by Celia Kyle
“Help me?” He blinks several times, eyes flashing with anger. “I thought I was trying to help you, but it seems that you must test my patience, time and time again.”
“What is it now? Look, if we’re eating too much food—”
“I’m not concerned about your appetites, Varia. What troubles me is your propensity for ordering my men about—my men—as if they were your own.”
I arch an eyebrow at him and shake my head.
“I didn’t order…okay, I sort of did order them to help, but quite frankly, if you were doing your job I wouldn’t have to.”
“If—if I were doing my job?” Solair sputters but then visibly composes himself. “I have many irons in the fire, Varia. I don’t have time to deal with every little thing.”
“Every little thing like a decent place to sleep?” I frown up at him but try to keep my tone as civil as possible. Everyone in the mess hall is staring at us already and it makes me quite uncomfortable. “Can’t you have some compassion? Most of these women aren’t warriors, or even sailors, and all of them have been through trauma, some more than others. I’m no doctor, but I’ll tell you right now that sleeping on the floor, even on a cushion, is terrible for your body.”
I gesture toward the aft deck as his anger seems to drain out of his face.
“The bedding is just sitting there, on a soon-to-be derelict ship. Why wouldn’t you collect it?”
I can see him wrestling with himself as he tries to decide if he still wants to be angry—even though he knows I’m right—about me bossing his men around. In the end, his reasonable side wins out, which makes my respect for him go up several notches.
Not that I trust him yet, of course.
While his eyes remain fixed on me, Solair opens his mouth and speaks in a voice loud enough to cut through the general murmur of the mess hall.
“Men.” The Kilgari pause whatever they happened to be doing, forks hovering before mouths, feet hanging mid stride. “Our guests need decent bedding. Do I have any additional volunteers to go help the crew already stripping the hold of the Frontier?”
I’m both grateful and more than a little impressed when every single one of them raises their hands.
Chapter Eight
Solair
I’ll admit that it stung to give in to Varia’s request, but I couldn’t refute her logic. Besides, I’m not a bad sort. If I see an opportunity to make my unscheduled, possibly unwanted passengers more comfortable, of course I’ll take it.
The Kilgari are not a warlike people. While we take steps to defend ourselves from other powers that are in the League of Non-Aligned Races, we do not go out and seek war. We’ve fought in some wars in our past prior to the founding of the League—notably against the Kraaj—but nothing in the scope of what the Ataxians and Alliance are doing to each other.
Those of our people who have displayed a desire to fight have easily found ample opportunity to go over to the Ataxians or the Alliance to fight in their war.
But most Kilgari, like me, are not malicious or mean spirited.
What I don’t take kindly to is the way this blasted woman just ordered my men about like they were under her own command. I also can’t stand the way she turns everything into an argument. For fuck’s sake, this is my ship! You’d think she’d realize I know a thing or two about running it.
But what I find really troubling isn’t the way she continually challenges me. It’s the fact that she looks so damn gorgeous doing so. Again, I fight down the urge to tell her she might be my mate. I’m not sure if I should be hopeful that she is… or hopeful that she is not.
As my men filter out of the mess hall to go and acquire bedding from the mostly scrapped IHC vessel, I turn back to Varia and arch my eyebrows.
“Does that assuage your concerns?”
“It’s a start.” She sighs, and I think she might be trying to at least sound a little less acerbic. “Look, Captain Solair—”
“You can address me as Solair, if you wish.”
“Fine. Look, Solair, I’m grateful for your help with bedding and with rescuing us in the first place, but we’re going to need more than a place to sleep.
“For one thing, we’re all in desperate need of showers, and clean garments would be a blessing if you have laundry facilities on board.”
My nose twitches, and I realize that the human women are rather rank. I had assumed at first that this was just the way their sapient species smells, but I’m relieved to find that it’s not.
“That’s not an unreasonable request. I’ll have Kintar show your woman Marion where the sonic showers are. If you like, I’ll post guards outside to make sure you don’t get walked in on.”
“That would be fantastic.” She grimaces and sits down on a nearby bench.
“What’s the matter? Are you ill?” I crouch down next to her, awkwardly trying to touch her and still be comforting at the same time. “Nicari can take a look at you, if need be.”
“I’m fine.” She waves off my concerns as she catches her breath. “I’ve just got a touch of cryo atrophy. On that subject… is there anywhere on your ship I can work out?”
“Work out?” I cock my head to the side. “You mean, work outside the ship’s hull? I leave that to very experienced work crews, but I’m sure that if you want I can…”
“No, no, no.” Varia sighs, her shoulders heaving, as she rubs a hand down her face. Her eyes peek over her hand, filled with barely contained frustration. “When I say work out, it’s a human term for exercise.”
“Oh.” I consider her query for a time. “We do most of our training in the cargo hold because the space is ideal, but I’m certain we can find other arrangements for you and your outer working.”
“Working out.”
“That’s what I said. If you’ll follow me?”
I offer my hand to assist her to a standing position, but in spite of her physical infirmity she refuses to take it and stands on her own. I shrug and take my hand away, instead gesturing for her to come with me.
