"Well, fuck you very much, buddy," I say with a chuckle. I'm relieved when he heads over to the machine and has it dispense a glass of cool, wonderful-looking water. I want to pour it for myself, but the machinery here on this ship doesn't recognize me when I try to activate it. It's a problem, and also why I have to rely on Dopekh. I greedily take the glass out of his hands and chug it, and nothing has tasted better.
He watches me drink, and that worried expression is still on his face. "I don't like deceiving Lord Straik. I know you don't think so, but he is a good male."
Sure he is. His “good male” abandoned my friends and the rescue party on the Star. What a great guy, I think sarcastically. A real fucking prince. I hold my now-empty glass out to Dopekh again. "If you don't like deceiving him, add me to the computer's database so I can help myself. I'll feed myself and you won't be involved."
His expression is uncertain. "But they will know I did it, Ruth."
"That's easy enough. Tell them I seduced you with my human wiles." I give him a lascivious wink. "You're all fascinated by tits, right? Tell everyone I let you touch one of mine in exchange for getting me into the system. Totally believable."
To his credit, Dopekh looks utterly horrified.
So horrified, in fact, that it hurts my feelings, just a little. "What? I'm not that gross."
He looks around the room and then back at me. "I like…males."
Well now. He looks a little bit ashamed of this fact, which makes me sad for him. "I won't tell anyone," I promise, and hold out my pinky. "Pinky swear."
He stares at my pinky and then lightly taps mine with his. Close enough. "Thank you, Ruth."
"Is it any guy in particular or just dicks in general?" I have to ask. "And…more water?"
"Right. Yes." He takes the glass from me and then gets the refill, then punches the code on the machines that makes a bowl spit out. A puck of dried noodles tings into the bottom of the bowl and then water starts to pour over it, filling the room with the delicious scent of real, hot food. My mouth waters. Dopekh heads for the door, looks around, and then returns to my side, satisfied. "As for who I like…it does not matter. It is not reciprocated."
"That's hard," I tell him as I take the glass from its spot on the machine. "Is it Straik?"
"Kef!" He practically chokes on the thought. "Of course not!"
"Someone else on the ship, then. Another guy like…you?" Whatever he is?
Dopekh nods slowly, and his eyes grow sad. "And it is wrong."
"I don't think it is. You're allowed to love who you love. There's nothing wrong with that…unless it's Lord Straik, because fuck that guy." I smile at him between sips, and I'm glad when I elicit at least one small chuckle from him. "I wish I could help you, though. It's hard when you love someone that doesn't love you back."
He gives me a small smile, and then his gaze fixes on the glass of water. Guilt crosses his face. "You're very thirsty."
"Incredibly." And dirty. And tired. And growing angrier at Straik by the day, but hey. One crisis at a time.
Dopekh thinks for a moment and then moves to the control panel across the room. "I'm going to get in so much trouble if they find out I've added you to the systems. Come over here and give me your handprint."
I practically skip with glee. "You won't regret this," I tell him. "I'll be so subtle and stealthy no one will suspect a thing."
I'm also lying my ass off.
Because the moment things are quiet? I'm totally climbing into Lord Straik's tub and taking a nice, long soak.
5
STRAIK
We're two days out from Risda III, and it's entirely possible I might lose my mind before then.
I pace the decks of the Darkened Eye, looking for problems. I pick at the ship's cleanliness, the fuel logs, the wrinkles in a particular crew member's uniform. I eat my meals with the crew, but because of my sour attitude, it's more uncomfortable than not. I'm determined to show them that I'm still with them, though. That I'm the same captain I was before we found the Star. I haven't changed. I'm not the monster they suspect me to be.
We're going to go back for the va Sithai brothers. I want to scream this at everyone. Of course we are. It's just…right now, I have them in a safe place. I know where they are and they'll be fine until I can figure out this whole situation.
Between the iciness from the crew and the constant feeling that even more is “off” than I'm aware of, there's the problem with my uncle. Lord Varrik va'Rin, First of the Name…isn't returning my requests for a vid-call. Relations between the sides of the family have been strained for a while, ever since he lost his mind and married a human slave. It ruined his political career and brought a stain on the house name. I remember how my mother screamed and shouted with anger when the news hit, and Lord Varrik refused to back down. He retired out to the farm planet he owns—Risda III—which is on the edge of known space.
I'm heading there now, but if he won't let me dock…well, I'll conquer that problem as I get there.
I walk the halls of my ship again, restless. I should work out, except I've already done that twice today and it isn't calming my mind. I head instead to my office and check the time. It's late back on Homeworld, but early on Risda III. I run a hand over my black robes, then flick an imaginary bit of dust off my sleeve before sending a vid-call request to my uncle's estate.
There's no answer.
Jaw clenched, I try again. When no one picks up—not even a lowly secretary—it's clear I'm being ignored. "Computer," I bark. "Check the communications connections. Are we in working order?"
There's a pause. "All signals are at full strength, Lord Straik. Shall I—"
"No," I snarl. "Call Homeworld. Lady Naasi sa'Rin."
"Attempting," the computer says in a cheerful voice. "Please wait patiently."
It takes a few moments, and then the vid-call is accepted. The screen is devoid of people, and I see nothing but a chair at the desk. Not surprising. I've probably caught her when she was heading to bed. I wait, and eventually a figure slides into the chair. The woman who stares back at me is disheveled, her long hair slightly mussed and the jewels removed. Her mouth is flushed, and the silky, embroidered robe she clutches closed between her breasts looks as if it's about to fall off her shoulders. She looks as if she just left a lover.
Knowing Lady Naasi, she probably did.
She narrows her eyes, studying me. "You look dreadful."
"Thank you, Mother." My jaw works in frustration.
"What do you want? Do you need credits?" She gives me a curious look. "Finally begging for funds now that this little adventure of yours has run dry?"
I scowl at her. I have never—and will never—beg my family for credits. It's insulting for her to insinuate that, but my mother loves to tear others down just so she can elevate herself. "That's not why I called. Are you alone?"