Vaant (The Galaxos Crew Book 1) Page 6

  "Escape to where? We're in the middle of a wild sector," Vrix said. He shrugged and didn't quite look at Vaant as he pulled down a bottle of the finest Xaravian liquor, which also doubled as engine cleaner and starship fuel in a pinch. "She's quite good. I wanted to test her and see what I have to worry about if she actually tries to escape. That's it."

  "That's it," Vaant repeated, trying to hide a smile. "That's the only reason you spent hours distracting this woman by letting her draw blood and break your bones? Is there video of this?"

  "How did you know she broke any bones? That doesn't sound likely at all." Vrix leaned on the counter of the galley as he filled two glasses and returned the bottle to its cabinet for safekeeping. "And no, there isn't video."

  "Don't be so sure of that," Vaant said to his glass, sipping the liquor until it nearly burned the roof off his mouth and disintegrated his throat. "The little medic told me you'd been in for treatment. Very sweet."

  Vrix scowled and drank half his glass. "I distinctly told her..."

  "Don't worry about it. She's busy taking care of the others, I hardly think she'll go around telling everyone that an Earther woman kicked your ass up and down the fighting gym for a couple of hours." Vaant didn't mind the thought of spending the rest of the day giving Vrix grief for his clear fondness for the human security officer, who was about as cuddly and appealing as getting a sandworm thrown in his pants. He savored the liquor's caustic burn and Vrix's irritation. "So did you learn enough to actually subdue the woman next time? It took an embarrassingly long amount of time for you to get the woman under control. I might have to consider taking her on as my new security officer."

  "Just about as long as it took for you to be starstruck by that interpreter," Vrix fired back. He arched an eyebrow in challenge. "And yes, I have a great deal more data on how the Earther prefers to fight."

  "At least the interpreter is useful." Vaant gestured at the cabinet for Vrix to retrieve the bottle once more. "That security officer will be a pain in your ass every day."

  Vrix grumbled and poured them both more of the valuable liquor. "Before we end up fighting over which of us isn't distracted by the Earther women, why don't you fill me in on why you were getting so pissed off on the bridge? We've got the ship stable and the space port is almost within hailing distance. As soon as we get the civilians squared away at the port, we can continue on and find the Argo."

  "It's the Argo itself," Vaant said. "It sounds like they were the ones responsible for damaging the transporter ship. And it occurred to me they may have deliberately stranded the ship so we would be forced to stop and render aid, which would keep us from following the Argo. That low scum captain."

  "A true bastard." Vrix shook his head, swirling the liquid in his glass. "He'll get his repayment soon enough. A man like that doesn't survive long, particularly when he's crossed Xaravians."

  "I do not like the implication that our actions were somehow responsible for this ship being attacked and stranded." Vaant scowled. "Even though that captain is responsible, if he were not concerned about us following him, perhaps he would have left the transporter alone."

  Vrix leaned against the counter and his skin started to turn green with whirling kaleidoscopes of orange. "And maybe he would have attacked them anyway, and we wouldn't be here to help them."

  "I never thought of you as an optimist. The Earther must be making you a better man already." But Vaant appreciated his friend's effort to make him feel better, since it wasn't likely that Vaant would forgive himself any time soon for endangering the civilian transporter. "Remind Frrar to download the ship's records and radar transmissions, so we have evidence of the attack before we reach the space port. They're with the Alliance, so it's possible they would erase any record of the Argo's role."

  "Right. And then you can sit there with your interpreter and make sure you understand every nanosecond of the last few days on the transporter." Vrix rummaged around behind the counter and started pulling out slabs of meat and fermented vegetables for snacks. "How cozy."

  Vaant finished his drink and shot him a dirty look. "She thinks I threatened to destroy her ship if the captain didn't give me the women."

  "About that," Vrix said. "Why the hell didn't you correct her?"

