Finally, something I could relate to. “The Tuareg sang. I learned their songs.”
He settled back against the wall, his arms still wrapped around me. “I would like to hear one. Will you sing me a Tuareg song?”
I cleared my throat. I hadn’t sung for a long time and then only around a desert campfire after a long draught from my goatskin wine flask.
I started out softly, shyly. But I quickly worked my way up to the ear-splitting whoops I remembered in the chorus. Joran stopped me after only a few stanzas.
“What is that?”
“It’s a Tuareg war chant.”
“It’s very…loud. Loud and…uh, stirring.”
“Yes.” I nodded eagerly, pleased that I’d still gotten it right after so many years. “It’s meant to strike terror into our enemies.”
“It certainly struck terror into me,” he replied. “I was thinking of something a little…softer. More of a lullaby. A song to help you get back to sleep.”
I shook my head. “I heard the mothers in the clan crooning to their babies sometimes in the night. But I don’t know any of those songs.”
“Then I will sing you one. It’s an old Arythian lullaby my mother sang to me.”
Sleep, little Shee-ah, sleep, sleep, sleep.
Red is the moon and the night still deep.
Bright are the stars with their silvery wings.
Over your shoulder, the night wind sings.
Sleep, little Shee-ah, sleep, sleep, sleep.
I laid my head back and closed my eyes. His voice rumbled in his chest, deep and rough, like Kitty’s purrs. Soothing. Comforting. His arms circled me, safe and warm. Protecting me. Was this how it felt to be loved as a child?
Maybe I’d grown too tired to fight, but being in his arms this way no longer seemed so uncomfortable. So frightening.
The last thing I remembered before falling asleep was the hypnotic thump of his heart against my cheek, beating in time to the song.
Chapter Twelve
Joran
Despite myself, I’d begun to grow accustomed to having Shee-ah in my quarters and at my side. Her moods varied, although overall, she displayed a submissiveness any master could be proud of. This made me more than a little nervous because I’d known her long enough to recognize that, while we could achieve a normal Arythian relationship in time, we weren’t there yet. She had not completely accepted my dominance, despite her paying lip service. Calling me Master in private was harder for her than calling me Commander when on deck. She had not yet been assigned a specific position aboard ship—besides “breeder” as she had bitterly accused early on.
I was concerned about what would happen when she no longer could keep up the façade. Although perhaps façade was too strong a word. Often, when we were in our bunk together, after I’d plumbed the depths of her body, she displayed an incredible sweetness, snuggling close and pressing kisses to my chest, tracing my tattoos with a fingertip and sharing anecdotes of the day. I kept her at my side whenever possible, remembering that, for a warrior, being left in quarters could lead to nothing but boredom and ultimately rebellion.
So our pillow talk was sincere, but the rest of the time, her yes, Masters and accepting everything, or almost everything, I said without argument was at least partially an act. This was a woman who did not lack opinions of her own, had commanded her own primitive starship. That level of achievement was not bestowed up on followers.
Still, it was better than constant argument.
Or so I tried to tell myself.
As promised, I’d brought Shee-ah to the bridge and handed her over to Zarak so he could help me determine her skill level. From anything I’d heard, the level of tech on Earth’s somewhat sketchy fleet came nowhere near ours, so while I did believe in her intelligence, her training would be sorely lacking. Perhaps her need to fill the time while I was busy could be met by watching the endless training vids available.
But to my amazement and pleasure, she’d passed every test Lieutenant Zarak offered her, displaying a surprising ability to decipher the navigations screens. I’d heard that reading in foreign languages was more difficult for those using a chip, but it seemed—at least in her case—there were enough similarities in the systems that she was able to breach the gap in a very short time.
Shee-ah enjoyed learning, as I observed from across the bridge while doing my own work.
“Lieutenant, can you help me bring up the vid manual for the navigation system of this ship?” She leaned in close to the screen as Zarak, after glancing my way and receiving my nod, gave her access to the learning vids so she could operate them herself. He then left her at the vacant station, bent close to a screen, lips moving, head nodding, and overall focused in a way I hadn’t seen before.
Arythian women rarely had careers outside their home, and of those who did, few continued them after marriage. Was this because they wanted to, or were our societal pressures such that they felt obligated to do so? Surely our declining population numbers made birthing and raising children a priority even before our current desperate situation, but how many had talents that were missed?
Felice, for example, had fought her way into the space service but was considered the exception to the rule. And I had always thought that one day, not too many sol cycles off, she’d return home to take up her rightful role as wife and mother. It felt natural, comfortable.
I felt an itch of guilt at all my thoughts about Earth and how they treated their females. Sure, there were issues—like considering them so expendable they’d just send them off into space, but my female had commanded a starship.
And had been the exception there as well. Why were females the chattel of so many cultures? Shee-ah’s face lit up as she watched one vid after another. She opened a side screen and began to take notes. Curious, I stood and moved to her side. What had her so animated?
“Shee-ah?”
She jumped and let out a laugh. “You startled me, Commander. I was caught up in what I was doing. Did you need me for something?”
