So she kept quiet and hid in the jungles of a planet with the toughest weapons ban in the galaxy and the mind control capability of its natives to enforce it.
Until Larry showed up.
Meeting his new girlfriend sounded harmless enough, and she did have control over her powers. It wasn’t as though she would start creating chaos out of the blue—or even with provocation. One thing being a Mordrial witch had taught her was the importance of keeping a level head. To the best of her recollection, she’d never been truly angry in her life.
Nor had she ever been in love. What that would do to her powers was anyone’s guess, which was yet another rationale for her retreat to the jungle.
She stowed her clothes in one drawer of a small bureau before stacking her sketches and pencils on the diminutive desk and putting her one extra pair of braided nucktal-fiber sandals in the closet. Having gleaned various botanicals from the jungle for washing, she didn’t even have a bottle of shampoo. All she had to put in her private loo was a comb that had been hand carved by a Baradan craftsman, as had the hairpins she used to pin up her waist-length spiral curls.
Living in the jungle had taught her just how much heat her hair trapped against her body, not to mention the added danger of becoming entangled in the riotous vegetation. Unfortunately, while a shorter style would’ve been more comfortable, she was Zetithian enough that cutting her hair wasn’t an option, despite the fact that knives were the one tool/weapon the Baradans couldn’t ban.
Larry had never cut his hair, either; it was as long and black and curly as she remembered, and exactly like his father’s. She sometimes wished she’d inherited her father’s golden locks, but her green eyes and dark-brown hair marked her as her mother’s daughter as much as her powers did.
She stared at her reflection in the mirror above the sink, a sight she hadn’t seen in four years. Despite the deep tan she’d acquired, her appearance was essentially the same, the only difference being the lack of tension around her eyes and mouth, which would undoubtedly return the moment they landed on Rhylos.
Larry had changed too. He was older, of course, and more mature, although he’d always been self-assured. Something in the way he carried himself was different, though. More like a responsible man than a carefree boy.
Until she’d told him his Scorillian sidekick was in love with him. That observation had dealt a considerable blow to his composure, although as handsome as he was, she was amazed he hadn’t run into that problem before. No telling how many women had fallen for him; Althea had observed quite a few ladies drooling whenever he was around, and that was when he was a teenager. Most men receiving that much admiration would’ve grown a head the size of Arcturus. Fortunately, like every other Zetithian male she’d ever known, Larry didn’t possess an overinflated opinion of himself. The best she could tell, the tendency toward cockiness simply wasn’t in the Zetithian gene pool.
Confident, yes. Cocky, most definitely no.
What would have happened if they’d both remained on his parents’ ship instead of going their separate ways? She and Larry had always gotten along. But as she grew older and her powers developed, her irritability had increased to the point that both clans were probably pleased when she left, Larry included. Instead of outgrowing the bitchy teenager phase, maturity had only made it worse.
She was better now, though. The time she’d spent alone in the jungle had helped considerably. But Rhylos? If nothing else, even a day spent there would determine whether her self-imposed exile had wrought a lasting change or was merely a temporary respite. So far, it was hard to tell. Sure, she could read Brak, but if she’d spent the last four years alone with Larry, the end result probably would have been the same as living the life of a recluse on Barada.
Maybe.
Still, when it came to Brak’s emotions, she should’ve kept her mouth shut. The gods only knew what sort of rift her revelation would cause between the two men. She felt like kicking herself. She’d always made a point of keeping mum about most of what she knew, which went a long way toward explaining her ever-increasing irritability and the need for solitude. This time, however, her only excuse was that she was out of practice. Brak wouldn’t thank her for blabbing about his crush on Larry, although if Larry hadn’t commented on his navigator’s touchy mood, she probably wouldn’t have said a word.
Then again, perhaps if Brak’s feelings were out in the open, he might—
No. Bad idea. No point in compounding one mistake by making another.
With a heavy sigh, she headed back to the bridge. She would have gladly taken back those words if she could. Unfortunately, the ability to erase memories wasn’t one of her powers.
At least, not yet.
Chapter 4
Larry glanced up as Althea came onto the bridge. “Got another hail from that guy on Palorka. Sounds pretty desperate, and the gods only know what using a commercial comsystem is costing him. Any problem with stopping off there for a day or two? Shouldn’t take much longer than that.” While he’d passed on jobs before with no apparent damage to his reputation, he didn’t like to make a habit of ignoring potential clients. If nothing else, some honest toil would focus his attention on something other than the possibility that Brak was in love with him.
He’d done his best to discount the idea, but Althea’s empathic readings were usually spot-on. Plus, there’d been enough instances to support her claim to make him wonder. Never anything blatant. Just a few tiny moments here and there that could have meant romantic interest or something else entirely.
Maybe he sees me as his pet mammal.
Keeping insects as pets wasn’t unheard of. Therefore, the other way around wasn’t beyond the realm of possibility. And people did love their pets.
No. That wasn’t how she’d put it at all.
