4. Zeerah

It is unexpectedly easy to hide on an Arrisan ship.

They're monolithic, and the population is almost entirely Arrisan, but instead of that making it more difficult, everyone assumes I'm Arrisan without question. When something doesn't fit, like my "burned" hands, they're even willing to make up stories to explain the small differences.

At first.

During the Standard Year I hide in the bowels of the dreadnought, my unwitting Arrisan colleagues become increasingly interested in, and educated about, humans.

And that's when it gets dangerous.

My lusteal-infused clients awaken the Arrisans' dormant mating instincts. As they disperse across the empire, out spirals chaos.

Allie, for example, lives her dream when she's taken to Arris Central. I assume she kicks the emperor in the balls six thousand times. He, in fact, expires under questionable circumstances. She then marries his son.

And is crowned empress of the empire.

She gives a speech over all the viewscreens about how there will no longer be "lessers" because we're all going to become elevated to allies.

"This is possible because we're changing," Allie intones, looking absolutely fabulous in a vivid red dress and flawless glow-up. "Your long-lost origin myths from the destroyed Arrisan home planet are coming back to reality."

She touches her bare shoulder.

An impressive thorny red tattoo crosses her collar bone and ascends her neck.

So, that's new.

"As brave hero Grundi conquered ancient Arris with his clever companion Amante, so too will we bring enlightenment to a new era of strength and prosperity across the empire. As allies."

Allie's vision sounds even better than my wildest dreams.

Is this the new reality?

The viewscreens go dark.

The soldiers around me in the huge mess hall remain silent.

My palms itch.

Is this my moment? Do I pop out of hiding and yell surprise?

The Arrisans shift, rustle, and break up in disbelief.

"What in the seven suns does that mean?" The Arrisan next to me nudges me with her elbow. "Lessers aren't lessers? Be serious."

"If I see one right now, I'll punch it in the face!" the soldier on my other side agrees.

"Yeah, what's it going to do, fight back?"

"I wish," another chimes in. "Then it'd be a worthwhile fight."

I mutter something incoherent as I shrink in, making sure my hood is down and my body is concealed.

The Palace on Arris Central is far away from the common soldier on a distant dreadnought.

So as one shift melts into the next, life doesn't change all that much.

I do get in trouble for laziness. As a human, I need more sleep. It's a fact of life, and they're constantly catching me nodding off and then chastising me.

Also during my year of hiding, the dreadnought continuously hunts the traitorous Vanadisans.

Allie and a few others escaped, but the Vanadisans kidnapped and are holding over half my clients.

It's so ironic that I was going to deliver them to Vanadis for a cure, but there, they would have been treated even more horribly. Getting wrecked by Eruvisan pirates and captured by the Arrisan dreadnought is the best thing that could have happened to us.

We finally chase the Vanadisans to a secret research base on a moon. Their big armada holds us back. A second dreadnought joins us bringing support ships, reinforcements, transfers, and new recruits as we prepare for our decisive, two-dreadnought victory.

And right when we're beginning our big counterattack, my charade collapses.

My supply closet door is flung open.

I jerk upright and try to look like I've been awake the whole time.

"…fully regrown," the first Arrisan says, flexing his fingers. "But usually, rank drops when you have to leave your job to regrow an arm, and my rank never dropped. It's like I've been working this whole time. Isn't that weird?"

"Lucky, I guess," the other replies. "Well, welcome back to…"

The two Arrisans stop in front of me.

One has an unfamiliar name.

The other's name is much too familiar.

Junior Cadet Supply Officer Koron, meet Junior Cadet Supply Officer Koron.

"What?" the real Koron says.

"Whoops!" I squeeze past them and hustle out into the hall.

They run after me. One shouts, "It's the human!"

His pronouncement echoes down the hall.

Everyone looks at me.

The end.

They drag me up to the bridge, letting absolutely everyone know that they finally caught the captain's vermin stowaway.

The bridge is tense. Officers call out positions and argue battle strategies. The second dreadnought isn't doing what it's supposed to do. Everyone's confused and angry.

