Chapter 3
Zephrum
Fear for the delicate human in his arms made Zephrum clumsy with the door to his ship. He silently cursed the piece of junk and wished he could’ve gotten something nicer. At least all the vital systems were sound, even if it didn’t have much in the way of amenities.
He rushed her to the only bed on the small ship. He wished he had more pillows to make a proper nest for her, but this would have to do for now.
Even though she stank of blood, he needed to get them away from this station before he could see to her wounds.
“Stay here,” he said. “I’ll be back soon to care for you.”
“Sure,” she answered. Her tone was casual, but her expressive face was pinched and she was sweating profusely. The literature he’d read from the Committee of Pet Welfare indicated these were signs of distress. “Take your time. I’ll just hang out here.”
He thought that might be humor but didn’t know how to respond in kind. “Yes, please remain still and calm.”
She closed her eyes and mumbled something he couldn’t make out. He didn’t think she was damaged enough to be dying, but he worried anyway.
Rushing to the front of the ship, he jumped into the pilot’s seat and rapidly initiated the departure protocols. He already had permission to leave. He’d been about to depart when he’d heard her cry of pain while doing a last inspection of the ship’s rear plating.
Despite the commotion going on in the dock, he was allowed to go without delay. Soon the ship was on a direct trek to Yormun Station. He wasn’t sure if the human wanted to go there, but it wasn’t within the Talin Empire, Talin owned, or Talin affiliated, so it was relatively safe for both of them.
He still couldn’t believe those two hunters had found him so quickly. He thought buying this ship under an assumed name would protect him better. He had a lot to learn about being a fugitive.
Once the ship was en route, he shut off the comms for everything except emergency signals.
He moved out of the seat so quickly he tripped and almost went to the floor.
Where was his normal grace and poise? As a logistics general, he’d coordinated most of the Orlok War, and yet he couldn’t manage to get out of a chair without fumbling.
The sight of the small human made him forget about his clumsiness. He knew she was small; he’d carried her. But she seemed even smaller laying in the average-sized bunk. She also appeared much too pale. All the images of humans he’d seen were shades of brown, but this one was pasty white!
He grabbed the rudimentary med supplies on the ship and knelt next to her and focused on assessing her injuries. He’d assumed if she was talking and not crying out in pain, she wasn’t that hurt. Maybe he was wrong.
One arm of her jacket was absolutely soaked in blood, and it was dripping onto the bed under her. It was clear what caused the bleeding, a long, yellow quill was pierced through her shirt sleeve and arm.
How could those hunters have done this? Everyone knew humans were fragile. They could’ve easily killed her.
“The hunters should both have their plates removed one by one,” he grumbled.
He thought she’d passed out, but at his words her eyes fluttered open. Then the corners of her mouth turned up.
That was a smile! She was smiling at him. That was good. If she showed teeth, then it was an even better smile.
“I don’t know what that means, but it sounds painful, so I agree,” she mumbled. She tried to sit up but winced. “Ouch, damn it!”
She was cradling her arm against her chest, careful not to touch the quill.
“I’m going to cut away your shirt,” he told her. “Then I’ll see if removing the quill is feasible."
“Cut the shirt, I don’t care,” she agreed. “But get this damn thing out!”
He popped open the med kit and was dismayed to see it didn’t even have a basic med scanner. Without it he couldn’t check to make sure the quill hadn't pierced anything vital.
“There’s no scanner,” he said, bringing his eyes up to meet hers. “After I cut the shirt away, I can saw off the quill at both ends. Then I can cover the area in antiseptic gel and wrap it until we get to a place with medical staff to—”
Before he could finish explaining his plan, she grabbed the quill and pulled it free.
“Why would you do that?” he cried out with a startled rattle much too loud for the small ship.
“You weren’t going to, so I did,” she said. They both watched the blood begin dripping out of the hole in her sleeve and start to soak the chest of her jacket. “That’s not good.”
