Maverick

by Cheryl Brooks

  Althea snorted. “What in the name of Hektat ever gave you that idea?”

  “Forgive me if I’ve offended you, but you needn’t resort to profanity.” He punctuated his remark with an indignant flutter of his wings.

  “Don’t go getting all huffy on me now,” she warned. “Mind telling me why saying Hektat is considered profanity?”

  “You’ll have to ask the elders, if you can ever find one of them. Personally, I don’t believe they deserve to have any say in what the rest of us think and do. They’re no better or wiser than anyone else; they simply enjoy wielding power over the masses.”

  “Why, Brak, that sounds almost…revolutionary.”

  “Perhaps it is. I’m sick and tired of being ruled by those who have no perspective on my own life and desires.”

  She arched a brow. “You mean like falling for Larry?”

  “That and other things. I’m actually breaking several taboos by serving aboard a non-Scorillian ship. In many ways, that makes me even more of a renegade than my attraction to the captain.”

  “If you don’t like the rules, why do you get so weirded out when someone says the name Hektat?”

  “Force of habit. The teachings of childhood.” His wings rose slightly. “Who knows? Although I think saying ‘Oh, my Maker’s wings!’ has more of a ring to it.”

  “I do believe you’re right.”

  However, she wasn’t giving up “Holy Hektat” just yet. After all, she’d only had sex with Larry once. Collecting a wide variety of exclamatory phrases seemed prudent. She might even pick up a few from the Statzeelians.

  Hektat forbid that she should ever become repetitive.

  Chapter 17

  Larry had every intention of making his check of their new passengers as quick and painless as possible. He rang the chime on Dartula’s door and received an “I’m fine. When’s the next meal?” over the intercom, which proved she at least had her priorities straight.

  “Whenever you’re hungry,” Larry replied. “We don’t have a cook or a housekeeping droid, although almost everything on the ship is automated.”

  She opened the door and leaned against the jamb, her arms folded over her chest. “Meaning we fend for ourselves?”

  “Partly,” Larry replied. “The stasis unit is full. Pick out whatever you like, and nuke it as directed. Dirty laundry goes in the chute and comes out of the robo-valet door a few minutes later.”

  “Glad to hear it only takes a few minutes. When you only have the clothes on your back, timing is crucial.”

  He shrugged. “Just pop them in before you go to sleep, and they’ll be ready when you wake up.”

  “Don’t suppose there’s a spare nightgown available, is there? That worm ate mine.”

  He thought for a moment. “I probably have a T-shirt you can wear. Althea might have something you could borrow, although she’s traveling pretty light herself.” A quick downward glance at Dartula’s simple light-blue tunic and yellow leggings proved she didn’t follow the Statzeelian dress code any more than Keplok did. “Glad you weren’t wearing one of those see-through dresses. Stuff like that could be kinda conspicuous on Palorka.”

  Her lips formed a moue of distaste. “I’ve never worn one of those dresses in my life. Don’t plan to, either.”

  “Can’t say I blame you. I notice Keplok doesn’t go for the crotchless look himself.”

  “He does back home.” She rolled her eyes. “Dearly loves showing off that fancy ruffled cock. He even pretends to get angry so one of the women will suck it to calm him down. Sometimes I think he does it just to annoy me.”

  “So, does his, um, ‘joy juice’ work like the normal Zetithian stuff?”

  She actually growled. “Of course it does, which is why the Statzeelian girls are so willing. He also plays in a band, which makes them go even crazier over him.”

  Larry had his own opinions about the Statzeelian lifestyle. The women had been trying to breed the belligerence out of their males for generations, but with so much incentive for the guys to keep on acting like jerks, he doubted the breeding program would ever succeed. Even if it did, how would the women be able to tell the difference?

  “I think you have the right idea there, Dartula. No point in rewarding guys for being nasty. The ladies should start withholding nookie instead of serving it up on cue.”

