Rohn: Warriors of Sangrin

by Nancey Cummings

  Nakia hurt for the woman. She was worried, too, despite Rohn’s assurances that all would be well. What happened if the ship took damage? What if they were boarded? Carrie had to cope with all that alone, plus a baby.

  Not alone, Nakia decided. She’d sit with Carrie until the absent Vox returned.

  “How about you take that shower? I’ll keep an ear out in case Valle wakes up,” Nakia said.

  The tired woman perked up. “You don’t mind? God, it’d be great to have clean hair and feel like a human being again.” She didn’t waste any time getting into the shower, taking off without another word.

  If the baby woke up, Nakia would figure something out. He’d be hungry or wet. Easy.

  Twenty minutes later, Nakia was covered in barfed up milk and had an infant screaming directly into her ear.

  Okay, maybe not hungry. She checked the diaper. Not wet or messy.

  Nakia walked around the apartment, softly singing the first thing that popped into her head, an old song about Henry the Eighth. Valle’s cries stopped abruptly, watching her with wide-eyed fascination.

  She sang about the often-married widow next door, finished the first verse and started the second, conveniently the same as the first. Valle gave a gummy smile and she found herself wearing the silliest grin. That song done, she moved onto the next British Invasion song about being into something good.

  “I can’t believe you know all the words,” Carrie said.

  “They’re short.” Not complex, designed to be remembered.

  “Thank you for the break.” She sat back down on the couch and ran a brush through her wet hair. With practice, she pulled it easily into a braid and tied it off. “He likes you.”

  “He doesn’t know what to think of me.” Nakia gave him a playful jiggle. Valle didn’t laugh but he didn’t cry, either. “Who is this crazy woman singing to me? Why is she covered in milk? Where’s my mom?”

  “I should have warned you he doesn't like to feed with anyone but me.” Carrie reached for a cupcake. “May I?”

  “Yes. I baked them for you, as a thanks for the fern.”

  And totally not to spy on you.

  Shame at her own jealous thoughts over the exhausted mom with a fussy baby flooded her. This woman needed a friend, and possibly a babysitter, not a petty bitch upset that her husband admired another woman’s brains.

  “I have to confess,” she blurted out. “I was jealous. Everyone loves you and talks about you all the time, and I just had to meet you to see for myself.”

  Carrie eyed the cupcake. “This isn’t poisoned, is it? Because you’re very bad at poisoning if it is.”

  “No.” Nakia chuckled. “It’s raspberry-lemon swirl. I just, you’re—”

  Carrie bit into the cupcake, closing her eyes to savor. She hummed and licked the bit of frosting at the corner of her mouth. “God, that’s good. I don’t care if it’s poison.”

  “It’s not poisoned.” Why did she have to admit to being a jealous bitch? Whatever she said now would be suspicious.

  “Relax. I’m messing with you.” She took another bite. “Mmm, that is good. You made this? From scratch?”

  “It’s nothing, just following the directions.” Baking was chemistry, which meant it was a science you got to eat.

  “You’d think, but I get too distracted. As you may or may have not noticed from all my unfinished housework.” Carrie finished off the cupcake and licked the bit of frosting clinging to her fingers. “Anyway, I know how it feels to want to hate your man’s friends. Have you met Vox?”

  Nakia shook her head. The name was familiar, but she had been introduced to so many people in the last month, she couldn’t picture his face. “I don’t think so.”

  “He was stationed at the moon base on Earth for a long time. He befriended the sisters Meridan and Daisy. I know you’ve met them. They’re nurses—and human. I probably should lead with that.”

  Nakia noticed the human nurse the first day she arrived. “We haven’t spoken, but I know of them.”

  “They’re basically best friends. Have been for years. Vox considers them to be his sisters. When I got here, he went on and on about Meridan said this. Daisy did that. Meridan likes this food so here’s a big plate of raw fish. Yuck. And it’s obvious he adores them.” Carrie grabbed another cupcake. “So of course, I hated them.”