Into the middle of this, my captors present me to Falkion.

I brace myself.

My chest is like ice.

This is the end.

"You found her? Now?" Falkion barely looks at me. He glares at the battle screens and absently waves behind him. "Manacle her to something. I'll try to get rid of her."

"Yes, sir, Captain, sir." They gleefully secure me to the supply closet door, ironically, and vacate the bridge.

"Hail the other dreadnought," Falkion orders his communications officer. "Again."

"No response, sir."

He growls. "Keep trying."

My heart comes back to life.

I probably have until the end of this battle to escape.

You can do this, Zeerah.

I check the inner pocket on my calf where I've concealed an electric screwdriver. Sheltering it with my body, I work on the manacles.

Falkion opens a communication screen to someone else and announces he's found me. I almost think he's had a change of heart, until he says, "…come and collect her before I lose my patience and cut off both her arms."

I like my arms.

I work harder on the lock.

His voice rises. "You come get her right now, or I will kill her! I will rip out her belly strings and use them as an instrument! I will…" He struggles, apoplectic, to think of exactly how he's going to torture me to death.

There's a brief pause, a silence in the bridge.

At that exact moment, the manacles unlock.

Clink.

It sounds far too loud in the unusual pause.

Falkion whips around to glare at me. Murder fills his brutal Arrisan face.

Panic thumps my chest. I slide back, put on my hood, and grip my screwdriver. Stay low, look for my exit. My heart pounds.

He takes a step toward me and—

The entrance to the bridge turns an unnatural white.

We've been hit?

Here?

A shockwave slams me into the far wall.

It cracks the viewscreens.

My skinsuit hood screams with warnings.

The other officers fly across the bridge, helpless as dolls. The world goes silent as feathery Vanadisan aliens flood into our bridge.

They capture us.

And then, when I think it can't get any worse, they get me alone with Falkion.

Taunting Vanadisans surround us.

I can't understand their whistle-words. These bioengineering bird aliens speak their language, not Arrisan Standard.

But I can understand their expressions as they look down at the two of us, Arrisan and human.

They smile.

Evilly.

Curse the Vanadisans. Curse them to the pits of Ranna.

I'm separated from my worthy crew and stripped nude. My forearms are trapped in massive electronic manacles that prevent my blades from emerging.

Only the cowardly lesser is my companion.

She's been stripped as well, but she wears some useless Humana chest harness and socket cover. She wriggles on the floor like an intestinal worm.

Curse her.

Curse every single lesser in the empire.

Vanadisan thugs surround us, laughing and taunting. My implant translates their words into the proper language, Arrisan Standard, but I don't need any translation.

Intense frustration wells in me.

I scream at these invaders, these human and Vanadisan parasites who've burrowed onto and wrecked my command. "Get. Off. My. Ship!"

The Vanadisans shove me down.

My broken bones grind against the electronic manacles. Pain steals my breath.

While I'm silent, a Vanadisan sprays a biological drug in the lesser's face. It drenches her in a visible cloud.

She spits and gags. "What is that?"

The Vanadisans snicker. "Lusteal."

"Oh, H, lusteal?" She laughs hysterically. "Oh, thank goodness. Oh, Hing-H. You can't infect me by spraying it onto me. H. I'm immune."

The Vanadisans rise, moving back so there's an open path between us. One smirks as he speaks in Arrisan Standard. "We did not spray for you."

As they move aside, the air currents float the spray over to me.

The lesser's confused gaze drops to mine.

Time slows.

Her face morphs and magnifies, filling my field of vision.

The scent—which is not normal lusteal, but a spicy variation that assaults me like a weapon—reaches through my nostrils down into my lungs, hits my diaphragm, and keeps pushing. It wraps greedy fingers around my helpless spine and orients me on her.

Zeerah.

Do I hiss her name aloud?

I do know her name. I keep track of these details, the things that others would miss. Even about a stupid, useless, unimportant lesser, I remember.

Her terror grows.

That's my last coherent thought.

My world goes blank, like the white silence after a land cannon blast.

Snatches of the world flitter across my consciousness. Impressions too slippery for me to grasp.

