3. Karvex

Tired of Renari scowling about the human I brought onto the ship, I decide to take her to an unused domicile. Not because I really care about her comfort, but there's no reason to keep her out here in the midst of everything, being gawked at.

Despite what the others may think, I have no intention of letting the human go just yet. I can't put my finger on it, but I think she'll prove useful. And I'm the captain, so they can take their complaints and piss off.

That's why, as soon as our spaceship and the rest of our stolen goods have left the casino as a distant memory, I toss her over my shoulder and carry her to a room of her own.

"Whoa, what are you doing?" she squawks when I hoist her up roughly.

"Whatever I want. You'll save us a lot of time if you can get that through your head." As if to prove my point, I shake her from side to side as she balances over my shoulder like a rolled up rug. She makes a stifled groaning noise but at least she seems to know enough to hold her tongue this time.

Maybe the human is trainable, after all.

Once we step inside the vacant dormitory I selected for her, I drop her roughly on the uncovered mattress. Her legs and arms are still bound in the hard nantium cuffs I put on her while she was passed out. I doubt she could get far in her condition, but for good measure, I affix the cuffs to a metal bar of the cot.

She just stares at me, looking more baffled than afraid. Something about her expression pisses me off. She's too comfortable in my presence for a girl I just stole like she was a fancy vase.

"You'll be staying here until I decide what use I have for you," I explain. "And I wouldn't get too relaxed. Killing you is still a use."

It's a bit of a lie. Not that I mind killing people, but some part of me already knows that won't be her fate. I took her for a reason, even if I haven't made up my mind just what it's going to be yet.

The faintest smirk ghosts over her lips. As if this dainty and infuriating human has the nerve to call my bluff.

I growl. Her smirk is instantly wiped away. She nods with a nervous swallow.

That's more like it.

"What's your name, slave?" I ask.

"Alana," she whispers softly.

"Alana, this is where lesser men might assure you that they are fair. That if you follow directions, you'll be fine. You should notice that I'm making you no such assurances. You'll do what you're told when you're told, or I'll help you. You won't like my help, I can promise you that. You should consider yourself fortunate if I chose to sell you so you never have to see me again."

She presses her lips together, and I can tell she's holding back the response she wants to give.

"What?" I snap.

"What, what?" she asks, sounding confused. "I didn't say anything. Sir," she adds. Her attempt at humoring me makes my skin crawl.

"You did that thing with your lips. You do that when you're thinking something you don't want to say."

Then I pause, watching the confusion wash over her face. Her expression, I'm sure, mirrors my own.

Why would you say that? You've known her all of twenty minutes. Where did that come from?

"I mean, humans. Humans do that. It's a common trait among your people," I offer. By this point, I don't even know if I'm lying or not. If that's what I meant to say, I'm not sure why it came out the way that it did.

But I'm not about to look stupid in front of a human casino worker.

"Start thinking about how you're going to prove your use around here," I snarl. "If you can't pull your weight, I'll put you off the ship myself. Better hope you have some skills."

With that, I storm out of the room before I do anything else foolish.

I try to pretend I don't even remember she's there for a few hours, as I go through our stolen goods and my team and I toast the haul. Even Renari finally shows up and smiles at our success, though he still has a stubborn pout on his face.

No one even mentions the girl, but my mind keeps drifting back to her anyway. I can't help it. There's something about her that I can't quite put my finger on, but it's both compelling and consuming.

Finally, when most of the crew has gone to bed for the night, and the remainder is busy working, I head to the kitchen to make her a simple dinner. She may be my prisoner, but I know humans will starve quickly without nourishment. That's something I'd rather avoid, or all this effort will have been for nothing.

When I unlock the door to her room, carrying a tray with dried and spiced erkey slices and hagaberry sauce, she's laying on the plastic mattress and staring up at the ceiling.

She barely moves her head as her eyes slide my way. "Thank you," she whispers quietly. The mattress crinkles loudly with the motion.

"You'll need energy when the work begins," I say gruffly. I shove the tray beside her on the bed and force myself to walk back out though a part of me wants to interrogate her. I want to know everything about her, but I'm not even sure what questions I should be asking.

For three days, I ignore her until late at night, almost as if just to prove I can. For three days, the itch to see her consumes my thoughts and I try to pretend it doesn't. For three days, when I finally do see her, I find myself mesmerized in her presence and have to back out of the room almost as quickly as I came into it.

If I believed in the old urban legends of magic or witches, I'd think she had to be one.

"Why don't we take her somewhere and sell her?" Renari hisses on the third day as I latch the door to her cabin once again. He seems to be just as fixated as the human as I am, but his interest is quickly growing aggravating and wearing on my nerves.

"We can set the course someplace close and just get rid of her, simple as that. Or is she here as a dinner guest now?" His tone is frustrated, but there's a hint of mockery underneath that makes my temper boil.

"You overstep, Renari," I warn.

"This obsession is beneath you, Karvex. We have more important goals."

I draw myself to my full height, but something in his words strikes me. Do we? Breaking the human down seems like the highest priority to me now, but I can't put my finger on why. Deep inside me, it's as if I know she has a secret, and I can't release her until I know what it is.

But I have no explanation for this. She's a mere casino girl from the planet Gur. What useful knowledge could she possibly have? Her skill is surely primarily focused on how to mix a proper drink. Fun but hardly life-changing.

"I'll handle her how I see fit. You'd do good to mind your own role here and worry less about hers," I tell him, wanting to drown out the question that lingers in my own mind.

Namely, why every so often when our eyes meet, I feel as though she's holding a piece of me in her hands and refuses to give it back. I can't even recognize the part she's stolen, but it's mine and I want it.

