4. Roark

The transition was not as easy as I’d hoped it would be.

Part of it was my fault, I could admit that.

I’d been alone for years so I hadn’t been prepared for how odd it would feel to have another creature in my personal space—even one as frankly adorable as Huu-goh. It had been a long time since I’d been a cadet and shared a dorm with the others, and my time at the orphanage when I was a youth was nothing but a faded memory.

Which meant that I had some adjusting to do, just like he did.

Huu-goh was strange.

He gawked at everything, for one thing. He’d cataloged all the tech, all the hallways, all the crew that he met as we made our way through The Dreamer toward the barracks for the first time. I moved slowly so that he would have time to take it all in, though I was remiss, because it would’ve been nice to be able to explain what everything was.

As captain, I had a set of private rooms near the back of the ship. It was the largest lodgings on board, and I had hoped that the sheer size of it would be enough to make the space not feel overcrowded now that I had someone else inside it.

I’d debated giving Huu-goh his own room entirely, but that seemed cruel. He knew no one but me on board. And though I was a stranger to him, we had at least shared a few conversations and a moment that meant more to me than I was equipped to admit at present.

Mala and Ushuu assured me that they could take care of my duties for a week as Huu-goh settled in. I appreciated their assistance, though the thought of anyone else manning the ship rankled, because I knew we only had a few short hours before take off.

The Dreamer was my responsibility. With the ever-present threat of pirates hanging over our heads, it was hard to relax. I tried, but it was difficult. Even when Huu-goh was bouncing around my rooms.

He poked everything, opened all the cupboards, exclaimed in amazement when he figured out how the sinks and toilets worked. He thought my bed was fascinating—as evidenced by the widening of his eyes and the way his gaze kept lingering on it. And though I kept steering him toward the corner where I’d set up a bed for him too, he kept making his way back toward mine.

His single, solitary suitcase sat next to the door.

When I moved to retrieve it, Huu-goh was quick to dive in front of me. He glared up at me, hunkered over the damn thing like he was terrified I was going to steal it from him.

So instead of helping him unpack his things, I maintained distance between us, and let him continue his explorations.

I made myself busy at my desk, reading through articles about huu-mans on my HoverPad, the care guide I’d downloaded directly from A&R’s website both enlightening and abhorrent. The fact they had one at all was disgusting to me, but I tried to push through that emotion as I made note of the things Huu-goh could be allergic to, and the requirements necessary for caring for one’s huu-man.

I was so engrossed in my reading, I hardly noticed when the ship rumbled, preparing to take off. Huu-goh made a sound, however, and my gaze snapped from the screen to him, surprised to find him huddled in the middle of the floor cross-legged, his head tipped toward the ceiling like he could see the stars behind it.

Ah.

This was his first voyage.

At least—his first conscious one.

I flipped a few buttons on my HoverPad, pleased when the panels on the ceiling shifted colors, and the night sky spread out above us. It was a live feed, and would shift when our engines had warmed enough to take flight. I hoped he’d find it more fascinating this way. He was a curious creature, and I was more than a little excited at the prospect of making him smile again—like he had when I’d bought him pastries earlier.

Huu-goh made a shocked little sound that in turn caused me to grin.

Pride made my chest puff up as I enjoyed his reaction, pleased to have a captivating view of my own. His expressions were so easy to read. Though his features were foreign, I’d dealt with enough species over the years that I could recognize what most of the faces he made meant. At least…so far.

This face looked pleased.

More than pleased.

It was odd hearing him breathe and move around in my space. Difficult to tune out. But this wasn’t so bad. The expression of wonder on his face, however, was short-lived.

When the sky blurred and we officially took off, something horrible happened.

Huu-goh’s dark eyes went wide. He gawked at the shifting ceiling, the floor rumbling beneath him, and for a single solitary second all was well.

And then it wasn’t.

It’d been a long time since my first voyage so I’d forgotten how odd that shift could feel. As we picked up speed, the ship finding its equilibrium was often turbulent. I hardly noticed it now, but Huu-goh certainly did. It only took ten seconds for his excitement to fade and his skin to turn an awful shade of green.

He’d been sick all night after that.

Sick enough we’d spent a good hour in the bathroom. Him, with his head in the toilet, and me, stroking over his back while I flipped through pages on my HoverPad and tried to figure out if I’d made a horrible mistake or not.

Nowhere did it mention turbulence or huu-man’s weakness to it. And eventually, thank god, when Huu-goh stopped being sick I came to the conclusion that it was the space-legs that he didn’t have yet that had caused his violent reaction.

