by Megan Alban
“MagnorCo?” he guessed. Most of the bigger corporations in the galaxy had a nasty way of doing business if they wanted something you weren’t willing to give. The Emperor turned a blind eye so long as they kept lining his pockets with their profit.
She gave a short nod. After their bout of singing, it was about all she could manage. The mile or so they’d already hiked was starting to catch up with him, and he could feel his knee threatening to give out with each step. “Just...keep it down,” she said.
“Won’t be a problem,” he assured her, and in the next moment he was on his knees, groaning as his already battered leg hit the ground hard. “Oh, look,” he mumbled, glancing up to see her face haloed in the light of the suns. “Got me a guardian angel…”
And then he was out.
…
“Come on, wake up. Wake up!” She said roughly with a shake of his shoulders. He awoke and she had taken a piece of cloth and made a brace to wrap around the wounded leg. “Won’t keep it from hurting, but should let you walk the rest of the way. We’re almost there anyhow.”
“You going to tell me where we’re going yet?”
“Not yet.” Her voice was harsh, but he could tell that her blue eyes were softening toward him.
“Thanks for the brace, ma’am,” Arron said softly, responding to her eyes and not her voice.
“Don’t mention it,” she said quietly as she helped him to his feet. “We’ll stop and make camp tonight. Can’t make it to the edge of my claim before nightfall with your knee the way it is. We can bunk down for the night at my camp, and I’ll see you to the other side of the claim in the morning. It’s not Paloma, but it’s as far as I can take you.”
It would have been nice to have an escort all the way to Paloma, especially one as interesting as this one, but he’d take what he could get. “So you believe me then?”
“No MagnorCo thug would be so stupid as to belt Waltzing Matilda at the top of his lungs like that, even to attract back up. Besides you have no ID chip. So I figure you either dug it out yourself, in which case, you’d be bleeding something awful from your arm, or you’re telling the truth and want to get to Paloma to sell your goods. Either way you’re no threat to me. Don’t see much point in treating you like one,” she said as she untied his hands. “There. That should keep you from falling over on me again.”
“Thank you kindly,” he said, staring for a moment into her deep blue eyes. They reminded him of the oceans on his home planet: a kind of darkness to their depths, like there was a truth behind them that he had to know. “Don’t suppose I could get a name now, could I?”
She looked him over like she was still deciding if she could trust him that much. “Paige,” she said finally, taking his pack from of her robots and handing it back to him. “And you can carry your own weight this time around.”
“Happy to,” he said, though he took a moment first to try and stretch out his shoulder. His left arm was all but useless after the crash and the fall and walking for miles with his arms twisted behind him, but he only winced a little as he shouldered his pack, grimacing as the pooling blood of the tortoise he’d killed seeped through the canvas into his shirt.
She gave him a look that might have passed for sympathy on a softer face, but he’d take it all the same. If she felt bad for her part in his injuries, so much the better. It meant he was less likely to end up in bondage again.
Looking him over again, she gave a quick nod, satisfied with...something. He couldn’t tell what. “Come on, then. We’re close, but it’s gonna be a rough hike.”
“After you, honey,” he said, gritting his teeth against the renewed pain as he struggled to his feet. He had to use one of her robots for a hand up, and she just stood and watched warily as he moved, but he steadied himself eventually. She gave another nod and headed off down a faint trail, moving higher up into the mountains.
…
Paige could hear the man’s--Arron, he said, but could she trust even that?--labored breathing behind her as they made their way through the thickening forest. Normally she’d be cautious of letting him be at her back, but she trusted the boys to watch him, and she couldn’t always be fighting the instinct to reach out and help him when he stumbled, which he seemed to do quite often.
The walk back to camp should have taken no more than four hours, but with Arron’s tentative stride, it took almost twice that long. Only the second sun still hung in the sky, swollen and red with exhaustion, like it was barely managing to keep itself aloft for another few minutes.
