by Juno Wells
As always, she attempted to melt into the background, allowing the action to swirl around her. There were several hundred individuals present. She had never felt more conspicuous, or alien, in her entire life. Though she had spent the entire day as the Queen’s guest, the Davarians still stared at her suspiciously, like she shouldn’t be there. Had Grace been faint of heart, it would have bothered her. However, she was more amused than anything else.
This evening, the Queen was in full flow. Her staff were mostly male warriors. They were silently moving around, finalizing last-minute details. Grace’s eyes landed on the newly awoken Regent, Bradon the Wise. She surmised he was very recently out of his hibernation chamber. He was sitting beside Queen Belanna, immaculately groomed and clothed. Though he had a thick fur wrapped around his shoulders, he was shivering.
Grace’s stomach churned, as she remembered what coming out of hyper sleep felt like. He was drinking some type of Davarian alcoholic beverage. Alcohol was not the drink to be imbibing when one was fresh out of hibernation. Now, that just wouldn’t do. Grace walked over to a floating drink carousel, and whirled it around, looking for specific types of tea. She quickly mixed an original brew and headed for Bradon.
Grace saw Belanna’s face brighten when she noticed Grace approaching. The Queen leaned over, put her hand on Bradon’s arm, and whispered something in the lethargic Regent’s ear. He smiled in response and placed his hand gently over Belanna’s. Grace got the impression they were close friends. She wondered if they were lovers as well.
Kneeling quietly beside Bradon, Grace took the beverage from his hands, and replaced it with her special brew. “Trust me. This will ease your chills and settle your stomach.” It might be presumptuous, but she was fairly certain the brew would have the desired effect because she had a good nose for such things and had selected from Davarian varieties.
The man smelled it and nodded his head in thanks. Grace touched him gently on the back, before heading back into the mix.
He immediately turned and began to whisper to the Queen, as he took sips of his drink. Bradon the Wise was very perceptive of his surroundings. As soon as his chills eased up, Queen Belanna escorted him around the room, making introductions. Grace smiled warmly as Belanna approached and introduced Bradon.
Grace beamed at him with genuine warmth. “I’m happy to see you are feeling better. My special mix of herbal teas must have helped. Every time I come out of my sleep pod, I feel groggy and sick to my stomach as well. It’s something about being in hibernation.”
The Regent looked at her briefly before responding. “Perhaps your tea had nothing to do with it. I may have recovered in exactly the same manner, happily sipping my favorite intoxicating beverage.”
Expecting the same politeness she had come to associate with Queen Belanna, Grace was slightly taken aback. Everyone had been going on about how wonderful Bradon was, but his behavior didn’t seem to bear out his reputation.
She looked him in the eye and responded curtly. “I think the words you’re looking for are ‘thank you’.”
Bradon’s head snapped up to look her in the face.
Grace met his gaze without hostility, and without remorse for speaking her mind.
His expression remained blank. “You have a sharp tongue, Earthling.”
Grace rolled her eyes and shrugged. “You have no idea.”
“I am not accustomed to such behavior out of a female.”
“It must be difficult being around a plain-spoken person. You seem used to people tripping over themselves to curry your favor.”
His eyes narrowed. “Do you not wish my favor?”
Snorting a laugh, she responded, “Sorry, that won’t happen with me. I call it like I see it.”
Belanna laughed and reminded him of their prior conversation. “I told you these humans are different. They are bold and speak their mind. She means you no harm. It is simply their way. They don’t give quarter, simply because we are regents. I like her.”
Bradon huffed, “Well, I’m not entirely certain I concur.”
“I do. She has claws and fangs, but with words.”
Bradon lifted his chin. “I have actual claws and fangs. The human should remember this.”
Davarians had a facial tick they used in the same manner humans winked. Belanna made it and teased Bradon. “Careful, my friend. She plays all our verbal games better than we do.”
“Do not caution me in regard to this human. They do not scare me.”