“Where are we going?”
“A seldom used cargo bay where we store nautical supplies, such as fishing tack.”
“Fishing tack?”
“Yes. This ship used to belong to my father, and though I’ve never done so, it is capable of landing on large bodies of saltwater. It would be a simple matter to rearrange the bay to allow sufficient room for your purposes.”
She nods, lips becoming a thin, tight line. We head out of the mess hall and into the sleek corridors of my ship. I think I’m beginning to understand this strange, fiery woman. Most of her chagrin is born from a desire to protect the people she has taken under her wing. I can’t fault her for that.
But still, is she really my mate? I’d have to kiss her to be certain, and at the moment I think we’re about a hundred years from that even being a possibility. One thing’s for sure—Varia Dawn is going to do whatever Varia Dawn thinks is best—and a person can either help her or get out of her way. But she won’t be convinced otherwise.
I can’t decide if I find her infuriating or appealing… or perhaps both. Much like extreme cold can cause wounds similar to burns, her caustic nature and refusal to back down are something of an aphrodisiac.
“You said before that this is a merchant ship. What kind of cargo do you normally carry?”
I start, because I hadn’t been expecting her to speak.
“Oh, it depends upon the season, our vector, and a lot of other details. We’ve hauled foodstuffs, machine parts, even weapons a few times, although I prefer to stay away from that kind of merchandise—not to mention those kinds of clients.”
I leave out that sometimes we smuggle contraband because I don’t want to give her more cause to be distrustful. It’s not that I’m greedy; operating this old ship takes a lot of resources, and not every job pays out as good as you think it will. One time I arrived at dock with a cargo bay full of kufula fruit only to find that the vendor who was to purchase it had disappeare
d, leaving his shop shuttered and abandoned.
So yes, sometimes I skirt the law and carry more valuable, though high-risk, cargo on my ship. It keeps the operation going, my men happy, and their cred accounts at least a little filled.
But most of all, it lets me keep and maintain my family’s ship. I’d sooner lose my own arm than the Queen.
We travel through the bowels of the ship, and I stop from time to time to speak with my crew. Mostly, they all know their jobs very well and they just want to touch base. Varia waits patiently while I take care of business and then we continue our walk.
“The cargo hold is up ahead.” I gesture toward the smooth black bulk of the cargo hold door. “It’s not terribly large, but I hope it suits your purposes well enough.”
I press on the control panel next to the door, keenly aware of how closely Varia watches my every move. She’s probably watching to learn how to open the door herself. That bothers me, though I know it should not.
The door recesses into the wall a bit and then slides to the left, revealing the cargo hold. The lights flicker on, at least some of them. Since we don’t use this hold much, it’s been neglected from a maintenance purview.
Varia walks inside, her eyes narrowed to slits and her brow furrowed with thought. She turns in a slight circle, taking in the haphazardly piled equipment, dusty crates and barrels with chagrin written on her pretty face. She turns to me, arms akimbo, and I know I’m about to get another lambasting from her sharp tongue.
“This is where you expect me to exercise?” she scoffs, gesturing at the room with one hand. “Are you kidding me?”
“What’s wrong with it?” I frown and glance about the room. “Not spacious enough?”
“It’s plenty spacious. That’s not the point.”
“Then what is your point, Varia?”
She heaves an exasperated sigh—which does things to her chest that I find rather distracting—and slams her fist on a nearby crate, sending dust into the air.
“My point is all of this junk is in the way. Can’t you find someone to move it?”
I grin ear to ear.
“Why, yes. I can find someone, and quickly.”
“Good.”
I point my finger at her and smile more widely. At first, she frowns in confusion, but then light dawns in her eyes and she bares her teeth in a snarl.
“You are such an asshole.”
Varia turns away from me and grabs a nearby crate, dragging it across the room toward the far wall as sweat beads on her forehead.
She certainly is furious, but in a strange way I think I’m starting to like her anger.
Chapter Nine
Varia
If I was trying to make a point, I didn’t have to pull my shoulder out of socket to do it. This crate is about three times as heavy as I expected. Still, I can’t let him see me sweat over the weight.
Shit. Too late. A droplet of sweat streaks from my eyebrow down to my cheek, and my only hope is that he was looking the other way when it happened. Unfortunately for me, he’s leaning against the door frame with that infuriating, cursedly sexy smirk on his face.
“Enjoying yourself over there?” I can’t help edging a little bit of snark into my voice. If he was any kind of male, he would be throwing his shoulders into this alongside me.
“I’m doing just fine, thanks.”
If anything, he lazes even further into his slouch against the open portal, folding his arms across that broad chest. I don’t mind admitting I’d welcome seeing him work up a sweat—even if it was just helping me lug these crates into something resembling order.
Once I’ve managed to scrape my burden squarely into one corner, I turn to face the rest of the dusty monuments scattered randomly through the dim room. God, I hope I started with the heavy one. There are one or two of comparable size, so I imagine the best strategy is to drag them over by this one and see if I can stack everything smaller on top of them.
