Page 6 of Seven Oars
The First One spoke rapidly to his men in his native tongue. Rosamma strained to follow but only picked up a word or two. She’d made an effort to learn some Rix when Lyle had lived with them, but it wasn’t much.
“Get your things,” the First One said in choppy Universal. “We leave now.”
There was a collective gasp. His order was simple enough to understand, even for someone like Fawn, who spoke very little Universal, an artificial language created to facilitate intergalactic relations.
Rosamma blinked at the First One.“Leaving? Now?”
His finely traced eyebrows twitched. Yes, he was very handsome. He was also very annoyed.
“Do you understand when I speak, female?”
A realization slammed into her, and she thought she might faint.
Something had happened.
This was a major change of plans.
“Who are you?” she half-wailed, half-whispered.“Where’s Lyle?Where’s Ren?”
The Rix shifted, showing impatience.
“We came to your planet with Commander Aeshac because of Lyle, the former pirate,” the First One said, clipped and cold.“My new orders are to take the ship Lyle prepared and fly you to Priss. The Commander and the rest of the crew will meet us there. Let’s go.”
A stunned silence hung in the room.
Then Alyesha darted to her corner and started shoving her beloved cosmetics into a bulging case.
“I don’t know about y’all, but I’m going.”
Mara wrung her hands.“We don’t know who they are!”
“I don’t care who they are. I’m going to Priss.” Alyesha kept packing in determined, efficient motions.
Gro and Eze quickly followed her lead, throwing their things together.
Anske, face flushed, ran around the room.“My things! How can I remember everything?”
Fawn huffed and puffed, pulling a massive suitcase from under her bed.
Daphne cried out,“Ugly, mama. They’re ugly!”
“Hush! Oh, be quiet, child.”
“Ugly, ugly,” Daphne chanted.
The Rix males stood motionless, observing the circus that erupted with inscrutable expressions. With their uniformly black eyes, it was impossible to tell where they were looking at any given time.
Fawn twisted her head to look at Rosamma.“How much time do we have? Ask them!”
Before Rosamma could reply, Alyesha, now recovered from the shock, took charge.
“How much time do we have to pack, gentlemen?” she enunciated in a precise, if slow, Universal. Her sharp eyes scanned them, but her expression was blank, hiding her thoughts.
“You don’t have any time,” came a cold reply.
Alyesha got the message. She zipped up her bag and spared no glance at the things still scattered on her bed.
“I’m ready.” She stepped toward the door.
