by Celia Kyle
“Hey there. I’m told your name is Varia.”
I turn my gaze away from the mess hall proper and focus it on the Kilgari standing at the head of the food line. He has an easy smile and a good amount of muscle popping out from behind his thin white apron.
“Varia it is. And you must be the mess officer.”
He offers a slight bow, parting his hands out to the sides.
“Jax is my name. You must be famished. Command can really take it out of you. That’s why I’m the happiest guy on the Queen. Nobody messes with the chef.”
“It’s the same on ancient Terran privateer vessels. Food is the one pleasure of a sailor, so it doesn’t make any sense to turn the chef into your enemy.”
Jax laughs as easily as he smiles. He spoons a ladle full of Rauth stew into a metal bowl and slides it across the counter to me. The aroma makes my mouth water and my belly gurgle louder than ever before.
“Sounds like you need to eat.” He slaps a long, knotted pastry of some sort next to the bowl. “Here, this is gatchi, a hearty butter roll that I’ve personally tweaked to be chock full of dietary fiber and essential nutrients.”
“Really? That sounds great.” I bite off a piece of the end and chew, my smile slowly turning into a frown.
“I’m still working on the taste. But it is nutritious.”
I try to smile and then thank him kindly before walking to Lamira’s table and dumping the gatchi into the trash bin on the way.
Chapter Six
Solair
I hope this whole thing doesn’t turn out to be a disaster. Judging from what the security system shows, there’s a great danger that it may. Screen after screen shows my crew squabbling, flirting, and generally being distracted by the human women infesting the ship.
Thanks to this new diversion, the bridge is deserted. Not that I mind. My brain is twisting around itself at such a rate that I’m grateful for the solitude.
On one feed, I can see Montier working away on the transport vessel. He’s been charged with stripping it down for any supplies or equipment the Queen might be able to use. As efficient as he is, I imagine he’d be making better progress if a woman wasn’t getting in his way at every turn. I click the audio for that sector to listen in.
“…just going to take everything?”
Montier sighs. “That’s the order. Strip it to the shell.” He tries to step around her, but she follows him.
“Disabling a vessel like this would be a crime.”
“Who said anything about disabling?”
“Well, the rate you’re going, she’ll be completely destroyed within the hour.” Montier drops his head a moment and then places his hands on his hips.
“So, what would you suggest? I’m under orders to recover anything essential for our own ship.”
At the invitation, this woman plucks a wrench from Montier’s belt and sets off, leading him along like some bashful recruit.
“Isn’t that something?” Swipt has materialized over my shoulder and I start at the sound of his voice, embarrassed at being caught spying. “Have you ever seen Montier so out of his element?”
I shake my head, stifling my own feeling of kinship with the poor bastard.
“Which one is that,” I ask. “What’s her name?”
“Ilya, I think. She seems to know her way around a wrench.”
He’s not wrong. With a few deft strokes, she’s managed to loosen a circuitry panel. She and my own engineer are hefting it toward the growing mound of plunder. Even with the blurry security images, I can tell the way they are looking at each other. A dull ache creeps up in my chest—could it be jealousy?
“What next?” Montier looks to her, and she takes a sweeping survey of the chamber before heading off in a decisive stride with the Kilgar trailing after. Swipt lets out a bleat of laughter.
“She’s hilarious. Leading him around by his cocks. The man is a lost cause.”
“What about you?” I’ve turned to face Swipt directly and the male’s grin fades a bit at my query. “It seems like every member of my crew has caught the scent. Have you?”
“Maybe.” There’s something pensive in his expression that I recognize immediately. Maybe because I’m feeling it so acutely myself. “It’s hard to say. Hopefully I’m not in as much trouble as that.”
He nods back to the array and I follow his gaze to the dining hall feed. Clusters of my men are huddled around tables and you can bet there’s a woman at the center of every orbit. I have to hand it to them; everyone looks like they’re having a grand time.
Almost everyone.
In one corner of the screen, I can see Kintar locked in a decidedly animated exchange with several women, one of which I recognize is named Marion. With a couple of keystrokes, I silence the previous audio and engage the new one.
“If you think you can just divvy these women up among yourselves like the spoils of war, you might as well just load us right back onto the Frontier.”
“I wouldn’t mind being divvied up!”
“Shut up, Lara, I’m being serious.”
“So am I!”
“Would you please listen to me?” Kintar’s voice is teetering on the edge of genuine danger, and I can smell him trying to keep his temper all the way up here on the bridge. “It’s like you’re deliberately misunderstanding me.”
“Is that so? You just said you wanted to quarter these women in the men’s rooms.”
“Again, I wouldn’t mind,” Lara breaks in.
“If you don’t stop with that right now…”
“Everyone pipe down, now!” Kintar finally breaks, his voice so loud it makes the speakers crackle on our end. I’ve heard him bawl out like that before, so I can attest as to how impressive it is. In any event, he gets his wish.
Marion looks stunned and affronted in equal measure. Regardless, she keeps silent and lets Kintar have the floor.