…I lumber down the smoking hall. Blood drips off my malfunctioning manacles…

…My soldiers force open the bridge. Vanadisans squawk with surprise. We dodge their lasers and return fire…

..I lie flat on my back as my science officer tries to force an antidote into my mouth…

And then her human face—Zeerah—hovers over mine.

The world snaps into focus.

Her wide, fearful brown eyes are the color of a dark moon, with shadows at the center that anchor me like gravity. Grease smudges her forehead and the tip of her wide, flat nose. Her plump lips part. She speaks, but I can't hear the words. I can't hear anything.

She releases my manacles.

Blood rushes into my hands and wrists, painful.

Sounds filter back in.

I don't understand them.

But if she's here, it's probably fine.

She looks away.

The world grows dim and out of focus, like I'm falling backward into a depthless pool.

I gasp and scramble for her.

She shrieks.

Her cry is sharp in my ears. My fingers release by reflex, as if I've grasped a red-hot wire.

The dark abyss is terrible.

I catch hold of her wrist more gently.

Her face moves back into focus.

Her brows curve down in anger, and she lifts her forearm to yank out of my grasp.

I cling to her, shaking uncontrollably, a small and helpless animal trying desperately to pull itself out of a violent flood.

She blinks. Her expression softens, and she lowers her arm again, turning it so I can curl my fingers around her more securely.

The world beyond her face returns to focus.

Memories firm, and time solidifies.

Eventually, I understand where I am.

She helps me to rise.

I stand behind her as my crew expels the Vanadisan invaders and defeats their armada.

I barely register the victory.

Nothing in this universe exists beyond the end of Zeerah's fingertips.

At some point afterward, the empress calls to warn Zeerah and me to be careful as we begin the cleanup.

"The Vanadisans developed a new weapon," she tells us. "It triggers the dormant Arrisan mating bite."

Mating…bite?

Empress Allie draws her finger along her marked shoulder. The emperor's possessive mark swirls thorny and red across her dark human skin. It's an intricate, spiky tattoo.

I've never seen one on an Arrisan.

Once, this was how we lived.

Now, no one in the empire bears these marks.

Nobody but the few humans whose tainted blood overwhelmed an Arrisan's reason and caused him to turn feral, so he…

Wait.

Does that mean I…?

Zeerah holds the neck of her skinsuit closed.

Empress Allie is still talking. "Don't let your soldiers play with this drug. I want no more forced relationships."

"Yeah." Zeerah shudders, tightening her grip. "That would be awful. H-ing horrendous. The absolute worst thing that could ever happen to anyone, ever. H."

"Take care of yourself, Captain Zeerah. I've missed you, and I'm so happy to see you again." The empress terminates the call.

Zeerah and I stand alone in the dark wreckage.

A new feeling churns in my guts, like I've entered the grav tubes, but the gravity is messed up and I'm falling much, much faster than it's built for. Or I'm being sucked out into space, the walls broken in, without enough time to pull on my hood. I can't take in a breath. And yet, I must.

I turn on her. "Did I bite you?"

Zeerah's fingers whiten with pressure. "You don't remember?"

There's a slight taste of acid in the back of my mouth. My inner teeth, the mating teeth, ache in an unfamiliar way.

I feel dread. "Tell me."

"You don't remember what you did? In the hall? After you lunged at me?"

"No."

"You really don't remember?"

I shake my head.

A strange expression crosses her face. Disappointment? She looks down and clears her throat. "No, of course you wouldn't. They beat you so hard, it's amazing you remember your own name."

"I marked you as mine."

"N…no." Her gaze skates past my face to the ceiling, then comes back as though she's forcing herself to focus on me, and speaks more firmly. "No. That didn't happen."

"What—"

"There are no marks on me," she insists, talking over me in a panic. "Nothing connects us. We had a brief moment. It's fine, I promise you."

This is clearly untrue.

She turns abruptly, her hand still holding her collar closed, and flips her hood on. Her face recedes into shadow, as always happens when someone puts on a hood. She backs into the hall. "I've got to take a shower."

