Alien Frog Prince (A Space Age Fairy Tale)

by J. M. Page

  As the transmission tried to connect, waiting for a response, Torak wondered if she was even in her room. She could be anywhere on the ship. And then what? Was he going to send out an announcement over the intercom for the whole ship to hear?

  “Hello?” Mara’s face appeared, momentarily stealing Torak’s breath away. She seemed to be looking at something else, then turned her eyes to the screen. They went wide and she seemed to be suppressing a little smile despite herself. “Oh! It’s you, hello.”

  Torak deflated a little. Was that a disappointed ‘oh’?

  “Hello, I’m glad to have found you,” he said, static energy racing through his veins, making it difficult to think of proper sentences.

  “You found me,” she said.

  So much for making this easy.

  “Listen,” he said, trying to get rid of the harsh edge of command in his voice. “I was wondering if you’d like to join me for dinner?”

  Mara’s amber eyes widened again and she blinked a few times as if she were in disbelief of what she saw. “Dinner?” she said, hesitation dripping from her tone.

  Torak’s intestines clenched and he had half a mind to end the transmission and forget about the whole thing. But then she was there, looking at him expectantly, and he couldn’t deny the tug he felt.

  Be sincere, he told himself. Be real. Not the Captain. Just yourself.

  It didn’t help that ‘himself’ wasn’t anyone he was proud to be around her.

  “Yes. Dinner. Not in my quarters,” he amended, remembering the calamity of their first night.

  The corner of her mouth quirked up, but Mara still didn’t agree. “I don’t know…” she said, looking off to the side, not making eye contact with him.

  It took a great deal of effort for him to leash his tongue and not demand an answer that instant.

  Then he reminded himself that she wasn’t someone to be ordered around. He was trying to get to know her on a deeper level. Be sincere.

  “Look, I know I haven’t been a very good host. I’ve not done anything to make your transition easier and I want you to know that I regret that. And I’m sorry for it. I just want to make it up to you if I can. With dinner,” he said.

  He wished he had a better reason to give her, but that was the best he could come up with in the moment. He couldn’t tell her about the magnetic pull she had that drew him nearer. Or the way just the hint of her musical laughter drifting through the ship made his heart feel lighter.

  He couldn’t tell her any of that without making himself vulnerable or scaring her away. He wasn’t ready to jump that far into deep space. Not yet.

  Mara’s eyebrows lifted toward her hairline and she paused for a moment before finally nodding. “Okay, yes, sure. Dinner. Not in your quarters,” she said, still sounding skeptical.

  Torak had to push down the wave of giddy relief to keep his calm unaffected exterior in place. He wanted to pump his fist in victory and shout with the excitement of getting her to agree to this, but he reined it all in, offering instead a small nod and the barest smile he couldn’t suppress no matter how hard he tried.

  “Excellent. I’ll see you this evening then.”

  He ended the transmission and sank back into his seat, a huge pressure lifted from his chest. For the first time in days he felt he could really fill his lungs, gulping in great disbelieving breaths.

  She said yes.

  That in and of itself was a remarkable feat, but it also raised the question of what he did now. Despite making all the arrangements, a part of him had expected Mara to flat-out refuse his invitation. Now that she’d agreed to it, he didn’t know what to do.

  Delta and Sande were in charge of most of the preparations, though he did say he’d find the location. He tried to think about Mara and what he knew about her. What part of the ship she might like.

  He certainly found the weapons store fascinating, it was nearly a museum with all the things they’d collected across the galaxy, but Delta seemed to think it unsuitable for a date.

  A date…

  Was he really going on a date tonight? With a real live woman? He was still surprised he hadn’t coerced or blackmailed or frightened her into it and she still agreed.

  Who was this person he was becoming? He wasn’t sure, but it wasn’t nearly as disconcerting as he expected it to be. He’d traveled the galaxy, fought off pirates and GTC enforcers, dodged asteroid fields, navigated solar storms, and so many other harrowing adventures.

  And yet, the thought of dinner alone with Mara terrified him more than any of those things.

  He didn’t know how to act on a date. What to say or how to behave. He remembered Delta’s admonishment: if you can behave yourself…

  He certainly wanted to, but how could he? Every time he tried to be better, something was taken out of context or misinterpreted. Every time he tried to show a different side of himself, people assumed the worst instead of accepting the evidence he provided.

  What was the point of trying to be better when no one would ever accept that he was?

  He caught his reflection in the glare on the comm panel and scowled. Hopeless fatalistic thinking like that had no place in the mind of a Son of Basniel. Mental weakness was just as disgraceful as physical weakness. Insecurities, doubts, and worries didn’t belong in his head at all, and he scowled at himself until he could start pushing them away.

  “You’re never going to make an impression on a girl like Mara if you give up,” he said to his own reflection. He couldn’t help comparing his hard, rough features to the soft curves of her, wondering if there was ever really any hope at all. She was so pure, innocent, and beautiful.

