by Bex McLynn
"Yes, like this." Seph bumped him with her shoulder. "And hush. I'm trying to concentrate. Let me know if anything looks like the Big Dipper."
"A what?"
"Like a ladle." Seph slid her eyes over to him. "Teras have constellations. I researched them on the AthNet. Now help me look."
Rannik cleared his throat, then said in a deep voice, "Well, if you're looking for a big dipper..."
Seph should have been mortified, but she wasn't. She laughed, letting herself enjoy her mirth. "Stop it. Be a gentleman."
"I'm too sard to be gentle." He goofed back.
"Oh, you heard that, did you?"
She felt Rannik shake his head. "She always goes on about the damn stones."
"So that's how you deduced that Vedma called me a dumb rock?"
Rannik sighed. "Don't listen to her. She's old and crazy."
Seph just nodded, knowing he could feel the movement against his shoulder, and resumed gazing at stars.
After a bit, Rannik said softly, "You're trying to find something familiar, aren't you? A star grouping you recognize."
It shocked Seph how her throat closed up on her. She squeezed out a tiny 'yes.'
"And when you find your stars, you'll try to go home."
She blinked, the stars on the screen blurring. "The chances of me finding anything at all are... well..." She gave a short laugh. "Truly astronomical. I'm not a scientist. All of this..." She weakly flicked her fingers to the screen. "I don't know what I'm looking at. I'm lost."
They lay in silence as Seph wiped at her few tears.
Rannik shifted, and she felt his fingertips in the crown of her hair. He must have bent the elbow of his arm closest to her. The touch felt divine. It wasn't sexual. It was sensational. Connection. She was so starved for it.
"I know what this feels like, Seph. To be lost and to be looking and not knowing what to look for. But then you found me, Seph. You chose me. And it didn't matter who I am not, but that I earned your regard."
Seph heard his hesitation, who I am not. That he wasn't a fleetman? That he wasn't a thane, or haleth, or any of the other Teras titles she had researched? Or that he was xero, that horrible word she overheard the crew calling him. Xero was the second term she researched on her WristCune, and it broke her heart to know that Rannik had been unwanted by his mother.
But she made a promise to the thane—she made the promise for Rannik—to set Rannik free. Still, freeing him didn't mean that she had to abandon him as well.
"I know what a clutch is, Rannik." She sniffed, new tears pooling in the corners of her eyes. "Now, I don't know everything about it, but I suspect that it's meant to be shared between adults who, well..."
"Please, Seph," he said beseechingly, blue flooding his cheeks. "I'm sard enough to understand what goes on between adults."
She chuckled, thankful that Rannik proved mature enough to defuse the tension. "It's just that, you refused to use me that way, when you thought I was a Lassie."
"And you won't use me that way." He easily spoke her mind. "Yes, Seph. I understand that. I mean, I want that... To not have that. Does that make any sense?"
"Yes," she said, relieved. "Perfectly. I get it. We are not having any of that."
"Good." He released a deep sigh and resettled next to her. "Good."
Seph found herself wiping at more tears, but these ones weren't as bitter. "Eventually I'll have to release you."
"Yeah, I know," he said, the resentment gone from his voice.
"Should probably do it soon. Before girls start taking notice of you."
"Nah, no rush." Rannik shifted again. "It's just nice to be a part of something. Other guys join a clade."
"Clade. That's like a club, right?" Seph rocked her head on his shoulder, to juggle the idea and to satiate her need for contact.
"It's a way for men to form allegiances outside of their house. You can pledge to or resign from different clades whenever you want."
Ah. Clades sounded like a way to network outside of the honor-sworn duty associated with one's house. "So you can be sworn to your house, yet form connections with men in other houses?"
"Yeah. But Unsworns use clades to bond together for protection."
That sounded more like a gang, but still, it gave her an idea.
"Can we form a clade? You and me?"
Silence, but this time it was different. She could feel his brain churning over the idea.
"Yeah," he said, sounding stunned.
She glanced over at him, and although she was turned upside down, she knew that look. The look he got on his face when she did something that utterly fascinated him.
