by Renee Rose
“Maybe one planet rotation I’ll be ready for battle.”
But I know that’s not true. Master Seke has told me more than once, in no uncertain terms, that I will never see battle. That my skills are invaluable elsewhere.
Drayk touches my shoulder. “We couldn’t have done this mission without you at the helm.” I know he means it. Still, I want to be beside him, going on-planet, fighting like a warrior, not just a pilot with special navigation skills. Not always the one waiting on board.
“Why are there two humans?” Something about the grown female intrigues me. The effect of her scent on my physiology is highly unusual. I put the ship on auto as we head into clear skies, then stand.
“They were together—the older one was protecting the child. The offspring refused to leave without her, so we took them both.”
“She’s upset.” I step closer to the humans, a frown on my face. I don’t know why I’m so drawn to her. “More upset than the young one. Why is that?”
“They’re both in shock. From auction to rescue. I don’t know exactly how to comfort them.”
“You should be familiar with human females, since you took a mate,” I point out.
His face changes from 400 to 420 nm; the wavelength information feeds into my sensors. I chuckle because I can’t see the blush with my eyes, but I know he’s embarrassed. “It could be said that you know quite a bit about human behavior,” I tease.
He makes a growling sound. “I know about one human... mine.” He clears his throat. “But you have interacted with many. You understand the way they use humor and sarcasm and understand the range of human emotions.”
“It’s true. During my last operation, the med techs gave me the title of honorary human as a joke.” I had to spend so much time in the med bay with the human med staff that sometimes I felt like I was becoming one of them.
Drayk makes a face, sort of twisting up his nose, according to my scanner, which I take to mean personal horror at this designation. But I found it endearing. The humans who tended me meant it as a compliment, they explained, because I had become so resilient to the continued poking and prodding.
“I’d like to talk to them.”
To her.
I take another step in their direction. I have the urge to comfort the grown female. Wrap my arms around her and tell her she’s safe. “Reassure them.”
It’s the young offspring who’s the most critical here because she’s the long-lost daughter of our doctor’s human mate, Bayla. We’ve been searching for her for many solar cycles. But veck if I can’t stop feeling a strange pull toward her caretaker.
“Go, then.” My captain nods. “If any being can help them, it is worth a try.”
Their heat signatures get stronger in my mind as I approach, and I stop a few feet away, crouching down to make myself closer to their level. Zandians are larger than humans, and I’m taller than most. Muscular, too, from all my training.
They’re together on a med bench. The scent of adrenaline and fear wafts from their skin.
“You’re on a Zandian ship, headed to Zandia. You’re safe,” I say. “No being will hurt you here. I promise.”
Neither of them speak, but I sense the smaller one start to tremble harder.
I back away a pace. “We rescued you,” I add.
Silence. The little one starts to cry.
“The Zandian warriors who took you were disguised as Mauk, as they probably explained.” I clear my throat. “They did not wish to scare you, but time was of the essence.”
The little one buries her head in the older one’s shoulder and sobs uncontrollably. The grown female flinches, but doesn’t move. Instead, she strokes the child’s hair. “Yes, we were told.” Her voice is raw and hoarse. She puts her chin up. “I won’t allow you to hurt Enya.”
In her weakened condition, with no weapons to speak of, she couldn’t prevent it. But veck, if I don’t admire her fortitude.
“It’s true.” I turn my eyes in the direction of hers, and my sensor pings internally when I lock on to her pupils. It frustrates me that I can’t see her, never will see her, but at least I give the semblance of a normally sighted being when I do this. And I’ve learned it dramatically increases the comfort level of the being to whom I’m speaking. Nobody likes a vacant dead gaze.
“She’s still terrified.” Her voice is low and tired, but something in it reminds me of the waterfalls back on Zandia, the ones by the crystal grotto. “And frankly, so am I.” She makes a sound that might be an attempt at a laugh.
“You are Zina?” I ask. “And the young is Enya?”
When she nods, I tell her, “I’m Tarek. I’m the navigator on this ship.”
