Chapter 5
5
I’ve had my first taste of alien ship food and it wasn’t horrible. And the kitchens are kind of fascinating, not that I was allowed to inspect them. It turns out that everyone’s dietary needs are held in the central ship’s computer and then subdivided into four major categories, each with its own assigned kitchen, so that poisoning can’t occur accidentally. And thankfully there weren’t any live squiggly things. The plate set in front of me in the officers’ dining room has something vaguely resembling scrambled eggs and sausage. Except the sausage turns out to be some kind of grain and fruit rolled together and the eggs taste more like cheese but apparently are very vitamin rich. If I close my eyes and ignore what my mouth is expecting based on appearance, it’s delicious.
“Don’t you get tired of all the bowing and ‘your Eminences’?” I whisper to Drakkon after the last server has backed away, genuflecting as he went.
“Infinitely,” he mutters in response.
I turn to stare at him. “Well, you could stop it, right? If you’re in charge?”
The rueful look he sends me has me wanting to snuggle up to him. “I’m not in charge. My grandmother is. And she’s a big fan of protocol. But even if she weren’t, I will never be just one of the crew again.” He glances meaningfully down at the swirling patterns on his left forearm.
“Does that hurt, all that moving about?” I ask curiously, reaching a finger out to trace one of the swirls. He seems to jolt under my touch and then an even stranger thing happens. The swirl under my finger begins to follow my lead, changing course as I move my hand along his arm, doubling back when I head the other direction. “Drakkon? What is it doing?” I inquire hoarsely.
His voice is suddenly rough with need. “Encouraging you to touch me, sweet little mate. And your touch is most… enticing. And no, it doesn’t hurt, no more than feeling the rays of a green sun on your arm.”
I jerk my hand away and sigh with relief when the swirls resume their previous course. That was weird. And kinda neat, and I sort of want to play with him like a kid’s toy — see what designs I can make before the first part fades.
And right there I’m moving into dangerous territory, wanting to spend more time with him, play with his body. Those aren’t the words of a woman eager to return to her old life on Earth.
Another male approaches, but I’ve begun to discern the differences in uniforms and if I’m correct, he’s a high-ranking officer. He leans closer to Drakkon than anyone I’ve observed earlier, and they have an intense, whispered conversation. Drakkon’s eyes swing to me and stay there, shock in his odd golden eyes. When the officer departs, Drakkon asks, “Are there people on your planet that can shape shift?”
I blink. That’s what they were talking about? I shrug. “Only in stories, as far as I know.”
“It would appear that’s how the young woman gained entrance to the shuttle. There is a race of people out beyond the Empire that can shift their form at will. Some even say to pure energy if need be. Their genetic signature is constantly shifting, so it’s a weak point in the technological defenses. It’s possible that if they interbred with humans, due to your high compatibility, that some of those descendents would inherit the traits.”
I frown at him. “You think that girl is a shifter? Why not just go ask her?”
The look Drakkon gives me could melt gold. “And expose a vulnerability? I’m trusting you with this information, C.J., because I’m confident you will join me on the throne some day.”
Ignoring my need to probe that line of questioning further, I continue with the shifter problem. If it even is one, I’m not completely convinced. “Well, you can ask the guys at the center if they’ve heard or seen anything locally? When we return? Or I can go talk to her.” I shrug as if I’m not dying to find out the girl’s story, but I don’t want to do anything that will endanger her further.
Drakkon chews on that for a minute. “That’s not the worst idea. With a guard, of course. I can’t completely rule out that she didn’t have nefarious intentions, but there aren’t any warnings flags about that.” He glances down at his arms again as if they would be written there for him to read. And maybe that does happen?
“Okay.” I bounce up from my seat, ready to go now. Drakkon looks amused.
“Finish your breakfast, little mate. And I will let Mykkal know you are coming to his quarters for a visit.”
I sigh and do as he asked, but I’m impatient to learn more. A few minutes later, three males clad in black armor approach, bowing deeply. I cast an eyebrow at Drakkon, who nods. The next thing I know, we’re standing in front of a plain door in one of the many ship’s corridors. The thing really is like a big cruise ship without the sundeck and the entertainment venues. Although those could exist somewhere. Maybe I need to learn enough Common to be able to ask?
One of the guards reaches out to knock firmly, and the door slides back to reveal Mykkal looking stressed but resigned. Behind him, seated on the bed, is the young woman. She’s still dressed in the same clothes but now wearing elaborate six inch wide cuffs on both arms. A heavy chain is strung between them, puddled in her lap. Her eyes are anxious as well.
I move past the guards to sit on the far corner of the bed. Something tells me I won’t help anything if I try to get closer to her.
“Hi. My name’s C.J. What’s yours?”
“A-A-Anya,” she whispers, still looking terrified.
“Can you tell me what happened? Are they treating you well?”
