by Rose, Renee
“If we waited a solar cycle, she’d be more acclimated.”
“If we waited half a solar cycle, she’d be dead.” He snorts. “Of boredom, or her own hand, perhaps. She’s not able to sit idle. You know that.”
I nod. “She’s like fire. You can’t contain her.”
“If we can just steer her in the right direction.” He sounds hopeful as he gestures with both hands, mimicking a trajectory. “Get her aligned with us.”
“Yes.” I clear my throat.
“And as for Mykl, he does what he’s told to do, as do we. A loyal subject and warrior.”
“Indeed.” I roll my eyes. “I think he needs a mate. It would make him less testy.”
“Is that working for us?” He laughs. “I think we’re more edgy than ever.”
“A temporary problem, brother.” I slap him on the back. “Keep in mind that our mate is probably the most crazy, dangerous one on the planet.”
“Trust us to choose that situation.”
I consider this. “We always select the most dangerous, rewarding missions. Why should our personal lives be different?”
He tilts his head. “Good point.” Then he smiles at me and slaps my shoulder. “And I can’t imagine a better partner for it all.”
“Nor can I.” I slap my arm over his shoulder, too, and for a second we stand there, intertwined, in a way that makes my heart full.
Although I’ve worked alongside Domm for solar cycles, consider him my blood brother, this is the most personal, intimate conversation we’d had in…ever. And I like it. Instead of making me feel weak, the bond we share empowers me.
“We can make anything work if we match both of our minds against it.” He steps away from me and goes back to the flight console.
“Which is a good thing, given the fact that we need to avoid Ocretion pirates and steal one of their ships without taking damage to our craft or ourselves.”
“Child’s play, I tell you.” He laughs, and I do too, because there’s nothing else to do. It’s really one of the more difficult technical challenges we’ve ever faced.
Chapter 10
Mirelle
“Can you please hand me the, ah, what is that called?” I point to the laser-guided mini-rivet attacher.
The human beside me sighs. “I already told you several times. It’s a laze guide.”
She shares a glance with the other human to her right. “And you’ll have to hold it carefully so it doesn’t interfere with your cuff.”
“I’m aware. Thank you.” My voice is stiff and I hold out my hand. “May I?”
“Be our guest. Take anything you like, Mirelle. We are here at your complete disposal.” Her voice is polite enough, but I can read the fuck you buried in the tone.
These women hate me and they don’t even know me.
I reach over and take it, since she’s clearly not going to hand it over.
“Try not to cause a fire.” She smiles to her friend.
Amber and Kianna. Both muscular, tall. And with cuff-free wrists, unlike me. A fact they remind me of as often as they can. At least a few times a planet rotation.
“Give it some more practice.” Amber smiles at my attempt and the spark that flashes out as I slip, letting the tool scratch the metal below. “You’ll get it…eventually.” She makes a sound. “What, it’s only been a few weeks, right? I’m sure you’ll get the hang of it.”
“If you really want to, that is.” Her friend—Kianna—crosses her arms and frowns at me.
“What is that supposed to mean?” I put down the tool and stare at her.
“What do you think it means?” Kianna doesn’t back down. Instead, she comes closer, until we’re practically nose to nose. If we weren’t in this place, I think she’d want to fight me. And damn, but I think she’d be a good match. I’ve watched her walk, and I like the way she scans her environment. If we were back on Jesel, I’d take her on as a sparring partner immediately. Teach her everything I know.
She continues. “It means that if you try to mess anything up, you’ll deal with us, first, before you deal with the Zandians.”
I put up my hands. “I’m not here to cause any trouble.”
“Sure.” She rolls her eyes.
“What is your problem?” My voice goes up. “Have I done anything in the past few weeks that gives you cause to worry?”
“Well, other than the fact that you jeopardized a Zandian craft with two of our best warriors, interfered with a human rescue mission, and then somehow connived them into actually taking you as a mate?” Her eyebrows go up. “Not at all, Mirelle.”
