Chapter 4
Miran
Miran roared with frustration when the hatch closed before he could even get his fingers into an edge. He knew there was no way for him to reach the bay’s control room in time to stop the launch. He slammed a hand down on his data bracelet.
“I found her in the shuttle bay. She’s inside and the doors are shut, can you stop the shuttle?” He listened to Nerin curse for several precious seconds.
“I need more time! The system is automated and to stop the processes means I need to break down several dozen standard safety protocols.”
“Get on another shuttle,” Lazil yelled. “Follow her down and grab her on the planet’s surface.”
Feeling like an idiot for not thinking of that, Miran looked around to find all the shuttles were also locked and ready to launch. It would take a long time for them to travel to the surface, unload, and return.
“They’re all ready to depart,” Miran replied grimly.
“Maintenance hatch!” Lazil said. “Look toward the back, past the rear door. Find the bottom seam. There’ll be a spot that gives a little. Press on it and the hatch will open. Get in and shut it before the launch.”
Miran rushed to the spot. “What happens if I don't get it sealed in time?”
“You and everyone aboard that shuttle dies,” Lazil stated with dead calm. “I suggest you hurry.”
Miran grunted, not bothering with communicating any longer.
He got the hatch open, but getting inside was the difficult part.
The compartment was not meant to accommodate anyone as big as a Hissa warrior in full gear.
He didn’t have time to strip anything off so there was no choice but to force his body into the tight space.
Once he was finally inside, he wiggled and banged every part of his body. He had to bend almost double to reach the hatch and pull it back closed. The hatch thumped back into place.
“I'm in, and I'll lose communication with you soon. Get to our ship and wait for my next communication. If you don't hear from me within a few hours, fly down to the planet's surface.”
“Acknowledged,” both men chorused back at him as the shuttle’s launch pressed Miran painfully against several hard edges.
He had to wait until the initial launch pressure eased before he could wiggle himself deeper into the bowels of the shuttle. He knew there’d be a place to access the inside of the shuttle, he only had to find it.
It was almost completely dark, but he felt along edges and seams until he found the one he knew was meant to open. He pushed hard, and the panel popped open, allowing him to stand up. He was tall enough that all of his upper body was inside the cabin with only his legs still in the crawl space.
There was movement and startled voices all around him, but he ignored them. His entire focus was on the human female sitting almost right in front of him.
Eyes wide with surprise, she froze. Somehow, she was clothed in Fielden garb again.
Her surprise gave way to fear, and she pulled her hand out of the bag on her lap and clutched it against her chest. She pulled both legs up and tucked her feet on the chair, as if trying to make herself small.
Even though there was no place for her to escape or hide on the shuttle, he grabbed one of her ankles. The irrational fear that she’d somehow disappear again made him pull her off her seat. She landed with a thump on the floor in front of him.
He moved the rest of himself out of the space. Letting go of her ankle, he covered her body with his. He needed a moment to assess, and he couldn't do that if she was busy kicking him in the face.
She let out a pathetic whimper. “You’re hurting me.”
He was supporting almost all his weight on his arms and legs so it was unlikely that he was hurting her. Still, he lifted a little to check for pressure points his armor might be causing.
The moment he gave her a little room, she tried to wiggle out from under him.
“Be still, or this will get worse,” he growled.
With a little gasp, she stopped moving. She blinked up at him, as if holding back tears. “I’m fragile, please don’t damage me.”
His first instinct was to comfort her, but he stifled it.
Except for the little fall from her chair to the floor, he wouldn’t do anything else to her.
She was safe, but she didn’t know that, and a little fear might make his job easier.
When they got her to a safe place, they’d have time to convince her that they were only here to help her.
Another problem was that being so close to her made it impossible to ignore her feminine scent filling his nose. By the moons, she smelled like something he wanted to lick and savor.
No! Even if she wasn’t as vulnerable as she seemed, he wouldn’t take advantage of her. She had the right to meet many Hissa warriors before deciding who she wanted as a mate.
“If you don’t try to escape, I won’t have to hurt you,” he said. It was hard to get the threatening words out. He felt like a monster, but if it kept her from running and potentially being hurt or being captured by the Kaklans, it was a necessary evil.
Her fearful expression was replaced with sincerity.
