Chat? Some douchebag name.”

  “Chaz.”

  “Oh my God, that’s worse. Do you remember his full name? And when he came to your house?”

  Van tried her best to recall, even though Chaz knocking on her door happened over a year ago. Nakia pulled out a tablet from her pocket and wrote down every word.

  “That’s a good start. I’ll draft a letter reporting his behavior,” Nakia said.

  “If you think it’ll help,” Van said, doubting how effective a letter would be. Cranks wrote complaint letters and feared no one would take her seriously.

  Nakia must have been able to read her mind because she said, “It’s amazing how effective a letter written on a law firm’s letterhead is. Almost like magic.”

  “What about the warlord? Do you think it’s worth talking to him?”

  Nakia’s cheeks flushed pink. “Oh, I don’t know. I’ve—” She seemed to stumble over her words. “I don’t know how reasonable he is. Back on your moon, there was a challenge. I think that’s what it’s called?” She shuddered. “They didn’t talk out their problem.”

  Mahdfel generally didn’t. Nakia wasn’t a fan of the warlord and Van could assume that the warlord must have approved Jaxar’s scheme. Gabe had told her that the transfer came at the request of a warlord, not some megalomaniac engineer.

  “Probably not, then,” Van said. She slumped forward, resting her elbows on the table.

  Nakia rubbed a hand along her arm. “Let me read up on this. What happened to you is not acceptable.”

  “The treaty doesn’t cover anything like this. It’s a loophole, like you said.” A dirty trick.

  “Maybe, but this happened in Sangrin space, so Sangrin law applies. Let me look into it.”

  “You’d do that?”

  “Oh my God, yes. Jaxar is my friend, but he did you dirty.”

  “Thank you.” For the first time since the alarms sounded back on the moon of Vel Mori, a warm flush of contentment rose in her. She had a friend. She wasn’t alone.

  Jaxar

  This had been the longest week of Jaxar’s life, including the days he spent drifting in a disabled shuttle trying to coax the engine into functioning before life support ran out. He sent warrior after warrior to check on Vanessa. Spying was not his intent. They were to offer support and deliver necessary items. If they reported back to him with new information, he’d classify that as a pleasant side effect of the mission, not the main objective.

  Asking Nakia to speak with Vanessa was a risk, he knew, but he wanted to claim Vanessa as his mate. She had offered little information regarding her disposition toward him, at least to the previous warriors. Besides, Nakia was his friend and mated. Everyone knew that mated people wanted nothing more than to see their nearest and dea
rest likewise mated.

  Yes, spying was part of the mission, but Jaxar needed Vanessa to be cared for. He couldn’t eat or sleep until he knew her wellbeing had been attended to, but she had been so upset with him when they parted that he could not see to her needs in person. His warriors could inform him that she had proper nutrition and appeared well-rested, that she excelled at her designated tasks, but they could not tell if her smile was genuine, or if she laughed.

  He needed to hear her laugh again.

  Nakia could tell him these things. Rohn did not approve of using his pregnant mate in such a manner, but Nakia had agreed. Mated people yearned to meddle and help others find their mates. It was known.

  The decadent aroma of fresh-baked goodness wafted over Jaxar as the door opened. Excellent. Nakia’s reconnaissance mission with Vanessa had gone well and she prepared a feast in celebration. She was a good friend.

  Rohn stood with his mate in the kitchen area. Their conversation ceased as Jaxar called out a greeting.

  “You got a lot of nerve,” Nakia said.

  “Thank you.” He had displayed considerable courage and boldness on the battlefield, most recently on the Vel Mori moon. No doubt Vanessa gushed about the details of his heroics as they assembled her apparatus under enemy fire and then again as he dramatically pulled her from wreckage and saved her life. It was a story worth telling to as many people as possible.

  Nakia watched him with her sharp gaze, a scowl settling over her features. She obviously measured his valiant actions to her own aging silver-haired mate and found the elderly Rohn lacking. He was not surprised and would try his best to spare Rohn’s feelings when Nakia would inevitably burst into tears of gratitude. It would be a challenge.

  Muffins, smelling sweetly of an exotic Earth fruit, cooled on the counter. Next to the baked goods sat a square of noxious green colored substance. It wobbled. Earth food was weird.

  Jaxar reached for the vastly superior muffin, his earned rewards as a hero, and Nakia slapped his hand.

  He recoiled, shocked beyond measure.

  “I don’t share my muffins with dicks!” Color rose in Nakia’s cheeks, a deep blush.