“I just want to learn how to do this.” I wave my hand at the table, at the comm units, the random wires and pieces strewn across the table. “Use my skills. Help out here.”
“I bet you do. So, learn.” She nods to Amber. “Let’s go.” She turns back to me. “When we return, all three of us are taking a trip out to the quarry by the woods. We need more ore to smelt into mag-3.”
The two of them walk out, giggling to each other, leaning in like they’re sisters.
They never invite me to lunch with them, and I end up eating alone at my work station. I don’t know where they go. I never ask, and they don’t offer details.
I watch them go. Feel a pang in my chest at the way they’re so tight together. Then I take a deep breath and pick up the tool, and the sample comm unit, and the manual, which is full of tiny ciphers that make me squint and focus hard. They didn’t even ask if I could cipher when I first came. Either they assumed I could, or they hoped to embarrass me. Scare me away.
I don’t scare easily. And I can figure this out, even without help. I can cipher in several different languages. It’s what I’ve done all my life, and truth is, I generally work better alone anyway.
I bend forward. I’m at step one of a few thousand. I’ll just take it one minute at a time, and before I know it I’ll be at the finish line.
* * *
Mirelle
I glance left and right, then slide out my hand and grab the resistor pack. It's the work of a second to tuck it into my tunic.
This is the last piece I need, and then my own personal uni-scanner will be complete. And I don’t feel the slightest bit of guilt. It’s the only way I can find out what’s happening on Jesel.
I’m alone for the moment, and it’s risky, but I can’t resist. I pop the component into place and then hit the button. Scan. Hold my breath. My heart pounds so fast that I feel breathless.
A second later, images and ciphers scroll down the digiscreen, intercepts of non-hidden communications. Various languages and symbols, many of which I can’t make sense. The ones in Ocretion are mostly junk: Flight path data for craft landing on nearby planets, boring tower data.
But tears come to my eyes when I see it, because this is my link. Now I'm connected to the universe with my fingertips. I can see what’s happening beyond Zandia. No longer a pure prisoner, I can at least know what’s happening beyond my gilded cage.
I put a hand to my mouth as the symbols dance and flow, rows of 1s and 0s, then Occ ciphers, then squiggles that might be Mayorian. I’m in.
“I’m coming back, Iselle,” I whisper, touching the flame at my neck. “I’m coming.”
* * *
Domm
“Do you want to visit Alanna and Cassie, the humans you tried to steal from Archer?”
The words are barely out of my mouth and Mirelle leaps at me. “Yes!”
I laugh and stagger, wrapping my arms around her. “Easy there, little warrior. They’re eager to see you, too.”
“Where are they? At Archer’s home?” Her eyes scan mine. Then she looks away. “Are they mad at me?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Because they like it here, right? And I nearly took them away from this. All.” She waves her hand toward our window, the city. “I was only trying to help.” She raises her voice.
I contemplate this. “Archer did not make it seem so, when we spo
ke. He merely said they are adjusting well.”
“I bet they don’t wear cuffs.” She touches hers.
“No,” I confirm. “Are you ready?”
I always try to change the subject when she brings up the cuffs, because it leads to arguments.
“I’m always ready.” But she grabs a bag. “Even more ready.” She looks at me and explains, "Bayla gave me some sugar sweets. I’d like to share them.”
I smile and shake my head. “Let’s go.”
* * *
When we reach Archer’s home, I usher Mirelle in.
She nods at Archer. “Greetings.” She adjusts her bag on her shoulder several times and looks at me, then at the floor. She glances at the two humans. “Hello.” Her voice is low and a little squeaky.
I hope her worries are assuaged when Alanna rushes up to hug her. “Mirelle!” Her voice is warm, fond. “It’s so good to see you again.” She laughs. “Well, in better circumstances for us both.” She’s so changed. I would barely recognize her as the shuddering, terrified dirty being on that ramshackle ship. No, now she’s full of grace and confidence. Her face exudes happiness.
