Althea glanced at Larry. “Honest to Hektat, if she doesn’t slug him, I will.”
“Do it,” Dartula snapped. “Believe me, I’ve tried. He’s too quick on his feet.” She pursed her lips for a moment before adding, “Although I’m better with a bow than he is. Should’ve put an arrow in him long ago.”
“Known each other long?” Althea prompted with mock innocence.
Larry rolled his eyes as he stepped from the speeder, a not-so-subtle commentary she chose to ignore.
The Statzeelian woman nodded. “Practically since birth. Hated him from the moment he reached puberty.” She grimaced. “He wasn’t much better as a child.”
Keplok actually hissed at her. “And you were always an insufferable, immature, self-centered—”
“Self-centered?” Dartula echoed with increasing ire. “Sounds pretty funny coming from the biggest narcissist ever born—and on Statzeel, that’s saying quite a lot.”
Althea was delighted that the Standard Tongue—or Stantongue as it was often called—was Statzeel’s official language, or she might’ve missed this exchange, which probably would’ve lost something in translation.
She cleared her throat. “Did you know most Zetithian women hiss at potential mates? Not sure what it means when the male hisses, though. The mating rituals might be different with crossbreeds.”
Speaking as a crossbreed herself, she suspected her response to Larry was different than it would have been had they both been purebreds. A full-blooded Zetithian woman would’ve been hissing at him from the moment she’d spotted him on Barada Seven. If she was interested in him as a mate, that is. She wasn’t sure she had been at the time. A hiss certainly would’ve proved it, which was just as well, because she didn’t want Larry to know how she felt. She could control the urge to bite him. Hissing was more spontaneous.
Keplok’s bulging neck veins and clenched teeth, along with the blue glow emanating from the pupils of his otherwise dark eyes, displayed his loathing quite clearly. “My hiss did not mean that I have any desire to mate with you, Dartula. Rather, it was indicative of extreme annoyance. For the record, I do not find you attractive in any way. Never have, never will.”
Judging from an empathic impression that came blasting through Althea’s mind with shocking clarity, Dartula was supremely ticked off. If she could’ve conjured up a weapon, Keplok would’ve died where he stood.
Larry aimed a withering glance at his half brother. “When you’re done being a dick, we can move on.”
Chapter 14
As rescue missions go, this one is turning out to be a real bust.
A subtle vibration was the only sign that the Stooge had lifted off from the surface as Larry headed toward the entrance to the ship’s lower deck. He didn’t bother to look back to see if anyone followed. The only one in the bay he cared anything about was Althea, and she knew her way around the ship almost as well as he did. For the other two, he honestly didn’t give a damn. That Keplok was a pompous jerk was a given. However, he’d expected a little more from Dartula. Then again, having grown up with Keplok, any peculiarities of hers could be forgiven.
Maybe.
The door slid open as he approached, and as he expected, hurrying footsteps sounded behind him.
Interestingly, Dartula caught up with him first. “Sorry about that,” she said in a quiet voice. “I know better than to give him an opening. He just gets to me sometimes.”
“I can’t imagine why you haven’t murdered him before this,” Larry remarked. “All alone on a deserted planet… You could’ve done the deed and called it an accident.”
“Believe me, I thought about it.”
Larry shot her a sideways glance. “I was joking.”
“I wasn’t.” She drew in a ragged breath. “And I absolutely refuse to play the dutiful woman and calm him down by sucking his damn dick.”
Given that Keplok had apparently abandoned the crotchless breeches most Statzeelian men favored—a style choice for which Larry would be eternally grateful—this would have been difficult, although not impossible. However, he was also thankful that he wouldn’t have to witness the attempt.
“I’m not wearing a freakin’ leash either,” she went on. “As long as he leaves me out of it, he can get himself into all the trouble he wants.”
Larry turned left down the corridor. “You know, you two don’t strike me as the typical Statzeelian couple.”
“That’s because we aren’t a couple. We’re on a mission.” With her set jaw and firm stride, she certainly came across as a woman on a mission.
“So you said. You two were chosen for this mission because…?”
“He volunteered. I got drafted when no one else would go with him.”
“Really? I’m surprised—that he would volunteer, I mean.”
“He has a few good points,” she conceded. “Unfortunately, his lesser traits tend to overshadow them.”
“Sounds like any Statzeelian man I’ve ever run across.”
“He’s actually worse than most of the native men.” The exasperated glare she tossed over her shoulder should’ve drawn another hiss from Keplok, who had apparently chosen to seethe in silence. “He thinks his Zetithian blood makes him irresistible, which is why he doesn’t bother trying to be charming or even civil.”
“Guess that crossbreeding scheme wasn’t such a good idea after all.”
She shrugged. “Maybe not. Although since I’m also a product of that program, I can’t really say much against it. He is unique, though. The other crossbreeds aren’t quite so arrogant.”
“Thank the gods for that.” Larry looked back, more to be certain that Althea hadn’t been goaded into killing Keplok than to ensure his continued health and safety. Fortunately, she hadn’t murdered him yet, apparently opting to stay a step or two ahead of him to keep him out of her sight and, hopefully, his emotional bullshit out of her head.