“Home sweet home,” she said dryly, holding the flap of the tent open for him as he stumbled inside. Watching him, she couldn’t help feeling a spike of sympathy. Some of his injuries had obviously come from before the trap, but that fall must have aggravated them, and that much was on her. She didn’t regret the trap, but she did sort of regret having caught him in it.
He caught her staring, and she cleared her throat, turning to secure the door. The blood-red light of the drooping sun blazed through the transparent walls, and she left them as they were, wanting to soak up as much of the solar power as she could manage before she opaqued them for the night. “We should be safe enough here. MagnorCo’s people won’t be out at night.”
He nodded, accepting that, and looked around the space. It was bare but warm and snug enough. Just two bunks against one wall, a small table and two chairs, a camp stove in the small kitchen. There was a tub in the back, and the water from it drained into a hydroponic greenhouse tucked into one wall of the tent. Nothing was ready for harvest yet, but the green of it made the place seem a little more like home. Arron took it all in briefly and then nodded to the lower bunk. “Mind if I…?”
“Go right ahead,” she said, turning to see that the boys were stowed safely. She heard a metallic clink behind her and spun around to see Arron holding a robotic leg in one hand and an eye socket in the other. “Put him down!” she said, scurrying over to Arron to snatch the parts from his grasp.
“Sorry,” he said quickly, holding up his hands and giving her that infuriating grin that seemed to pop up all too often. “Him?”
“Yes, him,” she said, tucking the parts safely back into their bin. “Sergi. He was my first.”
“He doesn’t look too good,” Arron pointed out.
“Yeah, well...he’s had a rough year. I’ll have him up again soon.”
“Poor fellow. I hope his recovery is swift,” Arron said sounding sincere. “So you build robots?”
She shrugged and went back to her nightly activities. “They’re good companions, and I’ve...always been good with machines.” She felt perilously close to rambling, and that wasn’t something she was prone to with actual people in the room. Even her dad didn’t get much out of her when it was just the two of them. “Robots are just...easier,” she said, not realizing at first that she’d spoken aloud. She looked up sharply when she heard her own voice. Arron was watching her with a faint smile on his lips, as though he were amused or pleased perhaps. She moved through her tasks quickly, settling into the routine of it. The beds were put together quickly. She figured they’d both collapse after dinner. Whether she could manage to stay asleep the whole night was still in debate. Finally she was satisfied that things were ready enough, and she set to work on dinner, pulling out two freeze-dried packages to be rehydrated. “It’s not real fancy, but this will do us for the evening,” she said as she put water to boil.
“Now, hold on a minute, honey,” he said, and Paige felt herself stiffen. The endearment was not to her liking, but she didn’t think he meant any harm by it. “I’ve got to pull my weight somehow. Let me at least make dinner. Anyway,” he added, voice was full of mirth as he rubbed his wrists where they had been bound, “it’s because of you I’ve got the main ingredient.” He reached into his bag and pulled out the tortoise he had killed.
She hesitated, not sure how she felt about letting him loose in her kitchen, equally unsure of what she’d do with herself while he worked.
Still, he was right. Dinner was proper payment for a night’s bed, and it didn’t hurt her pride to accept it. Her mouth watered at the thought of that tortoise. It had been a long while since she or her father had had the time to hunt. “If you insist. But you’ll have to taste it first. Not sure I trust you that much just yet.” It was only half a joke, but she managed a smile to go with it as she handed over the meal packs.
“Well, thank you kindly, Paige,” he responded, taking the packs from her with a tip of his imaginary hat.
She felt a strange reaction to hearing her name from him. Her knees went a little weak, and she couldn’t quite work out why. It had been a long time since somebody had said her name with that kind of warmth and appreciation, teasing even. There was no need for her father to say her name when it was just the two of them, and it had been a good two years since she’d been around someone else long enough for them to say it. She smiled in response, and the expression felt rusty on her face, screeching into place like Sergio when his joints jammed up. It was...nice. It made her feel warm all over.