I’d hosed him off in the shower, keeping the spray warm, and he’d been too miserable to protest.

“Mai dohn-uts,” he’d said sadly in human-speak, his sweet, sick little head tucked against my shoulder. After he was dried off and I’d bundled him in blankets, I made a mental note to get more clothing for him.

After his reaction to me approaching his suitcase, I didn’t dare try to open it again—and it didn’t feel right having him naked in his bed without having confirmed his intentions toward me. I knew my own desire, but he was still a mystery.

Huu-goh cried that night.

After the lights had gone off, I’d headed toward my own bed. I’d thought he was asleep. If I’d known he was awake, I wouldn’t have left him alone over there. Hovering, however, had only seemed to piss him off after he’d been stripped down and the worst of the sickness had passed.

When he’d fallen asleep it had felt like a blessing.

A rough first day finally over.

At least until I heard the quiet little sniffle sound he made—twenty minutes later—and realized that things could get worse before they ever got better. I rose from bed, my own body sluggish and exhausted as I settled beside him on the floor. He didn’t shake my hand off when I stroked over his back, but he didn’t say anything either.

He held himself in a tiny ball, quaking, as more of those curious tears leaked down his cheeks.

I fell asleep beside him, and when I woke it felt like I’d aged a thousand years.

Surely things will get better. That’s what I told myself as I stretched out my sore body, my tentacles expanding to breathe after remaining cramped on the floor for so damn long.

For a week, I did my best to acclimatize Huu-goh to my rooms and space itself. I learned about him as best I could. Feeding him different treats and snacks, it was easy enough to get a feel for what he liked and disliked. He didn’t enjoy bambuu, but I didn’t budge, always making sure that he finished his plate for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

He was underfed, and after the first initial frown he’d leveled me with, he hadn’t complained. He was clever enough to understand that there was a reason I was feeding him the same thing every day.

Huu-goh and I developed a strange sort of sign language over the first few days. When my huu-man liked something he’d fold all his fingers into his palm aside from his thumb. Said thumb would point toward the ceiling as he wagged his hand at me. This odd gesture was seemingly a good thing.

It, however, had a negative counterpart.

When he didn’t like something he made the same motion with the thumb pointed down. Sometimes, when he was feeling particularly excited about something—more pastries—or unhappy about something—me following him into the bathroom —he’d even double the “up thumb” or “down thumb” with both hands.

He didn’t like his bed.

It didn’t take a genius to figure that out.

But he didn’t seem to understand when I told him he could join me in mine. Part of me was grateful for that—as I was also still getting used to his presence. Having him in my personal space was already an adjustment. To have him in my bed felt like crossing a line I wasn’t sure we should.

At least…not until I knew where he stood.

My hope that we would become mates was beginning to dwindle as the days passed and Huu-goh did not make another move like he had at the pleasure house. Maybe his desire to touch me truly had been fueled by his occupation?

It wasn’t as though I could ask him.

A&R’s pamphlet included a few basic words and their pronunciations. But there wasn’t a single thing written inside it that talked about sex, or had words that pertained to it. There was no way to confirm whether or not he was interested in me so I would have to wait to see if his actions dictated he was.

So far, nothing pointed toward Huu-goh feeling anything toward me aside from camaraderie. Which was…disappointing, to say the least.

Sometimes I’d catch him staring at my chest—and the scent of arousal would fill the air—but then the nanobots would come out to clean, or the ceiling would shift colors as we neared planets that blurred by on our route—and the scent would drift away.

By the time the week had passed and I needed to return to my duties, I felt no more secure than I had on that first day.

I tried to warn Huu-goh that the ship was going to land—but again, the language barrier got in the way. Pointing at the floor and giving him a double down thumb did not help. It made him frown down at the ground like he was expecting it to open up or something—which I supposed, was fair.

When the ship began to rumble however, he deduced what was happening. His dark eyes went wide and he scrambled toward the bathroom, hopping as fast as a Fruhg during mating season as he slammed his way toward the toilet in preparation.

Luckily for the both of us, he wasn’t sick the second time.

Mala landed the ship gently. Not as gently as I would have—but gently enough.

When the rumbling stopped, and the steady swoosh that could be felt at any time when we were space-borne had settled, I stopped rubbing Huu-goh’s back. He twisted to look at me, eyes just as wide as they’d been when the ship began to descend.

“Laa-hnd-ehd?” he asked, voice shaky.