  What would she ever want with him?

  He couldn’t dwell on it. If he thought about it too much he’d just call the whole thing off and he couldn’t bear to do that. Not when he’d gotten so close to having a chance. Just a chance to let her see something different. To find out if she was even willing to see something different, unlike so many others in the galaxy.

  By the time he had a room selected and outfitted to be an impromptu dining space, he’d gone back and forth like this a dozen more times. Bolstering himself up, strengthening his own resolve, only to let doubts creep back in and take root until it all felt hopeless.

  Torak admired the work he and his crew had done in the past few hours. The room he’d chosen had a large window taking up one whole wall, a simple table set for two in the middle, and someone had even managed to find decorations — hearty plants they kept for oxygen farming and a series of small lights, dimly twinkling, giving the room a decidedly intimate feeling. The table was covered in a cloth that looked like it might have been salvaged from bed clothes, but it looked the part nonetheless.

  He’d have to remember to buy Delta a bottle of her favorite Jindaran whisky when they next visited Haven. She certainly earned it.

  With everything done and put together, there was nothing for Torak to do but wait. He paced restless circles around the room, going over all the things he could do wrong, over and over again in his head.

  He paced long enough that he started to wonder if she’d show at all. If he’d just put on his nicest clothes for nothing, the shiny unworn boots pinching his toes with every step. The pain was worth it to make a good impression, but if she didn’t show he might very well toss the damn things out an airlock.

  Just as he was considering calling Delta, the door slid open with a pneumatic hiss and Torak’s breath caught in his throat, forming a hard lump he couldn’t swallow past.

  She stepped into the room like she was taking a step onto thin ice, unsure of her placement, not trusting the floor to hold her. Torak still couldn’t breathe — if he’d thought she was beautiful before, that was no comparison to now.

  He wondered for a moment where she’d gotten the outfit, but decided it didn’t matter. Instead of wearing unflattering mechanic’s clothes, she wore a slim-fitting dress. It clung to her just enough to show off her amazing figure, but not e
nough to be immodest. Torak had a hard time dragging his eyes from the way the fabric flowed smoothly over the contours of her body, his mouth going dry the longer he looked.

  It wasn’t just the dress though. Instead of being covered in grease and soot as usual, she was cleaned up, her mahogany hair pulled up, soft silken curls falling around her shoulders. Torak wondered what it would feel like to have that sleek hair between his fingertips. Wondered if it was as soft as it looked.

  Mara stood there in the doorway as he took inventory of her, not saying a word. Her cheeks warmed to a delightful shade of pink while he struggled to remember himself. Every time he tried to come up with the right words to say, his brain turned them into a jumbled mess and all he could focus on was just how beautiful she was. And how in awe he was that she’d agreed to have dinner with him.

  So don’t screw it up by staring like an idiot, he berated himself.

  Mara crossed the room, gravitating toward the window looking out at deep space. There wasn’t much to look at, really, but he thought she’d appreciate it nonetheless.

  “I’ve never been to this part of the ship before,” she said, her voice barely more than a whisper.

  It seemed they were both afraid of saying or doing the wrong thing. But she had nothing to fear. He was the one likely to mess everything up.

  “But you managed to not get lost,” he said, surprised to hear the teasing note in his voice. A bright spot of amusement bubbled up inside of him, chasing out the darkness of his fears.

  Relax. Be sincere.

  Mara gave him an easy smile, shaking her head. “I’m getting much better at finding my way around, thank you very much.”

  Torak couldn’t help returning her smile. “I’m happy for you, but I have to admit I was hoping you’d still need a tour guide.” He’d meant it to be joking and light-hearted, but nearly the instant he said it, Mara’s smile slipped away.

  She looked at him quizzically, her brows furrowed in thought, unsure what to make of his comment.

  It took him a moment to realize his error, but the Torak remembered the disaster of the last “tour” he gave her — with her storming out of his room — and he cursed himself internally. So far, he was doing a great job of screwing things up exactly how he’d hoped not to.

  He cleared his throat, deciding to forget that he ever said such a stupid thing. Apologizing for it would make it more awkward and that was the last thing he needed right now.

  Before he could embarrass himself any further, he pulled out a seat for Mara and she sat down, giving him a nod of thanks, a smirk playing on her lips.

  “What’s that for?” he asked, indicating her sly smile.

  Mara lifted one shoulder in a half-shrug, her smile growing. “You’re being such a gentleman,” she said.

  His stomach did a flip, landing squarely in his throat. With a great effort, he swallowed past the lump and found his voice. “I’m afraid I’ve made a bad impression on you. I don’t generally care much about the impressions I leave, but I don’t want you to think of me as just some criminal pirate. There’s more to me than that.”