“No it’s not!” he agreed, ripping the sleeve open with his claws to find the top puncture bleeding profusely. The lower puncture was only weeping a little blood. He focused on helping her instead of voicing all the reprimands that flooded his head.
Ripping open a packet of gel, he poured it over the wound. It didn’t stop the bleeding, but when he wrapped the bandage around her arm, he saw the dressing change color as it bonded with the gel. He watched closely for several submarks, but no blood seeped through the bandage.
“See, not a big deal,” she said, but her voice was a little breathy. She was still sweating profusely to the point that her clothes were soaked. She waved her good hand in the direction of the med kit. “Are there any painkillers in there?”
He rummaged around until he found a vial. The label cycled through several languages, but he didn’t know how to read any of them. He knew it was a painkiller from the color, but he wanted to know if it was still good.
Impatient, she snatched it from him and squinted her eyes at the label.
“Yes! This is the good stuff!” she declared and put the tab end in her mouth. Biting off the top, she spat it out and then downed the liquid.
“I could've opened that,” he said.
She made an adorable snorting sound. “I’m sure, but it might’ve taken you a few years.”
Zephrum might not know how long a “year” was, but he knew when he’d heard an exaggeration. He couldn’t blame her; she must’ve been in intense pain since being injured. Still, he couldn’t stop the gentle reprimand that came out of his mouth.
“Expired medication can be dangerous,” he said. “Some of them can break down into component parts that your human digestive tract can't handle.”
She closed her eyes and made that snort sound again. “Trust me, I’ve eaten plenty of things I probably shouldn’t have, and I’m still alive. Ugarian beetle stew comes to mind.”
“Beetle stew? That sounds disgusting!"
“It’s not my favorite,” she said, then made a sound that took him a moment to realize was her version of a rumble of amusement.
Laughing, that’s what it was called. It was musical and pleasant to the earhole. He wanted to hear it again.
“...anyway, that was the last time I ate it,” she said. His mind had uncharacteristically wandered off, and he’d missed some of what the human had said.
“I don’t know your name,” he said, excited to get to know this little female better. At least he was pretty sure she was female, but he should probably check. “I need to know your name and your gender.”
She blinked slowly, then the corners of her mouth tugged up again. “I’m a she/her and call me Han. My mom named me Hannah, but I like Han. It’s like, tough sounding, you know?”
“Han is a good name,” he agreed, although he wasn’t sure how a name could sound tough.
“Are you going to make some beetle stew?” Her words were slow and a little slurred. “I don’t really want beetle stew, but soup sounds good. Is it cold in here? I think it might be a little cold.”
“The medication is affecting you,” he said, standing up to open a storage cupboard over the bed and pulling out two blankets.
Kneeling back down, he tucked the blankets around Han.
After she was better, he’d help her clean off the blood.
“Perhaps you should sleep and when you wake, I’ll make you all the soup you want. ”
“Yeah, that’d be nice,” she mumbled, her eyes falling closed. “You’re a nice guy, Zeph.”
He jerked back. Did she know his name? No, that wasn’t possible. She’d said Zeph, not Zephrum. That word must mean something else to Han and simply sounded like part of his name.
“What does Zeph mean?” he asked. He didn’t expect an answer, but he got one.
“Zeph is you, a nice guy,” she said. He could barely make out the last few words.
“It’s a word for a kind male,” he whispered as her breathing became even and her body relaxed completely. He finished tucking the blanket in around her, sounding a quiet, soothing rumble.
He took a moment to take in her features.
He thought she might have lighter skin than the average human, but the shock of pain and blood loss had made her even paler.
She had dots scattered across the bridge of her nose and face.
It took him a little while to remember that they were called freckles.
Her mane was a light red color, but he couldn’t tell how long it was because it was secured in several braids that were coiled around her head. Even though her eyes were closed, he could picture the light green color he’d noticed earlier.
Her face and body were on the round side, a good sign for her health. He’d read all about the negative effects of malnourishment on humans. It was good to know that wouldn’t be an issue with Han.
