Chapter 8
Ysathea
So, when Thatcher said he’d canceled the Strewn engineers, what he really meant was he’d delayed their arrival.
I wasn’t quite sure what he’d said to the captain to pull that off, but he’d done it.
As I watched them work and talked with their leader to explain the issue, I learned that we’d “swapped” with the Vagabond for our maintenance slot.
An elegant solution that had allowed me to rest but hadn’t cost any of the three parties involved anything other than a bit of administrative hassle.
I owed him, I seriously owed him for that, because I would have lost my temper ten times over by now if not for those extra hours of sleep.
I’d even had time to swing by my quarters to wash up, braid my hair, and pull on a fresh set of coveralls.
I didn’t tell Thatcher this, but I felt like I was preparing for war, so I’d pulled out all the stops to enhance my confidence.
That included extra-sexy lingerie and my favorite pair of kickass boots.
Nothing made a girl feel powerful quite like a boost for the boobs and a couple of extra inches under her feet.
If Thatcher knew about the lacy bustier, he probably would have ordered me to go change.
Thank the stars the male didn’t have X-ray vision, just uncanny fast healing and inhuman strength. Just.
I’d seen how Thatcher had taken my engineers aside and kicked their asses.
I’d seen Grunn and Ivo fight so often I’d come to think of them as pretty decent warriors.
They filled out the ranks for missions all the time when extra fighting power was required.
They liked training too, and using their fists to solve their issues.
Thatcher had swept the floor with them like it was nothing, casual as can be.
Pinning a Pretorian to the floor with one boot and putting a Rhico in a headlock, it wasn’t nothing.
The Strewn engineers had seen it too. As much as they were cocky, arrogant rivals I didn’t really want touching my ship, I totally would have flirted if one of them seemed interested.
They were always interested, but not this time.
No, whatever had been in Thatcher’s glare as he left the engine room, it had clearly marked me off-limits.
So far off-limits, in fact, that they didn’t even dare to stand close when I was required to show or explain something.
Like I’d been sprayed with extra-stinky animal musk, or was wearing armor with three-foot-long spikes.
At least they were all unfailingly polite.
As far as invasions of my ship went, this was the least troublesome one I’d had to deal with.
It got even better when, several hours and a lot of footwork through the bowels of the ship later, the Strewn engineers concluded there was nothing wrong.
A Ulinial male was in charge of the lot, and I had to listen to him as he ran through a long-winded explanation.
It had taken me a while to get used to his presence because not only did he swear more than Thatcher, his hair was shorn—just short bristles atop his head.
There was no clearer way to denounce your link to both family and faith than cutting your hair.
“Cut the crap,” I said as he dropped another expletive and listed yet another system that was functioning properly.
“I know my ship is in top shape. I don’t need some engineer with a silly Strewn pedigree to tell me that.
If I knew what the problem was, we wouldn’t be here.
” I braced my hands on my hips and leaned in, and immediately the chief of the crew stepped back.
Way back, like, a lot further than he had before.
My spine tingled, and very slowly, I turned my head and looked over my shoulder.
There was a muffled cough, like someone was hiding a laugh.
Then came the sound of shuffling feet and the steady hum of the Varakartoom’s main engine running smoothly.
In the doorway, two people stood, both tall and bulky and dressed in black, but one was crowned with a pair of tall, spiraling horns.
Thatcher’s glare was so dark and fierce that he easily made up for the lack of horns, though.
He was the reason the Ulinial male had backed up in a hurry, but it was the other male who had tried to muffle a laugh.
A stranger stood so casually at Thatcher’s side, as if they knew one another.
The last thing I expected was for Thatcher to bring another male to me, not after the scare-job he’d done on Strewn’s engineers.
It was a Kertinal male with beautiful purple eyes and black prostheses covering his hands.
He whipped his tail back and forth behind him, the tip fitted with a sharp blade.
“Can’t argue with that, Ariel,” he said to the Ulinial male.
A few rude words were exchanged, which I watched unfold.
Clearly, this Kertinal stranger knew the group of Strewn engineers, but he wasn’t dressed like them.
He was dressed more like a warrior, with a laser pistol strapped to his thigh and the handle of a huge blade rising over his right shoulder.
