by Celia Kyle
Marion, our de facto cook, elbows her way through the crowded throng to my side, her face crossed with worry. “That’s all one hundred and seven of us, Varia, including those still in stasis, but I’m a little bit worried about them getting everything they need on a ship full of—ahem—men.”
“Tell me what’s on your mind, Marion.”
I’ve come to rely upon Marion a great deal in our short association. While I might be the default leader of the survivors, Marion is our matron saint. Even with the limited supplies available in our prison, she’s managed to keep us reasonably healthy and can work wonders with freeze-dried rations. Makes me wonder what she could do with actual ingredients.
“Of course, we need the essentials, like fresh clothing and basic hygienics, but ah… some of the women are on their cycle, so we need the products to deal with that.”
Solair has been listening this whole time, and he motions for one of his men.
“Kintar.”
A burly Kilgari, with arms as thick as docking chains, lumbers over toward us, his jaw set hard. He has a scar going over one eye, and I can tell from the way he carries himself that he’s seen heavy combat. Our eyes meet and we exchange nods, a subtle recognition of one warrior to another.
“Kintar is our steward, tasked with providing basic sundries among other, varied duties. He will be more than happy to assist your woman Marion in her endeavor.”
Kintar turns his jaded gaze on Marion and his eyes widen. I could be mistaken, but his nostrils flare and the hard light in his eyes seems to soften.
“Marion, was it?” He offers his hand in the human salutatory greeting and Marion accepts, albeit with a cocked eyebrow.
“Ah, yeah, Marion it was. I mean, is.”
“I am Kintar. Pleased to meet you.”
I turn my troubled gaze upon the rest of my “crew” as Kintar leads Marion off into the bowels of the ship. They seem all too willing to blindly accept the Kilgari as our saviors, a fact which stings more than a little. But the final straw is when I see Lamira shyly gazing at a Kilgari officer when he’s not looking. Likewise, when he thinks she doesn’t notice, he gives her a longing, lingering stare.
I turn to Solair and cross my arms over my chest. If I return to IHC space, there’s a good chance I’ll be arrested again. I know I’m guilty, but Lamira is as innocent a soul as you’re likely to meet. I need to get her name cleared and her life back, if at all possible—her and the rest of the women I’ve been looking after.
Who will look after them? I can’t just let them fall to the whims of fate if I go with the flow. Not after everything I’ve been through.
This will not be like Horus IV again.
I know what I have to do. I need to take them home.
“Solair, I’m grateful for the rescue, but I’m afraid we can’t remain on your vessel. None of us are even supposed to be here in the first place. We need shuttles to return us to our part of the galaxy.”
Chapter Four
Solair
My nostrils flare as I spin back to face this human woman. Once again, the unmistakable scent of my mate floods me and my brain reels. Surely not. This stubborn creature can’t be the one. Can she?
“Say that again?” I’ve hardened my face into the most forbidding mask I can manage, willing her to surrender her argument on the spot. This look has conquered some truly formidable adversaries, but Varia? Her lips tighten further, and she clasps her arms firmly across her decidedly ample bosom.
“I said, we aren’t supposed to be here. Now, I’d appreciate it if you’d have your men organize some shuttles to take us home. Or contact someone who can help us to do that.”
A spark sizzles in my gut and that constructed grimace of control grits down into actual anger. There will be no pulling punches with this one. She gives as good as she gets.
My chest tightens as my teeth grind together so hard, I feel like they might crack. She stands as certain as anyone I’ve ever seen. Damnit. She’s a match all right. I rock back onto my heels a moment before leaning in to give her the best I can manage.
“Does this look like a cruise ship?” It dawns on me that she hasn’t seen more than a few square feet of the Queen, but I dig in my heels. “Take a look around. She’s done true service, and has plenty more ahead of her, but it takes all hands to keep her running. Even in your state, you’ll have to admit we’re nowhere near equipped to just ship a hundred stragglers off on their merry way.”
