Chapter 5
Mara
“I am going to collar you,” he says in the morning, or what I guess will pass for morning because the day and night cycles on this vessel are fake.
I’ve woken up, and I’ve been fed. The rations aren’t bad; they look kind of like eggs with bacon, though they’re probably not either of those things.
I’ve known hunger and alien food long enough not to worry about it.
All the years my father and I traveled the galaxy, he made sure I got to try practically every food that ever existed.
I look at Freak, who is holding a golden chain with a pretty pendant in the center of it. The chain is about a half inch thick with soft links that slide against one another immensely smoothly. The jewel in the center is soft pink and seems to glow with an ethereal hue. It’s beautiful.
“That’s for me?”
“Yes,” he says. “This is for you. It will mark you as mine. Keep it on, pet. It has a resonance chip in it that will enable me to find you, or worst-case scenario, if you are picked up, it will allow other aliens to locate your owner.”
I think about how low a regard humans are held in so many places.
“Or they’ll steal it and butcher me for meat,” I say cheerfully.
“With this mark? They would be beyond stupid. Psyons are feared in most civilized corners of the universe.”
“Then why are you at war?”
“Because there are always forces working in opposition to good. It’s how the universe was built. Now hold still, please, pet. I enjoy your cosmic questions, but I want this on you and the clasp can be a little tricky…”
He puts it on, and I feel the weight of it around my neck. It is a little snugger than I thought it would be, but it doesn’t feel too tight. It feels comfortable, like it belongs there.
I remember what he said to me yesterday when we were making whatever kind of love that was.
He said we barely know each other, and he was right.
But I feel as though I have known him a lot longer than a matter of days.
I feel like somehow he’s always been a part of me even before I knew the concept of him even existed.
“Yes,” he says.
“Yes, what?”
He smiles indulgently. I know he finds it cute that I keep forgetting he can read my mind. It’s so hard to remember when someone else can do something I never could.
“Yes, pet. When two souls are truly made for each other, destined for one another, there is a kind of instant recognition that makes it seem as though they have known one another for lifetimes.
“There is also a very manipulative series of techniques that can produce a similar effect, but that’s not what’s happening here. You belong to me. You came to me right when I needed you most. And I found you in your hour of need as well. We are mutually reliant, pet.”
“You needed me?”
He runs the tip of his scaled finger along the tip of my nose, then taps it lightly.
“When I escaped the facility, I was borderline mad from confinement. I was considering doing things that would have rippled in all the wrong ways. Then I felt you and your need and I had a purpose again. Looking after you made my life have structure, instantly.”
I blush a little. It’s such a sweet thing of him to say, and I really like hearing it. There’s a warmth growing inside my chest and belly, a feeling of belonging that gives me a sense of security.
I put my fingers to the collar. I don’t know about being his pet. There is something inside me that rebels against being forever subordinate that way. But on this morning, two days after I was supposed to die, it feels like a gift I would be silly not to accept.
“Freak?”
“Hm?” He murmurs a response with his eyes closed.
“Do you think I could find my father?” I ask the question when we are both calm and normal again, for the most part.
Everything feels good, except that. The need to find my father makes being captive impossible to accept. I did not come all this way, risk so much, disappoint my entire civilization, not to find him.
He glances over at me. “Do you think he still lives?”
It’s such a blunt question, and thinking about the possible answers to it brings tears to my eyes. If my father died out here on a trade mission, and I was denied the chance to get to him, I don’t think I will ever forgive anyone, including myself.
He reaches for me, wrapping me up in his embrace without a word. “I’m sorry,” he says. “That was far too blunt a thing to say.”
“I hope he does,” I sniff against his shoulder. “I mean, we should be able to track him, right? He can’t have just disappeared.”
“Nothing is lost in the universe,” Freak says. “But it is sometimes converted from one thing to another. Your father may not be your father anymore. But he will still exist in some way.”
I frown at him. He is not good at this sort of thing at all. It’s like he has too broad a view of life and death to understand what a fucking downer it is. “Don’t say things like that.”
“I’m sorry, pet,” he says, snugging me closer once more, giving me comfort with his body that he can’t give me with his words.
“I am not trying to upset you. We can look for your father, but we are also at war, and it might be a conflict of interest. But if you like I will put out a cosmic APB on him. If there is news to be had, we will have it.”
“Thank you,” I say. I don’t add that if he doesn’t find him pretty soon, I am definitely going to run away and find him myself. I don’t even think it. Maybe I am getting better at controlling my thoughts. Go me.
“Pet, I…”
Freak is about to say something to me when a loud crash comes from the galley.
“Excuse me,” he says, proceeding in that direction. I just got the tail out of my butt, but I feel a flash of warmth across my rear cheeks. The expression on his face tells me someone is in trouble. I’ve never seen anybody who wasn’t me be in trouble with him, so that’s kind of fun.
“What are you lot doing?” He asks the question dryly.
I could tell him. They’re wrestling. Aric has Drak in a headlock and Fidas looks set to hit them both with a frying pan.
The scene is ridiculously immature, but then again, they are all male and I’ve seen fully grown men act worse than small boys back at home, too.
“We’re testing a theory,” Aric says, letting Drak go slowly.
“I was going to see if I can bang the thoughts out of Drak’s head,” Fidas says.
“We are currently scouting and on a war footing, and you think giving each other brain damage is a good idea?” Freak asks the question with censure. I lean back against the wall and watch him work. It’s kind of sexy seeing him dominate someone else for a change.
“We were stuck in the home realm for a long time,” Aric explains. “It drives you a little mad to exist in a world of pure concept that long. We’d forgotten what actually being hurt felt like. Figured we should try to work it out.”
“By hitting Drak in the head with a frying pan.”
“Someone had to be hit. He lost,” Fidas says.
They are all rippling in a blue, scaly, and muscly fashion as he talks. I wonder if he’ll let them get away with their shenanigans, or if they’re really in trouble.
“I’ll beat all three of you, if that helps,” Freak says. “We can stop at the next station and make a day of it.”
I assume that’s a scary threat, but they don’t react that way.
“Hell, yes!” Aric and Drak grin at each other.
“Amazing!” Fidas says, high-fiving both of the others in a gesture that is frankly so human I almost forget they’re not.
“Bring the pan,” Freak says dryly.
He grabs me on the way back, his hand circling the back of my neck. His grip is firm and I feel myself tingling in response to the display of control. I like the way he handles his men. I like how they seem to respect him. And I like how he doesn’t make everyone be something they’re not.
“They’re not like what I thought they’d be like,” I say as he takes me back to his room to do unspeakable things to me. “I thought Psyons were all serious and proper, and…”
“That’s Alara’s influence,” he says. “And, I guess, propaganda. We are a mix of two very different things. Very advanced intellectual and temporal properties, and feral animals.” He flexes his hand slightly and I feel his claws, just the tips digging in a little.
“People forget about the animal part too often, but we do not. It is important to give it rein from time to time. Might seem like the kitchen is a bad place for it, and it is, but it’s better than the bridge. It’s a small ship.”