“We will be dining on turtle stew tonight, my lady,” Arron continued, already moving stiltedly through the kitchen, every step looking like it hurt. Paige almost offered help, but she knew in his position, she’d want to do it on her own, just to prove she could. It wasn’t payment if she helped. If this was all he could give, she’d let him give it. It was only right.
She watched him work. He was swift in butchering the turtle and clean in his method. Once she saw that he knew what he was doing she let herself relax enough to take off some of her hiking gear. She took one of the blankets, made a curtain over the bunks and pulled on some winter leggings, lined with wool. The comfort of them seeped through her skin, and she felt her shoulders relaxing just a bit.
After a moment’s consideration, she laid out some of her father’s clean nightclothes on the lower bunk. She wouldn’t make him climb up top in his condition.
When she pulled down the blanket, she sniffed the air, smiling a bit more easily. “This stew smells amazing. You’ve done this before.”
“Well. A time or two. My grandfather taught me how to hunt and how to cook. My first memories, and some of the best.”
The easy way he revealed these tender parts of himself startled her some. He dropped that tidbit like it wasn’t a precious thing to be hoarded, like he wasn’t locking himself up tight and keeping everything real as far from the world as possible.
“That meat might be a touch tough,” he continued, and Paige shook her head to clear it. “He was an old guy. Would have stewed him all day if I’d had the chance. Wouldn’t usually serve such lackluster stew to such a singular dinner companion.”
“It’s the best food I’ve had in a long time.” She replied with a smile that came much easier, oiled by the ease with which he interacted with her.
They settled down at the table to eat. Paige took the rickety chair and let him have her father’s solid stool. The meal went in silence for a long moment, then she noticed Arron watching the landscape through the still-transparent walls. The sun had long since set, and a deep darkness settled over the valley.
“What are those lights on the cliffs?” Arron asked, standing up for a better view. “God, they’re gorgeous.”
Paige glanced out to see what he was looking at and got straight up to set the walls to opaque. There was no real need for it, but she didn’t like watching the lights.
“Leave ‘em,” Arron said, reaching a hand out to stop her. His fingers were warm on her forearm through the thick cotton of her shirt, and the sensation alone was so unfamiliar that it stopped her easily. “No reason not to have a show with dinner.”
Her eyes stayed on his hand a moment too long, and he pulled it back sheepishly. When she looked back up at him, she shrugged. If he wanted to watch the lights, he was welcome to.
She sat back down with her stew, watching Arron as he watched the lights, amused and nonplused by his apparent awe. His face was streaked with dirt and blood, and it was hard to tell what color his hair would be when clean, but clear green eyes sparkled out from his grimy face, a smile of simple pleasure lighting up his expression.
As she continued to eat, she watched for that expression to change. There was something about seeing how a man reacted to danger that told you more about him than how he reacted to beauty.
She was not disappointed. The lights came closer, skittering across the valley floor. She heard them before he saw them, the tick-tick-tick of long, pointed legs clattering on rock and packed earth. He sucked in a breath just as she imagined their flashing eyes came into view, and he looked at her with something in his eyes that was strangely easy to identify. Respect.
It was the way her father had looked at her the first time she’d stood her ground against a wooly capabear and come away the better for it.
Calmly, she stood and went to opaque the walls.
“Well,” he said softly. “That’s not something you see every day.”
“Nope,” she answered, dropping carefully into her chair, wobbling a bit and then righting herself. “But it’s something I see every night.”
He rubbed his forehead, smearing dirt across it, and gave a low whistle. “Kinda puts things in perspective, huh?”
She tilted her head, standing again to gather their dishes. “How do you mean?”
“All I did was crash land my ship and crack a few bones. I thought I was having a shit day. Don’t seem so bad, now.”
She had to laugh a bit, mostly because he was grinning at her, laugh lines darkened with gathered dirt. “The reuzespin aren’t that bad. Just don’t want to be out at night while they feed. Or disturb their nests,” she added, thoughtfully.
