Temina’s face paled. “Blood draw? But Doc, I don’t like needles.”
She tried to smile again. She hadn’t gotten the hang of it yet, though she’d been human for nearly three years. “It’s quick and easy. A small poke to your finger. Then we’re done.”
Trembling, Temina held out his hand to her. Lian’s sympathy for the other man swelled. He shouldn’t have made Temina meet Doc so soon. Understanding and compassion. He needed to remember Temina was different from the others of the crew.
Doc grabbed a small needle from one of the drawers, then pressed it quickly to Temina’s thumb. It couldn’t have hurt much, but Temina still whimpered. Doc applied a white strip of paper to the blood, then put it inside a metal scanner.
“And done,” Doc said.
“Thanks, Doc,” Lian said. “Come on, Temina. Let’s get you back to the engine room.”
Temina stood and put his shirt and jacket back on. He followed Lian to the door.
When the door closed behind them, Lian and Temina both took a deep breath.
Lian turned to the mechanic. “Temina, I’m sorry I made you do that right now. I should have waited a day or two, to allow you time to adjust to things on the ship. It’s hard to remember to treat you differently.”
Temina stood up straight—putting him just a hair taller than Lian—and he glared. “Why should you treat me different, Captain? Because I’m young? I bet some of the trainees are even younger. Because I’m from ‘uncivilized’ Tallahassee? I’m sure some of the humanoids on board have customs stranger than mine.”
Surprised by Temina’s defensiveness, Lian held up his hands. “I meant no offense, Temina. The reason is you don’t have any experience in the daily activities of a spaceliner. Every crew member either started at the academy, or they have years of training on actual missions. You’re new to this. It’s understandable if it takes you time to learn the ins and outs.”
Temina shook his head roughly, causing his two tails to bounce. “I refuse to be treated like a child. True, I don’t have the same background as your other crewmembers. But that doesn’t mean I should be penalized.”
“It’s not a penalty. It’s like I said to Doc, understanding and compassion.”
“No. I want to be treated like everyone else, Captain.”
Lian said candidly, “Your terror of everything around you is obvious. You looked ready to pass out when Doc mentioned a blood draw—in fact, you did when I mentioned it at Regulation too. You’re shaking, and you have been since we got into the pitch in Tallahassee. Even your skin is pale. If you’re not careful, the stress of this will make you sick.”
Finally, Temina lowered his head and hunched his shoulders. The little spark of indignation had fled. “I chose to do this, Captain. I knew what was going to happen, and I still made this decision. To treat me different would make my choice meaningless. It lowers me.” He glanced up and met Lian’s eyes. “Yes, I’m scared. I’m terrified. But I am so, so happy to be here.”
Lian sighed. “Okay, okay. You’ve made a good point. No special treatment. However, I do want you to know that there are people you can talk to. We have several chaplains, if you’re the religious sort. We have a therapist—besides Doc—who can help you sort through these anxieties. And if it’s the crew that’s bothering you, you can talk to me. I’ll help in any way I can.”
Temina’s gray eyes softened. “Thank you, Captain Hartford. I won’t let you down.”
“The rest of the crew calls me by my first name. You can, as well.”
Temina nodded. “I better get back to the engine room. I have a lot I need to learn.”
“Good idea. Dismissed.”
Temina hustled to the closest elevator and disappeared inside it. The man was an enigma. So vulnerable and innocent, but so determined and headstrong. What an odd combination. Lian toyed with the idea of returning to sickbay and scolding his mother, but decided against it. She was too old to change her ways. Hopefully if Temina visited her again, they wouldn’t come to blows.
Lian went to the opposite elevator and headed to the bridge.
Chapter 8
GIN LOOKED up from the screen when he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned and looked up into Syrin’s shaggy face.
“Shift’s over,” Syrin said, his voice oddly smooth for a Toltec. “The next crew is here now.”