  "There was enough going wrong." Vaant examined one of the bloodier pieces of meat. They'd found a space port not far from there that imported Xaravian specialties and laid out some serious money to get a taste of home. It had been too many years since he'd been on Xarav and really gotten to enjoy the sand under his feet and the familiar sun on his scales. "They wouldn't have believed me anyway."

  "They're less likely to believe you with each passing minute." Vrix rolled a few slices of meat in fermented cabbage leaves and smothered it all in the eye-burning hot paste that tasted like home. "So don't let it go too long without clarifying, or you'll lose her forever."

  Vaant snorted and dunked another piece of meat into the red sauce. "I don't have her now to lose her. It's fine."

  Vrix frowned as he slowly shredded another set of stinky vegetables. "And what is the plan, exactly, with these women? We're holding them hostage, Vaant, which is a violation of our code. We do not take slaves."

  "They aren't slaves. They're guests until we figure out how to keep them safe and convince them not to go back to the Alliance. They won't be safe if that captain hears they've returned and could levy charges against him." Vaant shook his head. "We need a couple of days. When we finally chase down the Argo, we'll be able to prove to the Earthers that the Alliance is not the miracle they think it is. Then they can make an educated decision about where they want to go."

  "Hoping that they'll want to stay here?"

  Vaant didn't look at him, but glanced back as the doors to the mess opened and one of the younger crewmembers walked in. "Maybe."

  The young officer, Adhz, waited to approach until Vaant gestured, then he saluted and said, "The medical bay wanted to report that the interpreter is awake, if you need assistance speaking with the squids."

  "Thanks," Vaant said, dismissing the kid, and waited until the doors closed behind him before he stood up and brushed his hands off. "Don't say a word, Vrix."

  "Wouldn't dream of it." The security chief smiled to himself as he rolled more cabbage and meat together, setting a few aside on a plate. "Just remember she needs to know the truth, even if it's hard to hear."

  Vaant grumbled and started walking, not wanting to know what Vrix planned to do with all the food. Maybe he meant to feed the angry Earther, to placate the woman's rage, or hope the spicy sauce would blind her with tears or slow her down. Vaant shook his head. He should have had another drink.

  Chapter 11

  Isla

  The next time Isla woke, she felt much better. The breathing apparatus no longer covered her face, and Maisy was no longer in the room, so Isla figured she was out the woods and on the mend. She didn't feel like herself, but at least taking a deep breath didn't make her cough until her eyes watered.

  She was the only person in the infirmary, though there were three other empty beds. Isla hoped the squids all received full treatment and were able to seek their beds for the night. It had to be late. She couldn't tell how late from the soothing and dim interior of the sick bay, but her stomach growled with hunger.

  For a long moment, Isla just focused on breathing. So much had changed in such a short period of time. The stress and anxiety of what would happen in the near future rose up in a wave of anxiety, and her throat closed as it grew harder to breathe yet again. At least they were headed to a space port to repair the civilian ship and make sure the passengers were safe. If she could get Rowan or herself onto the space port and away from the Xaravians, they stood a chance of getting equipment to communicate with the Alliance. They needed to send a distress call so another Fleet ship could circle back for them. They just needed one chance.

  But she knew it wasn't likely Vaant or that giant Vrix would let any of the women onto the space
port, much less out of their sight. Even if Vaant needed her to interpret, he'd be foolish to give her a chance to weasel away and hide, or call for help. Isla covered her face and fought back fatigue and panic. They'd figure something out. Rowan would be able to build a makeshift communicator out of the things she pulled off the walls, or Griggs would kick someone's ass and steal one, or the Xaravians would underestimate Maisy and she'd find a way to sedate them all so Rowan could fly the ship to an Alliance base.

  The little time they'd spent in their quarters had been devoted to plotting a way out. She hoped Griggs and Rowan and Violet all worked on the next stage of the plan. They'd expected having more time to get their plan together before having the opportunity to get onto a space port or dock, but they wouldn't complain about it happening earlier.

  The door whooshed open and she looked up, expecting Maisy, but instead Vaant stood there. He carried a small tray and looked around the infirmary before walking to the chair next to her bed. "How do you feel?"