“Tarek.” She says my name, and veck, if my horns don’t stiffen. Nothing has ever sounded so good. Not even the sound of brand-new engines on a newly built Class-3 destroyer.
Stars. I force myself to focus. An outward display of my attraction to the little human isn’t going to put her at ease. “I’m getting us safely back to Zandia,” I promise her. “Where many humans have been granted asylum.”
She nods warily.
The young, Enya, hasn’t stopped trembling.
I back up immediately, gesture to the med tech, who’s hovering a few paces away, and refocus on the humans. “You’re safe now.”
My words seem to have no effect, so I go quiet.
Zina whispers into her ear, and after a moment, Enya goes quiet, although she still sniffles.
Without thinking, I reach out my hand and touch Zina’s arm. “I promise, you’re in good hands,” I tell her.
It’s like a spark to my fingers. Her skin is warm and soft, and pulses with life. She’s so fragile—these humans are all so delicate compared to Zandians! I fight the urge to push the little one aside and cradle Zina in my arms, against my chest.
She gasps, and then her fingers find mine, and for a second, she holds my hand.
“Thank you,” she says, her voice faint. “Forgive us if we don’t believe it yet. We haven’t known much kindness.” She pulls the girl closer with the arm already wrapped around her. “And we don’t know what’s coming.” She looks directly at me—right into my unseeing eyes. My gaze alert lights up to 100 percent. She really wants me to hear her on this.
“What’s coming is asylum. For both of you.” I squeeze her fingers. I’m reluctant to let go, but I release her hand, so I don’t alarm her. “Do you know that many human females live on Zandia?”
I’ve been told not to say anything to either of them about Enya’s mother, or why we really rescued them. It’s not my story to tell. Dr. Daneth and King Zander will oversee the young’s reunion with her mother.
“I didn’t know.” Zina licks her lips. “I know nothing about your planet. Is there more fluid?”
“Of course.” I nod to the med tech and say, “Fluids,” and he immediately brings over a fresh tube of juice. “Do you need sustenance?”
“Not yet.” She sucks the fluid, and as I hear her lips on the tube, my mind goes elsewhere. I sense my own skin darken the way Drayk’s did a few minutes earlier, and a very different part of my anatomy awakens.
“You said… human females live on your planet Just… females?” I sense her body tense up. She’s scared.
“Mostly females, yes. As breeders. Well, not always breeders, some unmated humans are permitted to remain and work, if the king grants them asylum.” This doesn’t seem to comfort her. “Females pick,” I blurt, trying to make it better. “They choose which males they wish to be bred with. To mate.”
“Oh.” Her voice is taut. “I see.”
I’ve still not calmed her fears.
“Not Enya,” I hurry to assure her. “The young will not be given to any male. But when she’s of age, she will select. She will control it.”
She narrows her eyes. “Great.” A beat. “I suppose it wouldn’t matter if you were lying. We’re here, regardless. Going where you take us.” For the first time, her shoulders droop.
“It does matter.” My voice is firm, almost angry—but not at her. I’m furious at life, at fate, for putting her into a place where she has to say that. “It matters to me and to our honor. Zandians don’t lie.”
I touch her arm and my horns thicken at the zing of sensations. There’s no mistaking it—I want this female. Badly.
I force myself to concentrate. To say something to put her at ease. “You must have been through a lot.”
It was the right thing to say.
“Yes, we have.” Her odor, despite the sweat and dirt, bewitches me. There’s something essentially female beneath it, a scent I want to smell over and over, to figure it out—
I swallow. “Well, you’re out of Ocretion hands now. And Zandians don’t keep slaves.” I blink. Wonder what she thinks about me. What I look like to her. I know I’m large, more muscular than most Zandians, even. Probably she thinks I’m some kind of monster.
She coughs again.
“Are you all right?” I lean in, reach forward, intending to run my fingers over her pack, so I can link up my tactile sensors to the output port and read her vitals.