Gin appraised the new batch. They were just as mixed as the first shift—a few humans, a few humanoids. “Can you introduce me before you leave?”
Angela came up beside them. “You’re not going to get something to eat?”
“I’d rather stay here a bit longer.”
Syrin shook his head. “You should eat something. Take a break, get some food in you, then come back down, if you must.”
Gin didn’t want to leave the engines, but his stomach rumbled. He sighed. “That’s a good idea, Syrin. You’re heading up to eat too?”
“Yeah. Angie and I would love it if you joined us.”
“Sure.”
Before they left, though, Syrin did introduce him to the next batch. The Class Two members were Betha and Tesseen—a human and an Empatai. The Class Ones were Frethnor, Petra, and Curtis—a Ruvario, a human, and a mix. Curtis’s large ears suggested a Cylas heritage, though his eyes were very human. They all greeted Gin cordially, then went to their designated workstations.
“I’ll be back in a bit,” he told Betha and Tesseen. Then he followed Syrin and Angela up the ladder.
When they got to the bridge, there was a flurry of motion. Gin paused, wondering if the activity meant something was wrong. But Captain Lian sat on the edge of the metal table, his arms folded. He wasn’t issuing orders or telling the crew to fire the torpedoes. So all had to be well. The captain didn’t even glance their way as they went to the elevator.
Once inside, Gin turned to his coworkers. “Can you explain to me how the schedule normally works? I mean, if you work eight hours, then you’re off for eight hours, when do you fit in all the things you need to do?”
Syrin laughed, low and rumbly. “There’s nothing we need to do, Temina. Life is surprisingly simple when you’re up here. Right now, I’ll eat, then go sleep for four hours. That’ll give me enough time to shower and grab another meal before next shift.”
Angela nodded. “You’ll find a rhythm to it. Before long, you won’t even remember it being any other way.”
They exited the elevator and headed to the first set of double doors that led to the mess hall. Angela pushed the door open and held it for Gin to pass through. The room was large—though half the size of the bridge below. A dozen tables were spaced around the room. Only a few had occupants, since half the crew would be at their shift right now, but Gin knew it would fill up soon.
“Grab me something,” Angela said, then went to save a table.
Syrin nodded, then led Gin over to the processors. There were several stations against the wall to accommodate the crew during peak mealtimes. Gin walked up to one and tapped the screen. The selection was larger than Gin expected. A better model than he’d had at home, for sure. He perused the options and settled on salmon and rice.
Glancing over at Syrin showed the Toltec had chosen a roasted bird of some sort, and a plate of pasta.
Syrin caught Gin staring and lifted the tray with the bird. “Captain Lian made sure to include many dishes from my home world. This is called prinket, a rare delicacy, usually. You should try it sometime.”
“Maybe,” Gin said. He wasn’t a picky eater, but trying such foreign foods might not be the best idea.
Before heading to their table, they each selected a drink. Gin’s was plain water, Syrin’s a greenish liquid, and Angela’s something pale blue.
“Finally,” Angela said as they joined her. Syrin pushed her plate across the table. “Thanks, Sy.” She took a long drink of the blue concoction. When she set it down, she regarded Gin. “So, what’s your story?”
Gin froze with a bite of his salmon halfway to his mou
th. “What do you mean?”
“You’re, what? Fifteen?”
Gin sat up straighter. “I’m twenty-one.” Luckily, he remembered to give Temmy’s age. Still, fifteen was an insult.
“And you didn’t graduate from the academy?”
“No.”
“Exactly,” she said, as if that proved her point. “So, what’s your story? Even the captain mentioned you being a prodigy.”
Gin shrugged and took a bite of his meal. The fish was perfect. No way of telling it was completely artificial. “I don’t know. I just like machines.”
Syrin said, “Like like machines?”
Angela gave him a little slap on his shoulder, saving Gin from answering that question.
“My dad had a garage,” Gin said instead. “I grew up watching him, mimicking him. I could unscrew a thrust panel before I could feed myself.”
