by Layla Stone
"Sorry. I'm just tired. I need to get some sleep before I have to get back to the bridge." With a short wave, she walked out.
The next room had been claimed by Pax and Rannn. The last room was the small medical room, and a male lay on the only medical bed. His eyes opened, and his head turned quickly when the door slid back. His jaw was dark, like a five o'clock shadow, but lined with a metal alloy. It was not ugly but different, and it made him look more intimidating. His eyes flashed, and she saw the small, gold lines moving across his irises. A cyborg. She waved. "Hi, I'm the new pilot."
The gold in his eyes disappeared, but he didn't respond.
Well…okay. "Just checking the ship out." Still no response, so she backed up. "Didn't mean to bother your sleep. See you around."
In the hall, she leaned back against the wall, feeling slightly foolish, barely stopping herself from banging her head. All the rooms were taken except the one with the Cerebral who had a creep factor of five thousand.
"Great." Her last option would be to sleep in the galley. For a half second, she considered it until she remembered that she preferred a bathroom and a bed. Groaning to herself, she walked back to the last room in the hallway. Opening the door again, a rough voice behind her made her jump.
"This room's off-limits." Pax moved to stretch his arm in front of her.
"It's the only free bed," she said in a surly tone.
The darkness behind Pax was impenetrable to the naked eye. She couldn't see inside, but she knew that a caged Cerebral stood to her left and he could unnerve her with a single, penetrating stare. It wasn't the best of options, but it had to be one because she was not bunking on the floor. Not when there was a comfortable—–and if the cage was solid—safe bed right here.
"Staying in here would be unwise."
She gave Pax a wary look. "Is the cage faulty?"
After a moment, Pax shook his head. "The captain will give up his bed for you since you are on opposite schedules. Or you can share mine with me."
Uh…no. Share a bed with a Red Demon who probably didn’t fit the cot himself? Yeah. Think again. "No one needs to share, there’s a perfectly good bed right there. Again, unless the cage is faulty, there is no reason for me not to use it."
Pax’s eyebrows lowered, and his lips pressed together. "It's pretty simple. If the door was locked, it was that way on purpose."
She folded her arms across her chest and leaned against the wall. She had to be careful, she couldn’t disobey an order. He was Federation, and there was a no way he wouldn’t outrank her, so she had to be respectful, but also hope he could be reasoned with.
"I know the risks of being around dangerous people. I’ve lived on Lotus Nexis all my life. I trust the cage, and I just want to use the cleaner and lay down. If the Cerebral does anything threatening, I’ll leave. I promise."
He didn't respond, but his dark eyes flashed crimson.
“I’m not scared.”
Moving closer he said, “You should be. They’re predators, silent ones that kill from a distance, and you have no defenses against them if your blocker breaks or if he gets free.”
He made sense. She would have moved to any other bed if there was one. But there wasn’t. And it probably made no sense to Pax, who’d probably never had a female turn him down for sharing a bed, but she knew herself, she liked her space. “We’ll all be dead if he gets free.”
Pax must have realized she wasn’t going to give. “I’m not going to let another of my crewmembers die. If I see a threat, I’m going to pull you from the room and kill him. And if not me, then the captain will. Do you understand me? Do you understand that I had to watch my entire crew die? Every female butchered and raped. And you’re asking me to let you sleep in the same room as someone who could do the same thing but to your mind?”
Sasha heard those words in her soul.
She recognized the guilt, the anguish and pain in every word. He was not trying to be a jerk, he was worried. About her. About his crewmates.
She opened her mouth to give in and take another bed. But Pax raised his hand in her face. “No, not another word. Just know I’ll be watching you.”
He stalked down the hall, and she watched him pass his room and walk into the room Ansel and the wounded Yunkin were in. She was conflicted again.
She slowly moved into the room and turned on the light in her utility tool. It brightened the space, casting a large shadow at the end of each side. Sasha’s hope that the cage’s inhabitant might have bunked down for a snooze by now was dashed to pieces as she stared at the upright Cerebral in the corner. His muscles tensed as he slightly tilted his head and watched her like a predator does its prey.
Awkward.
Sasha set her tool on the storage shelf and moved back toward the bed, keeping him in her sights the entire time. She let a few moments pass as she fiddled with her boots and removed them, but out of the corner of her eye, she noticed that he still hadn’t returned to his cot. She wasn't going to be able to relax with him staring at her.
"You know those bars are electrically charged, right? Be careful how close you stand to them," she said.
No response, but he did scan the bars, so he must have understood her.
"Those currents can cause serious damage, if not outright kill you." Not waiting for a response this time—wouldn’t do any good—she set the cup down on the floor near her cot and walked into the cleaner. She had never been inside a Federation ship’s bathroom. She scanned the small room and noticed the pullout toilet seat. It was dusty, but that was better than being stained with dried-up bodily waste.