“One hundred seven,” Nicari says while shepherding more of our new charges across the hold.
“Thanks, Doc. One hundred seven. Even you have to admit that it’s a tall order to just tuck you into some handy shuttles, stock them with food, water, and fuel and wave you on your way.”
“Well, you have to do something.” There’s an imperiousness, a certainty in the way that she speaks that cracks fire up my spine. Like I could throttle her and kiss her at the same time. I’ll need to keep a handle on myself around this one. “I can’t let my people down. No one knows why they were locked up in the first place! I need to help them!”
“Woman, ‘have to’ isn’t something you get to say to me. And I’ll thank you to remember you’re speaking to the captain of this vessel.”
“Pulling rank is a weak move, Captain.”
Every drop of blood in my body turns to liquid fire. Forget the kissing part. It’s taking every iota of will I can muster not to strike this dazzling creature down where she stands. I lean in close to her, quaking under my skin.
“Call me weak again.”
Her eyes flutter, and a bit of steel melts out of her spine. It’s a tiny concession on her part, but it’s clear she’s about to cede ground. And not a moment too soon, for my taste.
“I wouldn’t.” She shakes her head. “That was too far.”
“That almost sounds like an apology.”
“Almost.” Her lips twitch.
She may have given an inch, but it’s only an inch. I shake my head in frustration and suddenly become aware that we are the sole focus of a startlingly large circle of silent faces. Some are from my own crew, but the greater number are the thin, haggard faces of the women who have spent what must have felt like an eternity wondering how much longer they had to live.
Whether Varia has stopped to take them in or not, I can’t say. It doesn’t really matter. What does matter is that I have to reevaluate this steadfast woman opposing me. She just wants what’s best for her own.
Less than ten minutes ago, they were looking to her as their leader, and now she’s fighting to get them the best possible quarter. I’ve stood in those boots before. More than once.
Silence has settled in, and I can feel that every pair of eyes is resting on me. She’s given about as much room as she’s going to, and the ultimate decision lies in my hands. Pulling in a deep breath, I’m flooded yet again with the confounding odor of the mating bond. Great.
“Look. The Ancestral Queen just doubled her charge by bringing you on board. We can make it work, but it’s going to take concessions on both sides. We’re going to have to work together. If your women—”
“No concessions.” She cut me off. I can’t believe it. “Getting these women home is the first priority for me. I can’t fail them. Please, I beg of you to help me.”
“First, second, or last, it doesn’t matter. We don’t have the means. So, get comfortable.”
Varia’s mouth drops open at this.
I take advantage of her shocked silence. “We’ll do what we can to get you where you want to go, but we’re going to have to do it together. There aren’t any shuttles to spare, much less provisions to send off with you. The situation isn’t dire, but we’re going to have to come up with a plan.”
“I have over a hundred women who’ve been snatched from their lives with no memory. Do you know what kind of a violation that is? They had families and homes that they were just grabbed from. We all woke up with no memory of how we got on that ship and in that cargo hold.
We need to get them back home. I’m grateful for rescuing us, but I’m begging you to help us get home.”
“I’m sorry.”
“That’s not good enough.”
“Good or not, it’s what you’re going to get. When I say no, no is what you’re going to have to take. All the folded arms you can manage aren’t going to make the impossible a reality.” At my mention, she slackens her grip a bit and I can sense something like a truce creeping upon us. “That said, I’m open to suggestions. It’s going to take some strategy to ensure we can stretch the food and water on board to keep everyone from getting at each other’s throats.”
“Even more at each other’s throats,” Nicari says from behind me. I’m tempted to wheel on him, but I’ve got bigger quarry at the moment.
“Fiona?” Varia calls out.
“Yes?” A lean woman behind me steps forward and Varia gestures to her.
“Maybe she can help. She’s done as much as anyone to keep us all alive for the last few days. I’d say she knows her way around the technical side of things.”
