Kroga's Redemption

by Michele Mills

  “Spoken to whom?”

  She elbowed him in the ribs. “To our sons, who else? Have you spoken to them since we’ve been out here?”

  “No,” he answered, as if the idea was completely ludicrous. “No, I haven’t spoken to either of them. Melachine, we shouldn’t be speaking of this. Your mind—”

  “No?” Disappointment flooded her mind. Why wouldn’t Kroga be in contact with their offspring? A wave of wooziness hit her hard as she tried again and again to remember her sons or make sense of the fact that she hadn’t seen them and Kroga hadn’t either.

  And then a sudden headache began to stab at her neck and under her ridges and pulled her under like a tidal wave. She dropped his claw and rubbed at her temples. “Kroga, my head hurts. Help me…it—” And then she felt the pigment drain from her face and there was a painful tightness in her throat.

  “Melachine? Mela—”

  And then the blackness took her under.

  Melachine woke up the next morning in the med bay.

  “Godsdammit,” she muttered. Waking up here was happening too often for her own comfort. She was yet again covered with a translucent coma-shield. “Open,” she grouchily ordered the computer and the shield dissipated. And she sat up, pleased to see she was wearing an outfit she’d normally wear around the facility as she worked in the bridge. She glanced around at the empty med bay. How long had she been out this time?

  A moment later Kroga rushed into the room. “Oh, thank gods. The computer alerted me you were awake. How are you?”

  She lifted her claws and rubbed at her ridges. “I’m okay, but I don’t remember why I’m here. What happened this time?”

  “You tried to ask about your past and I tried giving you some information and you passed out.”

  “Again? Ugh. I’m sorry. I wish I was stronger.” She felt like such a burden. How terrible for her mate that he had to put up with a Bride who wasn’t aware of their shared past. It must be so hard for him. She’d already apologized to him countless times.

  “Be’Ih, there is nothing to be sorry about. I want nothing but your health and happiness.” He bent and kissed her lips. She closed her eyes and accepted his touch with gratitude and drew strength from his scent.

  He pulled back and her eyes fluttered open.

  “What did the med bay say about my prognosis?” she asked.

  He lifted a claw to brush her braids back from her face. “The system said you are progressing,” he answered. “Two steps back but one step forward. You were in a coma for a shorter period of time, and you were able to accept more information about your past.”

  “I’m recovering?”

  “Slowly. Your brain is now eighty-five percent healed.”

  “Oh. That’s good news, right?” The last time she’d woken from a coma she’d only been at seventy percent.

  “Yes, I believe it is.” And then he reached out and took her claw in his own and helped her up from the bunk. “How do you feel?”

  She shrugged. “I feel fine. Maybe a little hungry.” It was always like this. She woke up feeling well, as if she’d been through a long sleep. Meanwhile she knew Kroga had to have been terrified. “How are the cats?”

  He chuckled. “They’re fine. I fed them and cared for them while you were healing. They’re in the hall.” He walked over and opened the door and clapped his claws and called their names. Jasper came running into the med bay first, and then Abby came trailing behind.

  Her face crumpled into a watery smile. Melachine bent down and picked them up one at a time, petting her fur babies and brushing her cheek against their soft faces. Immediately her hearts warmed with their comforting heat. “Thank you,” she whispered to her mate.

  He bent and kissed the top of her head. “Let’s go to the mess hall to break our fast.”

  She nodded in agreement and put the cats down and they walked hand-in-hand to the mess hall, with the cats trailing behind.

  When they arrived Jasper and Abby meowed and rushed around her feet, clamoring for their own breakfast. She cleaned out their water bowl and gave them fresh water. After that she gave them each a small portion of whatever Kroga was making for breakfast, except she shredded it for the tiny cats. Both cats seemed to enjoy Xylan meat and it helped them to grow strong.

  “Do you want your havel rare or seared?” Kroga asked.

  “Rare.”

  He nodded. He was listening to Xylan war chants as he worked. Kroga tapping on the food dispenser, rocking to music and singing along with his deep voice. It was wonderful. He was mesmerizing. This was because he appeared truly happy. Well, not truly happy. She could tell there was always a hint of sadness behind his eyes. An extra worry line in his ridges. A lack of shine in his silver. Sometimes he fisted his claws and looked away, took a deep breath, and then turned back to plaster a smile just for her. “It’s nice to have you back. Sit,” her mate ordered. “I will feed you.”

  She walked over to her place at the table. He always did this, for each meal. He insisted on feeding her. She had no idea if he’d done this all the years they’d been together. She didn’t remember any of their past, which was disturbing, but she knew that in the present he was very attentive. He’d known since the first day she’d woken in med bay exactly what she liked to eat and drink. Kroga seemed to genuinely enjoy pampering her.

  In return she tidied their quarters regularly and made sure all of their clothing was always put through the wall cleansing unit and then put away in the cabinets. She also changed their bedding on their bunk and made sure their quarters smelled nice.

  “I am pleased that you appear happy,” she said.

  “You make me happy,” he said. “I am honored to be by your side each diurnal.”