I could only assume that meant something about the ship having docked. I nodded, hoping I’d gotten that right. Huu-goh relaxed, slumping into me, his face sticking to my chest as tiny tendrils that had a mind of their own reached out to cling.

I pulled them back as swiftly as I could—once again, terrified of crossing that line between us.

At least, before he did.

Though I was due back as captain, it didn’t feel right leaving Huu-goh alone in my rooms. I wanted to. I really, really did. Though I didn’t know where we stood in our relationship, I was still terrified of him becoming frightened or hurt if he left them.

The planet we’d landed on was a safe one, as far as planets go. It had a temperate climate. No fauna that was necessarily harmful—at least en-route to the pick-up station. Its yellow skies and red dirt were familiar as I held tightly to Huu-goh’s leash, terrified he’d wander off the path even though I knew there wasn’t anything out there likely to hurt him.

“Is that really necessary?” Mala asked from beside me, nodding toward the leash.

My spots turned fuschia in embarrassment as I glanced toward Huu-goh and made a sound in affirmation. He had his notepad out. He’d had it out a lot lately, scribbling away with a writing device that was worn to the quick. Page after page was full of the strange scratch-scratch of his people, along with illustrations of the many things we’d encountered on our trek from the ship.

Behind us, a progression of crewmates were driving the empty carriers that we’d be using when we reached our destination. By the time we returned to the ship the following day, they’d be full to the brim with gemstones—the very same gemstones that powered the fertility pods back home.

This was arguably one of the most important stops on our journey. It felt…wrong to leave Huu-goh behind when I couldn’t explain to him that I’d be gone for several days, even if things went well.

“He could get injured,” I argued, though admittedly even I knew I’d waited too long to respond.

“By what?” Mala asked, sounding more amused than he should.

“Shut up.” I glared at him, and he shrugged, unbothered.

Huu-goh didn’t seem to mind the leash. At least, at first. I was careful to keep my steps slow so that he could keep up—and even slower still when we encountered a new plant for him to sketch. His eyes were glued to the papers in his grip, a look of wonder on his face every time he saw something new.

The exchange went without a hitch when we arrived to our destination. Mala took over setting up camp inside the mine, and Huu-goh sat obediently beside me as I exchanged credits with the manager of the location. He eyed the huu-man with hunger, and it took everything I had not to lean over and bite his head right off.

That emotion left me feeling drained and a little shocked at myself.

I liked to think I was clear-headed, but apparently Huu-goh brought out a different side to me.

When everything was done, I kept a tight hold on his leash as we exited the main office and headed toward the front of the mine where the guest accommodations were. If you could call them that. This planet was less developed than Osheania, and I knew that the comfort we’d be offered here would be rudimentary at best.

Most of the crew was already settled in for the night, Mala included.

Beside him, a few feet away to offer some semblance of privacy, was a pile of furs for Huu-goh and I to share. I glared at Mala’s back as he snored—he didn’t fucking snore, so I knew he was pretending. It wasn’t as though I didn’t want to sleep with Huu-goh. But again…I was doing my best not to cross that line until he did.

He hadn’t been given much autonomy, if any. He deserved to make this choice—even if it ached to know that this was out of my hands. I hated when I wasn’t in control. Especially when I wanted something. But for once in my life, I kept that feeling to myself.

I didn’t act.

Not even when we settled down for the night, the cavern of colorful rock climbing high above us, and Huu-goh sleepily snuffled beside me.

I ached to reach out, to nuzzle into the fur on his head, to taste the salt on his skin that I could smell after a day spent hiking through the wilderness. But I didn’t.

When I woke up the next morning, however, Huu-goh was tucked against my chest. And he was trembling. It wasn’t like the crying he’d exhibited that first night—but something else. Something that smelled musky-sweet—his lovely little hips rub, rub, rubbing against mine. I’d smelled this once before. This was the scent of Huu-goh’s arousal.

Euphoria burst through my body as I pulled back to look at him, a grin on my face—only for that grin to quickly fall when I realized that he was asleep.

He hadn’t chosen me.

For all I knew he was imagining someone else entirely.

Disgusted with myself and the situation, I held still till Huu-goh awoke, doing my best to ignore the panicked little sound he made—like he was embarrassed. His face was flushed, nearly as fuschia as my spots became when I was embarrassed. We had so many differences that the simple similarity settled me, even though I felt untethered.

