Chapter 5
5
Pretending my world wasn’t overturned by the sudden appearance of the only man who had ever made me drool was harder than I’d anticipated. And I’d anticipated it to be plenty hard. When I sent the ultra-demanding young Martian celebrity power couple who’d monopolized my every waking moment over the last week on their way back across the wormhole, I should have been ready to pop a bottle of champagne. Instead, I was mildly relieved at best. I was too preoccupied with Freddie’s smiles, his gaze catching mine across the staff room table, the eyes I remembered far too clearly staring up at me from between my legs. Fuck.
As I meandered back to the elevators, a cleaning drone whirred along the carpet, bumping gently against the wall, and I wondered, did I recharge my vibrator this morning?
Elanie? I commed, stepping onto the elevator and pushing the button for twelve.
Yes? she responded warily.
What do you think of him?
More specific. With you that could mean anyone.
I raised my eyes to the ceiling. You really can be a twit. You know that, right?
More specific, please , she said, meaning it about as much as I’d meant it when I told those Martian brats I couldn’t wait until they stayed with us again. Is that better?
Yes. Thank you, I commed, exiting the elevator on deck twelve, wanting nothing more than to hide out in my pod for the rest of the day. And I meant Freddie. What do you think of Freddie? I placed my hand over my pod’s security panel, staggering inside when the door slid open.
He seems…nice.
Nice? I plopped down on the edge of my bed. So far, you’ve called him adequate, fine, and nice. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were downplaying your?—
He is adequate, fine, and nice, she commed. And also…very handsome.
I laughed, but then I caught my reflection in the mirror. I looked a lot like I felt. Sapped. While I pressed my fingers into my pale cheeks, Elanie commed, Why do you keep asking me about him?
Because he’s invading my dreams . No reason, I lied. It’s just that you and I will be working closely with him. I wanted to make sure you didn’t have a bad feeling about him or anything.
Uh-huh, she said slowly, not buying it.
So, nice, then?
Yes, nice, she repeated.
And handsome, I reiterated. Your words, not mine.
Shocking me to my core, Elanie let her laughter ring through the comm. Please be sure to visit Senator Ramesh and her family first thing tomorrow. They’ll be expecting you after boarding.
Of course. First thing, I commed, ignoring the icy dread trickling down my spine and resisting the urge to ask Chan to assign someone else to the Ramesh detail. Someone whose hands didn’t shake at the thought of being around a child. Thank you, darling.
After clicking off the comm, I stared at my dresser, where my favorite shirt to sleep in—an oversized dark-blue tee with faded glow-in-the-dark constellations as seen from Lathinaes, the mountain town on Tranquis’s southern hemisphere where I’d grown up—called to me. I’d run myself ragged over the last week, working eighteen-hour days babysitting the Martians, catering to our other guests, reuniting with the only lover who’d ever given me seven orgasms in one night… A nap seemed necessary.
Hello, Sunny?
I jumped up off my bed. Speak of the seven-orgasm devil .
I’m sorry to bother you, Freddie commed while my heart battered my ribcage. But do you have a moment?
It was the first time he’d accessed my VC, and the intimacy of his voice in my mind sent goose bumps flickering across my neck and racing down my arms.
Hello, Freddie, I replied, trying to sound normal while I brushed the raised hairs on my arms flat. What’s up?
I’m in a bit of a predicament.
Already?
I know, right? It’s probably a record.
I wasn’t smiling. I swear. No matter what my reflection said.
I’m in the small ballroom on deck five with a very drunk Argosian who says he knows you. He’s refusing to leave unless you come talk to him. He is, uh, very large. And he’s, well, I think he’s dancing? With a serving drone. He’s scaring the guests—and me, I’m not too ashamed to admit.
Oh boy. The nap would have to wait. I’m on my way.
Morgath, you busy? I commed, stepping back onto the elevator and pushing the button for deck five.
His response was swift. I’m never too busy for my favorite hospitality specialist.