  “Exactly! That collar-and-leash thing turns my stomach. I know the women came up with the idea to keep their men from exterminating themselves, but it looks like slavery to anyone—” She clapped a hand over her mouth, her eyes wide with horror.

  He grinned. “You aren’t supposed to say that, are you?”

  “No,” she said meekly. “Promise you won’t tell anyone?”

  “Hey, I heard that story when I was a kid. Never had any desire to spread it around. But just so you know, seeing women treated like dogs makes my blood boil—even when I know the reason behind it.” He hesitated. “My father suspects that at least some of the men have figured out what’s going on—maybe not the selective breeding program, but certainly the means the women use to control their men. Do you think Keplok knows?”

  She shook her head. “I’m pretty sure he doesn’t have a clue, and no way am I going to be the one to tell him. As far as he knows, we’re part of a program to save the Zetithian species from extinction.”

  “Good cover story.” As explanations went, this one was better than most, mainly because it also had the virtue of being true. “How many of you are there now?”

  “I don’t know the exact number, but there must be at least three hundred of us, varying in age from newborn to twenty-eight.”

  Considering the sisterhood’s knack for keeping track of bloodlines, he doubted any problems with inbreeding would ever arise. How they managed a selective breeding program without the males’ knowledge—or cooperation—was a mystery his own mother hadn’t shared with him. All he knew was that their techniques were as effective as they were secret.

  “Not bad,” said Larry. “There are over a thousand of us on Terra Minor now and at least as many others scattered around on different planets.” With a chuckle, he added, “And then there are those of us who basically live in space.”

  “Spreading your seed across the galaxy?” she suggested.

  “Not me. Tarq Zulveidinoe tried that. Fathered plenty of children, but nearly got himself killed in the process. He’s living on Terra Minor now.”

  “Married?”

  “Do you really think my mother would let a Zetithian man stay single?” Noting her puzzled expression, he continued, “Sorry. I keep forgetting you haven’t met Mom. She believes that an unmated Zetithian male is just trouble waiting to happen. Don’t get me wrong, she wants nothing more than to increase our numbers, but she’s seen what can happen when we try to spread the snard around indiscriminately. For years, she begged Onca to give up working in the brothel because she was afraid some jealous dude would come gunning for him.”

  “I see,” she said. “And no, I haven’t met your mother, but I’ve heard a great deal about her. On Statzeel, she’s almost as legendary as your father.”

  “That doesn’t surprise me,” he said. “She’s something of a legend wherever she goes.”

  “Unlike you?”

  He shrugged. “Notoriety doesn’t appeal to me. I do the best work I can and hope word of mouth gets me more customers.”

  “I’ll be sure to put in a good word for you once this mission is over. That comsystem you overhauled was about the only thing on our ship that worked.”

  Larry could only imagine the volume of business he would get from an endorsement on Rhylos. Given Statzeel’s remote location, a similar recommendation on that world would do him no good whatsoever. However, he saw no need to be ungracious. “Thanks, I appreciate that.”

  She shook her head, smiling. “You have no idea
how refreshing your attitude is. No wonder everyone thought so much of your father.”

  “Everyone except my aunt’s husband, Dantonio. I’ve never thought of him as my uncle, although I suppose that’s what he is. Anyway, the way I heard it, he referred to my father as a long-haired, pointed-eared fiend.”

  “Ah, yes. Dantonio. Believe it or not, he’s actually one of the better ones.”

  “Mellowed a bit, has he?”

  “You could say that.” Her expression went from smiling to glowering in less than a second. “Unlike Keplok.”

  “Give him time,” Larry advised. “He may improve with age.”

  She stomped her foot, scowling. “I honestly don’t care if he improves or stays the same stuck-up, pompous prat he’s always been. When this mission is over, I pray to Serena I never lay eyes on his conceited smirk again.”

  “I hear you.”

  He heard her all right. But like Keplok’s contemptuous outburst, hers brought to mind “The lady doth protest too much, methinks.” However, rather than voicing that opinion, he chose to steer the conversation in a less inflammatory direction. “Who’s Serena?”

