Beyond the Next Star

by Melody Johnson

  Torek glanced around at the crowd of students and then at Brinon himself, but if anyone else thought Reshna’s active participation strange, no one spoke up about it. Was no one even remotely intrigued that she’d recalled Roerik’s duties better than Roerik himself?

  Brinon slipped on a pair of surgical gloves and approached Reshna. “Have you noticed any change in her behavior now compared to before her accident?”

  She has conversations with me in Lori now. “She’s more skittish, but in private, her behavior has returned to normal.”

  Brinon pinched her eyes open and shone a light into them, watching her pupils react. “And in public?”

  “So far, so good.”

  Brinon pressed his hands to either side of her throat. “How about her eating habits and bowel movements?”

  Reshna heaved a sigh.

  “Both back to normal,” Torek reported, curtailing his grin.

  Brinon shifted one hand from her neck to her back, and the other began to palpate her stomach. “Has she displayed any pain or discomfort?”

  “No. She seems quite recovered. Back to her shy self. For the most part,” Torek added, so no one could accuse him of being a complete liar. “In your experience, Brinon Kore’Onik, have you ever come across an animal companion that developed the ability to speak?”

  The students ducked their heads and glanced at one another, giggling behind their daaroks.

  “Now, now, Torek Lore’Onik Weidnar Kenzo Lesh’Aerai Renaar’s question, although curious, is quite relevant to our study of animal companions,” Brinon said.

  At the recitation of his full name, the students bolted upright and into silence.

  “Many animal companions have their own modes of communication. Zepraks bark, for example. Atters purr. Lombowatts release a hormone, or scent, to signal to other lombowatts when there’s danger approaching or if they’re in heat. The various means of communication between animal companions, breed to breed, is truly extraordinary.”

  One of the students, the girl who had nodded to Roerik, raised her hand.

  “Yes, Joennel?”

  “Have animal companions ever been known to communicate with animal companions of a different breed?” she asked.

  Brinon finished palpitating Reshna’s stomach and patted her flank. Her cheeks flushed.

  Torek glanced between Brinon’s hand placement and Reshna’s expression, feeling concern and trepidation, like the slow melt of ice, creep through his veins.

  “There have been instances of lombowatts seeming to get along and communicate with pourpites,” Brinon said, answering Joennel’s question, “but atters can’t bark and zepraks don’t have the scent glands necessary to communicate with lombowatts and pourpites. When they do find a means to communicate, body language is typically the common language.”

  “And if an animal companion did learn another language?” Torek asked. “Lori, for example?”

  Reshna looked up at that.

  Brinon glanced at Torek, amused. “Assuming an animal had the vocal cord capacity to produce the varied vowels and consonants that compose our native tongue?”

  “Yes, assuming that.”

  “A big assumption.” Brinon picked up a thermometer from the instrument tray and adjusted his position behind Reshna. “If we ever came across such an animal companion, we would likely declassify them as an animal. A being capable of learning a foreign spoken language would likely have the same intellectual capacity as lorienok, and therefore be classified as a person.”

  Reshna stretched to look over her shoulder as Brinon disappeared behind her.

  “A person,” Torek said numbly.

  Brinon inserted the thermometer into Reshna’s anus.

  She looked away. The veins in her neck swelled from the strain of biting back a scream. Three, then four tears dripped from her jaw and hit the paper sheet over the table with a soft patter. Her knuckles turned bone white as she gripped the table’s edge, and Torek was reminded of her gripping the chair in the waiting room in the same manner, just minutes ago. And him, hoping that she wouldn’t make a scene.

  Torek felt sick.

  Insensitive. Dismissive. Trivializing. His own words returned to haunt him. He was all those things and worse. She was suffering, and by enabling it to happen, he himself was the cause of it.

  Brinon removed the thermometer and smiled. He patted her flank and didn’t seem to notice her flinch. “Very good, Reshna. You’re such a good girl.” He looked up at his students. “You may proceed.”