  She teared up at his beautiful words. And he always spoke like this to her, making her feel like the most important thing in his life. How did she get so lucky to have a mate this attentive and wonderful? Were all mated pairs this happy? It couldn’t be possible, right?

  “It never ceases to amaze me, what I can remember and what I can’t,” she commented as they ate. “I can remember how to make Traq. I can remember what I like to eat. But I can’t remember anything from my past. What was my extended line like, Kroga?”

  “You were born in House Ulmath but you then merged with my line and moved into our compound.”

  “I did?” And then her head began to hurt again.

  “Stop,” Kroga said gently, placing a claw over her hand. “Every time we speak of the past it causes you pain.”

  “But I’m worried if we don’t speak of this, my memory will never return.”

  “It will, just let it happen naturally. I hate to see you in pain and I don’t want to risk throwing you into another coma. I want my mate healthy as well as happy.”

  Her eyes grew hot and she blinked away the tears, determined to not cry and remain strong. He was wonderful. Since the moment she’d initially woken up in the med bay she’d been clinging to him, needing him to guide her along. It was terrifying waking up with a black hole where her past was concerned.

  “My Be’Ih,” he groaned. “If you keep looking at me that way, I will fuck you here in the mess hall again and we’ll never get any work done this morning. I haven’t had you for over two diurnals, do not tempt me.”

  She laughed. This had happened often, having hot sex in the mess hall, because they couldn’t keep their claws off of each other. “I will stop.” She winked at him and then grabbed his crotch, feeling his long, hard pipe through the fabric of his trousers. “As soon as you put out my fires.”

  Within minutes he had her own trousers off and he was sinking his cock into her welcoming heat.

  3

  After he’d fucked her into two different orgasms and then fed her breakfast, Kroga gave her one last lingering kiss as he left.

  He went into the cargo bay in order to begin using the mini forge to process scrap junk back into base metals that they could resell to individuals or governments in t
he four sectors. “I’m going to the mini forge, first,” Kroga reminded her, “and then I’ll be outside tackling that new piece of broken shuttle.”

  “Oh, okay, be careful.”

  “I will.”

  She paused to herd the cats back into the living areas, making sure they were kept out of the dangerous side of the facility. They’d placed cat toys and a play structure here for them. The mini forge was dangerous, and she and Kroga had discovered if they let the cats onto the bridge they could jump onto the consoles and step on screens and buttons and then start and stop systems that weren’t meant to be touched. Abby and Jasper were allowed to run free in the hallways, the private quarters and the mess hall, but the outboard tunnel, the cargo bay, mini forge and the bridge were firmly off-limits.

  “Sorry, kitties,” she told them as she shut the door to the bridge on their cute little attentive faces. “We’ll be back at midday meal. Bye, sweeties.”

  And she stepped onto the bridge and sat in her chair at her personal console.

  She’d spent a lot of time organizing this small facility into a place where they could both become comfortable. When she’d first arrived, three moon cycles ago, section five had been dirty and cold with a coating of space dust from lack of proper maintenance. The prior tenant, a Creekan male living on his own, had passed away in his sleep of natural causes related to advanced age. Melachine had kept busy and distracted from the black hole in her brain by working alongside Kroga to learn their new business. It turned out they weren’t just going to hide out here, they were going to work too.

  Out here in the Swirl, on the extreme edge of the known universe, there was a thriving recycling community of a variety of species from the four sectors. The Swirl was an enormous never-ending collection of space junk, brought here and suspended by space currents. It was all the refuse of the universe, and the majority was easily recyclable. But it was extremely difficult to relocate to this section of obscure space and set up a recycling facility. The Swirl was an area that most beings did not contemplate trying to reach. There were four hungry black holes to bypass to get here and the death rate of that harrowing journey was 50%. The beings who lived in the Swirl were desperate enough to contend with the idea of a fifty-fifty chance they might die during the journey.

  Why had they decided to come out here? Why were she and Kroga so desperate? But, again, her memory was failing her. She couldn’t seem to remember anything except the actual present, what she was doing right now, or from when they’d first arrived here, about three moon cycles ago.

  She’d woken up in a med bay and Kroga told her that she’d had a head wound during the trip there, but they were both alive, which was the most important thing. They’d made it intact. And her memory loss was a result of this head wound.

  Eighty-five percent of her brain was now healed, but it was still annoying and disorienting to be living a life without any knowledge of her past. She couldn’t even remember the day she and Kroga met, she didn’t remember any family or friends and she didn’t have any memory of their testing or their claiming.

  Did they have offspring? She didn’t know.

  Melachine blew out a breath and got to work, purposely deciding to not fret about the emptiness of the past. This was what had thrown her into her prior coma, and she had no desire to return to the med bay. Working helped her to keep her mind off her worries.

  They were starting to have a good work/life rhythm on section five.

  Kroga was mainly in charge of retrieving the space junk for scrap. He shredded it and brought it inside to the mini forge and melted it down into its base metals, which ended up in handy blocks ready to be transported to customers. Because it was only the two of them, this meant that their output wasn’t as optimal as the other sections that had a larger workforce, but it was enough to keep their business running at a substantial profit.