“That’s a start.” I’m keeping my eyes on Varia. If she wants to have some say, I’m going to make her earn it. “What else do you have?”
“Well, Marion has been stretching our rations.”
“You’re damn right, I have been.” I turn to find a cranky-looking bundle of a woman already embroiled with Kintar and I recognize the look on the male’s face. It mirrors my own. Preserve us all, this ship is about to be awash with mates.
“What we ought to do is lug the rest of that stuff onto this tub—whatever it’s called. It may not be the most versatile stuff in the universe, but it’ll be a damn sight better than nothing when the rest of the rations come up short.”
My steward has been failing to settle her for the entirety of her short tirade. Kintar has seen some true service in his time, but I imagine he’s going to have his hands full when it comes to this feisty human woman. Well, so be it.
“All right,” I turn back to Varia, “you’ve identified two among your number who can make themselves useful. The rest of you are going to have to prove yourselves.” Again, just a bit more steel ebbs out of her resolve.
“Kintar, why don’t you sort this crap out? I’ve spent more time than I can afford tangling with this… inconvenience.” I make certain my gorgeous adversary knows I’m referring to her as I say this. “It’s your problem now.”
“Aye.”
With a trim salute, I turn on my heels and listen to Mariah, or whoever she is, hectoring him about how best to do his job. She sounds so much like him I don’t have the slightest doubt that his own nose is tingling with the scent of his true mate. Part of me wants to pity the poor bastard.
I would, if I didn’t have a sinking feeling in my stomach with each step I take. My own siren song is wafting to me—growing fainter and fainter as I stride way. In the entirety of my spacefaring career, I’ve never retreated from anything. And yet, here I am, doing my level best not to break into a run.
Even when her smell is clear of my senses, I can’t escape the imprint of her image in my mind. Her determination, her stubbornness, and her beauty all point to one clear conclusion.
This is going to be one serious battle.
Chapter Five
Varia
After the exchange I’d had with Solair, I felt the need to put some distance between myself and the Kilgari captain. Which is just as well, since other people with other concerns are taking all of his attention at the moment.
I wind up stalking through the curving, burnished corridors of the Ancestral Queen, trying to create a mental map of its many decks just in case we have to try and escape. Not that the Kilgari have been anything but accommodating, of course, but I’m not ready to lower my guard yet.
One thing strikes me more than anything else. Solair wasn’t kidding when he said that every single hand was needed to keep this relic flying. Everywhere I travel, there’s always someone busy with one task or another. Usually they ignore me, but sometimes the Kilgari will glance up and stare, though when I make eye contact, they quickly look away.
As I walk around a crewman mopping up an apparent leak from a cooling line, my belly gurgles loudly. We’d been rationing our meager stores while trapped on the Frontier, so to be honest I’m more than a little peaked. For a time, I wrestle with my pride, telling myself there are more important matters than filling my belly, but when I start feeling lightheaded it becomes a matter of practicality as much as comfort.
Now, where did I see the kitchen, or mess hall, or whatever the Kilgari call it? Up on deck three, I believe. Guess the captain doesn’t want to walk too far from his cabin to get a bite to eat—assuming that Solair keeps his quarters on the first deck as is standard protocol on most vessels. Not that I’m speculating about visiting his quarters, of course.
I get lost a couple of times, but eventually my nose brings me to the Kilgari mess hall. Following the scent of what I hope is a familiar Rauth stew, I traverse the twisting corridors. I start to pick up on the murmurs of conversation, which grow louder as I inch closer to my goal.
At last, I round a bend and come upon a pair of wide-open sliding doors, revealing a scene within of dozens of Kilgari and many of my fellow survivors seated in clusters around the room. The women are shoveling the Kilgari fare down their gullets with abandon, which troubles me quite a bit. I hope they made the Kilgari taste it first in case it was poisoned.