“Then why not go to the academy?” Syrin asked.
Angela snorted. “If he’d gone to the academy, he’d still be a recruit. He’s coming in as a Class Three. I think he picked the better option.”
“It wasn’t like that,” Gin said. “Growing up, it was always me and my sister. I never gave a thought to leaving her.”
“Why did you now?” Angela asked.
Now it was Syrin who lightly pushed Angela’s shoulder. “Don’t pry.”
She glared at him, but Gin chuckled. “I don’t mind, Syrin.” He took a deep breath, feeling like he was finally getting it off his chest. “It was time for us to separate. We could only go so far together. Apart, I think we can both reach our full potential.”
The spirit of his words was accurate. He never would have been given an honest chance if he stayed with Temmy. Whether she succeeded without him was much more certain. She’d never relied on his help in the first place.
“It’s hard,” Syrin agreed, nodding. “My litter was large, even by Toltec standards. Fifteen of us. You get used to them being there. Functioning without them is difficult at first. It does get better.”
Gin smiled, relieved that someone understood. “I know it will, which is why I was able to take those first steps away from her.”
“That makes you brave, in my opinion. Venturing out into the unknown by yourself.”
Angela rolled her eyes. “He’s hardly alone, Sy. Still, let us know if there’s anything we can do to help you.”
“Thanks, Angela. The captain said the same thing too.”
Angela and Syrin shared a look.
“What?” Gin asked.
Syrin turned to Gin slowly. “What are the exact words the captain told you?”
“He said he had to remember to treat me differently, on account of my inexperience. But I told him not to. I don’t want to be the odd guy out. That’s unfair. He relented, but said I could come and talk to him if I needed help.”
“Captain Lian?” Angela asked, enunciating each syllable of the captain’s name.
“Yeah. Why are you guys staring at me like that? Did I do something wrong?” Hell and high heaven! He couldn’t even go half a day without fucking something up, even… what… a couple thousand miles from Earth? He was destined to be a failure.
Syrin gently shook his head. “Nothing wrong, really. It’s just out of character for the captain to show that kind of interest.”
A grin broke out on Angela’s lips. “Hey, you must be the captain’s type! I didn’t know he was capable of being into another person.”
Gin glowered. “Don’t make fun. There’s no way the captain is thinking of me like that.”
“I’ve never met anyone as hard as Captain Lian,” Syrin said. “And I’ve served under several captains, including the admiral of the Toltec fleet. His sudden change of attitude has to come from somewhere.”
“You’re being ridiculous. The captain can’t possibly—”
“Temina,” said the captain’s cold, formal voice from out of nowhere.
Gin jumped up in surprise, his hands already up in an apologetic gesture. Just his luck that the captain would be close enough to hear them gossiping. When he turned, ready to prostrate himself and beg forgiveness, no one was there.
When Gin looked back to his companions, both Syrin and Angela were laughing.
“Temina!” said the voice again, sharper this time.
Then Gin understood. The call badge. He pressed his fingers to the metal insignia on his sleeve and raised it to his lips. “Yes, Captain?”
“Report to my quarters at once.”
Gin’s stomach did a flip flop, and not because of the identical, knowing smiles on Angela’s and Syrin’s faces. Gin hadn’t known a Toltec could smirk like that.
No, the hollow pit in his gut was from the tone in the captain’s voice—very different from the harsh orders to visit Doc. This was filled with barely concealed fury. Why hadn’t Syrin and Angela picked up on it?
“I gotta go,” Gin told them. “My dishes….”
Angela waved a hand. “We’ll get it. You better hurry along.” She even winked at him.
Gin swallowed to keep from vomiting. He didn’t trust his voice. He nodded to them, then set off on shaking legs to the nearest elevator.