  Melachine knew this because she’d taken on the role of seller.

  She was in touch with the new centralized industrial alliance the Cyclers in the Swirl had formed. Governments and individuals in need of base metals placed their orders there and were then referred to individual Cyclers who had the resources to fill the order. They had taken over and restarted the old industrial alliance account set up by the previous owner.

  Melachine checked on the new orders. Kroga had told her to set everything to text or audio only, no vid. She thought this was prudent. She didn’t know any of these customers and she and Kroga were hiding out here in the Swirl because…well, she didn’t know why, but she felt an urgency to remain secret.

  It turned out she had a talent for managing their currency. It came naturally to her. Maybe this was something she’d done in her previous life? She collected payments, came up with a budget and analyzed profit and loss statements for each moon cycle. She also hired a Gravian robo-investing firm that kept their currency secure and their wealth growing steadily. In three moon cycles they were already gaining so much profit they were living very comfortably. This lifestyle was high risk, but also high profit. They even had a reserve, currency set aside for renovations and upgrades to their facility and also just…extra. It was crazy how it had all happened so quickly.

  Now, if only she could just get her memory back.

  Melachine paused to glance at the security feeds and watched the antics of the cats running after each other in the mess hall and her male suiting up. He’d already finished in the mini forge and was opening the hatch at the end of the outboard tunnel to move outside the facility to collect space junk. Sometimes Kroga needed her help with the lasers, but today he was doing precision work that didn’t require her help.

  She smiled and went back to work.

  And then a message alert blinked on her screen. “In-coming holo vid from Megan in section fifteen,” the computer pleasantly informed her.

  “Oh, really? Put her through.” She loved being able to chat with someone besides the computer and Kroga. Normally, Melachine had to remain on textual messaging or audio conversation with a voice disruptor to disguise herself whenever she needed to converse with customers. Kroga said they needed to remain secret because…oh hell, yet again she couldn’t remember why. But he’d considered Megan “safe” and agreed that Melachine could show her true self when working with this female who also lived within the Swirl.

  Megan was a human female from the planet Earth which was on the opposite side of the four sectors. She’d been captured by alien slavers but managed to jettison in an escape pod that narrowly bypassed the four black holes and ended up here in the Swirl. The human Cyborgs from section fifteen had rescued her from the crushed pod and rushed her into their super-high-tech med bay. She’d recovered from her severe injuries and then had fallen in love with the Cyborgs and mated them. Megan was mated to three Cyborgs and they had a child.

  Melachine had been riveted listening to this amazing story of a human female choosing to remain in the Swirl and become the mate to three different Cyborgs.

  At first, she and Megan had only discussed how to efficiently sell base materials with the highest return on investment. Megan was extremely helpful and generous in giving Melachine tips on how to set up and run their recycling business. They’d begun chatting more and more and Melachine found she genuinely liked this human. Megan was easy to talk to. She seemed to genuinely love her three Cyborg mates and their offspring was darling. Megan was performing a similar function to Melachine for her husbands; she was their customer service/office manager and she also used her time to organize the members of the Swirl as a whole. She was the one who’d started the Centralized Industrial Alliance. Apparently, there was no cut-throat competition here amongst the Cyclers. They all helped each other and in the end, this helped them all to succeed.

  Melachine had even admitted to Megan that she knew nothing about her past because of the amnesia she suffered as a result of head injuries on her journey to the Swirl. Megan was very sympathetic. Everyone in the Swirl had their own harrowing story of arrival
. Sometimes fifty percent of crew members died; occasionally everyone survived, but traumatic injuries were common.

  Melachine especially adored Megan because the tiny human had brought Jasper and Abby into her life.

  Two and a half moon cycles ago Megan had messaged, asking if Melachine wanted something called a “kitten.” Melachine had been surprised, never having heard of this rare type of Earth pet. Megan was lonely for her home planet and had managed to acquire the DNA for this animal from New Earth. Her Cyborg mates were able to transport the cat DNA with zero degradation and grew cats in their advanced med bay lab.

  They’d grown a male and female pair who had now mated and produced offspring which were called “kittens.” Megan had wanted to know if Melachine wanted one of these kittens. “I can’t keep all of them,” she’d said. “And you seem like someone who could use a pet right now.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes. Pets, especially cats, are good for you. Cats make everything better,” Megan had said. “I imagine someone with amnesia needs something to comfort her. Cats are soft, furry companions who will be there for you and will lift your spirits.”

  “Oh, okay,” Melachine had agreed, tears in her eyes. Megan was so kind. These kittens sounded exactly like what she needed.

  And then Melachine convinced Kroga they needed to adopt these exotic pets. “We are not adopting ridiculous human pets,” he’d originally sniffed. But she’d talked him into it.

  At first, she’d only meant to adopt one, and then decided siblings would be a good idea because they could play together and the cats wouldn’t be lonely whenever she and Kroga were busy working. Megan had agreed.

  Section five’s transporters were life-form-grade for short-range transport between sections, so the animals were able to arrive one day via transporter. Two tiny kittens in a crate showed up on a disk of light. Those little darlings changed her life. Megan was right, cats made everything better.