A small thread, which I've just noticed is wound around my heart, pulls tight, squeezing off my circulation.

I'm not aware of deciding to move, but I'm suddenly in the hallway.

She's in front of me, but too far away.

My bridge crew lies moaning, badly injured. Their lips move as they squint at me, but I don't hear their words. I only hear a pained roar in my ears.

I run as fast as I can. My skinsuit squeezes my injured legs, but I don't feel them. I don't feel anything.

There. Zeerah's within arm's reach.

The string releases, and blood flows back into my constricted heart.

I suck in breaths as if I've been oxygen-deprived. Sound returns. The noise of the HVAC flooding our halls with calming antidotes, the banging of repairs, the voices of my crew calling out to me, and the acknowledgments of the engineers making their cautious way past to evaluate the damages.

Zeerah shies from them, but hears them call my name, then tilts her head and swings around. With her hood on, I can only see the edge of her jaw and lower lip. She sees me, though. She jolts in surprise. Her mouth drops open, and then she scrambles away.

The string tightens.

She sprints around the corner.

I stumble, pick myself up, follow her.

She's not in the next hall.

Panic steals my mind.

I awaken at the bottom of an open ladder. We rarely use these to get between levels. She stares down at me in horror, as if I've just tumbled and landed unexpectedly beneath her while she was climbing down. She refocuses on the ladder and starts ascending.

I grab her ankle.

She squeaks.

I drag her off the ladder.

Her disappearance around that corner shifted something inside me. Shuddery panic remains, as if she'll disappear if I close my eyes.

She turns her shoulder to me.

I press her against the wall.

"Stop." She struggles. "They need you on the bridge. Why are you following me?"

I catch hold of her hand and use it to force her hood off.

An unfamiliar scent washes over me.

Soothing. Soft. It enfolds me in sheltering darkness, sun-warmed earth and distant winds.

The world feels firmer. More solid.

I pin her wrist to the wall over her head.

Her fingers twitch involuntarily, and the gloves retract. Her skin is revealed to me.

Her hand is real. She's safe. This is her.

She pushes against me, out of breath. "Let me go."

"Did I bite you?"

"No."

I pull at her suit collar. It resists my hand. Skinsuits only respond to their wearers, and even though I'm the captain, I can't just rip it off her.

But there are no curling vines on her neck or on the underside of her jaw.

Somehow, that only makes me more frantic. My inner teeth flex. "Did I?"

"I told you no."

I growl at her, panic laced with fury. "Don't lie—"

"Stop it!"

Her shriek knifes into my chest, harsh and jarring.

My nerves spasm.

I step back as if I've touched a molten shard of the hull and my entire body is pushing me away. I'm physically incapable of holding on to her.

She settles onto her feet. Her eyes blaze at me. She straightens her skinsuit, swallows, then yanks down her collar. Her upper chest and shoulder are a cool, enticing brown, her natural skin tone, and unmarked beneath the strap of her chest harness. "There. I told you. H-ing H-ety H. Satisfied?"

My teeth clench. My blades move in my sheaths.

Everything is wrong.

When I reach for her throat, she watches my hand with fierce challenge in her eyes.

An invisible field prevents me from completing the action.

What did I even want to do?

Pin her in place, somehow, so my whirling thoughts have an anchor.

I can't end her life, not even to calm the swirling chaos inside. Injuring her is impossible. I don't even know if I wanted to.

I lower my hand.

Her eyes follow the movement, then return to my face. Her tone is hard, but her voice shakes. "Are we done?"

From above, my soldiers call. "Captain? I'm sure he went this way…"

She glances up, then back at me. "They're looking for you."

I couldn't care less about that right now.

She edges away, checks that I'm staying put, and then starts to move down the hall.

The string around my heart tightens and pulls me after her.

She jumps back again, hands low in entreaty. "Stop following me."

"Then you come with me."

"I'm not going to."

I grab her upper arm.

She slaps my hand away and shoves me. "Get the H away from me."

We're at an impasse.

My empty fingers flex. "I can't."

"What the H do you mean? Of course you can. You…" She frowns at my hand.