“His upbringing has a lot to do with his attitude. As the first boy born with Zetithian blood, he was treated like a prince as a child. They should’ve known better than to make him feel so special.” She grimaced. “He really dashed a lot of the sisterhood’s hopes.”
“I’m surprised they kept going.”
“Let’s just say they learned from their mistakes.”
“Glad to hear it.”
Larry knew a little something about the Statzeelian women’s strategy from listening in on the negotiations between his and Althea’s parents and the two women who’d been hunting Manx, another Zetithian fugitive from slavery, on Barada Seven with the hope of adding his bloodline to the mix. In the end, Tash’dree and Lutira had convinced Cat, Leo, and Manx to donate to their sperm bank. Dartula was one of the results of that deal, but judging from his apparent age, Keplok must’ve originated from the earliest donation, which occurred before Larry was born. He didn’t know exactly how the ladies managed it, but given their proclivity for selective breeding, he was fairly certain that even if Keplok were to marry, any offspring his wife produced probably wouldn’t be his own.
Couldn’t happen to a nicer guy.
His breath caught in his throat as a new thought hatched in his brain. “This, um, mission of yours. It doesn’t have anything to do with that breeding program, does it?”
“Not unless you think the Palorkans would be a useful addition.”
“Probably not.”
He waited several moments for her to elaborate. When she didn’t, he prompted, “Not gonna tell me, are you?”
She blew out a resigned breath. “I can’t imagine it would make any difference. You certainly won’t jeopardize our mission, although you might think it’s a lot of trouble for nothing.”
“Try me.”
“It’s the Guardians. Someone has been trapping them. The Statzeelian jungle used to be full of them, but now there are hardly any left.” She fixed him
with her glowing blue gaze. “You know what the Guardians are, don’t you?”
“The little monkeys that saved my father’s life after he was captured and tortured by Nedwuts? Yeah. I know what you mean. What makes you think they’re on Palorka?”
“A tip we received from another trader. Palorka is one of the most notorious places to buy contraband of any kind, but apparently they specialize in rare and unique life-forms.”
Larry was familiar with the role of contraband in the Palorkan economy. However, the rare life-form aspect was news to him. “So they’re selling pet monkeys?”
Her expression grew pained. “Come on, Larsan. You know what the Guardians are capable of. Their healing abilities are one of the main reasons the Statzeelians have survived. On our world, the Guardians’ interventions are random. So much so that being healed by them is viewed as a sacred act, which is why your father is venerated by our people. The fact that the Guardians helped to heal him is the stuff of legends. He was an alien being—presumed to be the last of his kind—whom the Guardians saw fit to save.”
“And Keplok is his firstborn son…” Larry let out a low whistle. “No wonder he was treated like royalty.”
She nodded. “So you see why we need to rescue them?”
“Of course. Seems like they would’ve sent more than you two after them, though. I mean, I’d have recruited an army.”
“The sisterhood feared that if the thieves knew they’d been followed, they would either eliminate the evidence or sell the Guardians on so many different worlds, we’d never find any of them. That’s why this mission is so secret.”
A mission that very nearly failed. He didn’t bother to point out the wisdom of having backup. Their choice of methods—not to mention transportation—obviously hadn’t been left up to Dartula.
He gestured toward an open doorway. “This is where you’ll be staying.” He grinned. “And no, you don’t have to bunk with Keplok.”
“Thank the Guardians for that!”
With a backward glance to verify that Keplok and Althea were out of earshot—although with Zetithians, the distance was greater than that for the typical Terran—he was relieved to see that Althea had taken Keplok to his own quarters, which were at the opposite end of the passageway. Lowering his voice, he said, “Listen, about that hissing thing… Althea wasn’t kidding. When a Zetithian woman hisses at a male, it’s considered”—he started to say foreplay, but opted for a less inflammatory term—“a sign of, um, interest.”
“But he’s male. How can you be sure what it means coming from him?”
“I can’t. I just thought you should know.” Al had never hissed at him—at least, not that he could recall—but that didn’t mean she wasn’t interested. In fact, he was dead sure she was, and very much so. “Have you ever hissed at him?”
She responded with an inelegant snort. “If I have, it wasn’t because I was looking for romance.”
“Got a boyfriend back home?”
“No,” she admitted. “I’ve yet to meet a single Statzeelian man I could stand for more than a minute.”
“That could be a problem.” With a shrug, he said, “I have several brothers. Not a drop of Statzeelian blood in any of them. Nice guys on the whole, although Curly can be a little cocky sometimes.” While this was true, even Curly probably wouldn’t have rated very high on the Statzeelian cockiness scale. Comparatively speaking, he’d have been considered quite humble.
To his surprise, she laughed. “Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind.” Her gaze swept the room. “This is a lot nicer than our ship.” She started to go inside, then took a step back. “When we met before, you mentioned having a girlfriend. Is Althea…?”
“Not exactly,” he replied. “And the less said about that, the better.”
“Oh, let me guess,” she said with a wry grin. “You’re interested in her, but she’s never hissed at you?”
