The Lion and the Mouse

by Emmy Chandler

  17

  Syrie

  I watch Lohr until he’s made it safely into the woods and out of sight, then I turn as my parents’ shuttle settles gently onto the ground in front of the guard station. My mother is the first one off, in a tailored white dress designed to show off every curve she's managed to cling to after thirty years of marriage and two children. “Francesca!” She heads straight for me with open arms, until she notices what I’m wearing and pulls up just short of actual contact. “Good lord, child, what happened to you?" She appears to be as worried about my wardrobe as she is about my safety. “That emergency transmission nearly scared us to death! They said you just wandered out of the woods, dressed like a native.”

  “There are no natives, Mom,” I inform her. “The people who live here have been imported, just like the plants and animals.”

  “Well, that's what I meant, of course. What happened? Why aren't you on your cruise?”

  “Chesca!” My father pulls me into a hug, while my mother gestures to someone just now disembarking.

  “Emily!" she calls. "Take the shuttle back to the cruiser and find something for Francesca to wear from my closet."

  “Right away, Mrs. Montgomery," Emily—evidently an assistant—replies as she heads back into the shuttle.

  “Honey, how did you get here?" my dad asks as he finally lets me go. “How long have you been here? What happened to the cruise?”

  Miller eyes me over his shoulder, tension in the line of his jaw. He's waiting to see what I will say, and I already know it isn't himself he's worried for. He took a risk with me. He bet everything on the assumption that he knows what kind of person I am.

  That was one hell of an assumption.

  "I ditched the cruise," I admit. “And my guard detail."

  “They've already been fired," my father tells me. “A replacement crew is on its way."

  “Honey, why would you do that?” my mother asks, before I can tell my father that I don't want a replacement crew. As if he would listen. “You could've been hurt. Anything could've happened to you.”

  “Let's take this inside," my father insists. "Where it's safe."

  I don't bother trying to convince them that it's safe out here. As always, I'll have to pick my battles, and I have a much bigger one coming.

  Inside, my father commandeers the guard commander's office and kicks everyone else out. “Chesca.” He sits on the edge of commander’s desk, clearly expecting me to settle onto the couch with my mother, so he’ll have the higher ground. I opt to stand. “What happened? Why are you here?”

  “I—” I suck in a deep breath, then I release it slowly. “I haven't been here in years.”

  “With good reason!" my mother exclaims.

  “That's what I always thought. But I was wrong. My job starts in a couple weeks, and I wanted to see what I would be marketing. What I would really be selling people on. I wanted to understand what this place really is.”

  “You know what it is," my father says. “And thanks to the safety standards we've implemented since that incident years ago, it's very safe—as long as you stay in one of the tour vehicles. But it isn't safe for humans to just walk around out here, sightseeing."

  “I wasn't sightseeing, dad. I've been living here for the past three weeks."

  “You’ve what?” My mother twists on the couch to face me, her hands over her heart in shock. “You're not serious."

  "I am. I've been living on the ground, with one of the residents for the past three weeks. I think. I kind of lost track of time, without my com device.”

  "What is happening right now?" my mother demands, turning to my father. "We send her on the most expensive cruise in the galaxy, and she ditches her guard detail, skips the cruise, and takes off on a dangerous safari instead, without telling a single soul!" She turns back to me, fire flashing her eyes. "You could've been killed. You could've been slaughtered out there by those beasts, and we would've had no idea what happened to you. How could you do this to us?”

  “This isn’t about you, and I wasn’t slaughtered, mom, because they aren't beasts.” I mean, the ezaki is a beast, but there’s no need to distract her from my point. “The Fetoji are people."

  "People who almost killed you, when you were four years old!"

  "But that's not what happened. Tell her dad."

  "Chesca--"

  "Tell her."

  "You were in danger," he insists, as my mother turns to him with a frown. "I had to send in an extraction team."

  "But you didn't have to kill them. They were only trying to help me and you didn't have to kill them. They shot a twelve-year-old boy, Dad. They killed his parents. For no reason. And they traumatized everyone who survived, on your orders."

  “Frank?” my mother says, her gaze volleying between us.

  "Hindsight is easy, Chesca, but my daughter was out there all alone, and I didn't know the circumstances. I did what I had to do to protect you in the moment, and I'm not going to apologize for that."

  "Lohr and Mahr lost their parents, Dad. In trying to protect me, you orphaned two little boys who did nothing wrong. They weren't a threat to me. But you didn't give anyone a chance to show you that."

  "Chesca—”

  "My memories never lined up with what you told me about that day. I always assumed that was because I was a small child. Because it was traumatic moment. I assumed I was the one remembering it wrong. But I wasn't. And I couldn't come to work for you until I knew the truth."

