Guardian Enjel

by Viola Grace

  He went.

  Chapter Six

  Life in the tank was boring. She couldn’t speak, and had only the daily activity of the medical staff to entertain her. One of the medics was having an affair with a crewman; not shocking by itself, but Miranda could have sworn that both males were not physically compatible. Huh, shows what she knew.

  Rellik visited with her and set up a small vid screen for her to view Jela and all its wonders before they arrived. His casual chatter was a welcome distraction in her days of nothing.

  Her body healed slowly. Not surprising, as Osias never came to visit her and therefore could not repeal the order to forgo healing. Damned chip. She could have been back on her feet by now if she had been able to turn her talent to her own injuries.

  No one had told her where Myrik was. She doubted that he had the freedom of the ship. The black fury in Osias’ eyes would have been enough to keep her hidden under a basket in a cargo hold if it had been aimed at her.

  Her dreams were full of pain and blood, each nightmare waking her with a reflexive jerk of her limbs and a stream of bubbles coming out of a mouth that was unable to scream. Rellik would rush to her side and administer a sedative to calm her, and she would fall back into a dreamless void.

  Her every move in the tank was recorded, and the reasons why escaped her. From the day that the blood had cleared and she could see that she was in medical, her only goal had been to recover so that she could beat Myrik to within an inch of his life. This was the thought she had upon waking, while floating in boredom, while listening to Rellik through the speakers, and as she drifted off to her tormented sleep. Hopefully time would pass quickly.

  * * * * * *

  After a few days of drifting in and out of consciousness, she felt the ship stop. Based on the personnel shift changes, it stopped for close to twelve hours. The hum of the engines restarting jolted her out of one of her nightmares and she was stuck wondering what the heck had just happened.

  It was rare for a ship to stop once on a course. It was terribly expensive to restart them, and used far more fuel than it would have otherwise burned in the twelve hours that it rested. There must have been an emergency that didn’t involve a medical procedure. She would ask Rellik about it when she was out of the damned tank.

  * * * * * *

  “Lift your arms over your head,” Rellik was checking her reflexes and range of motion. “Now make a fist and lower your arms again.”

  “So, doc. How am I?” Miranda winced at the whisper of sound that emanated from her. It would be days before her vocal cords were up to snuff.

  “The torn muscles and ligaments have been repaired to my satisfaction. Your skin is still a little pink around the injured areas, but that should fade fairly rapidly.”

  She tried to get him to mention the other aspect of the attack. “What about the soft tissue damage from the rape?”

  “It is completely healed.” He lifted the scanner and began to laugh. “I think the machine was a little too thorough, though.”

  Now she was just irritated. Did the machine give her gills or something? “What?”

  “It repaired your hymen.”

  Her mouth opened in astonishment. She blinked furiously. Then the laughter started. It continued to roll out of her mouth in waves until it reached a feverish peak. Hysteria edged her tone and the tears began to fall in streams. She laughed and wailed for long minutes until she felt arms come around her and the cool pressure of a hypo at her neck.

  The arms rocked her gently and a hand stroked her hair in a soothing pattern. She breathed deeply and relaxed into the embrace. Osias. She knew him by his scent.

  Her eyes had swollen with her tears, and she clung to him blindly. “Osias, you didn’t visit.”

  It was a whispered accusation, but his body stiffened slightly against hers.

  “I watched your progress on the monitors and checked in with the doctor daily.” It was murmured into her temple and she shivered at the feeling of his lips on her skin. “I could not be near you without touching you.”

  He lifted her completely into his arms and turned to the door.

  Their path was blocked by Rellik. “I have not yet finished the medical workup for her, Lord Aron. There are some unusual side effects…”

  “You may do so tomorrow. She needs rest.” He brushed past the Azon, using his wing to sweep him out of the way, and was in the corridor heading to his quarters a few seconds later.

  “It may just be my imagination, Osias. But are you carrying me through the hallways completely naked?” The cool breeze from the environmental systems caused her skin to roughen with the chill. She shivered slightly in his arms and cuddled more closely to his warmth.

  “I am sorry, I will remedy that as soon as we are back in my quarters.”

  The breeze intensified as he moved more quickly, and she was shivering with cold by the time they reached his quarters. Her eyes had opened to slits and through the blurred haze she recognized the room that they had first spent the night in.

  He placed her onto the bed and tucked a blanket around her with the greatest of care. She heard water splashing and jumped as a cold compress covered her eyes.

  “Yikes! You could have warned me, Osias.” The cool was blessedly soothing. He was doing something across the room, but she was warm, her eyes were cool, and she felt safe for the first time in weeks.

  Being healed in a tank was the most thorough way to be cured of an injury, but if you were feeling vulnerable, floating in a cylinder that was completely accessible on all sides was not a great place to be. She preferred to have something solid at her back. Like now.

  He was quiet. In fact, he had stopped moving altogether. She pulled the cloth from her eyes and was happy to see that the lighting was dim. She sat up and looked for him.

  He was sitting at the vid station, reading reports and doing paperwork. Not exactly the response that she had anticipated to her return to his bed.