  “I didn’t hate you.” Nakia adjusted the baby on her hip, swaying in place. He leaned against her; eyes heavy with sleep. For a half-alien baby, she thought he’d be more, well, alien. Instead, he was a perfectly human looking, down to his teeny fingers and slobbery pink lips.

  “You just hate the way I monopolized Rohn’s time?”

  “A little,” Nakia admitted.

  “I’m sorry. The window I get to work is very small. I can’t leave Valle with anyone but Vox.”

  “I thought the ship has a nursery?”

  “A really nice one. But Valle cries for hours if he gets worked up. I can’t drop him off at the nursery and pretend that he’s going to be an angel instead of crying until I get back. It’s not fair to the people working and the other children.” That made sense. “So, I get to work when Vox is between missions. I know Valle will grow out of his colic, but it’s hard until then. Is he asleep?”

  “Yes.”

  Carrie laid him down in his crib before returning to her spot on the couch. “Anyway, once I finally met the infamous Meridan and Daisy, I quite liked them. I mean, they’re still more Vox’s friends than mine, but we get along.”

  Nakia knew the polite thing would be to insist that they would be friends, too, but she was never one for bullshit. “He doesn't work with them, though.”

  “Nope. Want to see what we’re building?” She jumped to her feet excitedly and scurried around the room, looking under some clothes piles and empty bottles. “Here it is!”

  Carrie held up a model ship, apparent pride shone on her face with a wide grin. A tentacle kitty decal clung on the side of the white painted model. “This is it. Well, not it. Obviously. This is the scale model. The real thing had a successful flight. Zero malfunctions.”

  She chattered about the technical specifications, none of which made any sense to Nakia. “This must be boring. I’m sorry. What is it you do? Or did? God, that sounds rude, like I think you’re lazy. Which I don’t. Please ignore me. I can’t seem to stop talking.” She twisted the end of her braid around a finger.

  Nakia waved off the woman’s apology. “You’re tired and I’m not offended. I’m a lawyer.”

  “Really?” Her eyes went wide.

  “Mostly real estate and contractual law. Nothing exciting like on television, just zoning ordinances and permit applications.” The mention of the dreaded p-word brought her back to her first argument with Rohn. “Does Vox gets upset that you work with Rohn?”

  Carries snorted. “Nope.”

  Then it was just Rohn who couldn’t abide her talking to anyone. He’d said he wouldn’t fly into a jealous rage the next time she talked to Jaxar, but she hadn’t put it to the test, either.

  “Oh, no. Not like that,” Carrie said quickly. “At first he was super possessive and always on me. Like my shadow. Wouldn’t let me do anything. Walk anywhere. He was always there, and I was never alone. It drove me nuts.”

  “What happened?”

  “It got better. I think their brains are wired to be possessive like that, but it relaxes in time.”

  “I wish Rohn would chill the fuck out,” Nakia said. “Jaxar is making me a replacement leg but I guess that’s on the back burner now. Everything is on the back burner, like dinner or talking to your wife once a day.”

  “Or enjoying all the perks of being a newlywed,” Carrie said with a smirk.

  Nakia shook her head, giving a dramatic sigh. Yeah, no time for that either. “I’m taking up your precious free time. You should sleep while you have the chance.”

  “Sounds good.” Carrie grabbed a throw blanket and stretched out on the sofa. “He might
wake up if I go back into the bedroom. Feel free to come and visit, Nakia. I’m sure Valle would love to listen to you sing again.”

  “And you wouldn’t mind more cupcakes?”

  “Or cookies,” she said with a grin. “I wouldn’t want to be a pain.”

  Nakia decided that she would visit again, with or without baked goods. She liked Carrie and felt that they could get along. “I’m glad I came by today. Have a good nap.” Then, as an afterthought, “Do you want company when we get to Vel Mori?”

  “Absolutely.”

  In the corridor, she checked the time.

  Eight hours until they arrived at Vel Mori.

  * * *

  Rohn

  * * *

  He found Jaxar leaning against the bar at the watering hole in engineering’s level. The floor vibrated with the thrum of the engines and the air smelled vaguely of oil and grease. The lighting embedded in the ceiling did little to illuminate the dark space.