"We're doing this," she said with conviction. "Since we can't do that, we're definitely doing this."
Rannik smiled, his whole face lighting up. "Yes, we are definitely doing this. Forget that. We've got this."
He reached for her arm that sported her WristCune, just as she flung said arm over her head. The angle was odd, and uncomfortable, and made them laugh and bump into one another, and the whole thing probably took longer than it should have, but eventually Rannik declared the work done.
Seph gazed up at her WristCune. "Now what?"
"Well, you send out a code called the scrum code. It's how clades organize."
Seph thought about that. "How about, since you know what you're doing, I join your clade instead?"
Rannik stared at her, his throat working. "Okay. Yeah. Sure."
A few more taps and Seph heard a ping.
"You did it?" she asked.
"I did it. Return your code."
She looked at her WristCune and saw his AthID. Rantic. He called her Starburst. She sent the code. His device pinged.
"Now we're clade."
"Now we're a clade," she echoed.
Behind them, the hatch door swung open.
A tall Teras shrieked and covered his eyes. "Are your pants on? Dear gods, please tell me you both have your pants on!"
Rannik sat up. "Therion! What are you doing here?"
The tall Teras continued to cover his eyes. "If your pants aren't on, get 'em on, before I see things that can't be unseen."
Rannik gazed down at himself, a confused look on his face. "But we are wearing pants. Why wouldn't we be wearing pants?"
Therion—Rannik had called him—sighed in relief and lowered his hands. Seph shrunk back. She knew him. He was the Teras who had haggled with the Lassie trader. He had been standing in the corridor with Grondin. Apprehension flowed over her.
"You're a cadet in a clutch," Therion said with a shrug, like it was the only possible explanation for why she and Rannik would be on the floor and pantless.
Rannik sat, speechless, then shook his head like a wet dog. "Wait. What are you doing here?"
"Killing time. Waitin' on the thane to bring tuck."
"The thane's coming here? Now?"
But Therion's eyes were on her. He grinned and strode right toward her.
"Wow, first of all, you are way prettier than that other Lassie."
"Other Lassie?" Seph asked, getting to her feet and taking a step back.
"The one in the closet." Therion paused when a coughing fit hit him, then wheezed. "You seriously got her outpaced. By a lot."
She took another, much larger step back.
"Dammit, Therion!" Rannik scrambled to his feet, snagged Therion's arm, and dragged him away from her.
Well, Therion let Rannik drag him away. Therion was the tallest Teras she'd seen so far, but he was built lean and lanky, like a basketball player. He didn't have the body mass of the thane. And unlike the thane, he didn't wear a crisp black uniform. His long hair capped over his ears and fell carelessly into his eyes. Tattoos on his neck snaked up from the collar of his battered jacket. His entire look screamed 'ruffian,' not fleetman.
Therion just chuckled as Rannik forced him into the far corner of the room. The two whisper-yelled at one another.
The hatch into the Athel Hall was open, and Seph cou
ld hear the members of her entourage speaking to one another. None of them sounded concerned that a member of Prykimis's crew was in the Athel Chamber with her. The thane had said that Therion used to be House Borac, so perhaps there wasn't anything to be concerned about. Even Rannik seemed annoyed, not alarmed or defensive, that Therion was there.
"Seph," Rannik said as both he and Therion approached, shoulder to shoulder.
Therion smiled, his greenish gold eyes alight with humor. Rannik sighed, long and beleaguered.
"Seph, this is Therion. You probably remember him." Rannik presented him without enthusiasm.
"Yeah." Seph crossed her arms and glared. "I remember you. My legs were too short."
"Well, you look perfectly proportionate now," Therion said, his eyes scanning her. He didn't leer, which was good, but he didn't warm her up, either. "Did you have a growth spurt?"
"Therion." Rannik whacked him. "Cut it out. Ther's gonna join us for dinner."
"He's joining us for dinner?" Seph huffed.
"Just for dinner," Rannik said, his eyes focused on something behind her.
"Just for dinner," Therion echoed, looking at the floor.