My hand shakes.

Actually, my whole body's shaking.

"Are you …?" But she never finishes her question.

I don't know how to answer.

She sighs, and her shoulders slump.

The invisible force field collapses. I take her hand.

She grimaces, halfheartedly tries to tug free, and then glances regretfully back at the ladder like she's plotting her escape. "I'm not going with you."

"You must." My voice breaks.

"What? No."

"I will give you anything."

"The only thing I want is a ship to fly away from you."

"I need you."

Her movements still, and she focuses on me again. Her brown eyes are pretty, dark like the shadows, safe to hide in. "You don't even know my name."

"I need you, Zeerah."

She sucks in a breath, frowns, then looks away. "Forget it. Not even if you begged. Well, maybe if you begged."

"Please."

"I was joking."

I wasn't. "Please."

She looks down at my hand holding hers, and her frown turns to worry. She uses her second hand to peel up my unwilling fingers. "Come on, now, don't do this. You're a big scary captain, and I'm a weak, helpless lesser you want to debone and throw out an airlock."

"I don't care."

"You're supposed to disagree and then apologize."

So there are rules to human interactions. Very well. I can learn rules. "I disagree, and I'm sorry."

"Oh…" She wiggles as if I've done exactly the thing she hoped I wouldn't do. "No, no. Absolutely not. I'm not spending any more time with you than is necessary."

Perfect.

I pull her toward the grav tubes. Even for one floor, it's faster than climbing a ladder. "Come."

"This drug will wear off, or I'll wash it off." She's dragged after me reluctantly. Her voice drops to a mutter. "You'll be back to hating me in no time."

I pull her closer. "Stay beside me."

"Oh, no." She rears back. "You keep your distance. What is your distance, one arm's length? I'm only staying close until you get cured."

Again, perfect.

I don't want to be around her any more than my illness requires.

We're in agreement, then.

I pull her against me and drop into the grav tubes.

And she, swearing and squirming, is dragged right along with me.

Five goras later…

She crouchesin the corner of my damaged bridge, on her knees, wires tangling her hands like manacles. Her eyes dart left and right, seeking freedom.

She catches my gaze and her expression hardens.

Her fury causes a strange itch at the base of my skull.

Engineer Juk blocks her in. "Now, I know you were trying to help us during the big invasion, but you used the wrong wire in this console."

She reluctantly turns her attention to him. "Yeah, we were under attack, and I didn't have the right wire."

"You've got to think it through, though. You might be under attack for a long time. You need to make repairs that last."

Her nostrils flare in irritation.

Engineer Juk criticizes her emergency repairs.

She promised to stay near me, and then she argued that she had no reason to be on the bridge. Fine. I summoned Juk and gave her a reason and she's still mad.

And I still can't fully bend her to my will.

She refuses to rest with me.

Refuses to step a foot into my chamber.

The only thing I want is a ship to fly away from you.

Fear buzzes in my blood.

"You could've used this wire right here." Juk points.

"It was burned," Zeerah snaps.

Juk sits back on his heels. "Nah, it's fine."

"Yeah, now it is."

"Wait, was it really shot? Let me check the visuals…" The engineer frowns at his viewscreen.

She stares at the door with longing, then she meets my eye, and her lips compress.

My chest squeezes.

I hate this.

She's caged, serving me as a lesser should.

And she's ungrateful, as lessers are.

I am so tired.

Tired and furious.

She doesn't belong here.

My bridge crew doesn't want her.

I don't blame them.

I would sever this connection if I could.

I would make her into the nothing she was only a short time ago.

One kortan later…

She slips awaythe instant my back is turned.

On the bridge, all of a sudden, I don't hear her small movements, no longer taste her fresh, warm scent. The spot I left her is empty.

Where…?

My soul feels like it's trying to crawl out of my skin. My nerves vibrate like I've been pierced with a stinger.

My implant locates her. The hallway, just outside of the bridge? Ah, she's only just escaped.

I cut off my internal officer mid-report and secure my console.

