by Bex McLynn
Ah, Vedma, he nodded to himself. He'd have to have a word with her.
Therion, barely recovered from coughing, held up both hands, one crudely imitating a courtesan wave and the other a brawler's fist. He wheezed and feebly said, "You want caro or sard shoved up your arse?"
More laughter.
His WristCune pinged. He didn't bother tilting his arm to view the screen. He already knew who contacted him and how he would reply.
Arana: Dinner. You. Me. Talk ship.
He Cuned off his reply: Unavoidably detained.
Being in the room like this, leaning against the wall and silently refueling, he didn't feel like he had to be prepared for anything at a moment's notice. Yes, his data feed ran in the background, but it always ran in the background. He managed the constant feed the way people managed to hold conversations in a crowded room. He listened to one while hearing the others. The moment, right now, felt unforced. Natural.
He watched Seph give his brother a rough shove—and she probably gave it her all—but the recoil toppled her instead. Gods. She was so damn small. And lively. And rolling on the floor. Her hair moved around her like a separate, living thing.
Huh. Perhaps her hair was alive, a symbiotic species. After encountering Seph, such an unlikely thing would not surprise him.
Dinner. Him. Her. His son. His brother. His battleship.
Just like that, his plan to use Seph as a means to win Prykimis unraveled, coming completely undone.
Zver's last bite of porridge stuck in his throat and tasted like ashes.
Chapter Eleven
Seph exited the sani-stall, wrapped herself in a towel, and turned to face herself in the mirror.
"You are resourceful, Seph," she said to herself. "A dog with two bones. One in the pot and one in the bush." Aw hell. She messed up her idioms. "A hand in both pots with a hand in the bush?" Shit. She began rattling off idioms. "Two birds, one stone. No, wrong one. A bird in the bush means none in the basket? Shit." She closed her eyes. "They're offering you a bone, but it probably comes with a leash."
There. She stuck to one idiomatic theme, dogs. Though, she probably could have used bird dogs...
"Argh!" Her goddamned thoughts and their goddamned inanity!
She yanked open the hatch and stormed out of the lavatory.
Rannik startled. "I'm up!"
The cot, as substantial as a folding beach recliner, ditched Rannik onto the floor, then toppled over top of him.
"Shit, sorry." Seph started toward him to help.
"No, I'm good."
Rannik drudged to his feet. He looked sleepy and disheveled and very adorable. He tried, unsuccessfully, to focus on his WristCune screen.
"Time, I need the time. Shit!" He froze as he gaped in disbelief before erupting into a flurry of motion. "I'm late. I'm gonna be late."
Seph backed up out of his way. "Late for...?"
"Fa—um, the thane and Therion were gonna let me train with them today." He bumped about the room like a pinball. "The thane's schedule's very restrictive. If I miss it—"
"Got it." Seph snapped into emergency response mode. "I'll get you a ration bar. You get into the lav."
"Lav, right," he said in a daze.
"So that you can go..." Seph used both hands to imitate a man at a urinal.
"Go masturbate?"
"Ugh, no. Urinate. I'm assuming, like most species, you gotta pee first thing in the morning."
"Oh, right. Yeah. I do gotta go." Rannik hurdled over the couch and ran into the lavatory.
Seph just looked at the ceiling and groaned. "Kids."
They were the same the universe over. Xander was the exact same way. His body would wake up first. His brain would rise an hour later.
When she heard the appropriate swooshing sounds from the lav, she said loudly, "Hygiene. Teeth and body odor, Rannik. Address both."
He mumbled an acknowledgment.
She tucked her towel tighter for good measure, then hunted down his boots and a few ration bars. He'd have to wear what he slept in, which was fortunately his uniform.
She opened the hatch that led into the Athel Hall and stuck just her head around the jamb to wave to her 'entourage.'
"Morning, fellas!" she said cheerily. "Clear a path for Rannik. He's coming in hot."
She'd used too much Earth jargon, but the fleetmen got the gist of it and braced themselves. Which pretty much meant no one stood directly in front of a door. The fleetmen across the Athel Hall did swing open the hatch to the corridor and checked to make sure the passage was clear.