  I wish that actually were the truth. I wish I had come down here on my own. I wish it hadn't taken a kidnapping to make me understand. But now that I do…

  "This can't continue, you guys. It isn’t right."

  My mother exhales slowly. "Honey, this preserve was set up to—”

  "I know. I just took a job in marketing; I've read all about how this place came in to being. Maybe, in the beginning, it was supposed to be good for the residents, but that hasn't been true in a long time. And even if it were, it's not up to us to decide what's best for them. That's up to them. We don't have any right to take their choices away. To remove them from their homeworlds and make them live under conditions we dictate. They're people, you guys. Sentient people with the same thoughts, and emotions, and desires that we have."

  "But technologically—”

  "Yes, they’re technologically disadvantaged. But that's no excuse to take away entire culture's liberty. If we really wanted to do something good for them, we would offer them the advances we've made. But you don't do that, not even for the people you've brought here. If a kid gets sick, you let him die, and you call that ‘noninterference.’ The truth is that it's withholding medical care from people you brought here against their will. They should have the choice of whether to live according to their own traditions or with our advancements, or in some combination of both, if we're going to force them to live on our planet. But we shouldn't be forcing them to do anything. And I won't. I can't be a part of this place, as it currently exists."

  "Well if you don't want the job..." my father begins.

  "It's not about the job. I can't be a part of letting this place exist the way it is. I can't just walk away and leave things like this. I won't."

  "What, exactly, are you saying?" My mother's voice is tight, like a cord stretched too thin.

  "I'm saying we have to make changes. Effective immediately."

  "Chesca, even if we wanted to overhaul the entire system 'effective immediately,' that isn't entirely up to us," my father insists. "It's complicated. There's a board, and—”

  “And you and your sister have the controlling interest. You are Chairman of the Board. They're going to do whatever you want done. They have no choice."

  "Stockholders expect a profit."

  "And there's no reason their expectations should change. In fact, I have ideas that could actually increase our profit margin. Instead of relying on income from wealthy tourists, we could open this place up for research. We could let comp
anies compete for the right to develop products tailored specifically to populations represented by the residents of the zoo. Medical care. Clothing and more authentic habitats. A broader range of native flora and fauna. Things like that could be far more profitable than individual ticket sales."

  "Chesca—”

  "I know it's a lot to throw at you all of a sudden, but these are necessary changes. We're going to make then, and we're going to start now. Or I will be taking up permanent residence here, at the zoo. Living as one of the residents and inviting the media to show them the truth about this place from the ground level. I'll tell them about the lack of medical care for the residents. About the needless slaughter when I was four. I'll show them the oppression, the repression, the utter lack of dignity, and I'll do it all wearing exactly what you see me in right now.” I spread my arms, to give them another good look. “I will make a viral sensation out of the truth. You know I can do it. You know I will do it."

  "There's no need to make threats," my father snaps.

  My mother sighs again, and I can practically see the gears turning behind her eyes. "Okay," she says. "I think our best bet is to get out ahead of this. To frame it as a revolutionary philanthropic effort, as part of a broader reframe of our entire corporation." She shrugs. "It's about time for rebrand anyway. So we will reinvent ourselves, as every woman will do at some point in her life. We will make a new name for ourselves helping usher less fortunate populations into the modern age. We'll be ambassadors. Advocates. Saviors.” Her eyes light up with the arrogance of her vision. “We can make this work, Frank."

  My father huffs, crossing his arms over his chest. "it's not like she's giving us any choice."

  Finally, I allow myself a smile. "You're doing the right thing, I assure them." Even if they’re doing it for the wrong reason.

  "Yeah, well the right thing damn well better be profitable," my father says. "Because you will be the one answering to the board. Forget marketing, Chesca. You're in charge of the transition. Of your vision. Congratulations to our new VP of Humanitarian Outreach."

  It’s taken me six weeks to get back, as I laid the initial plans in place, but as my dropship lands in the middle of the moss-covered field, there's a familiar tightening in my chest. I'm nervous.

  What if he's moved on? What if not hearing from me for all this time made him think I've moved on? That I’ve forgotten him?

  The ship lands with a soft phone, and my guard—just one man, today—stands as I unbuckle from my seat.

  “Stay," I command.

  “Ma'am, my orders are to—”

  “Stay right where you are, or you're fired. And if you open fire on any of the natives or try to follow me into that hut, you will never work in private security again.

  The guard frowns at me, but finally he crosses his rifle over his chest and stands at ease.

  “I'll be back," I promised him. “But it will be a while.” Then I punch the button to lower the ramp, and I step out of my ship, into the Fetoji enclosure for the first time in six weeks.

  My dignity remains intact for all of four steps, then I find myself running. Racing toward Lohr’s hut with my hair flying out behind me. If I'm too late, and I need to know now.