  Her sharp inhale suggested this was not his best choice. “Serena is the first woman to chain herself to her husband to keep him from getting his ass killed. Statzeel would probably be a barren, lifeless wasteland without her intervention, but I sometimes wonder if all she did was dig a deeper hole.”

  “I dunno… The way Mom described Statzeel, it was probably worth it.” According to Jack, the majority of Statzeelian women considered wearing collars and leashes a small price to pay for living in a peaceful and prosperous tropical paradise.

  She let out a sigh. “You’re right. I’m just frustrated. We should have reached Palorka by now, and we’re nowhere close. If it hadn’t been for you, we wouldn’t have gotten this far. From the very beginning, this mission has been one fiasco after another. It seems…cursed.”

  “Well, you have extra help now. Maybe your luck will take a turn for the better.”

  “If our bad luck doesn’t rub off on you guys.”

  “So far, our luck has been pretty good. I didn’t get to salvage your comsystem, but remember what I said about my relationship with Althea?” A smile he couldn’t suppress tugged at his lips.

  “Are you saying it changed?”

  He nodded. “In a highly significant manner.”

  “Lucky you,” she said, and she sounded as though she meant it. “Just don’t wish the same thing for me and Keplok. He can hiss or purr all he likes. I want no part of him.”

  Larry could think of at least one part of him she might like, even if he was a pompous prat. But, of course, what he said was, “Can’t say I blame you.”

  The ensuing silence indicated it was probably time for him to head on.

  “I’ll see if I can find a makeshift nightgown and send it to you through the robo-valet,” he said. “Think Keplok needs anything?”

  “If he does, he can damn well find it himself.” She huffed out a breath. “He’s never had to so much as lift a finger in his entire life. It’s about time he learned how.”

  * * *

  Truth be told, Larry didn’t want to talk to Keplok anyway. What he really wanted to do was find Althea and help her learn to tolerate continuous orgasms a little better.

  Might take years.

  After that, the first question he needed to ask was if she wanted to move in with him. She might want to keep her own room for appearance’s sake, although he doubted either of them cared what anyone else thought. Brak might be a little jealous at first, but he would get over it. Eventually.

  Even so, a courtship of some sort was probably in order. They had two days before they reached Palorka. No need to be in too much of a hurry. Once there, all they had to do was find the Guardians, buy them back if necessary, fix a glitchy comsystem, and set course for Rhylos. All of that seemed relatively easy. It was what he would say to Celeste that had him stumped.

  Even telling the truth was a little tricky. If he’d simply run into Althea somewhere and realized that they’d been mates from the get-go, he could tell Celeste, and she would probably understand. It was the part about him not trusting Celeste and needing Al’s empathic reading to prove or disprove her sincerity. Somehow, he didn’t think she would like that version, and he’d be lucky not to have to run for his life if he was tactless enough to tell it.

  Plenty of men wouldn’t have given Celeste’s feelings a second thought, but Larry wasn’t one of them. He liked Celeste, and he had no desire to hurt her in any way. He simply wasn’t going to spend the rest of his life with her. He was beginning to wonder why he ever thought he could. Perhaps he’d only toyed with the idea as an excuse to find Althea. Not intentionally, of course, but on a subconscious level. He tried to recall when and how the idea had come to him and couldn’t do it.

  A dream was the most likely cause. A dream he couldn’t remember. That wasn’t unusual; the vast majority of his dreams never lasted beyond the first moments of awakening. This one, if indeed that was the source, had apparently made a lasting impression on him.

  Once he reached his quarters, finding a T-shirt for Dartula took far less time than his ruminations did. A housekeeping droid could’ve done it much faster—even to the point of fashioning a real nightgown on the spot. Unfortunately, those droids were ridiculously expensive. Not that he’d ever had much need for one. In all the years he and Brak had flown together, these were the first passengers to come aboard. Brak’s needs were simple; give him plenty of White Castles, and he was happy. Larry’s requirements weren’t much more complicated.