She shifts, perhaps in surprise or alarm, and instead of contacting the pack, I put my palm firmly onto her chest. Her breasts. Taut, firm perfect breasts.
She squeaks.
My cocks hardens instantly, horns tilt in her direction. I should remove my hand. Should apologize. Instead I find my thumb shifting to lightly brush over her nipple, growling when it stiffens under my touch.
She gasps and I yank my hand away.
“I’m sorry, I did not intend—” I try to make sense of the riotous thoughts swirling through my head. “I intended only to touch your pack. The medical pack. It’s on your shoulder.”
“Yes, I know, it’s there, ah, yes.” Her voice is high and tense. But I don’t think I hear anger. “It’s all right. I don’t mind. I mean, I don’t, ah.” She takes a breath. “I’m fine. Thank you. Fine. Yes.”
“Okay, good. Fine. Yes.”
Somehow, I’m holding her hand again. How in the stars did that happen? “I just want to ensure you are not suffering any… thing. Issue. Ahem.”
“I have many issues.” To my utter surprise, I think I detect the wryness of human humor. “But right now, you’re not one of them.”
“Do these issues require medication?” I squeeze her fingers. “Can I help?” I’m about to summon the medic when she speaks.
“Only if there is a medication that can erase the past twenty-five solar cycles of my life, or fix my leg, or plug the screaming holes in my mind. That can free all humans from slavery.”
I have no answer for this. I blink a few times.
“You have the most interesting eyes.”
I flinch. “What do you mean?”
“The color. I like it.”
I hate my eyes. I despise not seeing like other beings.
“I’m blind.” My voice is flat. I stand and touch my headset implant at my temple. “I cannot see you, not the traditional way that beings do.”
What was I thinking, crouching close to her, touching her, smelling her body? Injured leg or no, this human is clearly strong and clever, and will make some Zandian a good mate. A Zandian who’s approved for mating. Which I am not. Never will be.
“Blind?” Her shock needles me. “But you… do things.” The air moves when she waves her hand. “Lots of things. How…”
“I have tech. And I’ve trained.”
“I really can’t tell. Wow.” I assume she’s looking at me, because her posture hasn’t changed and her head is pointed right at my face. “I swear, you don’t seem blind when you move. And sometimes it’s like you’re looking right into… my soul.” She clears her throat. “I mean—Never mind that last part.”
I’ve heard this before, at least the first part of it, usually with a touch of sympathy, which enrages me. From this human, I just hear interest.
“Maybe later I’d like to ask you questions about it,” she says, but then she yawns and her whole body slumps.
Our med tech, Jass, comes up to me. “I put a sedative into their packs,” he murmurs to me in Zandian. “Just to help them rest. They’re both so anxious they can’t settle down, and their bodies need time to regenerate. Humans heal much slower than we do.”
“Understood.” I stand and wait as their breaths even out, and I can tell they are both asleep.
I want to reach out and touch Zina again, but I can’t, with Jass here. It would look inappropriate. And it would be imprudent, given that I could never have her, anyway.
But before I head back to the bridge to my nav station, I stand there for a long moment, listening to her breathe. I barely know her and already I’d almost do anything to protect her and make her happy.
But that’s foolish. A blind warrior is useless to a female, even with tech upgrades.
Chapter 4
Zina
I wake to Enya’s screams again, and my body tenses. For a moment, I think we’re back on Ocretia. I leap to my feet, only to sink back down, my head dizzy and my mouth cottony dry.
The past planet rotation comes crashing back and I remember where we are. On a Zandian ship. Captured for breeding. Consensual breeding, if I’m to understand what Tarek told me.
Not that it makes any sense.
“Rrrg. It’s all right.” I grab Enya; she’s shaking so hard I hear her teeth clatter. Mother Earth forbid that she shatter them in her fear. “Enya, we’re safe.”
I say the words before I think, but when I blink, I realize it may be true. We’re on the Zandian ship. Unbound. With beings who, so far, have neither hurt us nor promised to do so.