I waved, and an empty stool came to her side. “I wanted to see how you were getting along with the learning vids.”
She ducked her head and flushed. “I started with those but have moved on to some other things.”
Glancing over her shoulder, I saw what those other things were. “Star charts.”
“Yes. I felt so lost, I wanted to find out where we were in relation to Earth and other places that are familiar to me. I hope that’s okay…Commander.”
Without that hesitation, I might have taken her at her word. She wasn’t lying, or at least I didn’t think so. But nor was she revealing the whole truth. “I see. And have you managed to place yourself in the galaxy?”
“I have. I’m far from home, but”—she pointed to a spot on the left of her screen—“not terribly far from where I’d anticipated going for that mission I expected never to return from.”
“Really.”
“Before my fall from grace, imprisonment, and being shanghaied to this vessel, I’d been trying to find a pattern in the attacks. As an astrophysicist, I am fascinated by the patterns in the Universe, and I thought I’d come close to finding one in the enemy’s travels, but every time I got close, new data would seem random. Does that make sense?”
“The Rydek’s.” She’d done more than we had. “And now? Is it any clearer?”
She nodded then shook her head. “We had other names for them, but no it’s not any clearer. I feel like I should be able to see something. Just out of reach.”
“Our science officer, Dr. Quarz, is an astrophysicist.”
“Really?” She bounced to her feet. “I wonder if he has been looking, too. Do you know?”
I tried not to feel jealous of the mild-mannered Quarz. She hadn’t even met him yet. “I don’t know.” Duty first as always, I said, “But I will call him to the bridge, and you can ask him yourself.”
“Really?” For just a second, she looked as if she was about to
throw her arms around me, but then her military bearing returned. “I would appreciate that. Perhaps together we can achieve more than separately.”
“Perhaps.” I returned to the command chair and focused on the work at hand. After sending for Quarz, of course. He arrived a bit disheveled, as if he’d dressed quickly and a glance at the duty roster told me I’d called him from his sleep cycle. Not something I’d ordinarily do, and inconsiderate at that. Having a female aboard could certainly throw things off.
“Commander, you called?” He stood before me, at attention. “Is something wrong?”
“At ease,” I told him, feeling guilty. “I apologize for disturbing your rest, Quarz. But my female, as luck would have it, shares your affinity for the stars and would like to consult with you regarding a theory she’s been developing.”
“Your female?” Quarz’s brows rose nearly to the top of his head. “I don’t understand.”
Were we all this dense? “My female, a commander in the Terran space force and…doctor as well, Shee-ah?”
She scooted to my side. “Yes. My doctorate was in astrophysics, my most recent job a commander of an Earth starship.”
I went on without waiting for Quarz’s stunned expression to fade. “My female, in her capacity as a commander and an astrophysicist, has been working on a project related to the Rydek situation. She would like to consult with you regarding her research, I believe.”
All Arythian males are dominant, but our scientist held his peace in most situations, content to work alone with his telescopes and other equipment. He gave advice, helped chart some courses, was involved in planetary landings of any kind, but of late, I had no idea what he did with his time. I really was remiss. He was a resource I neglected. What else was I missing in my focus on things behind the walls of my quarters?
“Commander?” Shee-ah’s soft but firm voice cut through my mental ramblings. “If it’s all right with you, I’d like to go to Dr. Quarz’s workspace to compare notes?” She flashed me a brilliant smile. “It seems our areas of study overlap.”
Quarz looked less sure. For a mated female to be alone with an unattached male would be scandalous. On Arythios. But then…there was no Arythios anymore. At least, no more than was held within the walls of two few ships cut adrift in the reaches of space. If we were to achieve any of our goals, we must put them first and personal feeling second.
“Of course.” Every head on the bridge turned to face me, some so fast I thought I heard them click in to place. “In fact, I believe I will come along. I have neglected a critical weapon in our arsenal. If there is a pattern to the Rydek’s attacks, the sooner we learn what it is, the sooner we can predict where they might strike next.”
“Certainly, Commander,” Quarz replied, looking relieved. “I would be happy to show you my work.”
Yeah, and no doubt delighted not to be alone with my female. However, I couldn’t stay below decks forever, so while they probably could work on the bridge at times, most of his equipment was built into the ship and not moveable. Was I the commander or a jealous lover? Jealous male. Could I move past the cultural mores for the good of all?
Yes, but for duty shift, I would accompany my female and my science officer to his work area and observe as they compared notes and tried to find a key piece of information about the enemies who destroyed our world. Shortly after our arrival, I was called back to the bridge. The Rydek influence had struck another world.
“I’m going with you.” My female’s face held determination. I was seeing the mien of the starship commander she had been and, on some level, still was. I didn’t have time to argue.
Chapter Thirteen
Xia
“All beings have a right to live in peace.” I crossed my arms and glared at him.
“Yes, Shee-ah, they do. But ridding that world of Rydek mutants is not our primary mission.”
I’d been allowed to accompany him to the ship’s command center for a strategy session on the promise that I’d stay in the background and simply observe. But when one of his men brought up holographic images from Gd4, a minor planet in the Gylon system that we’d soon be passing, I couldn’t stay silent.