  “Are you feeling better, Miranda?”

  “Yes. Thank you. Two weeks in a tank will do that for you.” She slowly began to move off the bed, dragging the blanket with her. She smelled food. It was across the room, on the small table they had shared before. “May I have something to eat?”

  “Yes, help yourself. I was just going over some trade reports and will join you shortly.” He didn’t even look up from his task, simply gave her the information and left her alone.

  She didn’t need to be told twice. In a few seconds she was sitting at the table and making her selections from the various foods native to Jela. This beat Alliance ration packs any day.

  Sitting at the table, bundled in the blanket reminded her of Saturday morning cartoons back on Earth. She had loved to sneak down while the household was sleeping, get some cereal and sit inches away from the television with the volume turned up just enough to hear it, all bundled in a quilt that her grandmother had made. It was the ritual, more than the shows that were on, that drew her. Her little secret.

  So, here she was now, with no secrets from anyone, her life completely out of her control, re-enacting a scene from a more innocent time. The universe didn’t change much as you grew older. It just seemed to stretch out.

  She had finished her repast and was hoping that everything she had consumed would stay down. She had eaten far more than Rellik would have allowed her, and the discomfort she felt was a distinct sign that her eyes had been larger than her stomach.

  “Did you have enough?” She hopped slightly in her chair as the deep voice whispered right beside her ear. He had moved up beside her without a sound.

  “Too much, I think. I really like these…riala cakes?”

  “Correct.” He smiled, pleased. “Where did you learn about Enjel food?”

  “Rellik hooked a vid to the outside of the tank. It showed me information about Jela. Very informative.”

  He took the chair across from her and gave her cocoon an assessing look. “If you wish, I have something more comforta
ble for you to wear.”

  “Uh, that would be great, thanks.” She blinked in surprise. “Where would this mystery item of clothing be?”

  He reached onto one of the platters and started to assemble his own meal. “In the chest behind the bed. It is the blue box on top.”

  “May I…?” She shifted her weight to rise and waited for his response. The nod from a head deeply involved in his food was all she got.

  Shrugging, she waddled over to the chest that he indicated and released part of her grip on the blanket in order to raise the lid. There, on top, was a box of blue wood tied with a blue ribbon. She had to release the blanket to pick it up. It hung on her shoulders and draped over her arms as she struggled to lift the box and place it on the bed.

  Curious now, she tugged at the ribbon, occasionally glancing at Osias, who watched her as he ate. It loosened easily and the box sighed open. The two halves of the top fell away and a rainbow of fabric greeted her.

  “Wear the blue one. It will set off your eyes.” He was watching her intently now, his eyes fixed on her expression as she ran her hands over the fabrics.

  With trembling fingers, she lifted out a sari and choli of Terran Indian design. The blue silk was heavily laced with silver threads and beautifully made. It was a l’nal silk, woven by the sentient spiders of the Alliance.

  “Where did this come from?”

  “Do you like it?”

  “I love it. But it’s a Terran design, how did you…?” His enigmatic black eyes did not tell her anything other than that he hoped she liked the clothing.

  “We had to stop for a few days at a refueling station. I arranged for the clothing then,” was all he would say on the matter.

  “Should I put it on? Wow, there is even a petticoat.” She reached in to dig further into the silks and smiled as Osias stopped her. Again he had moved without sound, this time to grip her hands and close the box with the ribbon once again.

  “Please. Put it on. I admit that I was curious as to how you wear that length of fabric.”

  “Very well. But I have never had the opportunity to wear one by myself before.” She dropped the blanket and tugged the choli over her head, making sure that her breasts were properly in place before tugging on the petticoat.

  “What do you mean ‘by yourself’?” He sat back on the bed and watched her dress with curiosity.

  “When we left Earth to join the Alliance each of the volunteers was put through a training center where we learned how to dress in the majority of formal clothing native to our planet.” Her hands were working rapidly to wrap, pleat and tuck the six yards of fabric around her. “We have hundreds of languages, religions, and social classes. It is amazing that we have our Champions already, but there we are.”

  Minutes later, she was sweating lightly as she flipped the pallu over her shoulder and put her hands on her hips. The skirts swirled heavily around her feet and she wriggled her toes against the silk.

  “Do you have a mirror?”

  “The reflective surface is over there, next to the lavatory.” He seemed amazed. As she crossed the room to view her reflection behind the door to the lav, she saw why.

  For the first time in ages, she looked like a representative for her species. Her back was straight, her eyes sparkling and her gown glowing with the sapphire blue of Earth’s oceans. Of course, her hair was wild and looked like someone had been running their hands through it, but all in all, not a bad effect. There was no sign of the rounded shoulders and meek eyes that had previously characterized her reflection, but three days ago her obedience chip had burned out, so it stood to reason that her demeanor would change.

  Now, how to break it to her ‘master’ that she would no longer jump to follow his orders?

  Chapter Seven

  “Come here, Miranda.” He patted the bed next to him.

  Smiling slightly, she wandered over to him with a swing in her hips. “Yes, Osias?”

  “We need to talk.”