Rannik streaked past her, snagging his boots and bars as he ran.
"Hey!" She snatched at her towel before it fell.
"Sorry, Seph! See you later! Cune me if..." The rest was lost as he sprinted into the corridor and out of sight.
"He said to Cune if you need anything," the fleetman at the door informed her.
Face flushed red, towel secured, Seph once more leaned out, revealing only her head. She did her best to keep her bare shoulders hidden from view. "Much obliged, fleetman."
She ducked out of sight, paused, and popped her head back out. "Pardon, but what's your name? I've forgotten."
"Strike Captain Wies, m'lady."
Wies's professional mien gave Seph no indication if she surprised him by asking for his name or if she disappointed him because she hadn't remembered it. He was a totally cool operator.
And m'lady! Fancy, but very much not her cup of tea.
"You can call me Seph, Strike Captain Wies."
"'Fraid I can't do that, m'lady."
Okay, then. "How about ma'am?"
"That's not a word, m'lady."
"Miss Seph?"
"No, m'lady."
Seph grumbled and pulled back from the jamb. All right, she had to use her brain for two seconds and actually apply the lessons learned from past mistakes. If Wies's regulations had him calling her m'lady, she should let it be. Besides, she wouldn't be a ladyship forever. She should enjoy it while she could.
"All right, you win this time, Strike Captain Wies," she yelled out to him.
"Always knew I would, m'lady. And plain Captain Wies will do."
"Smartass," she said with a smile and colored when the men in the Hall chuckled, obviously having heard her.
She kicked the hatch closed and proceeded to get dressed in her only uniform. Arana promised to take her planet-side shopping on Radost, once the Trine finished their 'trials.'
When she strapped on her WristCune, she saw a message from Arana.
Arana: Clutch talk.
The message included a meeting time, about an hour before the Trine would meet with her in the Athel Hall for her daily 'trials.' Just like Rannik, she was late to her meeting with Arana.
Seph snagged her own ration bar and flew through the door.
"Hey guys! I need to get to—" When she referenced her WristCune, she almost ran into a chair. "Dammit! I need to get to the Aft Observation Deck." An icy feeling moved through her. She looked at Wies. "This ship has an observation deck? As in big windows to look outside the ship?"
"Yes, m'lady." Wies's meaty hands rested comfortably on the hilt of his assault rifle that was strapped to his flak jacket, and his bulky frame easily maintained a state of active rest.
"Of course it does," Seph said to herself. Doing her best to ignore the prickly sensation moving over her skin, she asked, "Could you take me there? I'm meeting Lady Arana."
"Just a moment, m'lady." Wies slightly turned away, speaking into his C-Cune. He turned back to her. "Good to go, m'lady. Keibin, you're on point. Frouros and Sowar, secure the Hall and Chamber."
A chorus of masculine ayes resonated through Seph, having an oddly calming effect on her nerves.
Her little group started out, Keibin walking with focused purpose. The corridor seemed less congested today compared to two days ago, when Zver escorted her through. Almost all the crewmen she passed wore the crisp, clean uniforms of House Borac. Made her wonde
r where Prykimis's crew could possibly be.
She felt a dull throb, causing her to stumble.
Wies stooped over her—one hand on her shoulder, one on the butt of his rifle. "M'lady?"
Seph blinked, phosphenes flashing whether her eyes remained opened or closed.
"I—" Two more rapid blinks, and the glittering lights stopped. "I'm fine, Wies." Seph stood straight, certainty coursing through her body, wiping away her trepidation of going to the observation deck. "Is most of Prykimis's crew in the berth?"
Wies, his composure still solid, said, "Affirmative. We're skirting around that area of the ship, though."
"We're taking an alternate route?"
"The best route, m'lady."
Well, she supposed that answered her question. Walking her past the general berthing could be like traipsing past the lion's den.
"Okay. I'm good. We can keep moving," she said.
As he straightened, his C-Cune beeped and her WristCune pinged.
Wies mumbled into his C-Cune and then said, "Lady Arana's transport's been delayed."