“You can see them clear as day! Zhu bajie—they’re hunting down the carbella.”
Gd4 was the home of a large colony of the shy, gentle beings known as carbella. They looked similar to apes, but since they avoided alien intruders, not much was known about them. I’d seen a family unit in the wild on one of my exploratory missions to other worlds, but the Federation prohibited any contact not initiated by the resident species.
I didn’t know what the Rydek called their mutant killing machines. From what I could see of the creatures tearing through the jungle, they looked like the zhu bajie—mythical Tuareg beasts come to life. I’d heard stories of them as a child. Half human, half wild boar, zhu bajie were cannibals. According to the legends, they rose up on two legs to hunt down humans, ripped their victims apart with razor-sharp tusks then dropped to all fours and devoured the remains like hogs. My voice rose. “You’re going to fly on by and leave the carbella at the mercy of vicious creatures bred to attack and kill?”
He sighed. “I understand why you care as deeply about animals as you do about sentient beings. It’s only natural, given your background. But the way to lose a battle is to attack on too many fronts at once. We’re here to concentrate on finding the Rydek base of operations. That’s where their leaders will be—the ones who created those mutant beasts and sent them to Gd4. The ones who will send them to hundreds, maybe even thousands of other planets to kill the creatures living on them so they’re free to plunder the resources.”
“I’ve studied galactic warfare, too,” I snapped. “You don’t need to lecture me on the Prythian rules of military engagement. I know them as well as you do. But sometimes, rules have to be broken! Besides, the carbella are not animals. They’re a primitive hominoid species. Gentle creatures, unable to withstand an onslaught by mutants built like zhu bajie. Just because they don’t have an advanced civilization doesn’t mean they aren’t capable of feeling. They nurture their young, care for their sick and injured.” To drive home my point, I hit him where I knew it would hurt. “When those mutants end their killing spree, the carbella who are left will mourn their dead—just like you did when the Rydek attacked your world.”
I caught the flash of pain in his eyes and regretted bringing up the loss of his world.
Lowering my voice, I tried a more reasonable approach. “You could launch a surprise attack with only three or four transport carriers. Target the beasts heading for the carbella living in the river valley. A handful of Arythian warriors could track them down and save an entire tribe from being wiped out. Please…Master?”
Instead of being mollified by my use of the title, it seemed to infuriate him.
“I will not be lectured on morality by a Terran!” he roared. “Your people cared so little for the value of life, they gave you away to alien strangers. You have forgotten your place, female. Return to my quarters. I’ll deal with your insolent behavior later—when we are alone.” He turned his back on me.
I headed back to our room, dreading what was to come. With his outburst, he’d put our relationship back on master/slave terms. I understood why. I’d violated a basic rule of military hierarchy—challenging a commanding officer in front of his troops. Me, the alien female he’d promoted to sit side by side with his officers on the bridge.
Referring to me as an insolent female was his way of saving face—and saving me from being treated like any other soldier. I wasn’t sure what the Arythian punishment for insubordination was. Court martial? Being locked up in the brig?
What was worse, by arguing with him I’d probably ruined any chance of achieving what I’d set out to do. At heart, Joran was decent and kind. If I’d spoken with him after the meeting, made my case in private, his pride wouldn’t have been at stake. He’d have done the right thing. Now, those poor gentle creatures would be slau
ghtered–and their deaths were on my head.
When the wall vanished, I was still composing arguments that might persuade him to change his mind. Joran strode in.
I dropped to my knees. I wasn’t too proud to grovel if it would save innocent lives. “I’m sorry, Master…” I began.
“Silence.” He didn’t shout the word. I’d have preferred it if he had. Instead, his voice was cold. He went to the wall opposite the bed and waved a hand. A section disintegrated, revealing a variety of garments arranged on shelves in the storage space behind it. Dress uniforms, tunics and trousers for daily wear on board ship.
Ignoring all of those, he grabbed a silver metallic one-piece suit, stripped off his clothes, and put it on. It fit him like a second skin, molding together as seamlessly as the walls of the ship when they reappeared. The soft light in our quarters reflected off the shimmering surface, highlighting his powerful muscles. He strapped on a wide belt, reached into another storage cubicle and started attaching what looked like weapons. I recognized a photon blaster, but the others were clearly products of the Arythians’ advanced technology. It looked for all the world like he was preparing to go into battle, but I didn’t dare question him.
Finally, he turned around. He looked annoyed to find me still on my knees. “It’s a little late to play the role of submissive slave.”
I fought back tears. “I truly am sorry, Joran. I didn’t mean to question your decision in front of your men. I just couldn’t bear thinking about those gentle creatures being slaughtered, when I could stop it from happening.”
“You could stop it?” he shouted. The rage that had been simmering just below the surface exploded. “Not only do you challenge my command, you insult my honor! What makes you think you’re the moral compass of the Universe? Do you have so little respect for my race that you think an Arythian warrior would stand by and watch while innocent beings suffer?”
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