Page 21 of Star Mates

“Bath-time gin, Prohibition era,” Logan replied, moving closer to study the homemade distillery. “Or the drink of choice to anyone presently living in the hills of Kentucky.”

Leona blinked, and then turned her gaze onto Emmarie, taking her time as she looked her up and down like a bug under a microscope. “Pell,” she finally said. “Where did you pick these two up from?”

“Crashed upon an asteroid. Guests of the Merloni.”

Leona’s eyes widened. “Earthlings? Fresh Earthlings? You’ve got to be joking!”

“Technically, isn’t everyone here an Earthling?” Logan asked.

“Not hardly,” she answered absently. “Human, yes, but most of us were born in this system. Dear God, the Slip Gate is working again?”

Raiden gave one nod of his head for confirmation. Leona closed her eyes, her lips moving, but no sound came out.

“Why does everybody think this Slip Gate was destroyed?” Logan asked.

Leona opened her eyes, frowning. “About thirty years ago a raiding party snuck into Merloni space and planted bombs all along the outer hull of the hub. It got blown up along with the humans. I never thought I’d see Earthlings again.”

“You’re living proof that those six people died in vain,” Raiden replied in a weary voice.

The way he said it, Emmarie knew instinctively that he had some connection to what had happened back then. A lost, bitter look darkened his eyes.

“Shit,” Logan muttered. Emmarie glanced at him and saw that he, too, had seen Raiden’s bleak expression. “How many humans are here?”

“It’s not exactly known in the Amarante system since there isn’t a census for us,” Leona answered. “But there are about three thousand humans in Sparta, and some humans are on Dura working with the government trying to gain Durian recognition. So, what was your profession on Earth?”

Logan blinked at the change of topic. “I’m a linguist. That’s a person-“

“I know what a linguist is,” she said dryly. She shifted her eyes back over to Pikon and they narrowed a fraction. “Take this one back to Willoughbee.”

“Willoughbee thought he needed to acclimate.”

“A person who can decode languages is best suited at the helm,” Leona reasoned. “We’re constantly in fear of a Kexian attack and learning their military strategies is always needed.”

Pikon took his arm. “Come on, Logan Crusic, there’s a lot less estrogen there with Willoughbee.”

Despite the heaviness in the room, Logan gave a smirk. “Yeah, I noticed.”

He left without looking back, his cold indifference heavy between them.

Leona turned to Emmarie. “So, what about you?”

“I’m a singer.”

Leona blinked. “Really?”

Emmarie nodded.

“My lucky day then,” she said with a wide grin. “I just happen to be in need of a singer.”

---