His only hope was that, although Althea had said she could read Brak perfectly, she’d probably never tried to read a Scorillian before. Their emotions were bound to differ from those of other beings. What came across as love from a Scorillian could just as easily be some other emotion. She wasn’t infallible—no one was—so she might have misinterpreted what she’d read.
“That’s up to you, Larry,” Althea replied. “I’m not in any hurry.”
She didn’t appear to be—she seemed relaxed enough to go with the flow, as anyone who’d spent any time on Barada should have been, whether they’d been drinking their daily dose of fuuslak juice or not. Somehow, he doubted Althea would have imbibed on a regular basis, although if she ever got a craving, he did have three barrels in the hold. Jack had never said how much she wanted, so she might not notice if a cup or two went missing. Even if she did, he could always say he’d taken a share in return for the shipping costs. She couldn’t argue with that, especially since it was the sort of deal she would’ve made herself.
On the other hand, if Palorka was anything like he remembered, plying his contacts with the juice might be wise.
Unless it didn’t work on Palorkans. Larry had never been able to decide how to classify the strange creatures, which were either the product of some weird scientific experiment run amok or an entirely new branch of the animal kingdom created when three disparate species had somehow managed to interbreed. Primarily land-dwellers covered in reptilian scales, Palorkans also possessed fishlike gills that allowed them to breathe underwater and suckled their young like mammals. Like most primates, they walked upright and were intelligent to a certain degree, if a bit savage.
Whatever their origins, Larry didn’t care for them. As a species, they tended to be cunning and belligerent. Plus, they always seemed to be either planning or implementing some nefarious scheme. He didn’t mind working for them as long as their plots were restricted to their own planet, but when other worlds were targeted, he preferred to steer clear of them entirely.
Unfortunately, because they were, on the whole, inherently dishonest, he
could never be sure what they were up to, no matter what they told him.
Then there was the fact that while he and Brak had survived their previous encounters with the Palorkan natives, they’d never had a woman with them. Risking Althea’s safety went against the grain in a multitude of ways. Still, if he actually married Celeste, he would have a woman with him wherever he went. They’d never discussed that possibility, nor had either of them mentioned marriage. Their relationship was still in its early stages, and Larry was determined not to take it to the next level without being absolutely sure. He wanted a union as strong and happy as the one his parents enjoyed.
Quite honestly, he knew he could keep Celeste happy; mating with a Zetithian man pretty much guaranteed that. He would never say so aloud, of course, even though he doubted anyone would disagree with him. His own happiness was what concerned him. He’d rather spend the rest of his life roaming the galaxy with Brak than team up with a woman he didn’t love with all his heart.
If he could stand Brak for that long. Compared to Terrans, Zetithians were relatively long-lived, but Scorillians had a two-hundred-year lifespan. Barring illness or injury, Brak would almost certainly outlive him.
Guess I’d better leave the ship to him in my will.
Then again, if he did that, there were those who might assume they’d been a couple.
At least I’d be dead.
On that cheery note, Larry roused himself from his ruminations long enough to tell Brak to plot a course for Palorka.
Perhaps a little adventure was in order.
* * *
Althea gazed at the viewscreen as stars slipped past them like so many fireflies. She hadn’t realized how much she’d missed the exhilaration of space travel. Nothing on Barada Seven could begin to compare with the thrilling sensation of incredible speed.
Even so, she had easily fallen into the rhythm of life in the jungle, rising with the sun and sleeping only after it went down. In space, there was nothing to indicate the time of day or night. Such an existence wasn’t normal for anyone, even those who’d been born on a starship. Dimming the lights and saying it was nighttime worked fairly well, and in the vast darkness of space, there was little to refute that claim. Daytime was the hard part. Artificial lighting might’ve come a long way, but the light from a nearby star was still the best and most natural source.
She would adjust. At least until they landed somewhere and had to realign their internal clocks. How many times had they done that during her life aboard the Jolly Roger? Too many to count, despite Jack’s efforts to time their arrivals to coincide with the local time. She was good at it too.
Jack was good at a lot of things. So was Althea’s mother, Tisana. They’d taught her a great deal, but Althea had never had the sort of feminine companionship that most girls had while growing up. She had grown up with men and boys and two adult females, all of whom were anything but typical. There’d been times Althea wished they would have at least tried to find and adopt a few female orphans. The gods knew there were plenty of them scattered throughout the galaxy. Onca and Kim had made a career out of fostering orphans. Surely Jack or Tisana could’ve taken a few girls off their hands.
Then again, such a plan probably would’ve backfired. Reading the emotions of the boys had been bad enough. Those of moody teenage girls probably would’ve driven Althea to seek asylum on Barada Seven that much sooner.
As it was, she’d waited until the age of twenty-one before making her escape. Had she tried to leave as a child or a teen, her escape wouldn’t have been nearly as successful. Since then, she’d had four years to mature without the constant emotional bombardment. Barada itself didn’t cry out in agony the way other worlds did, which helped considerably. Planets didn’t like being gouged and scraped, which had been the case on nearly every world they’d ever visited. For years, she’d assumed the cries of pain came from the minds of the inhabitants. She was sixteen when she finally realized the source of the misery, mainly because she’d been the one to inflict it.