“If you would let me finish before squawking over me, I’m trying to suggest that we double bunk some of you in the men’s quarters and ask for volunteers among the crew to double bunk themselves. I’ve no doubt we’ll find willing parties on both sides.”
“It wouldn’t accommodate everyone. There are over a hundred of us.”
“Yeah, well, nearly half of you are still in cryostasis, so I think we can manage. For those who don’t get rooms, we can make arrangements to clear out some unused cargo holds in the far end of the ship and try to make them comfortable.”
“How are we supposed to decide who lands where? None of us can pull rank.”
“I’m sure you’ll think of something.”
Swipt reaches past me and kills the audio and we sit in silence for a beat, watching the screens and the hive of men sent roiling by the new arrivals.
“Are you willing to double bunk, Swipt?”
“Perfectly willing,” he says, “but I’d rather it wasn’t with another member of the crew.” It’s the first hearty laugh I’ve had in a while, and I’m grateful for it. I know exactly how he feels. And I have no doubt he feels the same knotted gut I do, regardless of the quip.
“Captain, I’m heading down to see if Montier can use an extra set of hands. Is there anything specific you want me to do?”
“No,” I wave him off. “Just don’t get into too much trouble.”
“What do you think my chances are?” And he’s gone, leaving me to return to the thinly contained mayhem tickling across my security screens. This could be a huge disaster.
It was all well and good to play the hero, sweeping in to rescue these people, but I hadn’t counted on the reality of a hundred women scampering around my ship. They’re playing hell with the focus of my crew and breaking the authority of my command. I’ve never argued with anyone on board the way I did with Varia.
As if by instinct, my eyes find her on the screen. I barely have to look. I already recognize the rhythm of her gait.
She’s in the dining hall, doing her best to wrangle her charges into some kind of order.
Her firm stance and four-square directness acquire something akin to grace. She’s a born leader. It’s almost admirable at this distance.
Impossible as she is, I have to admit that she’s a force to be reckoned with. We didn’t exactly get started on the best terms, and I’m not exactly looking forward to our next conversation. It’ll be tricky to explain to her that she might be my mate.
How do I even broach that kind of conversation with a human woman? I don’t know the first thing about mating or partnering rituals among her people. Are they always as combative as all the apparent matches seem to appear?
I’ve heard a lot about humans. They are a relatively young race to the galaxy and have not been traversing the stars as long as the Kilgari or other races. But their remarkably short life spans mean they are constantly moving and changing things. They are never content to let the galaxy take them on their course. They must always be asking questions and discovering new things.
In the short time they’ve been in space, they’ve carved out impressive gains. In just a few short centuries, they’ve grown and expanded so that now there are roughly 140 billion human beings living on the worlds of the Interstellar Human Confederation. They’ve emerged as a power in this quadrant of the galaxy, and it’s good that they have. They have very strong neighbors—with the Trident Alliance and Ataxian Coalition on their borders.
Perhaps not. On the screen, I can see Varia engaged in easy conversation with Jax. Something inside my stomach goes ice cold at the sight of them.
Many in our society do not believe in the Precursor myth that has its stories in our Elder Scrolls. Either they are too modern, or they are unwilling to believe that an outside hand guided life on my planet. But the Scrolls have said since even before the Kilgari took to space one’s mate need not even be Kilgari.
Before even we knew of other life on other planets, we’ve been taught that finding the one true mate was not relegated to our race.
Do humans engage in nonexclusive relationships? Even if we proved to be the ideal match, would I be expected to share her with other males as if she were a Kilgari female with multiple mates? In the past I’ve engaged with females in that easy manner, but this feels decidedly different.
“No.”
I’m surprised at the sound of my own voice. Watching her slip out of her interaction with our mess officer, all I can feel is relief that their chat has drawn to a close. With each step she takes away from him, I breathe a little easier.
If I needed an answer, that was it. Not only am I completely taken with her, but I would do just about anything to ensure that she belonged to me alone. The whole question is moot until we share our first kiss. Only that will confirm whether we truly are the match that I’m afraid we might be.
Still. Given that all we’ve done up until now is spar for power, that first kiss seems like a long way off.
I let my focus return to the greater sweep of the security array. If there are true matches to be had, any number of my crew are well on their way to that first kiss. Several are already a damn sight closer than I am.
And, even if they aren’t all matched mates, this ship is about to get a whole lot busier than it was a scant few hours ago. I only hope Varia doesn’t get swept up into it as well.
Chapter Seven
Varia
While I couldn’t palate the gatchi roll, Jax’s take on Rauth stew goes down easily—too easily. Despite my warning to the other women to take it slowly so as not to tax their shrunken stomachs, I wind up hurting myself on three bowls of the stuff.
Now that my hunger is sated—and then some—I check on the other survivors once more. A few of them have been toughing it out, but now that the constant threat of doom is no longer over their heads, the tears flow.
I try to bolster the morale of those who are in despair and thank those who are holding it together for everyone else. We’re not exactly a homogenous group, coming from all different walks of life, but a sense of camaraderie permeates our every interaction. Maybe I’m afraid of that being diminished now that we’re on the Kilgari vessel, and that’s why it bothers me so to see the two groups beginning to intermingle.