  The students lurched forward in one excited wave, cooing and fawning over her. Roerik examined her gums and tongue. Torek held his breath, willing Reshna to keep a level head, and she did. She didn’t growl, jerk away, or bite as Roerik practically climbed inside her mouth in his enthusiasm to count her molars. Another student flashed a light in her eyes, again, and had to wipe her cheeks several times so his grip wouldn’t slip as he held her eyes open. Joennel picked up a measuring rod and was recording the length of Reshna’s limbs, then the length of her hair, the circumference of her neck, the length of her arms, the swell of her breasts, her waist, and lower still to the folds of her privates.

  Reshna’s skin, from the top of her hairline to the tips of her toes, flushed a bright red.

  Torek recalled his own exploration when he’d thought her bleeding internally, and the skin under his fur flushed hot with shame.

  A keening noise slipped passed her compressed lips.

  Torek stepped forward, nudging Joennel and her measuring gently aside. He placed his hand on the back of Reshna’s head, squeezed the nape of her neck, and viurred softly.

  Reshna completely lost what little tenuous control she had on her composure. Her lips broke open on a wail. She dropped her weight down onto her elbows and muffled her sobs with her hands, but they still racked her small body.

  For the first time in all the many times he’d seen Reshna without clothes, Torek realized that she was naked.

  All the students froze midtask, uncertain.

  “You’re finished?” Torek asked, taking advantage of their hesitation.

  Brinon stepped forward. “Actually, we—”

  “Perfect, because I’m late for my next appointment.” Torek snapped open the restraints, pulled Reshna’s coverings up and around her cold skin, and gathered her into his arms in one smooth sweep.

  She buried her face into his chest, shaking. Torek rubbed her back. His viurrs blended into one constant vibration as he pivoted on his heel and strode from the room, leaving a crowd of gaping students and one protesting teacher behind. But by Lorien’s horn, if his fever-delirium-issued commands had the weight to sentence him to death, his actual commands certainly had the weight to spare Reshna this humiliation.

  He was Torek Lore’Onik Weidnar Kenzo Lesh’Aerai Renaar. He walked where he willed.

  Seventeen

  Reshna was shaky and listless, the same as always following her appointments with Brinon Kore’Onik. She was sitting cross-legged on the floor next to Torek’s chair in Shemara Kore’Onik’s office. Her eyes tracking their conversation were the only part of her that moved. The rest of her was slumped against his chair. He’d always suspected that she didn’t particularly enjoy her appointments with Brinon and had considered finding a new specialist for her, but now he wasn’t sure what to do. A new specialist would treat her in just the same casual manner as Brinon. Had he witnessed the appointment two weeks ago, before their accident, he wouldn’t have thought anything of it. She was a diva. She was sensitive and shy. She’d get over it.

  Except, she was a person.

  “Torek?”

  Shemara’s voice cut through the whirl of his thoughts, and Torek startled.

  Shemara worried a claw across her lower lip. “I was asking about your recovery, but I’m wondering if we should close our session early so you may schedule an appointment with Geraevon Kore’Onik.”

  “No, no. I apologize. I’m distracted this morning.”

&
nbsp; She grinned. “It’s afternoon. You were two hours late for your appointment.”

  Torek swallowed his groan. “Of course. Again, my apologies.”

  She waved that away. “I heard it was quite the parade getting here.”

  “Everyone was eager to hail our well-being. More Reshna’s well-being than mine, I think.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “I’ve been injured many times in the line of duty, but I’ve never been two hours late for an appointment after emerging from my sickbed.”

  Shemara double-tapped a claw against the daarok in her lap. Her gaze delved into his to dissect his brain, considering who knew what—his mental instability, most likely. “Is that what had you so preoccupied just now? Thoughts of Reshna’s overshadowing fame and popularity?”

  That startled a laugh from him. “I was thinking about Reshna’s last appointment with Brinon Kore’Onik.”

  “When he healed her following her accident?”

  He shook his head. “The one we just came from.”