Where the sink should have been, it said it was a uniform cleaner. She pulled off her white leather jacket and set it aside. No way was she ruining her new coat with an unknown washing-drying machine. She stripped down, stuffed her clothes in, and pressed start. The contraption hissed, and she had no idea if it was cleaning or malfunctioning. Then the label started blinking a countdown clock, and she hoped that meant it was working.
She stepped into the clear stall with a floor drain and noticed there wasn’t a start button. Maybe it was voice controlled. “Go.”
“Start.”
She folded her arms, trying to figure out the stupid shower. After three minutes of standing in place staring at nothing, she hit the side of the wall. A flood of cold water shot out of the walls from hidden pen-sized holes.
Sasha shrieked as she jumped against the clear sliding wall. The flimsy shower door shook, and the noise echoed loudly. With a flurry of curses, she turned, almost slipped, and gritted her teeth against the ice-cold streams of synthetic water hitting her body, turning her into a mass of miniature fleshy bumps. With wet fingers, she pulled the shower door to the left, just as the entry door crashed open.
Pax.
Sasha covered her breasts and lower lady parts, wishing she had a towel. It was so cold, she couldn’t stand still. She pushed up and down on her toes. With a trembling lower lip she said, “The stupid shower’s broken.”
Pax just breathed. For several seconds, he just stood there, looking at her, not lustfully but some other way she couldn’t pinpoint. Then he opened a hidden shelf and pushed a Federation logoed towel at her.
Pax left her there, feeling uneasy, cold, and embarrassed. He’d thought she was in trouble.
Returning to her bed after waiting for her clothes to clean and dry, she snuggled down, needing the day to be over. The soft pillow made her groan. Her eyes were closed, but she felt it, felt the Cerebral’s eyes on her. Knew he was still standing by the bars.
She forced herself not to look.
Attempting to fall asleep while someone unabashedly watches you makes it damn near impossible to rest.
Worse, she imagined him staring at her, possibly imagining all the ways he wanted to take over her thoughts and actions with a single mental command. What if he were plotting sick ways to escape, using her as his puppet?
Overactive imagi
nation. It was a curse.
Her own mental images were making her skin crawl. Throwing her blanket off, she sat up. The male was still standing and watching her.
Surprise, surprise.
"Is there a reason you're staring at me?"
Nothing.
She let out a frustrated grunt. "Does your kind know how to talk? Or do you only use your telepathy?" She didn't know how she would hear his answer if he only used telepathy. She decided a peace offering was in order. "My name is Sasha, by the way."
Silence.
Nervously laughing she added, "Never been this close to a killer, but on the horrible chance you get free, I'd prefer to die quickly. Not into the whole torture thing." Then an odd thought hit her. "They feed you, right? I mean, I don't see anything that can hold food in your cage."
Silence.
She stood as a far more unwelcome thought hit her. “They haven’t hurt you, have they?”
She knew it was bizarre to go from fearing him to worrying about his physical well-being, but she just couldn’t stand the thought of anyone being at the mercy of another. It brought back unpleasant memories of her childhood. She slowly approached the cage, meticulously running her gaze over the hard lines of his musculature, paying attention to anything that would indicate signs of abuse. He wore a black polysynthetic knit long sleeve. It was a common undershirt to keep space travelers warm. Space was freezing, and even with an ecosystem, ships usually ran cold. His pants were wide-legged and thin-ankled and multi-wrapped near his waist. An old design, but the material was thick and would be comfortable.
She wondered if his planet kept up with the newest fashions. Her mother was a seamstress so Sasha had seen all the latest designs, and what he was wearing was at least ten years old.
She didn’t see any outward signs of maltreatment. Before she knew it, she was just a few inches away from the cage, staring into his eyes with a questioning look.
Just doing a thorough inspection for his own good.
“I’m not sure if your race has a special greeting or hello. Mine shakes hands. But I don’t want to electrocute myself if my hand accidentally hits the bars, and I’d be afraid you’d pull me in to kill me. Being an OutWorlder, you might be able to withstand the volts. I likely wouldn’t.”
He blinked his gorgeous blue eyes in response.
Calling that a win.
“I heard all the planets in the OutWorlds have special abilities. Are there really dragons on your side of space?”
Dragons had to come from somewhere. Every planet in the Federation knew about them, but no one had ever seen one. The only logical place for them to reside would be the Outworlds.
He snorted.
The male absolutely understood her. The edges of her lips curled up. “You know about the dragons, don’t you? You gotta tell me. Are they all dead? Alive?”
Nothing.
Dramatically, she pulled her palms down her face. “Come on! You can’t leave me hanging.”
No response. She hated the Cerebral’s emotional state. It was just so static.
“They are legends on the Terran planet. Dragons used to be big, scaly beasts with massive wings that breathed fire. That would be scary as hell to see, but I’d chance it.”
The Cerebral’s lip curled slightly on one side as he tilted his head to the left.
She didn’t understand the drive she felt to pull some emotional or physical response from him, but she didn’t question it either. She’d always been recklessly impulsive, and there was no reason to alter that now. She was talking to a real OutWorlder.
“My friend Jandy said dragons don’t have wings, but massive, hairy faces.”