Her eyes are wide and I know she doesn’t see me, so I pull her tight and hum, rocking back and forth, the song I’ve sung to her every night for solar cycles. Like it usually does, the music calms her, and after a minute, she relaxes into my arms and coughs.
“I’m sorry.” Her eyes are full of tears. “I’m sorry.”
“You have nothing to be sorry for.” I wipe her cheek. “We’re going to be all right. We escaped the slave auction.” I shake my head in wonder. “Of all the things.”
“But you saved me first.” She grabs my hand. “Before they did. You cut my ropes and stole me away, and killed that guard.”
“I killed him?” I draw back. I actually don’t know if I did or not. Wouldn’t mind if I did—it’s just that in the fray, I had only escape on my mind.
“Well, I hope so.” She gives me a wan smile and makes a “duh” face, and suddenly the two of us burst into uncontrollable laughter, so hard that I go dizzy and slouch back onto the hover table.
Our mirth is loud enough to raise alarm. The medic hurries over, brow wrinkled. “Are you all right?” He leans down to check our packs, deft fingers pushing buttons and checking screens. “I will help.” He speaks into his comm as well, and in a second, the blind warrior rushes in.
My pulse picks up when I see him.
“Zina. Enya.” Tarek sounds alarmed. “What is it?” He turns to the medic. “Are they unwell?”
“We’re fine,” I manage to say. “It’s just… a joke.”
“A joke?” Tarek’s brows go way up into his smooth, unlined purple forehead.
“Do Zandians know about jokes?” I stop laughing, faced with the enormity of what lies ahead: adjusting to a new culture. A new species of beings. Where once again we will be the powerless beings. The outsiders.
“Of course.” His voice is almost prim. “But we reserve laughter for very serious things.” I think he doesn’t understand me at all, until I see his lips twitch. A joke.
I burst into giggles. Oh, Mother Earth. I can’t even control my peals of laughter. Tears leak from my eyes.
Finally, I compose myself. “This is a serious moment.”
"Clearly." His mouth twitches as if he wants to smile but isn’t sure if he should. “Please tell me if you have discomfort.”
“My ribs…” I start automatically
, then twist. “Don’t hurt. Anymore.” I twist again, then slide Enya gently away so I can stand. “What did you do?” I touch my body, then prod it harder. “It’s fixed.”
The med tech gives a genuine smile. “We have advanced medical technology.” His smile fades as he glances at my leg. My breeches were torn in the escape, and my old injuries are clearly visible. “But it does have… limits.” He glances at Tarek.
Tarek is silent for a moment. “On planet, we have a doctor who can investigate.” But his tone tells me he doesn’t think much can be done.
I’m used to my leg by now, and never expected it to be made whole again. “I understand. I’m grateful for this.” I gesture to my ribcage. “And my face. That’s better, too.” I touch my lip, my eye. “So fast.”
I turn to Enya. “She needs to eat.” I love this girl more than life. She’s my daughter, really, in my heart. I need to make sure she’s taken care of.
The tech hands her a few foil packages and she tears into them, eating like an animal, a starving beast.
The med tech moves a few paces away and beckons me. I notice Tarek seems to follow the movement, because he also joins us. “I heard the young screaming,” the med tech says. “Does she require further sedation?”
“No,” I say immediately, without even considering the offer. Even though I’m much better this planet rotation, I’m still wary of any drugs they want to give us.
“If I sedate her again, I can administer an anti-anxiety medication through the pack. Together with more sleep, it may help calm her.”
I wrinkle my nose. “Nothing like that would help. Not unless you have something that will actually remove the memories that make her scream.” I should be talking to the medic, but I look at Tarek when I talk. His eyes are trained on me, and I swear, he sees me. How can he be blind?
Maybe I’m just curious about his disability. My eyes stray down to his tight breeches and the way his body bulges out at the juncture of his thighs, and my face gets hot. I clear my throat. Can he tell where I’m looking? Mother Earth, what am I thinking? I’ve never been interested in males before.