Chapter 5
The gym was even bigger than I expected, which made sense when I thought about it. When they weren't out plundering, stealing, and kidnapping, what else was there to do in deep space? Other than stealing my theories, running awesome experiments with them, and then rejecting me outright.
Whatever. His loss.
I wasn't even thinking about those abs— I mean, that scientist guy. Who clearly wanted nothing to do with me.
A large object blew past my ear, and I hit the ground with a moderately undignified MEEP.
"In deep space, you must be ready for everything," Kaedren bellowed.
"Did you just try to kill me?"
"No. If I wanted to kill you, you would be dead."
An absolute charmer, this guy.
"Okay, but why throw a boulder at my head? We have LIDAR. We'd see a meteor coming from a million kilometers away."
Kaedren crossed all four arms. "LIDAR doesn't help when raiders board the ship. Or when equipment fails. Reflexes do."
I opened my mouth. Closed it. He had a point.
"Fine. But maybe warn me before the next attempted murder?"
"Of course not. That would defeat the purpose." He tilted his head, and a slow smile spread across his lips. "But I see you are cleverer than you look."
"Gee, thanks."
"Come. Follow me to the sparring mat, please."
"Sparring mat? Are we talking about fighting?"
"Sparring. You will practice at your full strength. I will practice at a quarter of mine."
"Oh, well, thank goodness for that. You realize you're ten times my size, right?"
"7.83 times, actually. I reviewed your medical scans this morning."
I held up a hand. "You know what? I don't need the exact math."
"But you made an incorrect statement."
"And I'm making another one: let's get on with your lesson, Sasquatch."
He went still—completely still—like his brain had to reboot. After a few moments of silence, he turned and walked toward the back of the gym.
"Where are you going?" I called.
"To the sparring mat, like you asked. Our lesson is about to begin."
I sighed. Way to go, Doctor. You just irritated the slab of beef who's about to teach you self-defense. At least Lyrin probably has something for bruises. And back pain. And whatever happens when a small human pisses off a mountain.
I followed Kaedren and stopped at a large square mat. He was nowhere to be seen.
"Kaedren? You here?"
Silence. No answer. No movement.
"Kaedren, this isn't funny!"
A four-armed shadow slipped out of a doorway behind the mat. His blue skin glowed under the fluorescent lights as he stepped forward wearing nothing but a pair of loose pants.
I watched plenty of movies in the hab, some of them…
educational. But I had never seen four biceps as large as the ones lumbering toward me.
Each arm was a study in alien anatomy—thick, carved muscle that flexed with every step.
I actually cowered—not because I thought he'd hurt me, but because my brain short-circuited trying to calculate what being wrapped in all that warm, blue, rock-hard muscle would feel like.
Not now. Later. Maybe.
FOCUS, idiot.
"Please come onto the mat, Doctor. Also, put this on." He handed me a white gi jacket.
"What do I need this for?"
"Rules. You are either uncovered or covered." He pointed at the jacket. "That is covered." Then he pointed at himself. "This is uncovered."
"I see," I said, definitely not staring at the valleys running down his torso.
This was either going to be amazing or terrible. Probably both.
"We will start in the basic fighting stance."
I mirrored him.
"Excellent. Now, this is a jab." He punched the air. "And this is a front kick." He demonstrated.
I copied each movement. He walked me through a few more basics—then blocks—then light sparring where we knew what the other would do.
It was invigorating. My muscles sang. My lungs didn't burn.
I hadn't worked out like this in forever, and instead of being out of breath, I felt like I could run a marathon.
"I see Lyrin's formulas are working," Kaedren observed.
"His what now?"
"It was part of the procedures used to save your life. Since we live on a spaceship, we take supplements to protect our bones from microgravity and our organs from radiation. One side effect is increased muscle and respiratory efficiency."
"So I should expect acne and irrational anger? I mean, more irrational anger than normal?"
"No. Those side effects have been removed. Enough talking. Now we spar."
He slipped into a stance and gestured me forward.
So I went. I sprinted straight at him. He grinned—he thought he knew what was coming.
I raised my right arm like I was going to punch. He lunged.
I dropped into a slide, momentum carrying me between his legs. I shot my fist upward—straight into the goods.
I popped up into a guard position. Kaedren stood with his back to me, absolutely still. His upper hands clenched. His lower hands pressed firmly to his groin.
"Hhhhnnnngggg."
"Shit, are you okay?" I ran to him.
He collapsed forward. I hovered, hands out, absolutely no idea what to do. Pat his back? Apologize? Run?
After what felt like an eternity, he pushed himself up—first on one knee, then to his feet. He wobbled. His hand found my shoulder, grip tight enough to make my knees weak.
"You punched me in the groin."
I nodded. "I'm... sorry?"
"That is an incredibly sensitive area for the Zorathi."
I shrugged. "It's a sensitive area for human men too."
"You do not understand. It is not the same." His voice dropped, rough and strained. "It is pain shared among all the tethered."
"The what?"
He shook his head, jaw tight. "I thought you were weak. Fragile. A tiny, lost lamb who would faint at the first sign of danger."
"Okay, I get it."
"I thought you would cry during turbulence."
"First: why is there space turbulence? Second: I'm not crying from turbulence, you ass."
"Yes, you are stronger than I expected. Much smarter, too. Attacking an enemy's weakest point is a fantastic strategy. You are a fighter, Doctor."
Before I could respond, he wrapped all four arms around me and lifted me off the ground.
I yelped. Two arms would have been startling. Four was overwhelming. Warm blue skin surrounded me—chest pressed to chest, his heart thundering against mine, the scent of him alien and weirdly appealing, like ozone and something spicy. Every point of contact burned.
My brain flatlined.
When he set me down, I swayed. My skin felt cold where he'd been touching me.
Oh no.
"Today has been a good day," he said, one hand lingering on my shoulder before falling away. "Go clean up and relax. We have the Captain's dinner tonight, and you are the guest of honor."
He clapped me on the shoulder with his lower right hand—casual, friendly, completely unaware he'd just scrambled my neurons—and strode out of the gym.
I stood there, heart pounding, face hot.
Okay. Sparring an alien—checked off the bucket list.
Getting absolutely wrecked by a four-armed hug? Also checked.
Now I just had to survive dinner. And not think about those arms. Or that chest. Or the fact that the tethered sounded ominous as hell.