Chapter 1

Ethan woke in darkness. His back ached from sleeping on the metal floor, and the scent of stale sweat, piss, and sickness was as overwhelming as ever. He couldn’t hear them since his implants were taken from him weeks ago, but he knew others wept quietly around him all hours of the day and night. None of that concerned him now. All he cared about was the chill of the body in his arms.

“Erin?” he called. He gave his twin a shake.

The slim little figure at his side didn’t move.

Ethan sat up on his elbow and turned her toward him. Her face was clammy. He reached over for their cup — a plastic chew container someone happened to have in their pocket when they were taken — and raised it to her lips, but she didn’t have the strength left to take a drink. She sagged against him.

“Erin, please,” Ethan begged. “Please drink.”

She slowly lifted her hand to her chest, and by feeling it in the dark, he found her middle and ring fingers were down while her thumb, index finger, and pinky were up as she signed, ‘I love you’.

Ethan clutched her closer. “Please don’t give up.” He started to sob. “You’re all I have left. You can’t leave me. Erin…”

Erin shuddered, and her chest filled with one last raspy breath before she stilled, and her hand went limp.

And just like that, Ethan was alone.

*****

Kipexo watched his Earthling closely from across the room. Ethan smiled and laughed at the appropriate times as he socialized with the other humans in the common area, but whenever the others looked away, his eyes would glaze over as his mind wandered.

Ethan had that nightmare again last night, the one that always ended with him crying out in his sleep and sobbing into Kipexo’s chest. As the days went by, Kipexo grew more and more concerned for his Earthling’s well-being as the ghosts of his past refused to leave him alone. Ethan couldn’t get a single night’s rest. Even from across the common room, Kipexo could see the dark circles under his eyes.

The dream started their very first night aboard the Anamafrid, and though Ethan refused to talk about it, it wasn’t hard for Kipexo to guess the horrors his mind conjured up for him. He called for his sister every night, begging her not to leave him.

“You’re all I have left,” he always said. The desperation in Ethan’s voice and the way he was consumed in grief could only mean one thing: Ethan kept reliving his sister’s death. What was worse? There wasn’t a damn thing Kipexo could do about it.

They’d tried everything from calming music to medication to help Ethan have a dreamless night’s sleep, but nothing worked. Kipexo didn’t like feeling helpless, but that was exactly how it felt to hold Ethan as he shook and sobbed in the dark. Kipexo could do nothing but speak soft words of placation until the tremors subsided. Afterward, Ethan would apologize again and again, and somehow, that was even worse. That the boy felt like he had to be forgiven for anything hurt Kipexo’s heart.

Ethan looked up and caught Kipexo staring, and, as usual, he smiled at his master, masking his suffering. Underneath that smile was the pain of a soft soul who’d seen too much, been hurt too many times, loved and lost a piece of his heart: a wound that ached in his core. Kipexo was just about to push away from the wall where he’d been leaning to go to his Earthling when a hand landed on his shoulder.

Grolpre leaned her back against the wall beside Kipexo. “How is he today?” she asked.

“The same.”

Grolpre nodded then smiled. “Will you and Ethan join us tonight? Sara is planning quite the evening.”

Kipexo shook his head. “Somehow ghost stories in the dark don’t seem appropriate right now, all things considered.”

“Ethan isn’t scared, Kipexo; he’s traumatized, and he needs to talk about it.”

“Not this time. Leave the boy alone.”

Grolpre looked like she was going to argue further, but Sam came bounding up and stopped her short.

“Mistress,” they said softly.

Grolpre touched Sam’s hair affectionately. “What is it, pet?”

Sam looked at Kipexo. “Ethan said you have Dex’s ball, sir.”

Kipexo took the toy from his pocket and gave it to them.

Grolpre put an arm around Sam, hauled them close, and leaned down near their ear. “Go make Ethan laugh, love. Please?”

Sam glanced across the room at Ethan then up at Grolpre. “I’ll try.”

Grolpre kissed them tenderly on the temple then gave their backside a playful pat as she sent Sam on their way, ball in hand.

Sam picked their way through the dozens of humans who sat or stood around the room, talking in hushed whispers, sipping from small canteens of water, and playing games of cards or dice. What should have been a relaxed and cheerful atmosphere was shrouded in a blanket of dread and worry. They’d made it off Raug without a single human life lost, but the uncertainty of their current situation soured that victory, leaving the humans wary. Kipexo couldn’t blame them.