The way she’d handled being attacked and then injured was both impressive and sad. She’d been calm and stoic, but he hated that she’d probably had practice dealing with bad situations and intense pain.
Altogether, she had to be the most striking and amazing human ever.
“Zeph is a kind male,” he whispered, watching her sleep peacefully. “You consider me a kind male. I’m your Zeph and won’t let you down, I swear!”
Although he tried to be quiet, he couldn’t be silent while cleaning the ship. There was only one room to this small, diplomatic carrier meant to house two people at most.
In its prime, the ship might’ve been comfortable but never luxurious.
Now that it was about the same age as Zeph, everything about the interior was run down and often broken.
He’d found out the reconsitutor only worked half the time, and the bed had a broken strut he’d been forced to weld in place.
Now it couldn’t fold back into the wall, but at least it wouldn’t collapse and send him rolling to the floor.
When he’d first bought the ship, it had been a means to an end. All he cared about was that it was mechanically sound. Now that Han was onboard, he felt embarrassed at the state of the place.
Between his high rank and share of war wealth he’d claimed during the Orlok War, he’d been as wealthy as some of the most elite families. But he wasn’t a wealthy individual any longer.
Now that he was a fugitive, all those riches would’ve been claimed by the government.
He had just enough to fulfill his last goal, but that would take up almost all of his remaining resources.
As much as he wanted to keep the little female, it would probably be better if he offered to take her home.
But did she have a home? Did she have a community of humans to return to? Or was she like him, unsettled and searching for a new life?
He could be her everything if she wanted him.
What would it be like to have a human to clutch and cling to him? What would it feel like to be touched with those small, soft hands or get to hear her musical laughter regularly?
It would be better than any honors ceremony he could ever attend. She could make losing his place within the empire bearable. Perhaps even preferable.
All these thoughts swirled around his head as he cleaned. Thankfully, Han slept through all the noise and was still slumbering after he’d made the place as nice as possible.
When he checked on her, he found she’d rolled on her side and was hugging one of the pillows to her chest.
As he watched, her eyes fluttered open. Her gaze briefly met his before she yawned and stretched. A wince interrupted her movements.
“Are you in pain?”
“It’s my leg,” she said with a little sigh, rolling over to her other side. “It’s nothing.”
Her words were soft, and she closed her eyes before he could ask more questions. Her breathing evened out quickly, and her body went lax in sleep.
He’d been so focused on her arm that he hadn’t thought to look for any other wounds. Running his eyes down her small body, he noticed some flecks of blood on a section of the blanket. Tugging the bottom of it free, he lifted it to find her pant leg soaked in blood.
He cursed himself under his breath, “I’m worthless!”
Pulling up the loose pant leg, he found a wound half covered in skin patches. Most of them weren’t even attached or were only half on. The wound had reopened and blood was welling from it. It wasn’t gushing, but there was enough to be concerning.
He’d left the med kit nearby and opened it again. Thankfully there were plenty of skin patches and more gel. It took several antiseptic pads to clear off the old blood, but finally enough skin was clean to attach the patches.
“By the ancestors, I hope you continue to sleep,” he murmured, bracing himself for the worst part.
Attaching the first skin patch to the narrowest part of the wound, he tugged the gouge closed and attached the other side of the patch as quickly as possible while still being accurate.
Han made an irritated sound and batted her hand in the air. “Stupid stilm bugs!”
Her words were mumbled, and her hand dropped back down to rest near her face.
“Han?” he whispered. “Your leg is injured. I’m going to treat it.”
She didn’t respond. He went back to work.
He was able to finish with her only making that irritated sound one more time and never fully waking again. When he was done, he sat back and let relief flow through him.
“I’ve cared for you,” he murmured. “And I’ll continue to care for you for as long as you let me.”
Getting comfortable on the floor next to the bed, he sounded a soothing rumble and watched Han sleep. It was the most peaceful he’d felt in his adult life.