Having learned in the space of a day that Davarians loved trading verbal slights and being unable to tell if they were joking with her, Grace went with her gut. Forcing her voice into a soothing tease, she purred. “Poor Bradon. I can tell spending so long in hibernation has taken a toll on you. Forty years is a long time to be out of the mix. Bet you lost a few things. Not the least of which is your sense of humor.”
The good-looking Regent gaped at her. Grace was more than pleased, to have rendered the poor man absolutely speechless. Did that mean she won the verbal exchange?
The Queen chimed in her tease as well. “I wouldn’t count on it. Bradon never had a sense of humor to begin with.”
Grace reached out and patted the big ancient on the arm. “That’s too bad. You have twenty long years in front of you. Without a sense of humor, there’s very little chance you’ll enjoy any of it.”
As she walked off, she could hear Bradon stammering. “I’ve only been sleeping forty cycles. How is it, our world has gone absolutely crazy?”
Grace smiled to herself. The frustration in his voice was plain to hear. The poor guy was having a rough morning. Unfortunately, he was devastatingly handsome when he was angry. That meant she’d likely circle back around to tease him some more. That probably made her a very bad woman. She should not enjoy teasing him quite as much as she did. Truth be told, it was refreshing to be on a world where one could say pretty much what they want without suffering formal retribution.
She finally found her sisters sitting with Nayla. Since no one had brought them a nice clean uniform, they were stuck wearing gowns their guide had dug up for the occasion. Looking around, Grace realized she was the only female in a uniform.
The moment her ass hit the seat, Nayla hissed, “What are you doing? You cannot talk to a Regent like that.”
Grace chose a vegetable stick from the large bowl in the center of the table and shrugged. “You’re overreacting. Calm down. It’s fine.”
“Do you know he can exile your entire crew from this world? Is that what you want? Stop antagonizing him!”
Mia chimed in timidly, “Stop being an ass. You hurt his feelings.”
Grace waved away their worries. “Who the hell cares? I’ll be back to the ship in a day or two. He’ll forget about me quicker than…well…quicker than you can say to forget about me.” That idea gnawed at her, and she didn’t know why. “He started it, anyway. He owes me an apology, not vice versa.”
5 All Fun and Games
Grace
It was Grace’s favorite event of the evening. The sparring match Queen Belanna arranged began. Sparring was a Davarian tradition, especially among warriors. The captain had given crew members permission to join the event.
The prize was some rare dagger from Queen Belanna’s collection. It had every warrior at the celebration salivating. The winner was anyone’s guess. Neither the captain nor Commander West was competing. Win or lose it was going to be fun.
Grace waited until about halfway through the challenges to step in. She wanted a chance to get a feel for their fighting techniques. After several good matches she caught the attention of the Queen.
She wasn’t serious about hanging in for the long haul. Her primary objective had been to have a little one-on-one time with the ever-pompous Tracor. Unfortunately, he’d been taken out by a stronger opponent earlier in the event. He did stand on the sidelines rooting for her opponent during each of her matches. Hearing him talk about how humans were lesser beings again irritated
the living daylight out of Grace.
After winning two rounds, she ended up getting her ass politely handed to her by a big alpha male. That was fine. She wasn’t infantry or even used to hand-to-hand combat, so losing to a superior opponent didn’t bother her.
What did bother her was Tracor’s approaching her as she was stepping off the mat. “None of the other humans have lasted either, so don’t feel bad about being the weaker species.”
Grace growled, “Why are you being such a dick?”
His stupid smirk was back in full force. “I’ve told you that I’m not interested in breeding with weak humans, so why are you so preoccupied with my dick?”
Staring at him for a brief moment, Grace lifted one shoulder in an effortless half shrug. “I’ve never seen a dick talk, much less spew complete garbage. I certainly hope whatever you’re shooting out of your actual dick is a higher quality than what comes out of your mouth.”