  But if Althea and I are mated, there might be children. At least three to start.

  In which case, a housekeeping droid would be an excellent addition to the ship. His parents might even give them one as a wedding present. Both sets of parents would likely chip in on it. If necessary, he could pay the remainder.

  He should’ve been thinking about these things when he first got the idea that he might marry Celeste. She would likely have triplets as well.

  Life sure gets complicated when you start a family.

  In many ways, life didn’t truly begin until you did. Sexual beings were never meant to be alone, and Zetithians valued family more than most.

  He blew out a breath and stuffed the T-shirt in the chute, selected Dartula’s quarters as the destination, and hit the start button.

  That done, he went off in search of Althea.

  He had some purring to do.

  * * *

  Having relieved Brak, Althea took her position at the helm, although with the course set, there wasn’t much for her to do. She was beginning to understand why Brak had become a champion solitaire player. With as many people as there were aboard the Jolly Roger, eight- and twelve-hour shifts were unheard of. She’d never had the con for more than four hours, and she was seldom alone on the bridge. She would’ve welcomed some company—as long as it wasn’t Keplok.

  Fortunately, Larry was the one who came up behind her and kissed her on the neck. “Miss me?”

  She swiveled her chair around and kissed him back. On the lips. With feeling. Even her toes were tingling when she finally released him. “You have no idea. I had to give Brak a rundown on the effects of Zetithian joy juice and snard before he would leave.”

  “Why am I not surprised?”

  “He probably still wishes he could experience them firsthand, but he had to settle for a report.”

  “I can’t imagine he’d ever get more than that from me or anyone else.” He shook his head. “Still can’t figure out why he’d fall for a humanoid male.”

  “Yeah. Boggles the mind, doesn’t it?”

  “Sure does.” He swept her with a gaze that would’ve curled her hair if it hadn’t already been curly. “You know, if you’ll hop up for a sec, I could sit dow
n, and you could sit in my lap.”

  “Excellent suggestion.” Following a quick change of the seating arrangement, she straddled his legs, facing him. “Ooh, that’s much better.” She heaved a sigh. “I’d much rather look at you than the viewscreen any day.”

  “I’m glad to hear it. If you didn’t, we might have a problem.”

  “No problems yet.” She gazed at him as though seeing him for the first time. He was the same Larry she’d always known. Same long, curly black hair and black eyes with a golden glow from the pupils. Same pointed ears and slanted brows. Same quirky, fang-revealing grin on his infinitely kissable mouth.

  Okay, so that kissable part was new, but everything else was the same. Why did he suddenly seem so perfect?

  She cleared her throat. “Our passengers doing all right?”

  “I gave Dartula a T-shirt to sleep in. Didn’t bother talking to Keplok. She said he needs to learn to fend for himself, and I, for one, am perfectly willing to let him do it.” Chuckling, he added, “So is she.”

  “Too funny,” Althea said with a snort. “The way he talked, she only exists to cater to his whims.”

  “She certainly doesn’t see it that way. Apparently, he’s the firstborn Zetithian-Statzeelian cross, and they treated him like a damned prince. She says he’s even worse than the native guys.”

  “Firstborn?” she echoed with surprise. “Seems like he would’ve had siblings of the same age. Wasn’t he part of a litter?”

  “You know, she never said. Maybe the triplets thing doesn’t work with them.”

  “Might not happen with us, either. I mean, it did with the first cross with humans, but we’re second generation. No telling how many we’ll have.”

  “I hadn’t thought of that. Just assumed we’d have triplets.” With a flick of his brow, he muttered, “Might not need that housekeeping droid after all.”

  She cupped his cheeks in her palms and pressed a light kiss to his lips. “Unless we have quadruplets.”

  Larry drew back, his eyes wide with frank dismay. “H-how about twins?”

  “Twins are good. I could do twins.” She kissed him again. “Or five or six. Doesn’t matter, really.”