It’s hopefully nothing, I said. But there may be a need for some increased security in the deck five ballroom.
Mechs or men? he asked, straight to the point in the way I always appreciated about both Morgath and his brother.
The elevator dinged, and the doors slid open, emptying me out onto deck five. Mechs will do. Only one or two. I always kept my estimates low because with Rax and Morgath, one meant eight and two meant twenty.
They’re on the way. Let me know if you need more.
Will do. Thank you.
I hightailed it down the hallway, convincing myself along the way that the nerves bubbling up in my chest had everything to do with possible Argosian chaos and nothing to do with seeing Freddie again. Then I slowed as I neared the ballroom. While loud, warbling singing—interrupted by ground-trembling hiccups—echoed through the door, I commed Elanie. Are you there?
Where else would I be, Sunny? You’re literally in my head.
Weaving through the guests that had amassed outside the ballroom, I peered inside. Yellow coveralls sleeves slid along the floorboards as the half-naked Argosian— my Argosian—spun in circles with… yep , that was definitely a serving drone. Did Freddie comm you regarding the situation on deck five?
Negative, Elanie replied.
If you’re not too busy, I could use your help. Small ballroom, please.
I’ll be right there, she said, then clicked off.
Four of Morgath’s security mechs—titanium balls a meter in diameter that housed all manner of weaponry, crowd-dispersal tech, and ultra-intimidating voice programming—floated to my location, roving red lights encircling their circumferences like ominous Yuletide decorations. I positioned the mechs on either side of the ballroom doors, more to keep any guests who might decide to play hero out than present a show of force to the Argosian within. But I’d learned over the years that one could never be too careful.
Slinking silently into the ballroom, I spotted Freddie sitting at a table by himself, his chin resting in his hand, his suit jacket folded over his chair back, his tie pulled loose. When he saw me, his face brightened, and I lost my footing.
You okay? Freddie commed, standing halfway from his chair.
Super, I replied, gesturing for him to sit back down.
Thank goodness you’re here. He took his seat again. He’s tried to pull me onto the dance floor twice already.
I hid my grin, sliding along the wall until I reached his table. “What happened?” I asked while he pulled out a chair for me.
Rubbing thoughtfully at his chin, he admitted, “I don’t know. He’s been in here for about an hour, ten minutes of that spent sobbing in the middle of the dance floor, another ten drinking—and this is not an exaggeration—five bottles of rum, and the rest dancing with that drone he’s taken to calling ‘Kasa.’ ”
“ Kasa !” the Argosian roared, squeezing the serving drone so tightly it bleep-bleeped out a warning while a bright-yellow light flared from its central panel.
I winced. “Was that its pressure sensor?”
“Third time it’s gone off. I’m worried he’ll crush the poor drone to bits.”
“Those aren’t cheap,” I said.
“Precisely.” Freddie leaned in close, his lips tilting up. “If he breaks it, who will give him the bill?”
“Not me, thank you very much,” I replied, realizing that this wasn’t bad. In fact, it felt almost easy, sitting with him while we watched a purple giant sway from side to side with his tiny drone. Easier than I’d thought it would be. Maybe we could become friends. Partners, even. Vertical, fully clothed work partners.
“He asked for you,” my work partner told me. “He said you’d know what to do. Do you know him? His name? Whenever I ask, he bellows, ‘Not worth night soil!’ and starts sobbing again.”
I watched the Argosian twirl the drone in circles, the crystal chandeliers above them casting kaleidoscopic shadows around his feet. His face was wet, his shoulders hunched, his steps surprisingly graceful. “I don’t know his name. But I do know him. He and I, we. Well…”
“No.” Freddie’s eyes popped, his jaw hanging open. “And you’re still alive?”
I snorted. “Not that. We weren’t worthy of each other.”