There were also a few wrenches and a multi-tool tucked into his belt, which contradicted that.
“Da’vi, what are you doing here?” Ivo demanded in the silence that followed the quick exchange.
I looked at my Pretorian engineer, then back at the Kertinal stranger, baffled.
So they knew each other? Why was I not in the loop?
The Kertinal looked surly, a little angry, as he gave Ivo a half-assed wave, but that appeared to be his default expression, so Ivo didn’t take offense.
That was not his usual response; he liked to rise to the challenge, but only if he thought he could win.
My engineer was keeping secrets from me.
I shot Ivo a glare, but he shrugged, clearly not getting the issue.
Nobody bothered with introductions either, so I was still out of the loop.
Like I was caught in the middle of a strangely tense standoff.
Nobody moved; all the guys just stood there, staring at each other.
I was missing something, but I had no clue what.
My eyes went to Thatcher, half expecting him to have an answer for me, if he deigned to talk.
His eyes were on me, because of course they were, and his mouth had curled into that sexy half-smirk.
It was silly, perhaps, but I almost felt like he was a bit smug, perhaps even proud.
Because I’d mouthed off to that Strewn engineer?
Because he’d successfully scared them all into keeping their distance?
Probably the latter, and I really wanted that silly curl of warmth in my belly not to exist, but it did.
His expression slowly darkened, the smirk vanishing, his head cocking to the side.
Was he picking up on my unease at having all these people in my domain?
I hated it, and it had lasted nearly six hours, six long, grueling hours.
Given his strict orders about my workload, maybe he had suddenly decided I’d worked long enough.
Whatever it was, it worked in my favor for once.
Okay, maybe that earlier stint of bossiness had worked in my favor too; I’d really needed the rest.
“If you can’t find the entity, get lost,” Thatcher said.
“There’s the door. Ivo, show them out.” He pointed with one hand, and to my shock, Ivo straightened like he’d been given an order and began ushering the Strewn engineers out.
Grunn helped them pack the last of their stuff, gave the hairless Ulinial male a stern glare, and then stood in the engine room doorway as if to block them from coming back.
Thatcher raised his voice to call after them, “See Flack to settle the bill.”
As they walked off, I heard them mutter.
Ariel, the Ulinial male, swearing loudly as he demanded an explanation from Ivo.
I cringed, because as much as I hated having the strange crew on my ship, you simply did not offend Strewn.
Thankfully, the last words I could overhear appeared to be, “What entity? Look, we didn’t fix it.
If you’re still having trouble, that’s on us.
Strewn guarantee.” Of course, it was all about reputation for the shipyard.
They couldn’t have an unsatisfied customer.
“I kept an eye out, boss. She ate her lunch. We brought it to her twice.” Huh?
What was that about? Since when did Grunn call Thatcher boss?
Not three days ago he’d been offering to beat the human up for me so he’d leave me alone.
Just this morning, he and Ivo had been glaring all kinds of warnings.
Right up until Thatcher bested both of them with just a few economical motions.
I was damn sure Grunn had only brought me the tray of food once, too.
He hadn’t left until I’d eaten it. Though…
come to think of it, Ivo had awkwardly stood behind me at one point while clearing his throat. I’d waved him off.
“Good,” Thatcher growled. I realized then that he and his Kertinal guest hadn’t moved past the engine room doors themselves, though the Kertinal had wandered inside just a little and was peering curiously around.
Thatcher had not crossed into my domain, and that made me feel warm inside.
He might not listen to me when I told him to leave me alone, but he did respect some of my boundaries.
Just this one, but it made me feel like I could trust him.
“So, I guess I’ll introduce myself,” the Kertinal drawled in his deep, subharmonic voice.
His expression was as surly as Thatcher’s, and I found myself smirking at the similarities.
At least this guy seemed to have no issue talking to me, and I appreciated that.
“I’m Da’vi, the engineer aboard the Vagabond.
You must be Ysathea; I’ve heard much about you.
” He began crossing the engine room to where I stood, hand outstretched.
“My human mate has taught me this is a proper greeting. She says I must develop my people skills.” I grinned, already liking the guy before it sank in who he was.
Knowing a few humans myself and their greeting custom, I reached for his hand to shake it.