Chapter 7
SEVEN
NICOLE
We're thoroughly not acknowledging each other, even though we’re strapped two feet apart in the cockpit. He vibrates with fury, scales clicking as he punches buttons and wrenches levers.
He's furious. Rightfully so, I guess. We haven't got any fuel, and Greharm didn’t leave us much food. I needed to get out so bad I didn't even think about it.
My stomach groans loudly, and he glances at me. “What was that?”
“Stomach.”
He grimaces. “You’re hungry.”
I press my fingers to my temple, trying to push away the dull throb in my head.
Fuck yes, I haven’t eaten in four days, and the ache in my stomach is a gnawing reminder that my body is close to running on empty.
But the uncertainty of whether the ship is going to gas out and float helplessly in space should be my main worry, not food.
“You should have eaten the meals I gave you,” he fumes.
“You shouldn’t have lied to me,” I fire back. I had my suspicions he’d try something sneaky and trick me, so I put in a fail-safe, but that doesn’t mean I’m not… well, disappointed. He lied to me.
It stings, reminding me he's a new species of alien, one we haven't met yet. None of the exiles have ever kidnapped anyone or lied to us. He really is different from them.
He matches my glare, flecks like gold leaf in his eye and a bronzed glow to his scales.
My lips tingle. The kiss he pressed on me was sudden, but it meant we didn't have to fight Greharm.
It could have been perfunctory, going through the motions, but the storm of feeling he unleashed on me was something else.
Working with animals day in day out means I know body language.
His non-mechanical eye had come alive in a way I haven't seen before.
I tear my gaze away, screwing my hands into fists and hiding them underneath my legs. Maybe I am a… a slut, to read so much into a kiss for convenience. I try to banish my ex’s words, but they're still there, digging into me like a chip of gravel in a horse’s shoe.
The autopilot pings and Arture slumps back in the pilot seat, straps dangling loose around his shoulders and chest. “Thank Samara, the ship found us a habitable planet within the radius we've got fuel for.”
“That's nice.” I don't have words for any more. It feels like I've been galloped hard and put away wet, stiff and aching all over.
Arture studies the screens like there'll be a test later. Either he genuinely needs to, or he's channeling his anger into something productive. I can't understand them, so all I can do is stew.
Silence descends again. Arture’s stare occasionally flicks toward me, but I keep my gaze locked on the viewscreen, trying to discover where we're heading.
Without a word, he reaches across to check my seatbelt, securing it with a tug.
I slap his hand. “Stop it.”
“I’m making sure you're in properly. I don't fancy turning into a Pranastock to land this craft.”
“How about you ask me? Don't touch me without my permission.”
I expect him to do something jokey like raise his hands in mock surrender, but he says, “Alright. I did it without thinking.”
I fold my arms. His gesture feels protective, but I should know better. I have to remind myself I’m just a body he needs to keep alive to accomplish whatever mission he’s hiding from me.
Maybe I am desperate.
A glint of light gets bigger, becomes more defined, and resolves into a planet. There's lots of greens and blues, but the configuration is all wrong for Earth. A pang of homesickness hits hard, adding to all the discomfort in my torso.
The soft hum of the ship’s descent thrusters is the only sound breaking the silence, and the ship shudders as we pierce through the atmosphere.
I grip the armrests as we're bounced about, Arture’s jaw set tight as he grips the yoke.
I focus on the alien world below us instead of the storm brewing in the cockpit.
It’s a lush world, full of deep green forests and wide, sprawling rivers snaking across its surface. Clouds drift over distant mountain ranges, and there’s a raw beauty to it that almost distracts me from the tension between us.
Almost.
I can't keep quiet any longer. “What'll we do when we land?”
“The ship will refill its tanks by breaking hydrogen from nearby water,” he says, his voice neutral, businesslike. “It’ll take anything from a few days to a few weeks. In the meantime, we need to stock up on supplies and...” His jaw tightens even further. “I’ll do some ship maintenance.”
Anything to do with the Pranastock clone type is like sticking hot needles under his fingernails.
Now I feel bad for throwing it at him; even if he did deserve it, I don't like to cause people pain.
Or so I thought, but I'm conflicted when it's my captor taking the brunt of my words.
Plus, he broke his deal to me, not that it matters when we have no fuel anyway.
The ship dips, nose angling down sharply, and my toes curl into my boots with the sudden drop.