Tracor stood there with his mouth opening and closing, like fish on dry land. Grace stepped the rest of the way off the mat to make room for the next challenge and was shocked when her new nemesis powered into her with his shoulder.
The stupid prick! Tearing into him while off the mat wasn’t a socially approved option, so she headed to the bar to get a drink, rubbing her shoulder. Some guys were asshats no matter their species.
The bar was filled with every interesting beverage known in this sector of space. It was shaped like a Z and hovered about three feet off the floor. She asked for three shots, bartender’s choice. After drinking them all down in rapid succession, she leaned over the bar on her elbows, wondering what kind of mess she could get herself into for the rest of the night.
Her eyes narrowed for a brief moment, as she thought about dragging the offending male’s arrogant ass onto the mat for a real fight. She quickly decided that kind of feral aggression would not play well in such a civilized environment. Plus, she had more respect for Queen Belanna than to implode her celebration.
That was about the time her thoughts began to get fuzzy. What was it she had drunk? Did she really care? She tried to pick her train of thought back up. Oh, yes. It was offensive men. She huffed, “Men and their bruised egos. I’ve about had my fill for one night.”
Suddenly, she heard a deep voice that sent shivers up her spine. “You bring it upon yourself, you know. Davarian men are prideful. It was difficult for the young one to accept being verbally bested in front of so many.”
Grace rounded on the handsome ancient and snarked, “Haven’t you heard? The entire world went absolutely crazy while you slept. Things like that happen these days. Women can participate in sparring matches and men can slam into their shoulders without warning. No one even needs to put up the pretense of being civilized anymore.”
“Shouldn’t you be drinking herbal tea, youngling?” Bradon said. “Drinking and fighting don’t mix. I don’t condone his colliding with you, by the way. That was very inappropriate. He is less than honorable to...”
Grace looked over at the drink cart holding herbal teas. It was large, round, and hovering about three feet off the ground. She watched, mesmerized, as it spun in a slow, lackadaisical fashion. The Regent was still talking. However, his voice was like so much background noise. Her head began to spin.
“Why does everything on this planet have to float? Your drink dispensers, tables, fountains…everything floats and spins. It’s doing my head in.”
The Regent’s brow creased, and his lips pressed into a firm line. “The only other option is to actually lift all those items, every time you want to move them. That seems kind of…primitive.”
“That’s why humans have robots. They do the heavy lifting.”
“Still, robots are a primitive solution.”
“Exactly what do you mean by primitive?”
“What I mean to say is; antiquated, old fashioned, archaic. Shall I go on, or do you understand, human?”
The edge of irritation to his voice grated on her nerves. “I can’t believe you have the audacity to call us antiquated. What are you, like a thousand years old?”
“Try five thousand. You are not permitted to speak to me in that manner, Earthling. I forbid it.”
Grace shook her head. “In case you haven’t realized, a lot has changed in forty years, your royal highness. In this crazy new world, women can fight…and drink…and fuck…and…well, do pretty much whatever a man can. They can even speak their minds. So, Mr. Pointy Ears, if you don’t accidentally fall back asleep, you’ll just have to get used to all these newfound freedoms we women have.”
Grace turned back to the bar and ordered another shot from the terrified bartender. Her head was still spinning. Did she just use the F-word? She never used the F-word. It was that stupid, irritatingly gorgeous ancient. It was all his fault that she …she… what was it she did? She honestly couldn’t remember.
Wait, back to the bartender. Why was he terrified? He looked like a Denarian. They were synthetic beings…androids. They didn’t even have feelings. How could a synthetic being, devoid of feeling, be terrified? What was he terrified of? She shook off her random thoughts about the bartender and focused on picking back up with her original thought. Why was that proving so difficult?
