Embrace the Passion: Pets in Space 3

by Smith, S. E.

  Before he could get any more maudlin, he followed Nafisi into the living room. She had stripped out of her survival gear, the plas-rifle leaning against the wall as she hung the heavy coat and pants in the closet. Underneath she wore simple, utilitarian clothes, and for an unvarnished second, he let his gaze skim over her.

  She was about his age, maybe slightly younger, but he knew more than most what time and tragedy could do in tandem. She had a mature build to match—heavy in the hip and bust, just the way he liked. Or would have liked if he were capable of such a thing. Her shoulder-length hair had probably once been blue-black in its intensity, a perfect match for the raw umber of her complexion, but the years had leached some of the color away and left visible streaks of white.

  If she noticed him staring, she gave no indication. "You can stand there if you want, but I'm not pretending like you’re a welcome guest. I've got shit to do, and I'm not going to change my schedule to accommodate you." She pointed first toward the back of the room and then toward a hallway. "Kitchen’s there, and the bathroom’s down there. I'd say make yourself at home, but please don't."

  She crossed to a metal pen that took up one corner of the living room near the fireplace. Pain hooked between Rafe’s ribs as she lifted a wolf pup out, the room’s polarized light turning the wolf into a fluffy bundle of pitch-black paws with a tail. Nafisi was cooing at the wolf in her hands, checking it over carefully as she turned it. Content that it had passed her muster, she set the pup back on the floor and adjusted the control for the fireplace. Flames sparked up in the hearth, lending a bright crackle to the room.

  Rafe set his pack down and watched the wolf explore the living room. He'd barely taken two steps toward a chair when the tiny canine bounded toward him and let loose what he was certain the pup thought was a fearsome bark. The high-pitched sound was more like a toy than anything intimidating, and the pup getting tangled up in its own feet and tumbling over a moment later defused any remaining threat it might have carried. A different person might have laughed, might at least have smiled. And he wished again he could have been that person.

  Nafisi wandered back from the kitchen with an eyedropper full of dark liquid. She scooped the puppy up from the tile and carefully fed him the contents. Once she was content the wolf had finished everything, she stopped and looked at Rafe. "They have to get additional vitamins early on. Especially if they're not getting mother's milk." She seemed like she was about to say more, when an amber light flashed and data started scrolling across her vid unit. She scanned the readout, and whatever she had been about to say was replaced with muttered profanities.

  "What is it? Are they here?" He’d let himself get distracted. He should have been checking the perimeter, but a pretty woman and a baby wolf had clearly made him sloppy. If Triptych had already arrived, he was in trouble.

  Nafisi fixed him with a steely glare. "If Triptych wants to show up, they’re going to have to wait. That's the perimeter sensors. Big dust storm coming. They can’t get out in this any more than you could. Looks like you're stuck inside until it blows over."

  3

  As soon as the words left her mouth, Nafisi regretted them. Rangers were notorious for taking absolutes like “can’t” or “won’t” as a personal challenge to overcome. She debated adding a follow-up to her comment but thought better of it. The storm was moving too fast for her to waste time arguing. She scooped the wolf pup off the floor and deposited him in the pen. Then she returned to the closet and began tugging her survival suit back on.

  "Wait, I thought you said we were stuck inside." Rafe stepped toward her, head tilted like one of the wolves puzzling out a confusing sound or smell.

  The last thing she needed was to have an inexperienced hand trying to help her set the ranch for a storm, and she doubted Commander Penzak had much experience with farm work. If she’d been in a better mood, it would almost have been endearing, but concern for the wolves lent her a sense of urgency.

  "No. I said you were stuck inside." She slapped at the seals on her jacket, listening to the hiss as they closed up one at a time. The suit wasn't a perfect solution against the dust, especially in a storm, but every little bit helped. She pulled her respirator helmet partway on, leaving the mouthpiece resting atop her head. "I still have to make sure that the wolves are okay. And the ventilation on the kennels needs to be turned the right direction, or it will clog with dust and they’ll suffocate. I’m not about to let something happen to my wolves."