“Thank your lucky stars.” He shook his head, and I appreciated the lack of judgment in his tone. Then again, we did meet using Squee . Maybe he messed around as much as I did. Maybe more. With how spectacular he was, it would make sense. “Never got his name, though?” he asked .
“Never came up. Or if it did, I don’t remember. I was drunk. Argosian ripple.”
“Oof,” he said, sympathizing. “Worst hangover of my life, that stuff. Never again.”
We both flinched as the Argosian wailed something in his native tongue. My VC translated: “Our rows were to travel together. Our seeds were to burrow into the soil as one. Now all is rot .” The last word came out as a growling sob, followed by a tremendous burp.
“That sounds like heartbreak,” I said.
Freddie nodded in agreement. “Those were old Argosian mating words, often recited at the ceremony for hand joining. Obviously, something has gone wrong.”
“Hmm,” I murmured, pretending my knees weren’t shaking. I didn’t think the Argosian would hurt me. But I didn’t imagine he’d be dancing with a million-credit robot like it was his prom date either. Strange things happened on this ship.
Steeling my nerve, I pushed back from the table, readying myself to go to the enormous, distraught, intoxicated male. But Freddie’s fingers wrapped around mine, holding me back, making my skin tingle.
“Do you want me to come with?” he asked.
The Argosian swayed and spun, slumped over now, the full weight of his head resting on the serving drone’s tray, pushing the weight limit of its thrusters to the max.
“No need,” I replied. “Walk in the park. And Elanie’s just arrived. She’s all the backup I’ll need.”
“I will pretend not to feel unmanned by that statement,” he said evenly as he let me go, his fingertips sliding away.
Where do you want me? Elanie commed.
Come sit next to Freddie. But look alive. We may need to go hands-on. Like all Bionics, Elanie was strong enough to incapacitate almost any being in the KU, even the inebriated mountain of muscle waltzing over the ballroom floor.
With a sharp inhale, I stood, looked down at Freddie, and said, “Wish me luck.”
His eyes sparkled, crinkling at the corners. “Sunny, I have a feeling you are far too good at what you do to demean it with something as fickle as luck.”
My heart stuttered mid-beat, fluttering around like a stunned bird after flying into a window. I wasn’t uncomfortable with compliments, but I never sought them out. I got all the external validation I needed from a job well done. His praise, though? How genuine it was, how warm? It tempted me to bask. And when he winked and said, “Now go save our serving drone,” my wobbling knees had nothing to do with the Argosian.
Once Elanie arrived at the table, I pulled myself together, focused on the task at hand—I could bask later—and started across the ballroom.
The Argosian’s voice resonated, echoing off the metallic surface of the serving tray his head was still slung over. He sang a mournful song now. One that—according to my VC—was about a once lush field that had gone fallow because nobody had taken the time to water it.
Once I reached a spot a few feet from him, I quietly, carefully, cleared my throat.
He stopped singing.
I held my breath.
Be careful, Freddie whispered over a shared comm.
Not whispering, Elanie added, This is the worst idea you’ve ever had.
“Hello,” I said, ducking my chin, my hands raised, palms facing out, and fingers splayed wide.
The Argosian’s head rose to wobble on his neck as his deeply set purple eyes found mine. “At last.” His voice rumbled like an avalanche. “You’re here.”
My shoulders dropped away from my ears. He was distressed, devastated even, but he wasn’t murderous. That much was clear.
“I’m sorry it’s taken me so long. What happened, darling? What’s wrong? How can I help?”
He pointed a finger the size of a small Kuiper worm at a half-empty bottle on the floor. “I saved a bottle for you.” Squinting at the bottle, he clarified, “I saved half a bottle for you. Drink with me.”
My keen sense of self-preservation—along with my still trembling knees—told me I needed to comply with this demand. Bending down slowly, I wrapped my fingers around the neck of the rum bottle and pulled out the cork with a thwomp . The rum was dark and sweet and tasted like vacation. Not that I’d really know, since I never took any.
Do you really think that’s a good idea?
