Page 2 of Crush
More cheering, perhaps a bit more hopeful than before; little old Amma had always kept them going with her affection, wisdom, and yezo—the fermented cavern algae that doubled as an extraction solvent. “They will be your dates to the Luster, proving that theDeepWanderis a strong, steady, and prosperous ship, worthy of the best contracts. However…” She peered around at them, her black eyes glinting in the silverglow. “Some of you look like tailings jettisoned out the aft pipes!” Amusement—some of it genuine, more than some of it uncomfortable—swept the room. “Dorn, when was the last time you buffed your tusks and gilded your carapace?”
“Just waiting for your whisper, my Amma!” he called back, inciting hoots and hollers.
She clacked her worn-down tusks. “And you, Pars and Iffo, could you recite the life-mate vows?”
No amusement this time, just some whispers, as Pars and Iffo ducked their heads, ruefully sheltering in the hard shells across their shoulders like little Amma’s words were falling rocks.
But how could two asteroid-crackers, whose most pressing plan for the future was boosting off fast enough after they laid their charges to not blow up with the rock, be expected to memorize the romantic meanderings of long-dead orc lyricists?
“And you, Teq?”
Her prodding inquiry would no doubt continue in this vein of poetry and personal hygiene, but Teq had no interest in hearing the question. “No,” he blurted.
A few nearest him gave him hard looks. While he had a well-earned reputation for no-nonsense plus skull smacking as needed and was given his personal space accordingly, everyone was protective of sweet old Amma.
Especially Mag, who was giving him a decidedly not sweet look. “No?” The echo was as menacing as a deep rumble from a deserted tunnel. “No what?”
Teq hastened to fine-tune his response—not usually a necessary skill for a rough crusher like him. “No thank you. I won’t be needing a wife-mate from Dirt as a date to Luster or anywhere else.”
“More for the rest of us,” Dorn said with a jiggle of his carapace, which, as Amma had noted, looked a little dull even in the silverglow.
Not that Teq cared about Dorn’s dull hide; it wasn’t like Teq was interested in the supercilious assay as a life-mate. They might share a ship, but nothing about them was compatible.
Still, Teq gave Amma a respectful antennae flick nonetheless. “You are the matriarch of this crew.” He tilted toward Mag. “And you the apex. As always, I crush on your command.”
But he would not claim a wife-mate.
No one could make him do that.
Though Amma gave him a thoughtful look, his words seemed to mollify Mag. “Our wife-mates arrive soon, so oil your hammers and drills.” The apex sank back onto his dais seat as the crowd roared again. “Let’s give these lonely Earther ladies an orc welcome they’ll never forget.”
Why, to Teq’s antennae, did that sound like a warning?
***
Once they were dismissed from the gather-hall—though many stayed, whispering, wondering, and maybe wishing—Teq made his way through the ship to the secondary ore processing bay. The bay had been locked off since they found their fortune, putting a serious crimp in their ability to onboard more raw material. Not a problem at the moment, exactly, since theDeepWanderwas making full speed, burning precious fuel, toward the site of the Luster rather than doing the one thing that had kept what remained of their people alive: picking through the rubble of the universe for anything of value.
But maybe he was just feeling a little rough around the edges himself at the moment.
Vug, what a terrible time to realize hedidstill have feelings.
The ship would be slowing only long enough to connect with the IDA transport to transfer the Earther females. He needed to get control of himself before that.
At the bay door, he pressed one hand to the access panel. Though he was senior crew, the lock chimed a request for a second hand, then a third hand. At least it didn’t ask for the fourth, which was locked in a fist.
Not that he would mind crushing something. That was all his hands were used for.
Finally, the hatch unsealed and he stalked into the antechamber. Before him, the bay was huge, bigger than the gather-hall and still only half the size of the main processing center. Normally he would pause here to don safety and protective gear. These days, even the hardest-headed orc wore equipment to preserve life and limb. The fate of their planet had taught them that sometimes evolution wasn’t enough to keep them safe.
So maybe Mag and Amma weren’t wrong to bring in otherworld females.
But that didn’t meanhehad to claim one of them.
Today, the bay was silent and still, powered down except for a central ring of lights and scanners surrounding their found fortune.
He wasn’t one of the crew’s prospectors who identified potential yields. He wasn’t an assay who assessed the value of their finds. He wasn’t the apex who made the final choice on their targets. He was just a crusher. So he didn’t blame himself for still not believing the misshapen, gray lump in their secondary bay actuallywasa fortune.
Standing in front of it was Mag’s brother, slender shoulders hunched, the oddly tapered, fluted edges of his carapace scales catching the lights. For an orc, Sil wasn’t much. And for an apex’s brother he was…even less. About the same size as the rock they’d dragged in, actually. It wasn’t easy to live as a small orc, and to make matters worse, Sil didn’t work salvage or processing.