  Males clustered around tables, drinks in hand, or pressed up against the bar. They spoke of the impending battle at Vel Mori. The young were eager to prove themselves and wagered on how many kills they would take. The clan had not engaged in a large-scale conflict since Paax became warlord. For many, this would be their first battle.

  Older, experienced males refrained from the idle boasting and speculation. They knew better than to underestimate their opponent and the outcome of no fight was ever guaranteed. Better males than they fell in battle every day.

  Jaxar starred at the glass in his hand. Rohn remembered when the male had once been brash and boastful, and his heart pained for the loss of friend’s innocence. Time and events beyond their control had taken much from both males.

  But Rohn still owed the male an apology.

  Jaxar looked up at Rohn, curiosity burning in his eyes. No doubt he also expected an explanation of what he overheard.

  A caged ring lurked in the back of the room, available to any males who needed to settle a dispute. While the Mahdfel normally resolved their differences with sparring, hitting each other until the negative emotions diminished, the cage was more for show than containing hot emotions. The spaces for drinking alcohol were strictly social, which explained the look of surprise on Jaxar’s face when Rohn punched him in the nose.

  Blood sprayed down the male’s face and his lip curled into a grin. He wiped his hand across his mouth, looking at the red on his hand like it was a gift.

  Conversations fell silent as every male there watched for Jaxar’s reaction.

  “I am here to apologize,” Rohn said, finding that he meant the words. He had not counted on his own sincerity.

  Jaxar laughed, loudly and drowning out the resumed conversation. “Whiskey?” He motioned to the bot behind the counter and the drink appeared.

  Rohn accepted the glass of amber liquid and swallowed it in one gulp. Fire burned down his throat, warming him through. The effects of alcohol did not last long on Mahdfel. Some enjoyed the taste of wine or spirits but Rohn could not see the appeal of this whiskey. It merely burned his taste receptors.

  Perhaps that was the point. “Another.”

  “Another for my friend!” Jaxar slapped him on the back.

  Rohn set the drink on the wooden bar. He leaned heavily on his elbows, focusing on the play of light in the amber liquid. “My apology—”

  “None is needed.” Jaxar leaned on the bar in a similar manner.

  “No. I have been jealous, possessive, and it is driving my mate away. I must do better. Be better.” He moved as if to pick up the drink but set it back down. “If Nakia chooses you as a friend, I must respect her judgment.”

  “No snipe about poor judgment?”

  The word had almost been on his tongue, but he held himself back. “We’re all entitled to our mistakes.”

  A laugh boomed out of Jaxar. A few heads turned but most ignored the engineer. Rohn recognized a few faces in the crowd as mechanics and engineers. No doubt they knew that Jaxar only had one volume: maximum.

  When the male calmed himself, he said, “Is what she said correct? She was also matched to me?”

  Rohn wanted to deny it, to sink his fist into the male’s face again and again until Jaxar forgot what he heard. He focused on his whiskey, determined to find another way. “Statistically, we were equals. The Terran official allowed her to decide in the end.”

  Jaxar grunted, draining his glass. He motioned for another. A Mahdfel’s metabolism burned off alcohol quickly. The engineer would require a larger quantity and consume it for a longer period of time before he became intoxicated, but they would arrive at Vel Mori in a handful of hours. Every warrior should be sober as well as rested. As much as Rohn wanted to scold Jaxar, he held his tongue.

  “And she picked your old ass?”

  “I am as amazed as you,” Rohn said. Truly.

  “Just as well. I admire your mate, but she is not the one for me,” Jaxar said, picking up his drink. “She’s a bit—” His free hand made a circular gesture at his head.

  “What in cold starfire does that mean?” If the male implied that his mate was imperfect in any way, they would finish the conversation in the cage.

  “Your mate is clever. Too clever for the likes of me.”

  “I fear that is true of me, as well,” Rohn said.

  “You know me. I’m blunt and I don’t read social cues well. I understand machines, but people, no.”