  Technically, they were the TriSystem Joint Forces’ wolves, but she had ownership of them until they were bonded off. She steeled herself for a rebuke about the comment, but it didn’t arrive. Instead, the grim set of his mouth seemed to indicate he understood, even appreciated her dedication. He crossed to the door and dug through his pack until he brought up a military-grade respirator unit. “It’ll be faster if we work together.”

  Rescue me from arrogant men. “It’s cute you think that, Commander. But I’ve been doing it alone for half a decade. You’ll just slow me down.” She hit the switch on the wall and flooded the yard with polarized light. The wolves were pretty obedient, but some of them were still young enough to be mischievous. Turning them black made it easier to make certain they were all accounted for. She stepped onto the porch and paused long enough to call out “I’ll be back” before shutting the door behind her.

  The wind had already started picking up, and if the rattle was accurate, the wind turbines were pushing the maximum speed that the generators could handle. With the perpetual dark, it was hard to tell exactly how close the storm was, but her perimeter alarms weren't set too far out, so if it was a big storm, she didn't have long.

  The dust was too fine and soft to be a physical threat, at least to her, but it was perfectly capable of clogging filters and vents, and drifting over doors and vehicles. She thought briefly about Penzak’s shuttle, but if he knew enough about Secundus to bring a respirator, then hopefully he knew enough to bring a shuttle that had been sealed against dust.

  She glanced toward her wind turbines. She needed to deal with that situation before something broke free and she had to deal with power shortages. But the wolves in the kennel yard were pacing and yipping to each other, occasionally lifting a nose into the air. She wasn't bonded, and the adults didn’t broadcast like pups, so she didn't feel their confusion and panic, but she could clearly see it in the behavior of the animals. At least the pups were already safe in their kennel with mom. She couldn’t handle their emotions on top of her own concern for the adults’ distress.

  No contest. Worst case she could live on the batteries until she got the turbines fixed. She opened the gate into the kennel yard and started working to calm her wolves.

  "What can I do?" Penzak showed up at the edge of the fence, wrapped head to toe and with his face covered. For a quick, painful moment she thought it was Gener come to help.

  She swallowed against the sting of tears and let her irritation drive the sudden shock away. "If you want to help, lock down those wind generators. The vanes need to turn freely, or they’ll rip right off." The clatter and grind had picked up speed, and she could hear the keening song of the guy wires as the wind vibrated them. No question, this was going to be a bad storm.

  "On it."

  Out of the corner of her eye she saw him move to get to work. With any luck the task would keep him out of her hair for a few moments.

  The wolves were all around her legs, trying to herd her toward the door. Given that’s where she needed them to go, she was happy to play along, taking care to count the animals and confirm she had half her pack. She slid open the door, and the five animals went to their respective kennels. Almost. Marama and Priya, inseparable as always, moved to take the same stall. Normally Nafisi would have separated them, but Priya had issues with loud noises, and the company would help her through the storm. Better that than aggravating the wolf’s PTSD.

  Once the dogs were in their spaces, she went to the control panel for the buil
ding and tapped in the code to secure the doors. Another handful of commands and the ventilation intakes on top of the flat-roofed building rotated out of the direct path of the storm. She grabbed a fresh set of filters from the storage room and climbed partway up the ladder so she could swap them out. She’d had a few minor storms on the set that were in the system now, and as big as the storm sounded, she’d rather have new ones in place just to be safe.

  She had gone high enough to look out the window when she heard the whine of one of the guy lines escalate into a scream that ended in a heart-stopping crack. From her vantage point, she watched the broken line snap back toward Rafe for an eternal second, before it struck him and sent him flying.