  For a moment, the High Xarav swirled in her brain and she could only stare at him, trying to decipher what he was doing in the infirmary. He couldn't possibly mean to visit her, as if they were friends. He at least didn't look infuriated, like the last time she'd seen him, but that didn't mean anything. Xaravians were notorious for having unpredictable tempers.

  Isla cleared her throat, but her voice stayed raspy and rough as she spoke. "Fine."

  "Good. You looked terrible." He slid the tray into a small holder next to the bed, and a spicy reek wafted from the covered plates.

  "Thanks," she said, wanting to roll her eyes. "Being a prisoner doesn't agree with me."

  "I was more concerned about you breathing in caustic chemicals, because apparently you don't remember your safety briefings. Next time we'll go over that before you get into the survival suit." But half his mouth quirked in a smile, and the long hair tangled around his shoulders as he shook his head. The bones and feathers no longer surprised her when they peeked through the long, dark locks.

  Isla's stomach growled, even though she knew from experience that Xaravian food might kill her faster than the bad air in the stranded ship. "Next time? I hardly think —"

  "You never know what will happen," Vaant said. He shook his head again, as if to chide her. "Don't tempt the fates to prove you wrong."

  "Fates? Since when do Xaravians believe in fate?" Isla tried not to smile, knowing it wasn't kind to mock someone's beliefs — even if he was a barbarian kidnapper who looked like he might eat her heart to steal her soul. "I thought you cursed by the sandworms and dust storms."

  His scales rustled a little as he leaned back in the chair and pondered the tray of food, but didn't touch it or offer her any. "We swear by many things. But we also understand there are things in this universe that we don't understand, and may never understand, so... Fates. I've seen many things that should have been impossible, and there are mysteries hidden inside of mysteries in many of these galaxies."

  Isla's eyebrows rose as he spoke. She hadn't expected that, either. It sounded almost... poetic. And a spark of jealousy rose in her chest. She joined the Fleet to see the universe, to travel to wild and uncharted areas so she could find those mysteries he spoke of. And yet each of her trips on Fleet deployments had been boring and routine. They didn't even get a chance to see the planets they passed, and she spent more time studying than she had at school, just to keep from going crazy with boredom. She'd done more to help the innocent in less than a day on the Xaravian ship than she had in four years of serving in the Fleet.

  Vaant glanced at her. "Did I say something surprising?"

  "No," Isla said, her cheeks heating. She'd sat there and stared at him as her mind wandered, and the tough Xaravian just sat there and let her stare. She cleared her throat and wished she had more clothes on, rather than the tattered remains of her Fleet uniform that survived after removing the external suit. She wanted layers. Lots and lots of layers, preferably of flannel and fleece and all the bulky fabrics that would completely hide her from the captain's gaze. Isla cleared her throat again, and blushed more as she heard her own voice — she sounded like one of the old-time cabaret singers, smoking a few packs of cigarettes a day and drinking all night. Far too sexy and sultry to be talking to a man like Vaant. "I was just thinking about the poor squids and their ship."

  His expression grew guarded, but Vaant nodded. "Even though your methods were questionable and you endangered yourself, Frrar said the engines would have destroyed themselves had you and Rowan not intervened. The squid captain wishes to thank you personally when you're feeling better."

  "That's not necessary," Isla said. Her stomach growled louder and she considered just reaching for the food. It seemed odd that he'd brought in a tray, but didn't intend to eat. She certainly wouldn't ask him. "I was just doing my job. In fact, it's the first time I really had a chance to do my job since I joined the Fleet. So I should probably thank him, although I'm not sure how that would translate."

  Vaant smiled again and leaned to take the covers off the plates. "I'm not sure he would understand. I'm not terribly familiar with Earther physiology, but I am guessing the noises you are making mean you are hungry?"