Sliding my eyes to the side, I replied, Yes, I do, Elanie. Thank you. I took another swig, then met the Argosian’s blurry stare. “It might take me a while to catch up with you.” When I toed the pile of bottles surrounding us, one slipped free, rolling across the floorboards until it clinked to a stop against one of the marble pillars. Extending a hand toward him, I asked, “Care to dance with someone less automated?”
He swallowed, then nodded.
Gingerly, I pried his arms away from the serving drone, and while the traumatized drone careened away wildly like a launched pinball, I stepped into the Argosian’s embrace, letting him take the lead. He held me close but gently, like I was precious, delicate. Wrapped inside his thick, solid arms, nestled against his warm chest, I suddenly felt safe and protected, soothed. Whoever this Kasa person was, she was really missing out.
Elanie, I think we’re good here, I commed. Could you please take the serving drone to Tig for analysis?
I’d be happy to. If I could catch the damn thing. Running after the drone with her arms outspread, Elanie zigged and zagged as the poor thing whirred and squealed, bobbing and weaving away from her.
“She looks like she is trying to wrangle a bokbok into its den,” the Argosian slurred, gurgling a sound that might have been a laugh.
As his big chin rested gently on the top of my head, I took another swig of the rum, catching Freddie’s stare from the corner of my eye. You can leave too. If you have other things to?—
Not a chance, he replied before I’d finished my thought.
Peeling my gaze from Freddie, from his loose tie and disheveled hair and amused half smile, I returned my attention to my dance partner. “I don’t think I ever got your name.”
I braced myself for the yelling Freddie had described, but the big male only grumbled, “Garran.”
Argosians tended to have lengthy names they earned over their lifetimes, names that spoke of their greater virtues. So I ventured, “Garran the…?”
“Once,” he rumbled, spinning me out in two full circles before reeling me back into his arms, “I was Garran the Brave. Then, Garran the Verdant. Now”—he hung his head—“they may as well call me Garran the Desolate. Better yet, Garran the Barren.”
While he snorted miserably at his own joke, I asked, “Well, Garran, would you like to talk about it? ”
He pulled away to stare down at me, his violet brows tangling into the most impressive furrow I had ever seen. “You thought I was a good choice, did you not? There was no worth between us, but you chose me for your bedmate. You had many other options.” His throaty Argosian accent was thick with sorrow.
I took in his golden tattoos, rows of corn that originated at the bridge of his nose, growing taller as they swayed to encircle his bald head. He was magnificent, in a gargantuan sort of way. “I did.”
When he spun me around again, the rum clouded my head so much that I kept spinning well after he let me go. But suddenly, his arms dropped to his sides, and he collapsed to sit on the floor. A floorboard cracked.
Glancing at Freddie as Garran sobbed into his hands, I shrugged, unsure how best to handle this turn of events. Freddie’s answering shrug was no help at all, even if it was kind of cute.
After one more lengthy pull from the bottle, I pushed the cork back into place and sat down next to Garran on the floor. “Is this about Kasa?” I asked.
“Kasa grows in my heart, but I do not grow in hers,” he said into his hands. “I wanted to plow her fields.”
I pinned my lips between my teeth to keep myself from laughing at the innuendo, especially since I was pretty sure it was unintended. Although the winters on Argos were frigid and brutal, they were short. The remaining six hundred and fifty Standard days that made up its calendar year boasted an exceptionally moderate climate, giving Argos the longest growing season of any planet in the Known Universe. As a result, most Argosians made their livings as farmers. Garran, quite literally, wanted to help Kasa plow her fields .
“She doesn’t want the same?” I asked.
He nodded, then hiccupped, his massive shoulders jerking toward his ears.
“Do you know why?”
“She says I am too green.”
I wasn’t familiar with the saying, so I asked Freddie. Do you know what “too green” means?
I believe it means too young. Or, more likely in this case, too inexperienced.