He shook his head.
She clasped her hands together, thrilled for the small non-verbal response. She bit down on her knuckle, so excited yet unable to holler or jump. “Please tell me they come in different shapes and colors.”
He gave her a look of disbelief.
Guess they didn’t come in different colors. Bummer.
An idea came to her. “Okay, last question, but you have to answer with a head nod if the answer is yes,”—she demonstrated—“or shake your head if the answer is no.” She moved her head back and forth. “My question is, have you ever seen one?”
He didn’t move an inch. She wasn’t even sure he was breathing.
Sasha was about to give up and return to her cot when the Cerebral’s head nodded slightly three times—just as she had.
Her broad smile returned.
She stared at him for a few more moments before giving him a nod in return. She turned around, plopped herself onto her bed, and faced him one last time. He was still in the same position, but he looked far more relaxed now. Nothing to indicate what he was thinking or feeling, but she felt she’d made some headway here. Not that she understood why she was so compelled to try, but she wasn’t going to question her motives. Not when she’d just found out that dragons were real and alive.
"Okay," she drew out the word. "Good night, then." This time, she pulled the blanket over her shoulders and demonstrated some seriously impressive control by not opening her eyes again. At some point, she fell asleep.
Chapter Four
Light in the Darkness
Sci watched the woman on the bed long after her breathing had evened out. She was different from the males on the ship. She exuded warmth and energy. Her brown eyes had sparkled with curiosity and intelligence. Dragons. Out of everything he’d assumed she would talk about, dragons never would have crossed his mind.
He had seen pictures of them in the Cerebral archives, they had large wings, and their bodies were hardened scales. They were used for war. But she’d never know that the beast morphed into males called Kinglings. The beings retained the dragon’s face, but the body shed the wings and turned more humanoid.
But the woman’s random questions weren’t the only things that stunned him.
She was worried about me.
He inched closer to her, drawn by an unnatural pull, and it wasn’t because she was the first mind he’d connected to since waking up in Ansel’s medical room. It was because the Terran’s mind was the first mind he had seen that was unfettered.
She allowed herself to feel and think without regard for his connection to her—not that she knew about it, but no Cerebral would have allowed their thoughts to be broadcast in such a way. She was not ashamed of her feelings, nor did she feel threatened by him, which was why she’d chosen to sleep next to him. Her blind courage was magnificent.
Her blocker, the one she hated, was broken. She couldn’t stop scratching at it from the pilot seat. Yes. He’d been able to see all of that, everything from the moment she boarded the ship. He’d watched her mind as Pax had told her to stay away from his room. Sci was tempted to send her images of herself being safe with him, but that was not the Cerebral way. They didn’t live in harmony by manipulating people’s minds. They lived symbiotically because they accepted everyone’s unique differences.
As soon as he was able to see inside her mind, Sci’s own felt unfettered. No longer imprisoned by the inexpressible recesses of a silent void, he lapped up her every thought and sensation. Every moment in her mind broke the frozen and deadened parts of his growing hostility.
Sci’s internal madness from being subjected to the obscure, darkened cabin had not fully abated, but the gnawing tension had stopped creating vivid, imaginary thoughts of him dying alone where no one would ever find him. For a few brief moments, he stopped worrying about his brother’s current—and possibly dire— situation.
This one woman had stopped it all. She’d brought back the light and gifted him his returned sanity. He would be forever grateful, and if possible, he’d repay her for what she’d done for him.
He found his cot and finally decided to rest, still keeping his eyes on her, unable to look away. The Terran suddenly gasped as if something had grabbed her. Sci felt her fear as if it were his own. The
emotion ricocheted inside him, and at the same time, the cup near her bed flew back and crashed into the door.
Shocked by the cup’s sudden movement, he wondered for a second if it was the Terran who’d manipulated the item. His question was answered when he mentally reached out toward the cup and felt it. The weight was less than an ounce and quite delicate. He could almost feel the cup give as he applied some mental pressure.
The cup didn’t hover like he wanted, but it did roll, and roll, and roll around the room. Worried that Sasha might wake up from the noise, he attempted to move the cup slower. He failed miserably. It wasn’t smooth and quiet. His ability had weakened, his control felt unstable. He moved off the bed, crawling closer to the cage, and stared at the cup. With great effort, he was able to connect to it fully and levitate it into the air, holding it in the same place for ten seconds.
The cup obeyed, and he rejoiced. Holding an object for ten seconds was the first level of training that a young Cerebral had to master. Apparently, he wasn’t handicapped after all, but his abilities were as effective as a child’s. Still, if he could go from nothing to that, then he could continue to progress.
Sci inclined his head as bubbly tingles washed over him. Hope. Finally, he had hope.
He stared at the still, delicate figure of Sasha as she peacefully slept not five feet from him. He would continue to progress, yes, but he would also study this fascinating creature. He wanted to know her. He wanted to understand her.
To his surprise, he simply wanted…her.
Chapter Five
No Fraternization
"Sasha!" a rough, male voice barked at her.