  His heart hammered against his ribcage, already feeling like he’d exposed himself too much. Left himself too open to her scrutiny and disdain. He forced his hand to be steady as he uncorked a bottle of wine and poured her a glass.

  Mara lifted the glass to her mouth and drank, the deep crimson wine staining her lips. “Why do you care what I think of you?”

  “I—” Torak fumbled. He didn’t know the answer really. Why her specifically? Because something about her called to him on a deeper level than anything else? He always wanted someone to see more in him, but why her? Why now? “It’s difficult to explain. Suffice to say, you don’t seem to have the same prejudices toward me as others. I’m more than just a mean scary captain.”

  Mara laughed into her glass and nodded as she set it back on the table. “I’ve noticed as much. But I can’t seem to puzzle you out,” she said, her eyes narrowing playfully.

  “But you’ve been trying, have you?” Torak teased, his spirits buoyed by a rush of masculine pride. She’d been trying to figure him out. That had to count for something, right?

  She laughed again, nodding. “Guilty. I can’t help myself!” she said, sounding embarrassed, like he’d caught her pilfering sweets. “I see a mystery to be solved and I have to go after it.”

  Torak rested his elbows on the table and it creaked under his weight as he leaned forward. “And I’m a mystery, am I?”

  Mara nodded, hiding her new flush with another sip of wine. Torak still hadn’t touched his, but she was through a third of her glass. Was she just trying to tolerate him, or was she as nervous as he was?

  “A big one,” she said.

  “Care to share your findings?” he asked, bracing himself for the worst. Maybe he shouldn’t have asked. Maybe he didn’t want to know what she really thought of him. Maybe, some things were just better left unsaid.

  Her amber eyes grew and she shook her head, curls bouncing against the nape of her slender neck. “Inconclusive so far,” she said, still trying to fight against a smile that curled her lips.

  A chime at the door announced that their meal had arrived and Torak excused himself to wheel the cart into the room, uncovering the plates as he set them down. Delicious spicy scents wafted up toward his nose, making his stomach rumble.

  Mara leaned over her plate, taking a deep breath in through her nostrils, ending with a happy sigh. “This doesn’t look like the stuff we get in the dining hall,” she said, eyeing the plate hungrily.

  Torak nodded, another puff of pride bolstering him up. So far so good, where the food was concerned, he’d say.

  “I had the chefs whip up something special with the supplies we got at the last stop. I hope you enjoy,” he said, his voice dropping an octave. There, he could be sincere. He really did hope she enjoyed it. They’d all put a lot of work into this and as much as he wanted this night to go well, he also didn’t want Delta, Sande, or anyone else to feel like they’d failed him. They’d done everything they could for him, but now it was up to him to make it work. To make it a success.

  Mara dipped her head in a demure nod and she brought her fork to her mouth. All at once, her eyes went wide, locked with his, and then drifted closed with a moan as she swallowed.

  “Holy nova that’s good,” she said, digging in for another taste.

  Torak couldn’t hold back his chuckle of amusement. She was so vibrant. So unguarded. So open to life and all its pleasures. Why couldn’t he be like that too? He always wanted to be.

  Instead, he was always on alert. Always guarding himself from people who would attack him for no reason other than his heritage. He picked at his food, not eating it now that his thoughts had taken such a sour turn.

  Mara paused, looking up from her plate, sensing the shift in his demeanor. “What’s wrong? Do you not like it?”

  Torak shook his head. “It’s fine. It’s perfect. Nothing’s wrong,” he said, determined to push through the hurt and betrayal he’d carried on his shoulders his whole life.

  “I’m just lost in thought, my apologies,” he said, his voice soft and unsure now. He should stop talking now before he dug his grave any deeper, but somehow, the words kept pouring out. Whether it was nerves making him talk too much, or Mara’s comforting presence making him want to open up, he didn’t know.

  He did know he shouldn’t be rambling on, but the knowledge didn’t seem to help.

  “I’m really not a very good host I guess,” he said, forcing a hint of a smile into his voice. He didn’t want pity from her, after all.

  Mara set her fork down, dabbing at the corners of her mouth with her napkin. “I think you’re doing okay so far,” she said, her tone encouraging. “You’ve picked a lovely venue and have done quite well with the menu…”

  Torak smirked, feeling her scrambling for other compliments. “I’m still terrible with small talk,” he said. Then, after a beat he spoke agai
n. “That was some impressive work you did today. Where’d you learn that?”

  It was Mara’s turn to look down, made sheepish by the unexpected compliment. It seemed to be a similarity they shared — the inability to accept compliments graciously.

  “My dad’s ship. We did recycling runs, nothing fancy. Long dirty trips in a junker that can’t even reach half lightspeed. Bertha’s nothing compared to this fantastic ship.”

  Torak shrugged, his turn to deflect a compliment. “It’s just a ship,” he said. As he said it, he realized how true it rang. For years, the Affliction had been a symbol — of his status, his success, and his need to be feared.