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Bits and pieces of Stacie’s recount of her time on the Gharian rescue ship floats back to me in the thin air. I’ll have to ask her for the entire story because I’m curious, yet too distracted to pay attention. Catching up to Cinq, I take his hand. “It’ll be all right.”
“Yes, it will.” He squeezes my fingertips. “No matter what, I’ll make sure you’re cared for.”
“I don’t want to be cared for,” I grumble. “I want to make my own decisions.”
“You can’t decide to let me keep you safe?’ he teases and I laugh.
“When you put it like that…” I retort. “How can I resist?”
“That’s what I thought.” He gives my hand a final tiny hug with his before helping me over a particularly tall root, then letting go. “Almost there. Now you’ll see what the best spacecraft looks like.”
I see through the tree trunks that he’s right. The ship sits there, silver and gleaming like an old school sci fi rocket without the fins. Really pretty and I’d appreciate it any other time but now. My main man getting thrown into the clink has dampened my mood a bit.
“Stop overthinking,” Cinq says. “I’ll bow down to the emperor, kiss his feet, and he’ll forgive me if it makes you happy.”
I don’t know how to respond because his capitulation isn’t what I want. But then, I don’t want to keep living here, either. I decide to say nothing as the boarding ramp lowers. We’re led inside and not until we’re at the doorway do I notice the additional guards behind our group. Thanks to S’Tou, I suppose they knew to guard the secret entrance Quin and I escaped to, waiting there if one of us made a run for it.
Two of us at a time enter the airlock, something I’d missed out on by crawling through a hole in the cargo hold’s hull. The blast of warm air tickles and feels good after the cold hike. Remembering we’re all carrying something from the planet, I ask, “Should we shake up our stuff and go through the decontamination again?”
“We can once everyone’s on board. There are decon units in cargo and I suspect that’s where we’ll be until landing,” Cinq replies as we step out of the airlock.
“You assume correctly,” a tallish Gharian says. His hands are clasped behind his back and he’s in a uniform somewhat different from the other’s with gray overall and silver edging. “We’ve set up a living quarters of sorts in the cargo hold for you.” The floor vibrates for a few seconds. “TarKrell will take you there.” He gives me a slight smile. “You’re his mate, I assume?”
I give him a wooden nod, unconsciously clasping my hands behind my back before feeling silly over what my body language must be telling him. “I am.”
“Welcome. I’m Captain SahKrell Fillon. You have a choice of your own quarters near your Earther friend.” He nods at Cinq. “Or of staying with your mate.”
“Go,” Cinq says before I can answer. “You deserve some comfort.”
I shake my head. “No, you’re my comfort.” Addressing Captain SahKrell, I lift my chin. “I’ll stay with my mate, thank you.”
“But, I wanted to spend time with you,” Stacie says. “I can’t if you’re locked up in the brig.”
“Earthers have full access to living quarters and the cargo hold.” He turns to Stacie. “I assume this pleases you?”
“It does, thank you.”
I resist narrowing my eyes over this seemingly hypnotic sway Stacie has over first S’Tou and now SahKrell. The men around here act as if I’m likeable, but only Cinq makes soft eyes at me like they do her. I have him so I’m not jealous, much.
The captain turns to Cinq. “Will we need to wrap you for this trip? Or can you refrain from using any tech beyond a manual replicator?”
“I’ll refrain, absolutely,” Cinq replies. “No need for a wrap.”
“Good.” He motions to the four guards who’d been on the planet with us. “TarKrell, you have your orders. Everyone, a pleasure and now if you’ll excuse me.”
His asking was just a formality because TarKrell wastes no time taking Cinq by the arm and leading him down the hallway. Cing goes along, not resisting or protesting, oddly enough for him. I’m glad he’s being calm about this but still. It’s unnerving to see someone so resistant to capture capitulating instead.
After hissing a few words at S’Tou, Stacie falls in step with me. “I’ll come with you two, just to make sure I know where they’re keeping you.”
“Do you know what a wrap is?” I ask her, suddenly hungry for anything meaty in a tortilla.
“No idea.”
Cinq glances back at us. “A plastic wrap, clear and flexible until the ends meet. The device keeps your arms trapped against your torso.”
I almost started laughing at his first sentence but the laughs faded with his description. “Can they adjust how tight the hold is?”
“We can, but it’s self-determining,” TarKrell answers. “He’ll be restrained but not uncomfortable.” When Cinq snorts, TarKrell shakes his head. “You know what I mean.”