“You really don't want me,” she said, speaking quickly.
“I’m a horrible slave. I'm venomous. If they try to touch me, I'll bite your customers, and they'll die. You'll lose even more credits than what you spent to buy me. Males on my world have to wear protective armor before they can bed females because we’re so dangerous.”
He snorted at her dramatic warning. “That's a lie.”
“You should move off that female,” a Fielden said to him. “You are very big, and she is small.”
A primal part of him reared up. He glared and growled, making sure to flash a fang at the annoying creature. “Mine!”
There was a sudden scuffle as all the Fielden moved away from the two on the floor and huddled near the front of the shuttle. The female under him made a little sound of reproach.
He looked back down to find her frowning at him. “You didn't need to do that. They wouldn't have done anything except ask you politely.”
He struggled to keep up with her personality changes. In the short time he’d been dealing with her, she’d changed tactics as fast as he blinked. She’d gone from scared and meek to sincere and convincing, and finally her current deep disapproval.
This censure felt like he was seeing the real Nova for the first time.
“And all I did was ask them to go away, impolitely,” Miran informed her. He was fascinated by this human’s fast shifting personality.
“Don’t be impolite. Don’t growl at them.
Please? They’re a nice species, and they tip really well.
Some of the acts on the Delight rely almost entirely on tips.
If you scare them, they might tell their friends not to go to the Delight because there are scary guys with sharp teeth yelling at innocent bystanders. ”
He was surprised by her advocacy for the Delight.
“Were you allowed to keep your tips?” he asked.
She gave him an annoyed look. “Of course not. I was owned by the ship, so anything extra I got from my performances belonged to them.”
“Then why do you care about their experience?” he asked, confused by this conversation.
“Because almost all the others who work on that ship need those tips,” she snapped.
“Where’s the meek, fearful human who flinched when the Fozin tried to touch her?” he asked.
Her face went carefully blank. “I'm resigned to my fate.”
“A feral human, captured in the wild at the cost of five dead, is resigned to her fate?” Miran teased. “I find that doubtful.”
A grin exploded across her face. “It's a good story, right? I like the part where I eat anyone unlucky enough to get too close to my cage at night.” She gave an exaggerated sigh of annoyance.
“That line didn't work when we visited Hammarish. They eat their dead. The audience just thought I was being too eager.”
Miran barked out a laugh, unable to hold it back. He liked this open version of Nova. “You’re very athletic. Some of the moves you did in the cage were intense.”
“My acts have always been really physical,” she said, then wiggled a little under him. “This floor is kinda hard and cold, could we switch positions? Maybe we could even sit on the seats like civilized creatures?
“I’d make you promise to behave, but I know that would be pointless,” Miran grumbled as he moved to the side.
“Probably,” she agreed with a shrug. “Isn’t it in all our natures to seek survival?”
He crouched on the floor next to her, ready to grab her if she tried to move away from him. “In time, you’ll realize that we mean you no harm. Your life with us will be full of joy.”
She rolled her eyes, an expression he’d seen Deena do whenever she was annoyed. “Sure, I totally believe you.”
Sitting up, she rolled her neck and shoulders, as if testing for injury. He’d pulled her pretty hard onto the floor. Had her head hit the seat on the way down? Guilt hit him hard.
“Do you need medical care?” he asked as she drew her legs up to stand.
“No I—ouch!” she cried out and fell back to the floor, clutching her ankle. “Damn, I didn’t think it was that bad.”
“You missed the seat,” he said even as he reached for the ankle she was clutching. He was relieved to realize it wasn’t the one he’d grabbed so she must’ve hurt herself earlier.
She glared at him. “Thanks for pointing that out, I hadn’t noticed.”
Pulling up the gauzy fabric of the voluminous Fielden garb, Miran hissed at the damage. The ankle was swollen to at least twice its size, and dark bruises were forming.
“That's not good.”
Her words were calm and detached, but when he looked up, she was a little pale, and a fine sweat had broken out across her forehead.
“What happened here?” he asked.
“It got caught in the door,” she said, staring at the joint.
“This is a serious injury,” he agreed. “It’s going to require medical care.”
“I already figured that out,” she grumbled. “Damn, this is going to mess up my escape when we reach the planet.”