One big pile is unsightly, but it’s a damn sight better than having everything jumbled around. I have it halfway across the floor when wisdom crackles my way from the peanut gallery.
“You know, if I was you, I might use them to create barriers.”
“What’s that?”
“Figure out a floor plan and organize things so that the larger space can be partitioned into smaller ones. Create a bit of privacy.”
He makes a fair point, but I rankle at it immediately.
“You look plenty strong, Solair. I’d welcome it any time you opted to help.”
“I think I’ll pass.” Every inch of my skin crackles at his casual derision.
I glare and grunt at him. “Get over here and help me.”
His easy smile vanishes, and he finally sidles away from his roost to stand squarely between me and the doorway. All the hairs on my arms stand up at once. It’s a move that is mildly threatening and entirely thrilling.
“It’s been a long time since I’ve been in the position of taking orders, Varia. As commander of this vessel, I’ve got more pressing duties to attend to than helping you set up house.”
“What, like leaning against the wall ogling me?” He tenses at the baldness of my statement, but doesn’t refute what I said.
“Like making sure we can support an occupancy that has nearly doubled in size. Thank the stars so many of your number are in cryo-stasis, but they still need to be attended. Things may not be entirely to your liking, but I have yet to hear a single word of gratitude out of you for my decision to save your ass.”
I can’t help being cowed by this. It’s true, if it weren’t for the arrival of the Ancestral Queen, I would likely be sitting in the dark right now, trying not to count the minutes until the inevitable.
“Now,” he says, “I understand you need a place for your people to stay, but if you want to carve out room on my ship for an exercise arena, you’re damn well going to have to work for it.”
“You’re sounding more heroic by the minute, Captain. It’s a wonder I haven’t thanked you a hundred times over,” I mumble to myself.
“What’s that?” He tips his head, the light of the hold glinting off his golden horns.
“You got us off of that ship and I should be grateful for that, but I don’t relish the thought of being brought onto another ship to be treated as a toy or a slave. And that’s the truth of it.”
Solair’s golden eyes blaze for a moment before narrowing under his thundering brows. His lips are pulled tightly and his chest heaves as sharp breaths rasp through his nostrils. Now I’m not the only one with sweat beading on their forehead.
A tiny flicker fires off somewhere deep in my core and I realize how completely alone we are. It’s just the two of us standing inches from each other, deep in the disused bowels of this ship. This close, it’s like I can feel his heart pounding between us. I can’t tell if it’s with rage, or the same curious proximity I’m feeling.
My defense slips, and something in my eyes betrays me. Whatever it is, Solair catches it immediately. The furrow in his brow relaxes and the gold shines in his eyes.
When he’s not being impossible, he’s not bad looking at all.
I wonder what he thinks about me?
Wait, where did that come from? As soon as the thought crops up, I send it whistling away. It’s something I’m going to have to deal with later—when I’m not squared against him like some prize-fighter waiting to see where the punches will land.
He makes as if to say something, parting his lips and inhaling before clamping his mouth shut again. Temptation riffles through me. Given how little I’ve wanted to hear him chortling away, goading me to work, I would desperately like to know what he was about to say.
A sensation I’m unfamiliar with bubbles up between my ribs. Is it shame? Embarrassment?
Sure, Solair hasn’t exactly been rolling out the red carpet for us, but he did pull us out of danger. And at no small inconvenience to himself and his crew. He hasn’t been making it easy, but he has be
en helping us. Helping me.
Suddenly, the dim, dusty room afforded me seems like a precious gift. Is it ideal? No, but it’s a far cry from the stifling uncertainty I sweltered in a scant few hours ago.
My eyes have drifted from his to take in the space around us, and when they find his again, the beast that had been boiling under his skin seems to have fled. He’s completely changed, stilled. Somewhere between gentle and composed.
“It’s been an exhausting day for everyone,” his voice is subdued and oddly distant, “maybe you should rest before trying to wrestle all this into shape.” He gives a loose shrug to the detritus strewn about us.
I make to answer, but this time I come up short of words. My mouth is dry and sticky. What’s wrong with me?
Solair leans in again, as if to catch whatever words fall out of my mouth. Is that what I looked like? Expectant, almost imploring?
My head swims at the moment and I just nod a couple of times before gliding past him into the corridor. My body feels detached from my mind. Not that my mind is doing much. Everything feels cloudy and heavy.
I’m hungry. That must be it. For all the time I spent in the mess earlier, I seem to have digested it all and am hungry again.
Maybe my body is just trying to make up from having to starve for the last week.
We’ve been subsisting on bare rations for days and I’ve expended more energy than is remotely wise. He’s right. I should eat something and put my head down for a while before I try conquering any other monsters. Even if the monsters are my own.
Once I’ve gotten a little something in my stomach, I’ll try and get some sleep. Who knows when I last managed to cobble together more than a few minutes of sleep?
It would be nice to chalk up my irritability to weariness and hunger, but I worry it could be something more. When we were all huddled against the inevitable on the Frontier, I had a purpose. While I hate to admit it, I thrive on the command. Now that we’ve been pulled out of that hole, we’ve been thrown into chaos and I don’t have any clear footing.