  Isla wanted to hide under the sheets as her guts gurgled again and her cheeks burned until her whole face hurt. She tried to look as dignified as possible as she sat up. "Yes, I'm a little hungry. It's been a long day of being kidnapped and manhandled onto your ship, and none of us have eaten since this morning's meal."

  "Your crewmates were fed several hours ago, after we secured the ship," he said, another gentle correction. "If you hadn't been unconscious and in here, you would have eaten with them. So I brought you this."

  He slid the tray over to her so Isla could see the contents — a few different kinds of meats, fermented vegetables, some smelly cheese, and what looked like dishes of pickles. Vaant pointed to each and explained what they were, including the red paste that had once almost burned her throat closed in school. He watched her closely as Isla studied the tray, uncertain if she dared try the Xaravian food, though she knew enough about it to know these were delicacies, treasured for their spicy taste and healthy properties. He must have hoarded these from the last trip into Xarav's sector, or perhaps made them himself if he knew how to ferment the food. She couldn't refuse it, which would be a terrible insult, although she didn't know why she worried about offending him. He'd stolen her from her ship.

  But she didn't want him to think less of her, since the Xaravians were also notorious for testing friends and foes alike with their toe-curlingly spicy food. They'd won wars by sharing food that reduced their enemies to tears, nearly breathing fire from the heat and spice of the dishes.

  Vaant's smile grew, though he hid it with his hand as he handed her a small device. "You can order Earther food as well. I didn't know if perhaps you would like our food, and since I was already eating, I brought a bit to see if you would like it. You're welcome to try what you like. I will not take offense if you spit it back out."

  Just inhaling from near the meat and cabbage made her eyes water, and Vaant started laughing as he reached for the tray. "I'll have one of the chefs bring you —"

  "I can eat it," Isla said. She grabbed the tray to keep it nearby, and her fingers brushed his with a sudden spark. "I'm too hungry to wait."

  "Take care," he said. "It can be quite spicy. Wrap the meat in the cabbage. Small bites."

  Isla eyed him as she tucked into the dish and ignored the small utensils on the tray. The Xaravians didn't use utensils, so she'd be damned if she would, either. Even if it meant getting the fiery red paste on her skin. She took a deep breath and held up the first little packet of meat. "While I eat, you talk."

  He spread his hands in a gesture almost of invitation. "What would you like me to talk about?"

  The first bite of meat tasted delicious, though the inferno that ignited in her mouth in the next second almost sent her straight in the air. Isla finished chewing and hoped
her voice didn't crack and smoke didn't come out of her mouth. "What happened to the squid ship? Who attacked it?"

  Vaant frowned a little, rubbing his jaw, and the beads in his hair clicked as they collided. "We are still reviewing the radars and other transmissions. Your help will be very valuable to translate what is being said."

  "Surely they were able to identify the ship before they were attacked?" Isla concentrated on the next bite as the fire ignited even more hunger in her stomach. She'd always loved spicy food. "It can't have come out of nowhere."

  "There was a little information. The navigator and captain were able to describe the hull markings and the shape of the ship as well." Vaant sounded guarded, though, and almost hesitant. Which did not seem to fit his personality at all, from what she'd seen.

  Isla's eyes narrowed as she studied him, and not because the red paste made her eyes water. "What aren't you saying?"

  Vaant leaned back in the chair, and the mental debate played across his expression as he watched her eat. Isla gave up trying to look dainty or being careful of the spice — she loved it. She dug in with both hands, smearing more of the ridiculously hot paste onto the vegetables and pickles, rolling it all up with the meat until the juice practically ran down her arm.

  He looked impressed. "The heat does not bother you?"

  "Clears the sinuses," she said, and daintily wiped her nose on her sleeve. "What did the ship see that you're not telling me?"

  Vaant sighed. "The records and observations from the crew indicate it was the Argo."

  Isla stared at him, food forgotten. "That's impossible."

  "It was the Argo," he said again, and once more his tone seemed almost apologetic. Gentle, as if he didn't like to break the news. "They saw the hull markings and the Fleet insignia."