Arron got up to help her clear things, but she shook her head to stop him. “You should rest. I left some clothes for you on the bunk.”
He looked down at himself with a frown. “Don’t suppose you’ve got a shower or a bath or something here? Am I going to need to wait till morning and dip in the stream?”
Paige felt her cheeks grow warm. She hadn’t thought of bathing him, but he was right to ask. He couldn’t be expected to sleep all filthy like that. Not to mention that his wounds might fester if they didn’t get cleaned out. “I...yeah. We got a tub,” she said, gesturing to the side of the tent that was half-hidden by a screen. “I...you need help running it?”
“I think I can manage,” he said, the smile that slid slowly across his face only increasing the heat in Paige’s cheeks. Her mind wandered a bit, wondering what was beneath the ragged clothes and layers of grime. “You clean the dishes, I’ll clean me.”
“Deal,” she said and quickly turned her back to finish clearing dinner.
…
Arron hobbled over to the bunk that Paige had put his night clothes on. Had he imagined the rosing of her cheeks when he smiled at her just now? He wondered about these men’s bed clothes. And why she was alone now. He picked up the clothes. They were surprisingly soft to the touch, though they looked thick and stiff.
As Paige cleared the rest of the table and started the dishes Arron walked to the side of the tent and around the screen that offered a modicum of privacy. He set his bed clothes on top of a folded towel on a stool next to a stunning hammered steel tub. He could hear the tink and tank of Paige cleaning the dishes just a few feet away. For a second he just listened to her. He closed his eyes and for a moment he thought he could hear her humming Waltzing Matilda again, very quietly.
He turned his attention to the Laser Divining Rod. He pushed the lever and the rod’s mechanism was triggered, its laser cutting down through the planet’s rock and then pulling water back up through a micro-molecular osmosis. This was an older model but still seemed to work quite well. He let his mind and gaze wander a bit while the tub filled. When he turned his head he could see Paige through the threadbare screen. He moved unconsciously closer to give himself a better view. She sat in a chair at the table working on the small robot she had demanded
he put down when they had first walked into the tent. Her brow was knit and her hands were already spotted with grease as she tinkered with the wiring of the little bot. There was something undeniably adorable about Paige. Her focus, her sincere love for her little bots, her creativity.
He turned back to the LDR and pulled the lever back toward him to stop the water’s flow. As he pulled at the bottom of his shirt to take it off, he found that his ribs weren’t keen on letting his arms raise above his head. He took a couple of deep breaths. Come on Arron, you’re not going to embarrass yourself in front of the pretty girl, are you? Get your shit together. He reached down again to tug at his shirt; with one quick pull he moved his arms up. He let out a groan, his ribs releasing a piercing pain that wrapped around his torso.
He heard Paige pause in her tinkering and swore under his breath. “Everything okay in there?” she called.
While he wanted to reassure her he was fine, he could hear his mother’s voice in his head telling him his damn pride was going to get him killed someday. “I could maybe use a hand,” he answered, resigned and annoyed at his own incompetence.
He could hear her feet shuffling across the tent floor, the movement sounding hesitant, wary almost. She stopped just on the other side of the screen, close enough he could smell the oil on her hands.
“What’s the problem?”
He cleared his throat. “While I agree my clothes ought to be washed at some point, I not so sure washing them while they’re on me is the best way to go about it.”
There was another hesitation. “You...need help undressing?”
“You caught me, honey.”
He heard a faint snort and hoped it was amusement rather than derision. “Okay, fine. I’ll...fine.”
As he watched, her slim, oil-spotted fingers curled around the edge of the screen to pull it back. Her cheeks were definitely flushed now, and she looked up at him with a stone-willed determination. “Just...your shirt?”
“Well, that’s a place to start, anyway.” The flush reached the tips of her ears, and he had a strange urge to slide a fingertip across one, see if it was as flaming hot as it looked.
