Page 7 of Bonded

Would you like sustenance?

My stomach growled in answer. “I guess I do. Do you have food?” There hadn’t been a whisper or a hint of anyone else on board. Was this ship one of those robot-maintained vessels I’d heard about that roamed deep space?

Gizmo answered for the ship. “There is sustenance in the mess hall. We can guide you.” A line of lights glowed in the ground, lighting the way toward a dead end. Before I could point out the obvious obstacle to my new friends, a panel shifted in the corner, revealing a passageway just tall enough for me to pass through.

While the other robots zoomed ahead, Gizmo paused to look back at me with its antenna-bulb.

I grabbed the tablet and followed them. “Lead on, friends.”

My new friends led me through small corridors. Surely this wasn’t the entire ship. I used to work in theatrical plays, and this very much looked like the backstage, where there were props and tools lying around, all hidden from the audience.

There was a sharp turn, and then it was like walking into a supply closet. I was sure this was the end of the line, and when the panel in front of me opened and light rushed in, that was my answer. The parade of bots exited in order, and I stumbled out behind them.

I froze.

I had walked into a mess hall full of aliens, all males, all large. The thrumming of the ship had drowned the noise of their conversation out. I hadn’t noticed it, as enchanted as I was with my robot friends.

Maybe if I backed away slowly, they wouldn’t notice me. The opening was right there, after all. Just a few steps behind me.

Dash and Minion circled back and wheeled toward me. They zoomed so fast that I reflexively jumped out of the way, tripping over my own feet. Gizmo braced me with his antenna arm, and I didn’t fall to my knees. The robot was stronger than it looked.

“Thanks, little guy,” I said.

Gizmo delivered some chastising tones to its counterparts, and both Dash and Minion seemed apologetic, if that was possible. “It’s all right,” I told them. “It wasn’t your fault I was clumsy.” I showed them my feet. “It might not look like I have two left feet, but I promise I’m close.”

I giggled when their motors started whirring, and they had happy tones again. They whirred in their figure-8 dance.

At that moment, I’d forgotten about hiding from the mess hall full of aliens. Too late since they all saw me by now. Most had gotten to their feet. None had moved. Probably in shock and trying to understand why and how the hell I was here as much as I had when I’d first woken up.

When I noticed them noticing me, the spell was broken.

One of them cried out, “Female!”

Another yelled, “Mine!”

Well, at least that confirmed the language fluency thing.

RUZAN

“Hey, are you listening?” Captain Ithran snapped his fingers in front of my face. Vryek scowled at me, his frustration leaking through our shared link.

I respected the captain, but admittedly, I had not been paying attention to his words. “Apologies, ‘Ran, my mind was elsewhere.”

“More like your cock,” Vryek muttered.

“I asked for your feedback on the ship?” Ithran’s lower arms were folded over his abdomen, his primary set gripping the table in front of him. The Dirsigian warlord fought for every bit of control he had, and I felt guilty adding to the strain.

“Feedback?”

“Because I just finished telling him that the ship had also recognized the female as completing our tri-bond.” Vryek spoke carefully.

“Oh yes, of course. I thought that was obvious. I also believe in the tri-bond. No question. She is our soul.”

Ithran’s expression remained neutral, though I knew the warlord to be anything but. Beneath that flat gaze was a feral beast waiting to be unleashed. Though he did everything he could to re-make himself to be better than his former masters, he was still a Dirsigian warrior. There was no hiding his proud red stripe of hair and extra set of arms. Likely, extra set of all his organs, if the rumors were true.

I’d followed him into battle and would do so again. It didn’t mean that I would willingly fight him, which was the path my petty bickering would lead to.

“Did your initial scans reveal anything telling about her? An identity? An origin?”

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