That’s hard to believe . “Is Kasa on the ship?” Perhaps this situation merely required my unparalleled matchmaking skills.
“She arrived from Argos this morning,” Garran said. “But I have loved her since we were seedlings.”
“Is she with someone else? Or is there someone else she wants?” Many species regularly engaged in polyamory, and since Garran had taken me to bed, maybe Argosians did as well.
When his head whipped up, I fell backward on reflex.
“She says there is not. But if there is,” he growled, “I will be very hurt.”
I sighed. He really was a gentle farmer. Never judge an Argosian by their muscle mass.
“Well, Garran the Brave, Garran the Verdant.” I took his thumb in my hand. “You have asked for the perfect person this evening. I happen to be quite good at this sort of thing. Worlds class, in fact. In order for me to help you, though, I need you to tell me everything you know about Kasa. And don’t spare a single detail.”
A smile bloomed across his face. “Okay. I will tell you everything.”
I sat with him for at least an hour while he told me how he and Kasa met, what sorts of things she liked, what sorts of things she didn’t, how her hair reminded him of billowing fields of grain bathed in the violet glow of twilight. Garran, as it turned out, was quite poetic. About halfway through our conversation, I convinced him to let Freddie join us since I’d need help pulling off this matchmaking endeavor.
Warily, Freddie walked across the ballroom and sat cross-legged next to me. When he did, his knee brushed against mine, and I wondered if it was by accident. As we shared the remaining rum and Garran went on and on about Kasa’s eyes, I might have stretched, reaching my arms into the sky, using the movement as an excuse to slide over a fraction until that brush turned into a touch . So much heat built at the place where our bodies made contact that by the time I knew enough about Garran and Kasa to get started, the rum had vanished, the tips of Freddie’s ears had turned pink, Garran could hardly hold his eyes open, and I had exercised every ounce of self-preservation I possessed by not sliding even closer, turning that touch into a press .
Eventually, I sent the security mechs back to Morgath and shot Elanie a thank you over my VC. Then Freddie and I—supporting the crushing weight of Garran’s arms slung over our shoulders—led the stumbling, lovesick Argosian back to his suite to sleep it off.
“You did well with Garran,” Freddie said as we walked side by side back to the deck twelve crew quarters. “Not that I’m surprised.”
“Thank you,” I replied. I’d definitely bask in that one in my pod later.
“Saved my hide, for certain. I wouldn’t have made such a graceful dance partner.” His words had thickened after the rum, but they still rolled off his tongue.
“Sometimes a situation needs a more feminine touch,” I replied, giving myself a mental slap when I realized I also wouldn’t mind rolling off his tongue.
“We make a good team,” he said. Then, before I was able to summon any sort of response, his head tilted toward a pod door. “This is me.”
His pod was only a few doors down the hall from mine. But no matter what, I would not spend the rest of the night imagining him sleeping mere meters away. “Good night, Freddie.” I held out my hand. It felt intolerably awkward.
Ever the gentleman, he took my outstretched hand in his and gave it a firm and professional shake. “Good night, Sunny.” When he pressed his palm against his security panel and entered his pod, his door slid closed before I could even peek inside.
Later that night, after I took a (cold) shower, then slid beneath my covers, I reached under my pillow—the secret place where I’d kept Joshua’s necktie. It was only supposed to be a reminder. Of his laughter, the hysterical stories he’d told me over dinner. Of his lips on my skin and his fingers grasping my thighs.
But even months later, I still sometimes slept with his tie wrapped around my hand, wondering if I would ever see him again— feel him again— knowing it was probably for the best if I never did. Tonight, sliding my fingertips down the soft gray fabric, the raised bumps from its embroidered detailing tickling my skin, I wrapped his tie around my hand again. Despite my little self-pep talk, I let my thoughts wander to him, just down the hall, actually here, actually real. So close. Closer than I’d ever imagined he’d be. And yet, somehow, farther away than ever.