Seph stood there and glared. A thick silence settled, and she had no intention of being the first one to crack. Therion being there felt off for some reason. Like he was welcomed, but he wasn't supposed to be there. Kinda like an ex showing up at your birthday happy hour. Weird. Uncomfortable.
Therion broke first. Cleared his throat and said, "Yeah, you are way prettier than ol' BTN. So, if any of the grunts on this ship asks you to join 'em in the closet, you tell 'em to fuck off and come find me."
Seph sighed. "And you'll...?"
"I'll fuck 'em up." Therion puffed up and his voice dropped so low she felt the deck vibrating. "Dirty bastards, all of them. Do not get in a closet with one. We clear?"
Seph just stared at him, dumbfounded. Finally she said, "Clear."
"Perfect. Well, glad we talked." He nodded his head in such a stern manner that, for a split second, Seph swore he resembled the thane. But then he added, "If you've got three free hours, hit me up on my WristCune. You and me, in a closet, would be amazing. But don't play with me. You know, if you only have like two hours free and think it'll be okay. It won't be. Three hours, minimum. Okay. Great. Glad we talked about this."
Zver rested his backside on the edge of the banquet table in the Athel Hall. His legs stretched before him and crossed at the ankles. With a rare, small smile on his lips, he stared down at his crossed arms, looking at his WristCune, but not truly seeing it. He listened. Eavesdropped, to be exact.
"So this is how Humans do this, on their backs?" That was Therion, always knitting rudeness with playfulness.
"Yes, now hush." Seph. The audio of the WristCune didn't capture the powerful lull of her voice.
"Seph, he's poking me again." Rannik. His exaggerated complaining matched Therion's playfulness.
"Will you two stop it!" Seph again tried to corral them. "We're already squished together. Just get comfortable."
"But I can't." Therion, high and whiny.
"Deal with it." Seph, stern yet giggling.
"He's poking me again!" Rannik, laughing.
"Not my fault it's so long. I was born with it." Therion, always talking about his penis.
"All right, that's it. I'm getting up." She threatened them. Good for her.
Grumbles and protests, followed by promises to be good.
She tamed them somewhat. That surprised him, that a woman accustomed to managing only one man at a time deftly managed two men. Then again, his son and brother acted like children, not like grown men in a clutch.
"You two are terrible. God, are you related?" Seph, scolding them.
"Yes." Therion.
Overlapped by Rannik. "No!"
"I'm his uncle!"
Zver tucked his chin closer to his chest. He heard the pride in Therion's voice as he declared himself Rannik's uncle.
"No way." Seph, sounding shocked. He smirked, sympathizing with her astonishment. "Huh, can't believe I missed that."
"What, because we don't look alike? Rannik's too handsome?"
"Yes, that was it." Zver heard the jibe in her tone. But she sobered. "No, I mean, how you treat each other. Always going at one another, like family."
Gods, to hear her say that...
"Because we are family. Just be happy he's nothing like my brother."
Fucking Therion.
But Seph laughed, so maybe he'd let his brother slide this time.
"You're laughing at my father?" Rannik sounded horrified. He should be.
Zver reconsidered. Should Rannik never laugh at him? He never laughed at his own father.
Seph, baiting him. "Why shouldn't I? Is he someone important?"
He held his breath, waiting to hear what his kin would say. Wanting to know what her response would be.
Someone cleared their throat. Therion. No, Rannik. "He's just... very stern." His son's voice sounded strained.
Well, he deserved that, he supposed.
Sparkling laughter. "Let me just say, with much gladness, that you are nothing like your father."
Seph. She was right. Rannik would be a better man.
Therion, voice pitched far too high to be sincere. "Rannik, do you think it wise to encourage this, er, her?"
He gave a heavy sigh at his brother's idiotic attempt to communicate in code. But he had been thinking along the same lines. That Rannik should trust Seph to value him for himself, not because he's the thane's son.
"I'm not dense." Seph, still laughing. "I've obviously met the man, haven't I? Is he one of the 'entourage' guards? They're all stern. And serious. And sullen."
Yes, they were. He handpicked them from Academe.
"They're career fleetmen." Therion, sounding too confident. He must be doing something lewd or degrading with his hands or facial expression. "They're all that. And excellent spacewalkers."
