The other male looked suitably impressed, if not a little jealous. It was definitely not due to the gift, which seemed an inexpensive, mass-produced trinket… Risyn suspected it was more because a female had seen fit to pay him attention. Most of the younger members of his species had never seen a female of their own kind, their mothers the last females to fall to the plague.
“That is… impressive,” his friend said with a smile. “This Chantelle must think highly of you to gift you such a thing to increase your capacity for work and cause you to become more effective.”
“Indeed.” The B’Kaar with the mug puffed his chest out in pride. “I have almost managed to persuade her to sign up for the mate program, but…”
Risyn’s expression didn’t alter as he nudged the feeds and located the female’s records in the system. Only one female with the given name of Chantelle was currently assigned to the base. Chantelle Scott. Thirty-four Terran years old. Unmated. She was a perfect candidate for the program.
“But?”
“I am concerned that if she signs up, she will be matched with another and I will lose my chance with her.”
The pair finished filling their mugs and moved away, their conversation becoming indistinct. Risyn moved forward and slotted a large plasti-mug into the designated position, punching a button at random.
The machine produced so many different types of beverage that he’d quickly run out of patience working through them methodically and now used a system of chance to ensure his day contained a little measure of random chaos. It was the only chaos he allowed in his life. Everything else had to be measured, tracked, and quantified. Such was the way of the B’Kaar.
Deep in thought, he carried his drink through to the lab. He had a lot to do today. He hoped to finally solve the problem with the base pairs on the tri-seven ganglion of the DNA matrices. Several anomalies were holding them back from achieving an eighty-five percent match rate, which was the bare minimum they needed to go live with the program.
Lost in thoughts of the day’s workload, he almost ran into the back of a group of humans clustered like sheep in the middle of the lab. He almost spilled his coffee all over himself in an effort to avoid them. It was a new intake of research assistants… he vaguely remembered mention of it on the operational report the humans sent him every week. On paper, which was an archaic system.
He tried to edge around the large group but was blocked. Annoyance filled him. He would have to institute a new rule… Someone jostled him and he hissed as hot fluid from his mug splashed onto his hand.
“For draanth’s sake! Haverington!” he exploded with a bellow. “Someone get Haverington out here and get her to move these… these… humans!”
“And where, exactly, did you want me to move them to?”
A cool voice asked from behind him. One that most definitely wasn’t the aged, wavering voice he expected from Professor Haverington. He whirled around and his eyes widened in surprise.
“You!”
His quarry from the party last night stood right behind him, her gaze holding his. For a moment he thought he’d fallen asleep at his desk thanks to his broken night of sleep, but no, the burn on his hand throbbed as his ke’lath worked on repairing the damage, so he was fairly sure he was awake.
And still, there she was. Tiny and slender, with a cape of black hair hanging like a silky curtain over her shoulders. As she moved, the light caught it, giving it an iridescent sheen. Instead of the revealing dress, she wore a white lab coat over a t-shirt with what looked like a deearin on it, and jeans.
“Me?” she tilted her head to look up at him and he realized he’d taken a step forward. He stopped in confusion. She hadn’t backed up, a polite smile on her lips, but he saw no light of recognition in her eyes.
“You don’t recognize me?” he asked.
“Should I?” Her voice was calm, her expression slightly puzzled with the tiniest little line forming between her perfect brows. He’d never seen a more beautiful female. Of any species.
“I’m sorry,” she continued with a small spread of elegant hands. “I don’t really keep up with the gossip on the Lathar. I mean, I know you’re not the emperor… I’ve seen him often enough on the news feeds but…”
He crowded her, unable to help himself. She didn’t run but held her ground, looking up at him. “I’m War Commander Risyn B’Kaar. Leader of the B’Kaar Clan. You ran from me at the party last night.”
His words were blunt, accusatory.
Her eyes widened a moment before amusement washed over her features. “Really?”
“Yes,” he growled, annoyed by her response. “What do you find amusing about that?”
“I’m sorry.” She suppressed her amusement behind her hand.
“But perhaps our food or alcohol messed with your alien system. I can’t have been the woman who ran from you…” She swished aside the white coat she wore, and he saw what he’d missed before. A medical brace wrapped around her left leg, heavy duty straps around her thigh and then around her calf. She looked up at him. “I haven’t been able to run for years.”
Silence fell in the room and a hot rush of shame washed over him. The female was injured, and he’d accused her of lying. And she was correct. With that type of brace, no way was she the female who’d run from him. But he still couldn’t let it go.
“Perhaps your litaan, your twin?”
Unknown in the Latharian species, he knew humanity had female-female twins, so perhaps her sister had run from him instead.
Her expression shuttered, her manner going cold quicker than the ice storms on Karv-Four.
“Her twin sister died in the accident that injured her.” Professor Haverington’s voice was a whip as she came to stand protectively next to the younger human. “Now if you’ve finished upsetting my granddaughter, I’d like to get her settled in.”
“Settled in?”
He was reduced to parroting her words as the silence on the feeds of the B’Kaar in the room informed him that even they realized how badly he’d just draanthed that up.
“Raven is our new analyst. She’ll be working on our base pair matching problem.”
That was his project for today. He leveled a look at her. “Do you have experience with genetic modeling and associated algorithms?” he demanded. “You don’t look…”
She looked nothing like the rest of the human staff. Most were older and had a studious, academic look about them. They also looked like they’d hiss and scuttle away into dark corners if subjected to natural light.
But not this female. With her long, dark hair, sun-kissed skin and dark eyes, she was like a breath of fresh air brought into the stuffiness of the lab.
Her lips pursed, annoyance in her eyes.
“I can assure you that my experience and qualifications are more than adequate. In fact, the president himself headhunted me from my previous position for this one. So if you have a problem with me, then please, by all means, take it up with him.”
4
Risyn B’Kaar was way bigger than she’d thought he would be. Initially Raven had struggled to hold her ground when he’d crowded her, but then she’d just gotten mad that this asshole of an alien thought he could intimidate her. Her glare could have cut steel as she met him look for look, determined he would be the one to fold first. Not even the digital static, a cacophony of pings and access requests from the streams, made her break eye contact.