Lamira comes to my side and puts her hand on my shoulder. When I turn to face her, her face is creased with a worried frown. “Take it easy, Varia. Sit down for a moment.”
“I’m fine,” I say that, but I also wipe sweat from my brow and my breath seems to be coming in rapid gasps. “Or maybe I’m not. We must have been in cryosleep long enough to suffer the beginning of muscle atrophy, or at least I was. I wonder if the Kilgari have a gymnasium or some such?”
“You could ask Solair.” Lamira’s eyes glitter with hidden meaning. “He seems… helpful.”
“Get that stupid grin off of your face.” I slap her hand in mock anger, mostly to cover up the fact that my cheeks feel warm all of a sudden. Yes, Solair is a devastatingly handsome sapient—I am even getting used to his horns—but that doesn’t mean I trust him as far as I can throw him.
“All I’m saying is, sometimes the Galaxy throws you an opportunity.” She shrugs, her oh-so-innocent eyes dancing with not-so-innocent thoughts and innuendo.
“I’ll show my foot an opportunity in your keister…”
My words die out when I see Marion enter the mess hall, the quartermaster Kintar not far behind. Funny, I just noticed that Kintar’s horns aren’t very small, as I initially believed, but filed down. I wonder if that’s significant or just a personal taste?
In any event, Marion scans the room until she locks gazes with me. Then she sidesteps and shoulders her way through the crowded room to my side. I can tell from the lightness in her stride and the way her eyes are lit up that she has good news.
“Varia, Kintar and I have managed to secure sleeping quarters for all of the survivors.”
A smile stretches across my lips, and I put a hand on her shoulder. “That’s good news, Marion. Thank you so much for facilitating this.”
“Kintar did most of the work. I just stood around being demanding.” She chuckles and then her face creases with worry. “There’s a few caveats, of course.”
“I expected as much. It’s not like this is a luxury liner bound for Glimner.”
“She’s a good ship, Varia. Of that I have no doubt, as I’ve been on quite a few.” Marion gestures at the throng of women at the mess hall tables and sighs. “One of the caveats we were kind of expecting. We’ll have to double and even triple up on rooms.”
I shrug because at the moment having a roommate seems a small price to pay to avoid suffocation and starvation.
“After being cooped up together in that tiny hold on the Frontier, it’s going to seem like being on vacation. What else have you got?”
Marion purses her lips and I can see her making mental calculations. “Well, the holds aren’t meant to quarter sapients, so they’re on the cold and spartan side.”
“We can solve that with extra blankets.”
“Quite. But the main problem is that the Kilgari don’t have enough bedding to go around. Kintar’s come up with some cushions, so I guess we’ll just have to make do.”
I stroke my chin thoughtfully, trying to puzzle this latest conundrum out. While I’m sure we could make do, it would be far more comfortable to find an alternative.
Then it hits me. There should be plenty of bedding available—on the Frontier.
“Marion, do you know if the Frontier is still docked with this ship? Is she still holding together?”
Marion nods, and gestures toward the aft deck where the two ships are connected.
“Yes to both. Ilya and their engineering guy headed over to the Frontier to strip it for useful parts, and I think they figured out a way to stabilize it temporarily. Why do you ask? You’re not considering heading back over there. Are you?”
The fear in her tone is plain. I suppose my gruffness and refusal to take the Kilgari at their word has led to some worry that I’d rather lead us back to a dying ship than remain here
on the Ancestral Queen.
“No, I’m not. That ship would need a dry dock and about three months of intense labor just to be truly space worthy. But the bedding on board, on the other hand, should be just fine.”
Marion’s eyes light up, and her mouth drops open. She points a finger at me and grins.
“That’s a great idea, boss. I should have thought of that. Do you think Solair will lend us a few hands to help transfer them over?”
I consider the idea of speaking to the Kilgari captain again, but I’m just not ready for that yet. Instead, I turn around and interpose myself between a Kilgari and the mess hall portal. He grinds to a halt, his eyes widening in query.
“Pardon me, but I need some help. Can you find about a dozen able-bodied Kilgari with nothing to do at the moment?”
His mouth opens silently, but he nods. The Kilgari moves over to a cluster of his fellows, casting one last glance my way before speaking with them quietly. In short order he returns, a bunch of muscled he men in his wake. Wow, they’re being quite accommodating. I had expected more resistance.
“Excellent. We’re going over to the Frontier and bringing back bedding for my people. Can you and your team manage that?”
“We will make you proud, my lady.” The Kilgari bows his head respectfully and then heads out the door. I grab Marion’s arm and point at the retreating Kilgari.
“Marion, go with them so you can show them where to take the bedding.”
“Copy that, boss.” Marion moves quickly after the Kilgari, her shorter stride not stopping her from catching up to them.
I’m considering heading over to the Frontier to help coordinate the transfer when I hear my name across the din of the mess hall.
Turning around, I find Solair walking toward me on stiff legs. His expression is akin to someone who has just bit into a fresh apple and found it’s full of wriggling worms. Expecting a confrontation, I cross my arms defiantly over my chest and match his glare spark for spark.
“Is there something I can help you with, Solair?”