Huu-goh liked the crystals. His eyes were wide and bright, constantly catching on the glittering surfaces as the crew filled the carriers, each box piled high. Iridescent, the jagged surfaces caught and refracted the light from the hanging lanterns above, casting rainbows on the walls.

“Pre-tty,” Huu-goh said, mumbled under his breath as he furiously scribbled on his notepad beside me. I tightened my grip on his leash, my head swimming as the familiar word came back to me.

It was odd, remembering the sound of it through the haze of the translator. But yes. I could recall using that exact word to describe him.

“Pre-tty,” I agreed in his tongue, voice rough. It was a gamble, but one that paid off when Huu-goh’s attention snapped from the boxes to me, his eyes wide. A lovely flush spread across his cheeks, just like the one he’d exhibited that morning when he’d been rubbing against me like a beast in heat.

“Pre-tty!” he agreed, very obviously excited that we had found another shared word. I gave him an up thumb and he cackled, eyes crinkling with what I hoped was affection. “Thehy ahre ahrn-t thehy?” Huu-goh babbled, hopping on the balls of his feet. “Aye-v nehvahr seen eneethingh lyke iht!”

“ Huu-goh pretty,” I countered, because it was true. Huu-goh’s blush grew darker. Nearly red enough to look like arousal. I licked my lips and he squirmed, eyeing my tongue like he’d never seen anything like it before. “Huu-goh pretty,” I repeated again.

He made a high-pitched sound, like he wasn’t sure what to say, and then—because Mala was the worst, he promptly came to interrupt us.

I didn’t forget that Huu-goh liked the shiny rocks, however.

I logged that information away for later along with all the other little things I’d discovered about him.

We went to six other planets over the course of the next month. There weren’t many stops on our route before we’d drop by planet Sha’hPihn. Though there would be a decent chunk of space travel we’d have to do before we reached it.

U’suhk was one of my least favorite stops, but it was as necessary as the rest of them. This time, however, I found something rather delightful when we made a detour through one of the villages. There were huu-mans mated to the Ly’zrd that made up the majority of the population. Seeing them did not come as a surprise to me, but it certainly did to Huu-goh as he ogled them from where he sat safely beside me in our transport vehicle.

There was a sadness to him then, because he was intelligent enough to understand that these people had been taken and discarded just like he had.

I’d stayed extra close to him that day, and he hadn’t minded. He’d never pulled the leash taut, not even once, his little body warm at my elbow at all times. His journal remained in his pocket, and I felt the loss of his scribblings keenly.

When we returned to the ship he had a thousand questions. Questions I couldn’t answer. I did, however, buy him one of the odd head coverings that the other huu-mans had created. Huu-goh grinned when I plopped it on his head, his sweet cheeks pinking up all over again. He repeated the words “Thank yew.”

It was something he’d said many times throughout our travels, and considering how polite he came across, I figured the words were gratitude of some sort.

He stuck close to me for the rest of the night—and I waited…god, did I wait—for him to cross that distance again. For the day we’d slept together in that cave to not have been a fluke.

Planet two was more dangerous than the others. I kept Huu-goh close then, and every time he tugged on his leash I’d yank him back into place. Mala made a few comments about it, but I snapped at him every time he did.

I knew that it wasn’t fair—that Huu-goh was merely curious.

But he was going to get himself killed.

And I refused to let that happen, whether he wanted to be my mate or not.

Ushuu, my mentor and the ship’s chief technology officer, had questioned me about Huu-goh a few times since he’d come aboard, but I’d been too busy to sit down with him like I usually did. Part of me was ashamed. Ashamed that I’d bought a person —that I was…that I was still hoping that the magnetism I could feel between us was not one-sided.

If I talked to Ushuu it would mean acknowledging that Huu-goh did not want me. He would ask. I knew he would. And then I’d have to start planning how to let him go. Where I could set him up on Osheania when we returned home, with a house of his own—and me a galaxy away, chasing the stars alone without him.

By the sixth planet, Huu-goh had gotten fed up with me.

At least…I assumed so.

He’d been ornery all day, snapping at me over breakfast, and yanking on his leash every five seconds. I’d made sure he had enough to eat and drink, pausing periodically throughout the day to feed or pet him—and that had only seemed to set him off even more.

I could admit that I was on edge too.

Tension had been building between us for weeks—and while I’d tried to stay calm and cool-headed, I wasn’t. Between the constant fear of attack from pirates after our cargo and my lack of solid standing with Huu-goh, I felt unmoored in a way I never had before.

I should’ve known things were about to change.

It was inevitable.

I only wish I’d known it was for the better.