She flushes, and the very tiniest hint of a smile appears at the corners of her lips. “Mykkal is taking very good care of me. He told me the chain can come off as soon as we get off this… this… thing.”
Her eyes flit to the man in question, who is restlessly leaning against the far wall. His eyes are drinking her in. Fear and adoration mingled together on his face. “She will be cherished for the rest of her life,” he tells me in English without shifting his gaze from her.
Ah. He does have it bad. I hope for her sake it lasts and doesn’t leave her stranded in the far reaches of the universe. Mykkal snorts in annoyance, finally bringing his eyes to me. “Anopi mate for life, Princess. You need have no concerns for her safety.”
Startled, I stare at him positive I hadn’t said a word out loud and then I remember Drakkon saying something about possible psychic powers. And why did he call me princess, of all things? Thankfully, Anya’s deep blush and lowered gaze shifts the conversation. “Can you tell me what happened, Anya?” I ask again.
She shrugs lightly. “I honestly don’t know. Not really. I was out taking a walk in the woods. I saw a… a man who’s been pestering me in the distance, so rather than have a confrontation, I looked around for a place to hide for a while. I saw what looked like a little shed with the door open. So I went in. It was dark inside, so I just sat down and waited. Then it started moving, but I didn’t have anything on me to make a light. Then some of these guys found me and here we are. I wasn’t trying to do anything. Or leave Earth,” she adds dryly.
We arrive at the space station the next day. I’ve slipped ten thousand duran into Mykkal’s account as a wedding present. He understands I can’t congratulate him publicly. Then I escort C.J. down the docking ramp to greet the various local dignitaries. Once we’re away from the docking bay, Mykkal and Anya will be escorted to the tourist district. It might sound harsh, but ten thousand is more than enough to buy a small estate on a farming planet or a decent apartment somewhere more urban.
Although C.J. insists there are no indications that Anya is any kind of shifter, I’m confident the evidence weighs heavily in that direction. Which means I have to contact my grandmother. But having an inkling what demands she will make, I’m showing C.J. around the station first. This isn’t one of the biggest or fanciest but it has a nice little shopping district and everything is new to C.J. Her eyes keep getting bigger and bigger as I show her fancy robes and sashes which shop keepers keep pressing on us, hoping to say they were the first to dress the new princess. But it’s the toy stall that I can’t get her out of. She laughs and whoops like a widwat as the color-changing orbs zoom over her head and crystal flowers bloom by her feet before dissolving and starting over again. Sighing, I pass a few folded notes to the shopkeeper. He would empty his stall for me for nothing without me even asking, but that would be detrimental to his business. As we turn to leave, I notice with a smirk that half the armed guards have become package mules, laden down with the gifts and offerings.
“Time to head back, sweetness. We’re running out of arms to carry all the gifts,” I murmur in her ear.
Unaware I’ve acquired her favorite toys for her ongoing amusement, C.J. sighs and reluctantly puts down the animated anamba she was holding.
“No, no, you must keep him, your Excellence! I insist,” the shopkeeper pops up. C.J. looks startled but looks longingly at the little toy.
“He knows how much his business will boom if you’re seen carrying it back to the ship,” I whisper in her ear. Her bright intelligent eyes smile with the realization and she picks up the anamba again.
“Thank you! He’s truly most adorable. I will tell everyone where I found him.”
The shopkeeper beams with joy and I’m sure my face is full of pride at how swiftly she’s adapting to royal responsibilities.
“Do you see how much good you can do in the universe as my mate?” I inquire gently when we’re back in our quarters surrounded by packages.
C.J. tilts her head to one side. “What do you mean?”
“Do I look like the male that would frequent a toy shop? Your image and interests will encourage other sectors of the economy to blossom. Not to mention, as I said before, that as Earth’s residents venture into the galaxy, whether as mates or otherwise, that having you in the palace will immediately grant respect and honor to them.”
She bites her lip in consideration. “You haven’t even kissed me yet,” she mutters finally.
Sighing, I raise her hand to my lips. “I cannot. Not without your final consent. The nanobots will seize any chance to transfer, which will remove your ability to choose.”
Her eyes widen as if that thought hadn’t even occurred to her. “Well, what about my stuff? I have an apartment in Seattle, you know?”
I have no idea what this Seattle is, nor do I care. “Arrangements can be made,” I wave her objection off. Is she softening? I can’t tell. She certainly snuggles in closer to me at night, resting her hand on my bare chest.
There’s one more thing that might win my case. I check the time on my communicator. The staff must be done with the arrangements by now. “Come, C.J., I have a surprise for you on the garden deck.”
“There’s a garden on here?” She looks surprised.
“Of course. Many levels, in fact, but this one is particularly decorative.” I hold out my hand in invitation and eventually she accepts it. The touch of her hand sends tingles down my spine. By the way her fingers tremble in mine, I think she felt it too.