He'd heard enough. The tuck he rustled up in the galley would get cold. He balanced the stacked food trays with one hand, pleased to find the hatch swung open noiselessly.
The three of them were on the floor, cuddled together like newborn ratka pups. Caught up as they were in spinning tales about Rannik's legendarily stern yet unremarkable father, they'd yet to notice him.
Cooling his expression, he rapped on the metal jamb. All eyes pivoted toward him. Rannik, the only one to rise, popped to his feet.
"Thane," he said, his eyes opened far too wide.
"I brought tuck," he announced and settled into his role like stepping into an old pair of shoes. Zver, The Merriment Killer.
"Bring it on in then!" Therion gestured enthusiastically from the floor. "Did you bring wine, too?"
"I'm still on shift, Therion." His eyes flicked to Seph, wanting to gauge her reaction to his sternness.
She rose from the floor, eyes down. He looked away, lest he be caught staring at her. Earlier, he had greeted the Trine in Prykimis's hangar. Had seen the Trine Athelas in their long skirts, drifting through the dull gray hangar. They had looked like flowers sprouting through cracks in a walkway, out of their element on the spirenought. Seph, though, there was just something so right about seeing her wearing his uniform. She belonged here, with him, on the ship. He felt such satisfaction each time he glimpsed the House Borac patch on her shoulder. The crest suited her. Marked her as one of his own.
He strode into the room, settling the trays on the table. "The food stores are for shit, Therion."
Scuttling over on his knees, Therion pulled a tray toward himself. "Should have sent you to Deleo, but thought it would take too long."
Seph took small, dainty steps to the low table, and knelt down next to Therion. Gods, he wished she had sashayed over to him like that, keeping her eyes on him as she dropped to her knees before him. He wondered if Humans also pleasured each other with their mouths.
"Gotta be better than what I'd been living on." She tugged a tray closer
while she spoke over her shoulder. "And not a word, Rannik. I know you had to pilfer food for me."
Zver, deciding to give Rannik a moment to calm down, selected a tray, then leaned against a wall and tucked in.
Therion shoveled canteen porridge into his mouth and mumbled, "Can Humans even eat this?"
"Well, I—" She lifted the lid and paused. "Oh, this is way worse than what I was eating."
Therion just snickered and bumped her shoulder. "Don't disparage the thane's cooking."
"Oh, Thane... I, well, this looks..." She shoved a spoonful into her mouth. She grimaced. "Dammit, Therion. This is terrible! And you knew."
"Of course I knew." His brother turned to his son. "Rannik, this is terrible. You gotta have some."
It's like Therion also knew Rannik struggled, trying to fit into the new dynamic. Had his brother been this protective the moment Rannik set foot on Prykimis?
"Yeah, sure," Rannik said in a daze, readjusting. "I can eat."
Seph clasped her hand over her mouth and moaned pitifully. "Is this even a grain? Please don't tell me it's protein. It's too grainy to be protein."
"Essential and branched-chain amino acids," Zver answered between heaping spoonfuls. He craved the fuel, not the flavor.
Her hands pressed even tighter to her mouth, her rich brown eyes opened wide. He saw too much white around her irises, finding her very alien, and realized he couldn’t give a damn. He still wanted her.
"What?" she mumbled.
"Cheese and milk," Therion said, mumbling around his own bite. "Relax, it won't kill you. It'll give you gas, like explosive, ass shredding gas, but you'll live."
She closed her eyes, pained. "God, you suck so hard, Therion."
To which his brother laughed, outwardly pleased with her compliment. He turned to Rannik and said in a booming voice, "Eat, boy! Eat! A bounty before you!" He choked on a hacking cough and thumped his own chest.
Seph braced herself over her tray, her hair spilling over her shoulders, jostling and bouncing as she shook with laughter. "Stop it. Someone stop him. I can't eat like this."
"Rocks don't need to eat," Rannik crooned timidly.
Seph gasped, and amazingly, his son chuckled.
"She was so mean," Seph said, eyes wide. "Really, who meets someone for the first time, then calls them a dumb rock? She hates me."