  Shemara glanced at Reshna and then met Torek’s eyes, looking troubled. “Did it not go well?”

  “No, it did not.”

  “You can always request to accompany her into her appointments. That typically isn’t allowed, but for you, I’m sure he’d make an exception.”

  Torek dragged a hand down his face. “I did, and he did.”

  “And?” she encouraged. “What about him distresses her?”

  “Everything, I think.” Torek leaned down, reaching for the comfort and familiarity of smoothing Reshna’s curls between his fingers.

  He hesitated. Petting her was an unthinking habit ingrained from their many weeks together, but suddenly, every touch, every interaction, burned through him. He couldn’t ask for her permission to touch her, not in front of Shemara. She already thought he was teetering on the brink of a mental breakdown. He clenched his hand into a fist and withdrew.

  Reshna turned her head to face him. Her wide, red-rimmed gray eyes locked with his gaze, and for the first time since he’d met her with her spirit deteriorating in that cage, he couldn’t interpret her expression. He hadn’t wanted an animal companion, and never one as complicated as Reshna. Now here he was, how many weeks later, his life infinitely more complicated than he ever could have imagined, yet that same uneasy burden, the certainty of inevitable failure, crushed his heart at the look in her eyes.

  Tak. Tak.

  Torek glanced up from Reshna at that double tap. Hot blood rushed to his cheeks. He was still in Shemara Kore’Onik’s office, and she was still dissecting him.

  Torturing him for her own pleasure.

  Torek cleared his throat, hoping his voice didn’t sound as strained as it felt. “The entire encounter was distressing for her, but Brinon didn’t do anything during her exam that any other animal companion specialist wouldn’t do.”

  Shemara’s mouth pulled taut and to the left in thought. “You said that her injuries were healed from the accident.”

  Torek nodded.

  “It’s likely she suffered emotional trauma as well. Her accident was severe, painful, and frightening, and the healing process even more so. Brinon could be a trigger for her fears.”

  “She was distressed by her visits with Brinon even before her accident.”

  Tak. Tak. “Does her care manual detail her medical history?”

  Reshna’s head snapped up at that. The bones in her neck actually cracked from the suddenness of her movement.

  “She might have endured a trauma before you purchased her that could explain her reaction toward Brinon,” Shemara continued. “Or perhaps it’s simply a bad fit. That happens too.”

  “Hmmm.” Torek nodded, but her suggestions only reminded him that, should Reshna have a medical history, it had been written in her manual by a Federation domestication specialist who hadn’t discovered that Reshna could speak during their four-kair journey from Earth to Lorien. In all that time her trainer had spent exploring both her physical and mental capabilities, he or she had never discovered her capacity for speech?

  What else about her had been overlooked?

  Tak. Tak.

  Torek looked up.

  Shemara’s lips twitched.

  “I apologize.” Torek frowned. “Again.”

  Shemara glanced at her daarok. “How about we call it a day? We’re nearly done anyway.” She stopped trying to hold back her grin and flashed a row of neat white fangs. “Reshna’s a lucky gal with you by her side.”

  Torek’s gaze drifted back to Reshna. If the sick knot in his stomach was right—and he’d always been able to rely on its accuracy—Reshna was actually the most unlucky gal this side of the galaxy.

  A person, he thought, and shuddered.

  After a blessedly uneventful surgical follow-up, Torek was seated in uncomfortable silence with Reshna at Grattao. Mairok had commented on their tardiness, but she could stuff her disapproval down the same hole she’d buried all his failings. She was lucky they were even here. He desperately wanted to return to the estate. He wanted to lock Reshna in his room, the one place no one would dare enter without permission—save for Petreok, apparently—and have it out and done with her. The last thing he wanted to do at the end of this miserable waste of a day was to sit and waste more time choking down a plateful of runny, overcooked rainol e lokks, but Mairok would be severely disappointed if he skipped a week. Technically, he’d already skipped last week’s visit, but even she couldn’t blame him for that. He’d already disappointed his mother-in-law more than any one person should ever be disappointed in their lifetime, so Torek sat. He’d swallow her rainol e lokks even though he could make better at home, and then he’d interrogate Reshna.