Going to Palorka wouldn’t be too bad. Its wounds had been incurred over the course of centuries rather than decades. She’d often wondered whether a world grew accustomed to the abuse it received, and with Earth and several other worlds with indigenous intelligent life-forms as examples, that conclusion seemed reasonable. All Althea knew was that, with respect to her own mental health, there were some worlds that should be avoided at all costs.
Starships were different. If they had feelings, she’d never been able to pick up on them. However, with earth being her element, a life in space didn’t suit her very well. Too bad she could only read a planet’s pain. Doing something to assuage that hurt was beyond her capability.
At least she assumed it would be, particularly in view of her apparent fire/earth combination of talents. She might be able to wreck a planet, but heal it? Somehow, she didn’t think blasting through mountains was the best way to do that.
Closing her eyes, she sat down on the bed and ran her hands over the floral comforter. With the possible exception of flower petals, nothing on Barada had felt quite so silky to the touch. There were advantages to living aboard a Tshevnoe starship, most of which came in the form of creature comforts. She would have plenty to eat and ample time to work on her drawings. As long as she didn’t hang out with Brak overmuch, she’d be fine.
The fact that she couldn’t read Larry was as much of a mystery as ever. Every Mordrial’s powers came with limitations, many that seemed as arbitrary as this one.
But was it truly random? She’d pondered that point before and never reached any conclusions whatsoever. Perhaps if she’d shared the problem—if indeed it could be labeled as such—with her mother or another Mordrial, she might have gained some insight. But she’d kept quiet about it. She doubted Larry was even aware of just how special he was in that regard.
He was special in other ways as well. If Althea had to name anyone as her best friend, Larry would be the first to pop into her head. They’d been pals growing up, possibly because their relationship was the most normal of any she’d ever known. After all, normal people couldn’t read each other’s thoughts or feelings directly. They relied on observation and gut instincts.
But if being with Larry made her feel normal, why had she left him behind?
“Good question,” she said aloud.
A subtle tone sounded. “I beg your pardon?” a female voice asked. “Was there something you wanted to know?”
Althea closed her eyes and stifled a growl. “Something else I didn’t miss.” She hadn’t been subjected to an interactive computer system since she’d landed on Barada. At least this one had been programmed with a relatively pleasant-sounding voice. “Don’t need anything right now, thank you.”
“Understood.”
That was it? Seriously? Chatty computers were as commonplace as they were annoying. Apparently, Larry shared her aversion. Either that or he’d simply gotten lucky when he bought the ship.
A growl of a different kind broke the silence. Fortunately, the galley had been included on her orientation tour, leaving Althea with no need to ask the computer for directions. She had only to steer clear of the White Castles in the stasis unit and all would be well.
Yeah, right. She never should have allowed him to talk her into leaving her home in the jungle. How had he done it? By being his usual charming self? Perhaps, but she’d also given in much too easily.
If it had been anyone but Larry…
She rose from the bed with a sigh. “Some things never change.”
* * *
Larry decided the only way to deal with what Althea had told him about Brak was to forget about it. If Brak loved him, so be it. But as relationships went, their current arrangement was as chummy as Larry intended to get. “How long until we reach Palorka?”
Brak shrugged in his own inimitable fashion, which is to say he lifted his
wings. “Difficult to say. There’s been some increased turbulence in the Harowan Nebula. Might have to take a wider course around it.”
Celeste didn’t expect Larry to be gone for more than a month. Depending on how long it took to repair the comsystem once he got to Palorka, they could be looking at another six weeks before they finally landed on Rhylos.
Six weeks in space with Brak and Althea.
“Hmm… Guess I’d better send a deep space com to Celeste and let her know we’ve gotten sidetracked.”
“She will be…angry?” Brak sounded more hopeful than wary. Clearly, forgetting about Brak’s alleged crush was going to be harder than Larry ever would’ve guessed.
“Maybe. But it can’t be helped. After all, this is what I do. If she can’t deal with that, then she doesn’t love me as much as she thinks she does.”
“Perhaps she doesn’t love you at all.” This time there was no mistaking the annoying lilt in the Scorillian’s voice. “Perhaps this is the best way to be rid of her.”
Larry spun his chair around and scowled at his navigator. “Is there something we need to talk about?”
Brak’s antennae began to vibrate. “I am merely suggesting…”
“What? That you don’t want a woman living on the ship with us? Or that you believe she’s only after me for my money?”
“N-nothing of the kind!” Brak protested, his antennae now a cloud-like blur. “I am only concerned for your welfare.”
“Oh? In what way?”
“She isn’t good enough for you,” Brak shouted, although if the way he immediately slapped a pincer against his mandibles was any indication, he hadn’t meant to be quite so blunt.
“I’ll be the judge of that,” Larry snapped. “Besides, if you’ll recall, that shadow of doubt is why we picked up Althea. She’ll be able to tell if Celeste is ‘good enough’ for me or not, just like she could tell that you—” Larry somehow managed to stop himself before running off at the mouth the way Brak had just done.
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