I enter the mess hall, and despite the gnawing ache in my belly I don’t head for the chow line. Instead, I visit the nearest table of survivors and crouch down next to them.
“Hey, how is everyone doing?”
“We’re good, Varia. Better than good.” A twenty-something wannabe musician named Lara digs her spoon into the gray-brown sludge of Rauth stew. “The Kilgari chef is amazing.”
“Just remember not to gorge yourselves. Our stomachs have all shrunk due to rationing, and you have to stretch them back out slowly.”
They nod their assent but continue to shovel food into their mouths with abandon. When we were trapped on the Frontier, the other women obeyed my directives almost without question. Now, it seems like I’ve been replaced, and it irks me though I know it shouldn’t. I should be happy that my people are warm, fed, and have plenty of fresh air to breathe.
But I can’t shake the feeling that I’m just not needed as much any longer. Maybe that’s what drives me to visit each and every table full of survivors in turn to make sure with my own eyes and ears that they’re doing well, and more importantly, being treated well.
While moving among the different clusters of my fellow survivors, I catch snippets of conversation all around the mess hall. The Kilgari are wary, keeping their distance for the most part. A few make comments about how nice it is to have women on board, though they don’t seem to be of the creepy variety. More like a genuine appreciation. Perhaps with so few members of the opposite sex in their society we have become a kind of comfort, or novelty at least.
When I finally arrive at the last table of my fellow survivors, I grimace in frustration as I notice some of my people still missing.
“Has anyone seen Ilya? Or Fiona?” I don’t see Marion, but I assume she’s still busy trying to secure supplies for us from the Kilgari quartermaster, Kintar.
“Oh, they’re hanging around with their new best friends, Montier and Swipt.” One of the women giggles and then the entire table starts laughing. I spot Lamira near the head of the table and move over to sit next to her.
“Did I miss something? I don’t get why this is funny.” They should not be following the Kilgari crew around like puppies, especially when we don’t know if we can trust them yet.
“Oh.” Lamira’s cheeks redden, and she glances over at the rest of the women and chuckles. “Ah…”
Lamira leans over and whispers in my ear. My mouth flies open and I stare at her in wide-eyed disbelief.
“What? They have two?” The table erupts i
n laughter at my expense, and heat rushes to my cheeks. “Not that it matters in the least, of course. This is a rescue operation, not a dating service.”
As if on cue, Swipt comes sweeping into the mess hall, engaged in an animated conversation with Ilya. Both of them have dirt and grease on their clothing and somewhere Ilya has picked up a Kilgari tool kit, which she wears on a strap over her shoulder. She notices my glare from across the room but mistakes the reason for it. She waves and comes over, Swipt in tow.
“Varia, I’ve got great news. Swipt and I figured out how to boost the oxygen production in the life support systems.”
“To be fair, it was mostly her idea.” Swipt beams a smile at the lithe engineer, and I feel rather uncomfortable at what I see in his eyes when he stares down at her. “By increasing the temperature in our algae vat by just two degrees, she discovered that our oxygen production will increase by over twelve percent—perhaps as high as fifteen percent.”
“It doesn’t solve the problem, but it will help alleviate the strain on the systems.” Ilya’s smile fades when she notices my scowl. “Ah, is something the matter?”
I don’t answer. I just shake my head and move on to the mess line. What’s wrong with everyone? Why are they just so eager to trust a ship full of men who have no material gains to make by helping us? This is a privateer ship, meaning that it’s all about making creds. Our sudden arrival can’t have done anything but hurt their potential profits, even if it’s just by taking up cargo space.
And yet, the Kilgari seem happy that we’re here. Some of them joke about how much trouble we’re causing and that everyone will have to put the toilet seat back down now habitually, but for the most part it’s all good natured and not resentful.
I know I need to be vigilant. I know I may the only thing between their freedom and ending up on an auction block on a League world.
I will not let my people down again.