She concentrated. What was it that had her so upset? Oh, yes. It was that insufferable ancient. She congratulated herself on her ability to refrain from telling the arrogant one to fuck off. That took no small amount of self-control after three shots. Wait. In order to tell him to fuck off she would have to use the F-word again. That simply wouldn’t do. He would just have to, something else off. She lifted her glass and gave a silent prayer that the annoying man would leave her the hell alone, so she didn’t have to use the F-word. She tipped the glass, and the intoxicating beverage went down easy. It tasted sticky sweet.
“Are you certain another drink is what you need right now? You’re virtually ensuring you’ll use the F-word.”
Grace whirled around to face him, noticing she was unsteady on her feet. The last thing she needed was to fall flat on her face in front of His Royal Holy Buttness.
“You, are you still here? Get out of my head and go find someone else to condesssscend to.” Wait, that didn’t sound right. Somehow there were too many S’s in that long word. Why did extra consonants always manage to find their way into words after the fourth drink? She furrowed her brow. What was she doing? Oh yes, she was drinking now. That made perfect sense. If she was drinking, it must be time to drink. It’s really the only thing that would explain her drinking. Wow! She realized she was caught in some sort of strange feedback loop that began and ended with drinking. Why did things like always happen after the fourth drink? Wait, didn’t she just think something similar to that?
There was that deep baritone voice again. “No, you didn’t just think it. You have been saying every random thought that popped into your mind for the last several minutes. It’s been rather fascinating, but also an indication that you don’t need any more intoxicating beverages.”
Grace leaned on the bar and murmured, “My mistake...I thought it was time for…whatever it was time for.”
The bartender supplied helpfully, “You thought it was time for drinking, remember?”
Grace perked up, “I do remember! I’ll take a…”
Suddenly a strong hand wrapped around her arm, and Bradon pulled her toward his table. “Tea. You’ll take a tea, you insufferably irritating little female.”
Grace stumbled as he pulled her across the room. What in God’s name was wrong with her feet? They weren’t moving right. She stumbled and began to fall.
Bradon turned and caught her in his arms. She looked into his emerald green eyes. They were deep like pools of water. His face reminded her of a carved Greek statue, except the signature Davarian eye ridges running along his temples. His mouth was open, and his lips looked so inviting. She imagined what it would feel like to kiss him.
Suddenly feeling quite intoxicated, she tried to shake the grogg
iness from her head. When she glanced back up at him, she realized it didn’t work. He was still as gorgeous as ever he was.
She murmured, “You have really strong arms.”
She noticed a small smile threatened to curve his lips.
“And very pretty eyes. I thought all Davarians had black eyes. You have…umm…teal eyes.”
He gently turned her around and walked her to his table. A priest dropped a warm mug of tea on the table. Bradon fed her drinks of it for almost an hour, before it occurred to Grace to wonder why.
Belanna smiled at them from across the room. Grace thought she looked a bit like the cat that swallowed a canary. If the Queen had any suspicions about why her counterpart was comforting a menacing human, she kept them to herself.
Grace finally sobered up, finding herself a little embarrassed. “You make good tea for an old man. How am I sober already? How did I get intoxicated at the speed of light, come to think of it?”
Bradon sighed as he replied. “The Denarian gave you Quick Mix. It’s designed for quick and short-term intoxication. It comes in seventeen tantalizing flavors. Most people only have one or two, not four. The bartender probably thought you were getting drinks for you and your friends. He sure seemed scared, when you downed three in a row. You’re quite belligerent when you’re intoxicated.”
“Sorry about using the F-word. My father raised me better than that. I don’t know why, but you really bring out the beast in me. My temper tends to fly, when I’m provoked.”
“Are you always so difficult?”
She rolled her eyes and answered self-consciously. “Usually. I guess it’s why none of my relationships work out.”
“At least you get relationships. All I get is duty, and sleep, and an occasional compliment on my pretty eyes.”
Grace smiled at him. “I’m glad you found your sense of humor. It looks good on you. Of course, anything would.”
Bradon’s face lit up with a smile, making him look twice as handsome as before. “Are you flirting with me? I thought I was an old man.”