  “True,” Rohn said. Jaxar’s frankness had been the quality that initially drew in Rohn. It was also the same quality that irritated Rohn more often than not.

  “I do not need a mate who will turn over every word I say, searching for meaning, or turn them back against me.”

  “It is unrealistic to expect meaning in everything you utter,” Rohn said.

  “You don’t have to be so quick to agree.”

  Rohn huffed with amusement. “I still dislike you on principle.”

  “I’m your oldest friend,” Jaxar said with mock indignation.

  “We all have lapses in judgment.”

  “Seven hours to go.”

  “Will you remain on the ship?”

  “I’m heading to the surface. The air scrubbers were damaged. Without them, the atmosphere is toxic,” Jaxar said.

  “Atmosphere regulators for the entire planet?” He could not imagine the scale of the operation.

  “Well, it is a small moon.”

  “Spar when you get back to the ship?”

  Jaxar grinned. “And take advantage of an old male? It’s hardly sporting.”

  “I understand if you do not want to be humiliated by an aged, elderly warrior such as myself. The shame of it—”

  The male chuffed with laughter. “You’re on, old man.”

  Chapter 16

  Nakia

  Three hours until arrival at Vel Mori.

  The injured crowded the medical bay. Nakia stood at the door, unsure where to go. It seemed as if every available medic was busy with people from the mining colony. Should she reschedule her appointment? The medic sent her a message that morning to confirm and Rohn was supposed to meet her there, but he was nowhere to be found.

  Nakia could reschedule. She wasn’t sick or injured. Kalen just wanted to monitor her right leg and hips. A small imbalance with her prosthesis or a change to her gait as she walked could lead to major problems down the road, and the effects of the ship’s gravity on her body was worth keeping an eye on.

  She’d come back when they weren’t in the middle of an emergency. Turning to leave, a hand snagged her elbow.

  “Where are you going?”

  Oh great. It wasn’t Kalen but the other medic, the grumpy one. Levin.

  “It’s busy. I thought you’d be too busy for a routine appointment,” she said.

  Levin glanced at the tablet in his hands and frowned. “No, let’s get this over with now. Once we arrive on Vel Mori, we will have no time for you.”

  Such a charmer.

  “Are you sure?
I don’t want to be a burden.” Rescheduling just to avoid his absolute lack of a bedside manner was looking better and better.

  “Is your hearing defective? Now is optimal. Come.” Levin pulled her to an empty examination space, the partitions already raised.

  “Any muscle weakness? Fatigue? Soreness?” He ran through a checklist of symptoms, boredom practically dripping off every word.

  “Um, no. I feel normal.”

  “I will scan your hips and lower back. Remove your lower garment.”

  She took her pants off and stood perfectly still as the medic waved a handheld scanner over her lower torso. He frowned, waved the device over her stomach, then again.

  “Problem?”

  “You require further tests,” he said, tone implying it was somehow her fault for being difficult. With brisk, efficient movements, he collected a blood sample.

  “Can I put my pants back on?”

  “Hmm. Yes. Do not disturb me, Terran,” he said, entering something into his tablet computer.

  “Sorry,” she muttered, dressing herself.

  “Heart rate is steady. Blood sugar levels are high but not alarmingly so. Did you eat before coming here?”

  “Oh, um, yeah. Was I not supposed to?”

  He gave a wave, focusing on the screen. “That will need to be monitored. Iron levels are acceptable. Liver and kidneys are functioning within established parameters. Hormones levels are consistent with a female in your condition.”

  “So I’m good? I can leave?”

  “Absolutely not.” A panel in the wall slid back, revealing row and rows of medical supplies. He selected a bottle and a prepared a hypodermic needle.

  Needles did not typically make Nakia nervous but that guy, coming at her with a needle? Yeah, not happening.

  “What’s that? You said I was good. Why do I need a shot?”

  “It is a basic vitamin booster. It will help your body prepare.” God, could he have not sounded more like a cartoon villain?

  He reached for her arm, but she jumped off the table and moved away.

  “Prepare for what?”