Seph skimmed the message she received. "Yep. I got the same. So, shall we carry on or turn back?"
"Your call, m'lady."
But Seph caught the shared glance between Wies and Keibin, who had been standing alert the whole time with his eyes scanning the corridor. Wies tipped his chin toward his C-Cune, listening, and Seph just knew what came next.
When Wies looked down at her, she sighed. "It's no longer my call, is it? I've been thaned." She gave Wies a moment to react to her term, but his composure didn't crack. She sighed again. "The thane wants me to report to sickbay, doesn't he? You told him about my little stumble."
"That I did, m'lady," Wies said without a trace of compunction.
Seph sighed again, long and labored. "You win again, Wies. Lead the way."
The corner of Wies's mouth twitched. Well, the score was now two to one, Wies in the lead.
"Submedic Feldser's gonna meet us in the Athel Hall," he said as he signaled Keibin to lead them back.
Only, a maintenance cart and several haggard looking men blocked the corridor. One man fidgeted with a panel. The other three glowered at Seph.
"Clear the corridor," Wies said.
"This'll just take a second, sir," said the man prying the panel open. "Got orders from—"
"Clear the corridor, now!" Wies bellowed, leaving no margin for push back.
"Hey now." A man advanced, hands held out before him. "We're just doing our job here. Just like you gotta do yours. This repair's critical." His eyes flicked to Seph.
"[Byflow conduit forty-seven, gamma deck. Online.]"
Prykimis said 'online.' Meaning, it's operating just fine? A shiver crept up Seph's neck.
She reached out, placing her hand on Wies's back. "Wies, I think—"
Above them, a conduit broke, flooding the space with gray smoke. A shout went out as the panel flew toward them, striking Keibin on the shoulder. His first volley of fire redirected toward the wall.
Wies shoved her down to the deck, her shoulder taking the bruising impact. He braced over her.
Fast and heavy footfalls vibrated the deck beneath her palms.
Wies shouted. "They're flanking us!"
The maintenance cart careened toward them, and Wies lunged, twisting to take the brunt with his back, yet still protected her. He grunted in pain as he slammed into the wall.
A sharp tug on her collar knocked Seph flat on her back. Someone held her jacket and dragged her through the smoke.
"Wies!" She flailed and tried to gain purchase on the grated floor.
Another wall conduit blew, spraying her attacker with heated steam. The man cried out, dropping Seph and curling in on himself. Kicking at him, she scuttled back, stumbled, fell, and stumbled again. Once on her feet, she ran. The smoke seemed never-ending. Heavy footsteps hit the deck behind her. She was too scared to turn and see if it was Wies or someone else.
Sobbing, she saw a dead-end before her. A slim panel slid open, and she dove inside, banging her chin and scraping her hands. An enraged shout snapped her attention toward the corridor. Men in torn gray uniforms barreled down on her. She was trapped.
Therion's words spiked through her. If any of the grunts on this ship asks you to join 'em in the closet...
She screamed in terror.
The panel slid shut, enclosing her in darkness.
Seph cowered as they hammered on the panel. They hollered vicious names. Promised to do painful things. She sank down onto her heels and covered her head with her arms.
Go away. Go away. Go away.
So much awful noise. Followed by silence.
The overwhelming urge to flee faded away.
The panel slid open. Dim light and smoke outlined the massive figure in the corridor. She bolted, desperate to get out of the darkness. Strong arms caught her.
Rannik.
Her mind melted as she wrapped her limbs about him.
"Seph," said a deep voice. A very deep voice. Deeper than Rannik's youthful version of the Teras rumble. This voice sank into her skin and rattled her bones.
Seph took stock. Yes, Rannik was taller than her, but he wasn't this wide or muscled. Whoever held her, she clutched him about his broad shoulders, not the neck. Her hands, splayed across his back, couldn't connect to reinforce her hold on him. She glanced down, noting massive tree trunk legs and the dizzying distance to the deck below.
Not Rannik.
All right, then.
Like flipping a switch, she went berserk. All her limbs burst into action, flailing and kicking, each its own entity determined to survive. No coordinated effort. Every body part for itself.