The daughter—Cassie—holds back, though, then starts to cry. Archer scoops her up in his arms and murmurs to her, then grabs a toy from the side hoverdisk, something soft and puffy with a face. Apparently human children like replicas of animals. How odd. Maybe all young like those, I have no idea.
“Papa,” she whimpers. Something in my heart twists as I watch Archer soothe this tiny human. It’s remarkable to see him with a young like this, such a fierce warrior capable of such devotion. It makes me wish for—
But Mirelle makes a sound of distress, a small oh, and I turn to her, the need to comfort in my hands. “It’s all right,” I say. “She’s just remembering the ship, probably. The Ocretion.” I pull her to my side, ready to snarl at the tiny child for upsetting my mate.
“No.” Archer shakes his head, his deep voice rumbling. “She’s scared of every new being. It will pass in time as she gets more used to life here.”
Alanna goes back to her daughter, and the look she gives her, and to Archer, makes me wistful. Mirelle holds something back from us, I know it. This human has given herself completely over. But then, Alanna was a slave. Here, she’s free. Mirelle was free, and here she’s in cuffs.
Mirelle still seems tentative. “You’re happy?” she asks, her voice uncertain.
“Yes. Come sit and I’ll tell you about what’s happening.” Alanna pulls Mirelle by the hand. “I have fruit from a friend’s homestead. Berries. You’ll love them, I promise. And I have to tell you about how I’m learning to cipher.”
As the two of them sit, Mirelle’s posture changes. Her shoulders straighten up, and she smiles more. Gestures, and finally laughs. When the two of them lean in and giggle about something, I let out a breath. It’s going to be all right.
It surprises me how much I care about Mirelle’s feelings and how others see her. I want her to fit in here, to be liked, as well as to like. I want her to be part of Zandia. Need it.
Part of me is frustrated. Alanna fits in here so perfectly, and she did it so fast. Why the veck can’t we help Mirelle do it, too?
I want to roar and bash something, but I force myself to remain calm. We’ll make it happen, Lanz and I. I’m the calmer one of the two of us, and I need to keep even so we can reach our goals.
Chapter 11
Mirelle
The trip out to the quarry for ore is as tense as I could have expected. Kianna and Amber are terse, barely talking to me.
“You wait here,” Kianna tells me.
“She’s not supposed to ever be in a craft unattended,” Amber reminds her.
“Right. Follow me, then.” Kianna rolls her eyes. We step out of the craft into a field of blowing grass. The woods are miles away, the trees dark and twisted into a smudge on the horizon, foreboding. But the sun is bright and hot, the breeze brisk, and the stones of the quarry sparkle.
“This”—Amber points, as if she’d rather not tell me anything—“is our best place to gather the ore we need for the magnetic parts. It’s really just scattered on the surface and is easy to get.” She jogs over and puts on a pair of heavy gloves. She calls back, “You two bring the canisters.”
“It seems like a waste of your time, though, to have to gather your own supplies.” I do it myself on Jesel out of necessity, but here the division of labor is more elegant.
Kianna shrugs. “Everyone needs a diversion from time to time. I like getting out here, anyway. It’s pretty.”
She stands with her hands on her hips surveying the area.
She’s right; although it’s desolate in a way, it’s open, the grass extending for miles, swaying and moving like waves in a sea. Flocks of birds. The forest is a dark stain on the horizon, like an anchor.
“Reminds me of…” She breaks off.
“Of what?”
“A place I used to live.” Her eyes are distant when I look to her face. I think she’s remembering a being more than a location. And now I see how hungry she is for whatever it is that she sees, and it’s not the grass and the trees. It’s something far away.
“Before you came here?”
“Obviously, yes.” She scoffs. “Your grasp of the mundane is truly admirable.”
“Do you miss it?” I’m curious about her so I keep my voice soft.