  If Evah is in his hut, I will lose my shit.

  I burst through the door without knocking, and too late, I realize my entrance flies in the face of my own initiative to allow locks on all habitat entrances, if the residents want them. Not that any of my initiatives have been put in place yet.

  “Lohr!” I shout as I glance around the small space. But it’s empty.

  The coals in the fire pit are banked, emitting just enough heat to keep his stew warm, and I can’t resist grabbing a spoon from the shelf. I’ve had some amazing food in the past six weeks, but this aroma makes my chest ache and my mouth water.

  This stew is Lohr, just like this hut is Lohr. Just like those furs are Lohr, and—

  “Syrie?”

  I sob as I spin toward the door, and the spoon clatters from my hand onto the floor. He’s alone. There’s a folded guma net hanging over his shoulder and a dead brusha viper dangling from his left hand.

  “Are you…? Are you really here?”

  I race across the small space toward him, and he throws the net on the floor next to the snake he’s already dropped. I leap at him, and he catches me. My legs wind around his hips and his hands find my ass, supporting my weight effortlessly as I pepper his gorgeous, fuzzy face with kisses.

  “Oh my god,” he breathes, and finally I sit up in his grip, frowning down at him.

  “Before this goes any further, I have to ask you a question. You don't have a mate, do you? You haven’t…?”

  “No,” he growls. “A tiny little mouse stole my heart, and it will never recover.”

  “Yes, it will,” I promise him. “I have a surprise for you. I have dozens and dozens of surprises, actually.”

  “Do they have anything to do with the spaceship sitting in my yard?” he asks.

  “Yes. It’s a drop-ship, and it’s mine. But everyone on board has orders to stay there. To give us some privacy. Things are about change. A lot. You’re going to be seeing a lot more of me.”

  He laughs as he sets me on my feet, his gaze roving over me. “I'm not sure there's much left to see.”

  “Maybe not,” I admit, as I pull my shirt off and drop it on the dirt floor. “But I still have a lot to show you. And I brought you some interesting reading material.” I pull my com device from my pocket as I unbutton my pants and let them fall to the floor, and I tap it to bring up the resource I’ve saved for him. Complete with pictures. “I thought we could start with the tabletop.” I scroll until the image I want fills the screen, and the dramatic arch of his brows, as well as the instant hardening of his cock, makes all my lady parts tighten with anticipation. “This should look familiar, considering the Fetoji affinity for using the kitchen table as sex furniture. And you’ll still get to be in control. But we’ll get to look at each other as—”

  He bursts past me and swipes a pile of root vegetables from his tabletop. “Humans are a very creative species,” he informs me, as he lifts me into position.

  “We have our moments.” I gasp as he slides into me, and I push myself upright, earning an echoing groan from him, at the change in angle. “But right now, all I want to think about is this. You.”

  “That works for me,” he grunts as he thrusts in hard, and my body clenches around him. “Because I haven’t been able to think about anything but you since the moment you left. Don’t leave me again, Syrie.”

  “Never,” I promise. Then I smile as I lie back on the table, holding his gaze as he thrusts into me. As I let him take control—my way.

  Like free stories? Click here to get Glass Cage, a standalone Prison Planet novella!

  Acknowledgments

  Thanks to all of the Cosmic Fairy Tales authors, for letting me play along! I’m so honored to have been included!

  Specific thanks, as well, must go to Bex McLynn and Honey Phillips, for endless plotting help, advice, and camaraderie, and for coming on the retreat where I wrote most of this book. Your friendship means the world to me!

  Cosmic Fairy Tales

  The Hunchback by Regine Abel

  The Lion and the Mouse by Emmy Chandler

  The Frog Prince by Tracy Lauren

  Contaminated by Amanda Milo

  The Ugly Dukeling by Bex McLynn

  Jackie and the Giant by Honey Phillips

  Escaping Wonderland by Tiffany Roberts

  Rampion by Susan Trombley

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  Realms of Romance

  Also by Emmy Chandler

  The Prison Planet series:

  Guardian

  Hunter

  Champion

  Dirty Lies

  Hostage

  Traitor

  The Project Vetus series:

 
Escape

  Vendetta

  The Twisted Kingdom series:

  Dirty Lovely Broken

  Wicked Charming Cruel

  Cosmic Fairy Tales

  The Lion and the Mouse

  About Emmy

  Emmy Chandler likes tee-shirts and lattes. She firmly believes every woman deserves an armchair in front of the window, near an outlet close enough to charge an e-reader and power a mug warmer. Her perfect afternoon includes cold weather, thick blankets, warm soup, and a good book.

  Emmy has another career under another name.

  For more information about Emmy Chandler’s books…

  www.EmmyChandler.com