Her attacker answered her panicked scream with a rough grunt. She felt his balance shift as he staggered backward, then a surge of agility that twisted them about and left her pinned to the deck. The man collapsed onto her, holding her down.
"Cease!" he said roughly.
With a wracked sob, she tried. She tried so damn hard to recenter and let her limbs go limp. But it took something from inside her. She had to surrender, and she had been fighting since the moment she woke from the cryo-bin. She wasn't sure she knew how to just give in.
"I'm trying."
"Try harder."
But her panic didn't relent. The phosphenes flashed before her eyes again. One blink. Two. She could see.
"Thane?" She reached for him. Somehow her puny human strength managed to pull him down, and once again she snaked herself about his body. "Oh god."
She sobbed.
He held her, making soothing sounds deep in his chest. She trembled and tried to slow her breathing. He hummed steadily, chest to chest, until she stopped shaking. Her limbs ached, yet felt limp, and his body contact infused her with an icy-hot sensation, like a good rub down after exercising. So she gave herself up to gravity and pooled beneath him.
Damn. He wasn't supposed to see her like this again. Weak. Needy. Snotty.
But god help her, she was still so glad to see him.
He raised himself up some, braced over her using his hands and knees, and hovered protectively. Good god, she saw nothing but him. He filled her entire view, his swirling eyes constantly moving as he looked her over. His sculpted shoulders and arms bunched, like springs ready to unload. Bearing his weight on one hand, he gently smoothed her hair from her face. Even removed the strands plastered to her sticky, wet cheeks.
Seph swallowed and wished she could drink some water before she spoke, but she knew he waited for her to do something. To communicate her status.
Her eyes drifted over him. No jacket. Stretched over his torso was a white, short-sleeved shirt that was stained and torn. Mesmerized, she noted the sweat coating his skin, the cuts and gashes on his arms, and the astounding fact that Teras blood oozed magenta.
"Um, did you run here?"
The thane huffed, like it was his first exhale in life, and arched an eyebrow. After all that, this is what you say
?
"What are you doing here?" Her tongue was as loose as her languid limbs.
He frowned at her, a muscle ticked in his jaw. "I'm taking you to Lekar."
Her mind rolled with her head as he gathered her up. She fought to stay lucid. "Did Wies page you or something?"
"Page?" He scoffed, pulling her into his arms as he stood.
"Where is he? Is he all right?"
"Fine." He began walking. Smoke and heavily armored fleetmen filled the corridor.
Seph did her best to examine each man she passed. Some looked at her. Some averted their eyes. "Where are the guards?"
"The brig."
"What? Why?" The thane resettled her in his arms without breaking stride. "They did nothing wrong. They protected me."
He marched on. "They're dragging those dead-fucks to the brig."
"Oh."
He carried her in silence. The thane's fleetmen flanked them, using hand signals and short bursts of commands to clear the way ahead. Armed guards secured each intersection prior to the thane's arrival. They had the deck lift opened and waiting. She heard chatter that a transport idled in the hangar. The thane didn't speak a word, and she couldn't tell if his men had responded to wordless orders or were just that proficient at anticipating the thane's needs.
And her mind—her stupid, insecure consciousness—retreated from the present. It created a fantasy and coddled her with it. Prykimis's corridors morphed into the halls of her high school. The strapping man holding her became a strapping teenager. Her mind cushioned her in a memory that never happened. No one ever carried her through the halls like a rescued princess. Thew, Xander's father, never traipsed down the hall with her tucked under his arm. He wasn't there to tell the truth when her classmates called her a lying slut. When girls cornered her in the bathroom stall and called her a whoring wannabe. When no believed that Matthew Kirkmeyer, homecoming king and three-time all-state baller, had gotten her pregnant.
Countless minutes stretched by as the thane strode through the ship. The alarm lights flashed again, so she closed her eyes and tucked her face into the crook of his shoulder. When they entered the hangar, she felt the temperature drop and heard the roar of a transport engine. Gravity pulled at her as he walked up the ramp.