“Something like that. But I believe our relationship is about to change.”
“Good luck.” She chuckled. “I think you’re safe for now. I really can’t see her falling for Keplok.”
“Me, either.” If her initial reaction to him was any indication, every star in the galaxy would go supernova before Al would hiss at their new shipmate. She might plot his demise, but she would never hiss at him.
Where Zetithians were concerned, hissing and hatred were mutually exclusive.
Or so he’d been told…
* * *
What was that old saying? Familiarity breeds contempt? Somehow, Althea felt it applied to Keplok and Dartula. Perhaps, like Larry and herself, they needed some time apart to learn to appreciate one another.
If she hadn’t picked up a trace of longing from him, she’d never have dreamed the pair of them were anything more than antagonistic compatriots. Unfortunately, while she could read the emotion, the trigger often remained a mystery.
Her money was on Dartula being that trigger. After all, he had hissed at her.
With Zetith destroyed and none of their psychology textbooks to be had, the Statzeelian line probably had little or no inkling of what constituted typical Zetithian behavior, mating rituals in particular. Clearly, the information she’d given them had them both thinking and rethinking their attitude toward one another. Even while he was declaring his total lack of desire, she’d sensed the deception inherent in Keplok’s words.
However, that didn’t mean she had any intention of discussing the matter with him. He could figure it out for his own arrogant self.
The detail she was interested in was how the two Statzeelians knew about Larry’s side trip to Palorka.
Were they in cahoots with Larry’s client, or had one of them had a prescient vision?
Given that they were both half Zetithian, the vision seemed the most likely explanation, particularly in view of Dartula’s obvious desire to change the subject. Although, because visions weren’t normal in most cultures, her emotional reaction would fit either scenario.
She and Larry seemed to be discussing something. Hopefully not Dartula’s desire for him. If so, she was going to have a fight on her hands. Celeste was a long way off; fighting her was as pointless as it was impossible. The hardest thing to overcome was Larry’s understanding with her—if he even had an understanding with her. He’d never said for sure, although consulting an empath suggested their relationship wasn’t a binding agreement.
Dartula was pretty, though. Perhaps he could overlook the flat nose and six fingers. For her part, she couldn’t stand Keplok, an aversion that had nothing to do with his appearance.
Looks weren’t everything. The fact that Larry was a total hottie was incidental.
She nodded toward the next doorway. “This is your room. We eat whenever we feel like it. I’ll show you the galley and the rest of the ship if you like.”
“No need. I can find my way around, and Dartula will supply my meals.”
For one long, exasperating moment, all she could do was stand there gaping at him. Her first inclination was to replace the backhanded attitude adjustment with a swift knee to the groin. However, she already regretted her earlier adversarial approach and saw no need to engage him in a shouting match.
Different culture. Different rules.
“Fine. Whatever. See you around.”
She spun on her heel and began walking in the opposite direction, although “stalked off” was probably closer to the actual truth.
“How long until we reach Palorka?” he asked.
“I have absolutely no idea,” she said over her shoulder. “You’ll have to ask Brak.”
“Brak?”
She stopped and turned around. “You remember him, don’t you? Larry’s Scorillian navigator?”
His expression of revulsion was priceless, making her very glad she’d caught it. “Yes, I do. Unfortunately.”
“Bett
er not look at him like that, or he’ll make this the longest run to Palorka since the invention of stardrive propulsion.” The acquisition of two new shipmates would already double Brak’s estimate. Annoy him, and he might actually ensure that it took that long, and the course wouldn’t be a smooth one.
“There will be no need for him to retaliate if I avoid him.”
Althea chuckled. She was pretty sure the damage had already been done, although she saw no need to inform Keplok. “Suit yourself.”
Catching a glimpse of Larry as he made his way down the corridor that led to the main deck, she turned and set off at a slightly faster pace. The conversation on the bridge should be very interesting.
Plus, she would get to smell Larry again.
Definitely a win-win situation.
* * *
“You weren’t kidding about Keplok,” Althea said as she joined Larry and Brak on the bridge. “Major a-hole. Dartula seemed nice enough, though.”
“She’s okay,” Larry said, his dismissive tone dispelling any fears that he might have found Dartula attractive. “I found out more about their mission. Seems someone has captured most of the little monkeys they call the Guardians and is selling them on Palorka.” He frowned. “You don’t suppose they’re the source of the empathic message you picked up, do you?”
Althea considered this for a moment. “Could be, although I’ve never been that much in tune with the emotions of animals. I can influence their behavior to a certain degree, but I’ve hardly ever picked up their thoughts on the matter. Still, those guys are pretty special.” She hadn’t forgotten the story of how the tiny primates had helped to save Larry’s father years ago. “They might have a stronger psychic range.”
“Or be more likely as the topic of a vision.” He shrugged. “Either way, their mission is a worthy endeavor, which makes me feel a lot better about helping them.”
Despite the inherent risk, she took the opportunity to move closer. His scent was simply too provocative to ignore, and if it gave him the Big Daddy of all erections, so be it. “I’d have thought the Guardians would’ve been smart enough to avoid being trapped.”
Maverick Page 14