She's mine. I shake that voice away, watching as Renari stomps off in frustration.

Something in my soul wants to show her exactly that. The fact that she is mine, in a way anyone could easily see. It's so obvious to me that I sometimes think the others must notice. When I'm near her, it's like something long forgotten has clicked into place. She's mine, and I cannot allow what's mine to slip through my fingers.

Maybe he's right. You can't just keep her locked up and doing nothing. It's not that I care about her feelings, but the other men in my crew will start to wonder. I have to give her a job, same as everyone else on the ship. I'll have to pick it carefully, though. As a prisoner, she can't have too much freedom.

I push open the door one more time. She jumps in surprise, not expecting me so soon. Up until now, I've only arrived to bring her food once or twice a day.

"You're back," she announces flatly. She doesn't hide her face this time, and I sneer. I've been too soft on her while I deliberated what to do with her next, and her fear is fading.

I'll fix that.

"Come to my room," I demand, moving to unbind her legs from the chair she's strapped to.

She pales.

"Not that," I snap. "You couldn't be so fortunate. It's time you started pulling your weight on my ship. No one eats for free. For now, you're a maid. You'll start with my quarters, where I can watch you."

Alana turns out to be a decent maid, but it also makes her bold. Too bold. By the third day of her new duties as my servant, I have her clean the kitchen.

"Doesn't your cook ever wipe the grease off the heating elements?" she gripes. "You're not supposed to season the food with a layer of filth."

I narrow my eyes. "That's what you're for. Unless you're suggesting our food is not good enough for you. I can stop offering you any if it's such torture. You can return to your chair and your straps. Remind me how long it takes a human to starve again? I'd like to plan for a landing at the appropriate time so we can dispose of your remains. I find the incinerator a troubling solution as the smell lingers for weeks."

Alana simply rolls her eyes.

She seems utterly unaware that she is a measly human. She doesn't even show fear the way that she did at the beginning. It both infuriates and amazes me. To be so weak and so bold, all at the same time.

"I just want to be certain that I'm supposed to remove it. It's like an archaeological log here of every meal you've ever eaten. I don't want to disturb such a historic site."

I had forgotten the human tendency to employ sarcasm. I don't enjoy it.

"Listen, human. You're still my prisoner." My hand snaps out to take a fistful of her black hair, yanking until her head tilts to the ceiling. Her exposed neck, I notice, is long and smooth.

She swallows, a tremor of fear returning. I smile and let her go.

"Oh, so I'm your prisoner," she mutters. "I thought I was your maid." But she obediently starts wiping down the surface of the convection laser oven.

"You're whatever I want you to be," I growl. "Whenever I want you to be it."

The color drains slightly from her face again, and I realize what she's thinking. Are humans always so sex-driven? I can't help but wonder why she's so quick to assume that one of my first demands will be to warm my bed. I've never coerced a woman to entertain me in that regard, and I don't intend to start now.

She's an attractive woman, certainly. I'm sure she's had plenty of attention there. Her jet-black hair is shiny and smooth, so glossy it gives the appearance of luxury. Her features are delicate, feminine, and gentle, even if it doesn't seem to match her sharp tongue. Her gray eyes are perhaps her best feature, clear and startlingly vibrant despite having virtually no color.

Though I'm not sure it's her eyes themselves that appeal to me as much as what lies behind them. Sometimes when I look into them, it feels almost like a window to a place I want to go. A place that seems familiar, though I'd also swear I'd never seen it before. Perhaps my mind has not, but my soul has. If I could figure out how to get there through her, I would.

Or perhaps you've been on this ship too long and it's addled your brain.

"How much longer?" I bark. She jumps, startled, then hunches over the stove and rolls her eyes.

I can't decide if I'm thrilled or furious at the familiarity she treats me with these days.

"It's going to take me some time to clear five years of residue," she warns. "An hour? Then I still have to do the floors."

I nod. "I'll be back. See that it's finished. You're not to leave this kitchen, by the way. Not that you'd have anywhere to go."

Considering we're flying through space, what's she going to do? Launch herself to her death? But I don't trust her to not interfere with our ship"s functions if she gets a chance, even if it's ultimately just a nuisance for us. I'd like to think she isn't stupid enough to be so bold, but I can't be certain.

She nods, and I head to the crew room to review our course for the day. I pointedly ignore Renari, realizing this is the first time in our long, shared history that we've been at odds with each other like this.

He clearly notices, because when I return to the kitchen to check on Alana, he follows behind and stops me in the corridor just outside.

"She's still with us," he points out needlessly.

"I will not justify myself to anyone, Renari," I snap. "Not even you."

He puts his hands up in a conciliatory gesture. "My apologies, Captain."

There's something so obscenely formal about it all, considering it's coming from my oldest friend. But I just nod, aware of the gulf that is forming between us.

Alana smirks when I enter the kitchen. "Trouble in paradise?"

"Get back to work," I growl.

Maybe Renari is right. She is a distraction. I won't deny that. A part of me enjoys it, but that doesn't make it any less true.

She doesn't fear me the way that she should. Even when she's obedient, it seems more like a show. It's as if she submits because she knows it's her role more than out of any true fear of me.

It's maddening.

I could sell her. I could send her off to be someone else's slave, return the status quo of the ship, and wash my hands of her. Everything would be back to normal. Back to the way it was just a week ago.

But even as I consider it, the notion stirs an odd sensation in me. Something hollow and empty I'm not sure I've ever felt before.

"You're my servant," I declare, stating what I think might be obvious to everyone but me. "You'll stay with me from now on, like a handmaid."

She nods as if in agreement, but I catch the amused smirk on her face.

It's maddening.