My second-in-command, Kollok, clears his throat. "Captain. It's my responsibility to safeguard your health. Are you aware…"

I look at him.

"Yes. Well." Kollok closes his mouth and averts his eyes. "It is my role."

Zeerah's already halfway to the grav tubes when I catch up to her. She has to push between officers, somehow against the flow, even when it looks like she's a part of it.

I dart in front of her.

She teeters to a hard stop to avoid accidentally touching me.

"I have something to show you."

She looks beyond me for a long moment. In her imagination, she's already run beyond me, out of this quadrant.

I wait.

I've learned it's better to give her time, to go at her pace, even though her hesitations and cautions feel interminable.

Others move around us.

She refocuses. "What?"

"I will give you what you most want."

She lifts her brows. Her right brow has a small scar across the center. "You don't know what I most want."

"A ship."

Her lips twist, and she rests her hands on her hips. "It's a trick."

It is a trick. "No."

Her eyes narrow, but I motion for her to come with me.

She lowers her arms, mutters something to herself about regret, and starts to follow.

One of my junior officers bumps her shoulder.

I grab him by the neck and throw him to the ground.

It happens so fast that I almost don't feel myself doing it. I definitely don't remember deciding to do it.

He lands on his back, palms down in surrender, and scrambles to his feet. "Excuse me, I'm sorry, Captain, sir."

Everyone else stares at him.

I don't even feel mad right now. There's just a lingering feeling of "no," and this was my subconscious solution.

I growl. "Don't touch her."

"Yes, I'm sorry, thank you, sir."

I turn back to make sure she's okay.

But I've done it wrong again. Scared her, I guess.

She's gone.

Two kortans later…

I've figuredout how to capture her.

Finally.

This shift, she allows me to sit beside her in the empty officer's mess without a single complaint.

I've distracted her.

The skin on the back of her wrist has little creases, and her tiny hairs are downy soft beneath my index finger. Our colors contrast nicely, gray and cool brown.

When we touch, my rage and confusion melts away.

I am filled, unwillingly, with peace.

Her softness must be cared for. Protected.

And her Humana scent is bright and fierce, but also heavy and secretive, full yet lithe. It teases my nose and demands more. Perhaps this is what is meant by the word earthy. She has an addictive freshness, like warm sunlight beneath dappled shade. I want to wrap myself in it.

She closes her study of Piloting Certifications for Needle-Class Ships, Arrisans and Allies Only, Official and straightens. "Don"t you think we should stop this?"

"Why?"

"Why?" she chokes out. "Because this is too much like a date. A study date, but still. A date."

"What's the problem?"

"You hate me."

I freeze.

This is often what she says right before she tries to run.

Chasing her is such a hassle.

I'm smarter than this. Smarter than a human. Breathe. Steady. Do not manacle her wrists, pin her down, drag her into a cage. She often slips through my grasp, at least momentarily, but soon I will disguise her prison to be so pleasant she never wants to leave it again.

I'm so close. I will figure this out.

"I don't hate you."

Her eyes narrow.

I hold my position, connected to her with only one single fingerprint, and give her my most guileless, unconcerned look like it's perfectly normal for a dreadnought captain to stroke a cursed stowaway who now consumes his every thought, waking or dreaming.

"You do hate me." She picks up her data tablet again, settling back in with a huff. "You just don't remember."

But I do remember. I remember very clearly.

I've tried to separate us so many times.

The invisible string connecting us stretches tight, and, no matter how I resist, it forces me back to her side.

So I've given her what she most wants: study materials to pass the official piloting tests, so she can gain legitimacy within the empire.

This training used to be given only to allies.

Her empress says lessers are allies now. I didn't care when she first made the announcement, but now it's convenient for me. I'm not breaking any rules by giving these to Zeerah.

She's taken the first mouthful of my bait.

Come into my pit trap, Zeerah.

Humans form pair-bonds by spending time together, she says. They don't need a drug or a spray.

If I can bond her to me using her human weakness, then I won't have to waste so much energy chasing after her. All it costs is my time, which I am compelled to give her anyway.

I'll trap you as one human traps another.

And then you won't run.