Chapter 8
A Big Dog’s Big Fall
Lily
“Among the Divani there are many ways of competition, and not all are tied to physical strength. Sometimes strategy is tested… through physical violence.”
The IMPERIUM Guide to Peaceful Coexistence with Registered Spacefaring Species
Lily was bored.
Dangerously bored.
And when she was bored, her thoughts had an annoying tendency to drift toward sex.
In the two chrono-years she had spent in space, she had been completely celibate. She was not nearly brave enough to initiate anything with a member of another species, even though the more she encountered them, the more accustomed she became to the endless variety of shapes and bodies.
There were, of course, forums dedicated to facilitating interspecies unions.
Unfortunately, as a human, Lily was not considered a Registered Spacefaring Species.
That meant endless bureaucratic steps before she could even appear in the database.
She was not ready to parade her biological processes and intimate anatomy in front of some space administrator who would decide which species she was compatible with.
So she was left with longing glances.
And guest suite B offered no shortage of worthy targets.
The Vitromium starcruiser’s luxury design philosophy extended to the guest suites as well.
They were not spacious, that was the purpose of the common areas and main suites, but their tasteful opulence and meticulous attention to detail made them easy places to relax.
Originally, the suite had some long, elaborate name in Vegrun’s native language that probably meant something important.
To Lily and Khar, it was simply suite B.
Now they were sharing a sliver of a bedroom, a breath of a living room with a single comfortable couch, and a bathroom so small Khar could barely fold himself inside.
There was very little actual work to do. Khar flatly refused Lily’s repeated suggestions to try any of the popular games from this sector of the galaxy. So Lily occupied herself with reading, music, and other discreet pastimes that would not disturb him.
Khar, meanwhile, seemed to have exactly two priorities.
Training.
And grumbling.
Grumbling.
And training.
Lily could have lived with the training.
Watching the play of muscles eventually made her squirm and blush, but that was manageable.
She could even call it some kind of anthropomorphic study, as the similarity to human physical traits was stunning, yet there were some noticeable differences.
(At least she felt a tiny bit better thinking of it that way instead of objectifying her clearly very dedicated bodybuilder colleague.)
The grumbling, however, was driving her insane. Khar did not even suspend it during meals, and by now Lily was thoroughly sick of listening to it.
Their only saving grace was that suite B had a built-in mini stasis pantry stocked with enough food and drinks to last several cycles. No banquets, but enough to get them through the lockdown.
By the second chrono-cycle, Lily’s patience snapped.
She had to do something to knock Khar out of this endless loop. Maybe he would feel better if he got to fight a little.
“Khar, listen.”
Khar acted as if Lily’s words had never reached him, grinding through what looked like his hundredth push-up beside the couch she was stretched out on.
“Lily calling Khar. Khar, report in.”
The Divani finally stopped, reluctantly lifting his glowing eyes to her.
“I was thinking,” Lily said, “it has been well over the thirty chrono-cycles you said you would wait before challenging me.”
Khar said nothing, but Lily noticed the movement of his throat as he swallowed.
“Anyway, obviously we cannot do anything that would damage the suite,” she went on. “But on Earth, men often test their strength by trying to force each other’s arm down onto a table.”
Suspicion rolled off Khar in waves. Lily could practically bottle it. She did not back down.
She tugged him into a sitting position and dragged him over to the small dining table.
“It is called arm wrestling. I have not done it that many times, but it is very simple. Even kids sometimes do it against adults. Look, like this.”
She showed him how to sit, how to place his elbow, then clasped his hand and gently pressed it toward the tabletop.
“That is it. Your elbow stays on the table. Like that.”
When Khar signaled that he understood, Lily deployed her final argument.
“It is an easy way to demonstrate arm strength. I thought maybe it bothered you that our duel never happened, but this way we settle it, and I do not get hurt. What do you say?”
She flashed her most convincing smile, the one experience had taught her was the hardest to resist.
“So. Are you in?”
Khar growled softly.
Lily nearly cheered.
Finally, resolution. No blood. Khar would get his fun. And if letting the big guy beat her at arm wrestling meant less grumbling for the rest of the lockdown, it was a very small price to pay.
“All right then,” she said brightly. “Let’s go.”
She felt his muscles tense and answered with her full strength. No reason to make it too easy for him. She worried briefly that Khar might slam her hand down too hard, but there was a small medical kit in the bathroom. Nothing serious could happen.
But contrary to her expectations, Khar’s hand slowly began to move downward.
When it neared the tabletop, he stopped.
Lily thought of all those movies where two men arm wrestled, one nearly lost, and then turned the fight around at the last second. Khar was clearly doing the same thing, just playing with her.
She smiled. So he did have a sense of humor.
Encouraged, she pushed harder, her hand trembling.
The dramatic reversal never came.
Khar’s hand touched the table.
Lily flared in indignation.
“Khar, seriously. You should not have let me win. It is sweet, I appreciate it, but that was not the point.”
Khar did not answer.
He only stared at his hand long after Lily released it.
For the next chrono-cycle and a half, they spoke very little.
Khar stopped working out altogether and sat next to the windows, quiet and unmoving as a statue.
At first this annoyed Lily (even more than his prank at letting her win, which she frankly felt as if he was looking down on her), but after a little while she found that this was a serious upgrade to the perpetual grumbling.
Well done, me. Well done, indeed.