It levels out, but Arture’s gaze fixes on the readouts.
He gently angles the yoke and the ship banks, then floats above a clear plain.
Below us, long stalks of some kind of grass ripple in the wind, creating patterns like his scales strobing when he makes a shift.
The ship drops, landing with a hard bump I feel from my hips all the way to my teeth. From the kitchen living room area comes a huge crash, possibly the decor falling off the ceiling. The ship powers down, lights switching off one by one. I guess we made it just in time.
Then silence. Arture doesn't move, and neither do I.
Outside the screen, grass rolls towards us in emerald waves. Taller clumps of darker vegetation loom in the distance about a mile away. Clouds scud over the horizon, this world's sun bigger and redder than Earth’s.
“Right.” I slap my thighs, unbuckle myself, and stand up, pushing through my exhaustion.
Arture eyes me like I'm a new species. “Where are you going?”
“I'm going to get started. We have shelter but we need to find water, for us to drink and for the fuel, and we need to cobble together something edible.” Stomach snarling in agreement, I march to the front door, picking my way through the things that tipped over when the ship dropped, and Greharm's scattered machines.
The biggest mess is the dining table, which had fallen to the side from the bash as the ship landed, and lamps and paintings lie scattered.
Arture follows slowly. As he gets close, the door morphs out and then down, creating a ramp to the ground. A breeze as hot as Greharm's sweltering ship blows in, carrying the scent of country air and rich soil.
Like home. I step onto the ramp into a totally alien landscape. The grasslands rattle and hiss along with buzzes and drones, little chirps and the rustle of movement. A wave of homesickness rushes at me, but I don’t have time to deal with it.
I rub my face and glance at Arture. His eyes are trained on the surroundings, assessing, calculating.
“I suggest food first,” I say, my stomach growling again to add punctuation to my statement.
He glances at my rowdy midsection and plants himself in the center of the ramp. “I’ve explored alien worlds before. I'll go hunt, and you stay here.”
“No way, I’m coming with you.”
He looks at me like I’ve sprouted an extra head.
“And we’re not hunting,” I add firmly. “I’m a vegetarian.”
He frowns. “A what?”
“I don’t eat meat.” I fold my arms, bracing for whatever argument he’s about to throw my way.
A look of realization dawns on his face. “So that’s why you never touched a single thing I made for you.”
I turn my face away. “Right.”
“Why didn't you say anything?”
“Because you kidnapped me. I'm not exactly going to strike up a conversation over my dietary requirements, am I?” Although now things are different.
I'll have to try and get him to let his guard down around me.
Simmering silence won't get that done, but neither will being a hot head and arguing with him all the time.
He doesn't seem fazed, clattering down the ramp. “I can understand why you didn't want to talk to me. I'll get some food you can eat. Stay here.”
“Nope. I'm coming.” I walk past him.
He darts in front of me, blocking my path. “Stay here,” he repeats, voice firmer and definitely lower, as if he's hoping a growly timbre will switch off my brain or something. “I’m responsible for your safety.”
I lean in, meeting his eyes unflinchingly, both the organic one and the robot one. His right eye glows ice blue, with two wires above and below embedded into his forehead and cheek. His left eye glows chestnut brown with a ring of gold around the iris, gleaming in the late afternoon sunlight.
Setting a firm stance is important to establish the hierarchy with horses. Despite being so much bigger than me, I'm not going to let him think he's in charge. “I’m coming with you, or you’re getting a vial in the face when you least expect it.”
We stare at each other, and I hold my ground. Around us insects chirp and the warm wind tugs playfully at my hair, but I stand firm.
Finally, he spins on his heels. “Fine. Keep up.”
“Don't worry, I will.” With a stubborn stride, I step down onto a whole new planet, unfamiliar soil squishing beneath my boots.
Shadows shift in the distance, the vegetation thicker than anything I’m used to. Some of it looks grouped together, like someone planted it. Or maybe I just don't know what the real wild looks like.
Arture tramples the grass in his wake, and I follow close on his heels. “Do we know what's on this planet?”
“Why, are you scared?”
Fuck off. I dig my nails into my palms. I'm usually able to remain calm, but this guy pushes me to a volcanic level of anger with little to no effort on his part.
After a deep calming breath, I say, “No, but it's smart to know what we're working with.”