  She kicked her feet out and slid down the ladder, then charged out of the kennel to get to him. Before she reached him, she could see the rapidly spreading dark stain on his shirt. Up close, the wounds were worse. The guy line had ripped through the survival suit and the man beneath, blood was welling up quickly, and she had no idea how bad the injuries to his lungs might be. Leaving him out here in the storm was a death sentence; Nafisi assured herself the likelihood that he had a spinal injury was minimal, then locked her hands into his armpits and dragged him back to the kennel. It wasn't the perfect place to weather out the storm, but it had water, and in a pinch, they could eat the wolves’ food. More importantly, it was where her med bay was, and she’d be damned if there was going to be any death on her watch.

  ***

  Dragging Penzak back to the kennel was difficult enough, there was no way Nafisi was going to get him up onto the exam table. Not that he would've fit anyway. It was built to hold her wolves, not a man twice their size and—if she hazarded a guess—three times their weight. She sanitized the floor religiously, but it wouldn’t be perfect. Still, given the emergency, she couldn’t afford to be picky. And neither could he.

  She washed her hands, donned a pair of gloves, and cracked open a stitch kit from the cabinet. The scissors inside made short work of the survival jacket and the shirt beneath as she knelt over him to expose the wound. The guy line had sliced his skin open as deeply as any blade. She applied a local anesthetic before moving her finger through the wound, both to confirm that the ribs beneath were still solid, and that the broken end of the wire had left no shrapnel behind.

  At least she had plenty of experience with sutures—adolescent wolves were incredibly good at getting into trouble. And Gener hadn’t ever been the most injury free person…

  She broke out a needle and forceps and got to work.

  He started to stir around the fifth or sixth stitch. "What…?"

  "Stay still." Her voice was sharp, the same command tone she used with the wolves. It seemed to do the trick, as he froze immediately. "Your back is cut badly. I need to close this up, and you moving around is only going to make it worse."

  "Affirmative." He relaxed against the floor and lay face down while she continued to work. Soon, the easy rhythm of stitch-knot-clip, stitch-knot-clip became hypnotic in its own right. She paused to rinse the wound after several iterations, and his back swelled as he took a breath. "I didn't realize you had medical training."

  "I’m a veterinarian. Fortunately for you, humans are just bigger, dumber animals.” She resisted the urge to add especially rangers. “It's the downside of our isolation—we had to do everything ourselves. Gener was the master trainer. I had to make sure everyone stayed healthy. And try not to breathe so deep. You're screwing up my nice, even stitches."

  He shrugged the shoulder she wasn’t working on. "What's one more scar, really?"

  "Yes, yes. You're a big tough ranger.” Nafisi rolled her eyes. “If I tell you we’re all impressed, will you shut up and lay still?"

  If there was one universal constant she’d discovered, it was that the tougher the man was supposed to be, the more screwed up he was inside. It floored her that rangers were even able to function at times, given how broken they all seemed to her. Gener had been the opposite—a sensitive, caring exterior wrapped around a core of pure iron. She’d appreciated that about him, at least until he decided to not tell her about his symptoms to keep from worrying her. Until it was too late.

  She corrected her assessment. It wasn’t just rangers. All men were assholes. Not that she cared particularly, her hands were full keeping the wolves healthy and the ranch operational. She didn't have time to try to put someone else back together on top of that.

  She finished closing the wound and sat back on her heels to admire her handiwork. And the broad back that surrounded it, if she was being honest. Tawny skin glowed with almost ocher undertones in the polarized light of the medical bay. Well-defined muscles were crisscrossed by a pattern of pale scars—a kind of cuneiform that told the story of a life in combat. She could see the telltale ripple of plasmacaster scarring, scattered jagged incisions from shrapnel, and wounds whose origins she didn't want to think about.

  Nafisi wiped his skin down with a steri-cloth and rested her hand on his shoulder. "Okay, you can move now, but be careful. If you rip a stitch, I'm going to be pissed off when I put it back in."

  "You wouldn't be the first angry doctor to close me back up again." He slipped out of what was left of his shirt and jacket as he sat up. The lattice of scars continued onto his chest, interrupting the fine dusting of dark hair. "How long does one of these storms last?"