  She almost burst out laughing, but she saw the serious look in his eyes and sat quietly next to him. “About what?”

  “Myrik.”

  That one word killed her levity. “Why?”

  “Because we are two days from planet fall, and he will be charged for his crime against you.”

  “What if I want to forget about it?” Her fingers twisted in the silk.

  “It doesn’t matter. His actions are a matter of public record, and he must pay.” He sighed and cuddled her close to him, one wing curling around her. “No one is allowed to touch you again until he has answered to the charges.”

  “You are touching me now.” She smiled and snuggled closer.

  He put his chin atop her head and sighed as he rubbed his hands up and down her arms. “And this is as close as I will get until after the hearing.”

  “Are you kidding?” She reared back in his arms and tried to read his expression. No luck. His eyes were shuttered, all emotions hidden.

  “Kidding? As in joking? No, I am afraid not.” He shook his head ruefully. “As much as I would like to continue this discussion, there are shoes for you under the bed, and you need a tour of the ship before we leave it.”

  “Shoes, clothes? Where did this all come from?” She dove under the bed and came up with a set of hard-soled slippers.

  “The ship made a stop at a space station to refuel.” He seemed embarrassed for some reason, his eyes looking anywhere but at her. He walked over to the door and waited for her. “I picked up a few things that I thought you would like.”

  “Well, you were right, I do like them.” She couldn’t resist it anymore. She twirled. She had always loved the feel of skirts swirling around her, and now was no different. The slippers were heavenly. Her feet finally were protected from the hard surface of the ship. With a small skip and hop, she bounced next to him.

  He looked bewildered by her exuberance, so she explained, “I like the shoes,” with a blinding grin. Part of her mind warned her that her rapid shifts in mood were not a good sign, but the chipper portion of her brain giggled and told her to ignore it.

  He extended his arm and she took it, falling within the expanse of his wings as he fluffed them out to almost span the corridor. There was room for a single person to pass him, if he chose to let them.

  They moved at a calm and stately pace, they had missed the shift rotation by about an hour, so the halls were relatively clear. The few crewmen that they did pass bowed deeply to both Osias and herself with their wings tucked tightly against them. She thought it an odd gesture of respect, as they had not done it the first time that they had passed three weeks ago, but shrugged it off as a strange Enjel custom.

  Jeneil Netis was the name of the ship. The Dawn’s Shadow. It housed over one hundred and fifty Enjel crewmembers. The Jeneil was capable of two years unassisted flight in deep space, and could carry enough supplies to support a space station for over six months. It belonged entirely to Osias in his role as merchant and Representative of Jela.

  As he continued his tour and history of the ship, she heard the pride in his voice. It was odd. She had always heard that the Enjel deplored space-flight. It seemed as if Osias would spend his life on board if he could.

  The four non-Enjel personnel were the doctor, two pilots and the navigator.

  They finally reached the heart of the ship, a great domed room that was at least forty feet high and two hundred feet wide. It was at this point that she began to realize how he and the others could manage in space.

  Five off-duty crewmen were flying laps around the room, passing a ball between them. It looked like a lot of fun and she laughed and clapped as they missed, passed and missed again. Each time the ball dropped to the deck, the others hissed and booed their luckless buddy as he had to swoop down and grab the ball, or land completely and pick it up. If he chose to land, he had to climb a set of steps to re-launch himself into the forced air of the ship.

  “Do you play too, Osias?”

  “Yes, the game
is called Zoheret. On Jela, it is played over the ocean.” He grinned, “Enjel don’t swim well as a rule. It gives us incentive to be accurate.”

  “Well, the possibility of death will tend to do that.” She gave his arm a squeeze in lieu of laughter. She just couldn’t take her eyes off the smoothly working muscles of the Enjel in flight. Watching the strength and grace as they wheeled and swooped was causing a surge in hormones that was destined to go unsatisfied.

  “I think we should move on.” He tugged her out of the room by the expedience of simply covering her hand with his and dragging her along.

  “I never did properly introduce you to the captain. This way.” He practically hauled her along with him in a effort to get her away from the other males.

  She stumbled slightly in an effort to keep up with him without running. “No, I only saw the captain that one time, and introductions were not a part of the exchange.”

  “Then we will have to remedy that. He is expecting us for tea.” He slowed his pace as she stumbled again.

  The rest of their journey was done at a slow and stately pace. She finally got a good look at Medical from the outside for a change. The door was an attractive blue to set it apart from the grey-black metal of the rest of the ship. She estimated that the ship had to be half a kilometer long, or longer.

  By the time they arrived at the Captain’s quarters, she was exhausted. She leaned heavily on Osias’ arm and was relieved when the Captain’s face appeared as the door opened.

  “Miranda Kenzic, may I introduce you to Charan Ilo, Captain of the Jeneil Netis for the last five years.”

  She curtsied gracefully and as she rose, he continued. “Captain Ilo, this is Miranda Kenzic of the Terran Protectorate, and level nine empathic healer to the Alliance.”

  He bowed low, flaring his smoke grey wings out as he rose. His eyes were the amber of a raptor, and his hair a burnished gold.