These weren’t trained and hardened recruits ready to march to battle. These were mothers and fathers, schoolteachers, nurses, students, and mechanics. More than once, one or two broke down sobbing, and Grolpre would rush in to calm them and bolster spirits as much as she could. But even her resolve was fracturing. A few times, when she thought no one was looking, Kipexo caught her praying, her voice quivering and her hands shaking as she begged the gods to get them all through this precarious time.

And precarious it certainly was.

The Anamafrid was in extremis. Her power supply dwindled a little with each passing day, even though Reethis, the ship’s captain, had cut all unnecessary systems to conserve as much of it as possible. Half the ship had no lights, and hot meals were only served once a day. The rest were made from what supplies they had that didn’t need to be cooked to avoid using the kitchen.

But even as hard as Reethis worked to get them to Frohmire, the closest planet with a port that could make the repairs the ship desperately needed, it wasn’t certain if the Anamafrid would make it that far. If she went dark out in deep space, the chances of someone finding them before they ran out of oxygen weren’t enough for a single shred of hope. It was as if the whole ship was holding its breath and praying to make it to Frohmire before it keeled over.

It was no damn wonder Ethan was having nightmares.

Sam arrived at Ethan’s side and held out the bright blue ball. Ethan took it and gave it a squeeze. The resulting squeak turned just about every head in the room. A sudden flash of fur and feathers streaked past Kipexo and weaved its way through the hundreds of legs to Ethan’s side. Dex hopped up onto the bench beside his favorite human and trilled. The few humans who weren’t paying attention before turned in their chairs to watch as Dex performed his usual “tricks” as Ethan called them. The humans always clapped and cheered as Dex performed each one: sit, lie down, roll over, speak. They were simple commands that required next to no intelligence to perform, but Dex always played along for Ethan’s sake as if he knew how much the humans needed the distraction.

Dex was a hebin: a furred and feathered creature capable of complex thought and training. He could disarm, incapacitate, or even kill with a single word. Watching him roll onto his back to let Sam rub his tummy and coo at him in baby babble always made Kipexo laugh. Dex wasn’t a pet, at least not to Kipexo, but he loved Ethan just as much as his master did, and so he performed like the loyal companion he was. Truth be told, he no doubt enjoyed the attention as well.

Ethan threw the ball across the room, and several humans made little squeaking sounds of delight and love as Dex ran past them to retrieve it. He brought it back to Ethan but then refused to drop it. That’s when Sam took it upon themself to wrestle the toy from the hebin’s powerful beak, and the resulting tug-of-war brought a genuine smile to Ethan’s face for the first time in two days. When Dex suddenly let go of the toy—obviously on purpose—Sam lost their balance and fell backward on their ass. That did it. Ethan roared with laughter even as he jumped from his seat to help his friend up from the floor.

Sam was a sport and laughed along with the crowd as Ethan hauled them back up on their feet. Ethan took the ball from them and put it in his pocket. The game was over, and as soon as the rest of the humans turned back to their activities, Ethan lost his smile. He sat back down on the bench, and Sam sat beside him. Sam said something and gave Ethan’s shoulder a nudge, but Ethan had already slipped back into his brooding. He only shrugged.

Kipexo pushed away from the wall. Grolpre said his name, but he waved her off as he stalked across the room. Ethan watched him come, and Kipexo’s heart squeezed in his chest when the Earthling’s eyes lit up a little as he approached.

“Are you ready to turn in?” Kipexo asked.

“Yeah,” Ethan said as he stood.

“You’re not gonna hang out with us?” Sam asked.

“I don’t think so.”

“Alright, well, Grolpre and I will try to be extra quiet later.”

Ethan only nodded.

Kipexo patted Sam on the head. “Goodnight, getal finan.”

Sam blushed as they always did when Kipexo called them that despite the fact that Kipexo made sure the Earthling approved of the nickname before he used it in the company of others.

Sam’s relationship with Grolpre had brought up so many questions that Sam gave Ethan full permission to answer Kipexo’s curiosities to the best of his ability. And so, on their third night in space, Ethan explained to his master what a “little” was and how the term applied to Sam. Though Kipexo still didn’t completely understand, he respected Sam and Grolpre’s dynamic and had taken to calling Grolpre’s Earthling getal finan as his way of showing that respect. In the human language, the term meant “little one”. In Raugon, however, the definition was more complex than that. It was a term of endearment saved for children not your own whom you loved and protected regardless. Like the children born of siblings, for example. Ethan called them “nieces” and “nephews”, but those terms held no meaning for Raugon. Getal finan was fitting, and it always made Grolpre smile.

Smiles were in short supply nowadays.