  He’d made the promise to remain silent in frustration, without truly weighing the consequences, and he’d endured those consequences time and again throughout the entire day. The knowledge that Reshna could speak was like an open wound—the longer he let the matter linger between them, the more it festered, poisoning his mood, his judgment, everything. He couldn’t live like this, knowing what he thought he knew and allow Reshna to continue to endure everything she’d obviously been enduring. The wrongness of what was being inflicted upon her was appalling, and he wouldn’t be an accomplice to it. He couldn’t.

  And that was the fatal ingredient of the wound’s poison: he’d thought her happy. Yes, she was shy and skittish and constantly shivering with cold and concern, but she’d often calmed at the pressure of his hand on her neck. She’d seemed to enjoy the stroke of his claws over her scalp. She’d curled into his embrace at night, and he was both touched and impressed by her uncanny ability to interpret when he needed to embrace her most. Not so uncanny after all. And that entire time, while he’d been taking comfort from her, being healed by her, she’d just been enduring.

  And another thought had occurred to him, worse even than the last: people don’t live in the wild, ripe for the taking. People have homes and families and careers. They have their own language.

  They have their own names.

  Again, he thought of the many nights they’d lain beside one another, the many meals they’d shared—gah, he felt nauseous—the many training sessions, the baths, the groomings, the love and care he’d poured on her. The love he’d assumed was being automatically returned.

  It couldn’t all have been lies. He recalled her trembling body as she’d braced herself against Brinon Kore’Onik’s exam table: she didn’t hide her suffering. He’d even noticed it before she’d spoken of it. He’d just never given her feelings on the matter the consideration they’d deserved. The consideration she’d deserved. It stood to reason that if she didn’t much hide her suffering, then perhaps she didn’t much hide her affection either. The bond he’d created with her couldn’t all be lies, but neither was it all truth. Not even close.

  The wound’s poison spread faster with his racing thoughts.

  The food would come, Mairok would fawn, and then he and Reshna
could return to the estate and have it out and done soon.

  Just not soon enough.

  Torek sipped on a glass of saufre. Shemara Kore’Onik always gave sound advice, and for once, Torek was excited to follow it. With the prolonged silence between him and Reshna thinning his already frayed patience, Torek activated his daarok, opened Reshna’s manual, and found the chapter on her medical history.

  The chapter was quite extensive, detailing a variety of scans, findings, and the specialist’s interpretations of those findings organized by injury type: bones that had previously been fractured and broken, joints that had previously been strained or sprained, skin that had previously been cut, etc.

  Torek skimmed the findings, his eyes catching on one item in particular: the row of thin, parallel scars on her right thigh and the patch of crisscrossing scars on her left. According to the author, the scars’ straight, evenly spaced positioning on her right thigh indicated the swipe of claws, but the location of the scars—her upper inner thigh—was curious. And the author was baffled by the scars on her left thigh. Her blood was healthy. Her muscles were underdeveloped but also healthy. Torek heartily disagreed with her “optimum weight” based on her height and body mass, but otherwise, beyond the perplexing presence of those strange scars on her inner thighs, Reshna was in decent health.

  Her medical history, however, didn’t include an examination of her mental health. The author wasn’t completely remiss in his work. He included a chapter on personality and mental well-being in the Human Nature chapter, but he hadn’t expanded on his findings. And why should he? Reshna was only an animal companion, after all. Nevertheless, the presence of those scars bothered him. They should have bothered her domestication specialist too.

  And then there was the little matter of her learning Lori during her four kair with him.

  Hadn’t he noticed? Surely, having learned the language, Reshna had realized she was being groomed for domestic ownership. And even more surely—having realized this, found the proper words, and strung them in the correct order—she would have shouted, I am not an animal! Release me at once, and return me home!