“I’m happy here.” She turns to me. Scowls, face taut. “Just because I have some good memories doesn’t mean I’m not fully satisfied in this place.”
“I didn’t imply that you were dissatisfied.” I shrug.
“You imply that we should be, though, every time you look at me.” Her voice rises.
“What do you mean?” I frown.
“You act like you’re better. Like you have a worthy goal, you’re a real human, and we’re just little robot slaves. Well, let me tell you something.” She pokes a finger at my chest, actually stabbing it into my sternum. “What we do here is not easy, and it’s no small feat. And if you can’t get on board, we don’t want you. Get it?”
“When have I ever implied anything?” I raise both hands, perplexed.
“Every time you look at me!” She shouts, then turns away. “With your accusing eyes. Mother Earth.”
“I do not.” What the hell? She’s not wrong that I think about my goals. But how can she not see how open I am to loving it here, too? How I want to fit in and be part of it all?
It’s then that we hear the scream.
To my horror, Amber is facing off with a brown and black creature whose hair is raised. It snarls, and its rows of teeth flash yellow in the sun. The odor that seeps out from its body is vile, like rotting flesh, but it’s eyes are not dead—they’re sharp with intelligence.
“What is it doing here?” Amber’s voice is high with panic. She steps backward, breathing hard. “They never come out of the woods this far.” She waves her arms at it.
No, I want to warn her. Stand still.
I’ve never faced off with one of these before but my instincts kick in.
“I don’t know!” Kianna’s voice is taut. “Do you have a weapon?”
“No, of course I don’t.” Amber steps back again. “Will we have to fight it?”
“Mother Earth,” whispers Kianna. The animal looks at her. It’s going to attack.
I don’t have a weapon either, but I have myself.
Without thinking, I scream out my battle cry, and the animal turns to me, more slowly than you’d expect—almost like it’s casually determining if I’m worth attacking.
Then it decides. Leaps at me.
It’s been a while since I moved like this, and although this isn’t a good situation, there’s something instantly gratifying about being in such control of my body. I whirl and kick, my signature move, and crack its skull with my foot.
It roars and leaps, barely missing me with those teeth. Dripping with poison. One drop—
The heat of its mouth wa
rms my leg and I scream again, jump, kick.
Amber and Kianna are coming to help, thank Mother Earth, because this thing is more powerful than I expected.
Amber grabs a rock and hurls it, connecting with the animal’s side. The soft thud and the grunt are like music, but it barely puts a dent in the creature’s energy. With renewed vigor, it growls again and crouches.
Kianna leans backward just a bit and braces for a leap.
“Kianna. Lean forward, balls of your feet. Wait for it to move, and then leap.”
She doesn’t respond because there’s not time, but she follows up instructions and ends up delivering a powerful kick.
I step in and attack from the other side, and with the two of us, relentless, the animal finally falls. Collapsed into a heap, slack, it’s much smaller now.
I double over, hands on my knees, adrenaline rushing to my head. I glance at my leg to verify it didn't actually graze me with those teeth, checking my skin over and over, just to be sure. I can’t feel any pain, but stars, you never do until later. “You all right?” I ask Kianna.
“Fine. I’m fine.” Kianna breathes hard. “It didn’t scratch me. You?”
“I’m fine.” My words are automatic. I get to my feet and scan the area. “It came up fast and silent, from that direction.” I point. “Someone needs to go scout and see what drew it out. Eventually.”
We head back to the dome and I glance over at my co-workers. They’re both a little pale, and Amber’s eyes are glassy. For a second I feel sympathy. They’re tough, sure, but they’re not like me. They don’t know how to kill and then get right back to life.
In fact, they’re freaking out. Amber is panting, shallow sucks of air, and if she doesn’t stop, she’s going to hyperventilate and pass out.
“Breathe deeply,” I tell Amber. “In and out for a count of three.” I demonstrate, then show her how to clench your chest and press down, a maneuver that presses on the nerves that control the heart, so she can quiet her racing pulse.