  She forced herself to keep her eyes on his face. Only so much observation could be passed off as medicinal after all. "A bad one can last two or three days. I don't think this one is quite that bad, but it remains to be seen." She stretched as she stood up. She needed to put some space between the two of them.

  He was quiet for several minutes, then asked, "What about JJ?"

  Nafisi blinked. “Who’s JJ?”

  “The puppy, back at the house.” He pointed toward the door and the ranch beyond. “I assumed he was from your double-J litter, and it seemed rude to just call him pup. So, JJ.”

  She tried not to smirk. Rangers all had a soft spot for their wolves. She’d been thinking of the pup as “runt” when she addressed it directly, which wasn’t often. He was right though—the adult wolves had timed feeders and plenty of fresh water that wouldn’t be contaminated by the dust. As a puppy, JJ needed more attention, and since he was being hand fed…

  "I'll go get him. It gives me a chance to grab a shirt." He chuckled and spread his arms. "I feel a little underdressed."

  "You're fine. Don't fish for compliments." She opened the door enough to peek outside. Howling wind and choking dust made the house almost invisible despite being less than a quarter click away. "There's no way I'm letting you out into the storm—"

  "I'd like to see you stop me."

  Stupid, macho bastards. Every ranger. "As I was saying. I'm not going to let you go out there on your own." She went into the main room of the kennel and grabbed a coil of rope that she and Gener had kept for just such purposes. She tossed it to Penzak in the med bay. "Tie one end of that around your waist. Visibility’s shit out there, and the last thing we can afford is to get separated in the storm. The wolves here are fine, so once we get to the house, we can hide there until it blows over." And she could put one or more closed doors between her and the commander, which seemed like a good idea for her sanity.

  His fingers were deft as he fastened the rope around himself, and Nafisi appreciated that she didn’t need to remind him to make a second loop for safety, in case the first set of knots failed. He threw the other end of the rope to her. “Your turn.”

  She tried not to think about how familiar it all felt—the easy rhythm of preparation as she headed out into the storm. It was almost like having Gener back. A bigger, more muscular, and infinitely more irritating version of him, anyway. She finished her knots and tugged the rope to be sure they held. Satisfied, she pushed the door open and steeled herself for the bite of the wind through her clothes. “Okay, Ranger. Let’s move out.”

  4

  Rafe woke in the dark on the co
uch, his back vacillating between burning and itching. His skin felt two sizes too small, as though any motion might cause the whole to split with a tear and expose the muscle beneath. Not that he was in a particular hurry to move. The soft, warm weight curled in the center of his chest pinned him in place more effectively than if it had been a dwarf star.

  With the lights off, he could barely see the blurry outline of the young umbra wolf. Years of experience told him that JJ slept with his tail wrapped around the front of his face. He didn’t need to see the creature to know the posture—Actaeon had slept the same way when he felt at ease.

  The crossing from the kennel had been impossibly dark—what little light was visible on the house was swallowed up by the dust, and even though he had reasonably decent night vision he’d seen no sign of Nafisi at the other end of the rope. Only her commands, shouted above the din of the wind, and the tension on the line told him she was there.

  The noise. That’s what had awakened him. The wind was still outside, still bad, but not nearly as loud as it had been. The storm might actually be dying down. Only a dozen hours or so—shorter than the dire warning his host had pronounced.

  At the thought of Nafisi his mind churned. A bundle of contradictions, she’d clearly barely wanted him in her house, and yet last night she’d offered to let him have the bed while she took the couch. She looked relieved when he’d declined, but even the offer felt generous.

  Frankly, given some of the places he’d racked over the years of his service, a soft couch was practically a luxury, despite his legs hanging off the end almost to the knee. Part of him wanted to repay her kindness, even if it hadn’t been intentional. He just couldn’t decide if he thought it might make her happy, or because it might piss her off—though by God and Wolf, when anger flashed in the dark depths of her eyes…