Chapter 9
WITH HIS fist pressed to his chest in a salute, Lian ended the communication with First Capillto—the leader of the Dalmin council. The screen went blank and Lian lowered his hand. The First still evaded many of the lines of discussion Lian posed, but that was expected. The face-to-face meeting would be when they finalized this treaty. For now, they made vague statements that only hinted at their true motives. The fact the Dalmin were even willing to talk let Lian know he had a chance. No other negotiation with the often-hostile race had reached this stage.
The jump to the Helix Galaxy was another three days away, losing him a valuable two months. He had to ensure the First was as close to agreeing as possible. If they were still uncertain, a lot could change in that time frame.
A soft chirp sounded from the com screen. It meant an internal call. Trish, likely, but discreet in case he was still in discussions with First Capillto. Lian hit the button beside the screen and blinked when it pulled up Candi’s face.
“Captain,” she said formally. “You’re done with the Dalmin communication?”
“Yes, Lieutenant.”
“With your permission, I’ll patch through a call from Earth.”
“Earth?” The only people he knew on Earth were his maternal grandparents, and they’d never called in all his twenty-seven years of life. “Go ahead.”
The screen flashed from Candi’s face to one equally feminine. The stranger’s cheeks were red and blotchy, her eyes wide. Lian did a double take when he saw her long blonde hair pulled into two tails beside her ears.
“Temina?” he said, before he could stop himself. That was ridiculous. Temina was probably still in the engine room. But the face was almost identical, down to her storm-gray eyes. Then it clicked. This has to be Gin, Temina’s little sister.
The woman dipped her head. “Are you Captain Hartford, of the Bethany?” she asked, voice quivering.
“I am. But what are you—”
“Oh hell and high heaven!” she cut in, her tone ceasing its trembling and turning to a rough rumble. “Finally! Now, where is my brother?”
“Ms. Oshwald, your brother is safe.”
She puffed up and drew her brows down. “No, he’s not, because he’s out in space instead of at home! How in the hell did you let this happen, Captain?”
Lian blinked. Somehow, he felt like he was on the losing end of this conversation. Temina’s nervous and deflated personality made a little more sense in the face of this woman.
“He was cleared for this mission. He made the choice to accept my offer.”
“He never would have agreed to your terms,” she countered. “He’s little more than a child, unable to understand the complications and consequences of adult life. He had to be led, or convinced.”
Lian didn’t like her implied accusatio
ns. “He signed all the paperwork. I never forced his hand. In fact, he seemed particularly eager to join me.”
That stopped her cold. “He wouldn’t.”
“Ms. Oshwald, the strained relationships in your family are none of my concern. I suggest you call your brother yourself and sort it out without involving me.”
He almost ended the call when something she said wiggled in the back of his mind. Little more than a child. Humanity was different from the Quifante in regard to their offspring. On Earth, children were adults at eighteen; Quifante were considered capable of taking care of themselves at age twelve. That was the leading factor in Lian’s own status in the Order of Right. He’d had an early start. But Temina was twenty-one, well over that dividing line.
Perhaps she meant Temina’s odd quirks. They could be childlike.
“Your brother is plenty old enough, even by your standards.”
Surprisingly, Gin shook her head. “He only turned eighteen two weeks ago. He hasn’t had the time to grow up yet.”
“Temina is twenty-one. My records indicate that.”
She nodded.
Lian raised his eyebrow. “How is that not old enough?”
Gin’s eyes flew open wide and her mouth worked soundlessly. Temina had explained the situation, that it had been the two of them since their parents died. Gin obviously couldn’t deal with the stress of being on her own.
After a few nonsensical words escaped her throat, Gin croaked out, “I am Temina Oshwald.”
Lian wouldn’t have been more shocked if Mother returned to being Father. He actually stuttered. “W-w-what?”
“I’m Temina! My brother, Gin, disappeared after he blew up our billy-crawler! I’ve been worried sick, wondering where he ran off to. This morning, Paulie remembered a captain asking after me, and now it’s making sense. Gin somehow convinced you he was me!”
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