Page 23 of Tempting Cargo
Paiata didn’t bother checking his screen. “Three hours, Captain.”
“I need a drink and to get refreshments for our guests.”
Kheh, my crew deserved to know. I couldn’t say nothing. “I’ll call a meeting after our first drop-off.”
He tilted his head. “You know I can do these things, Captain. We’re on a steady course, and it’s a bit odd when you’re not bossing us around.”
“This frustration is not yours to bear, and I could do with moving. Feel free to do the same.”
“Aye, Cap.”
The walls of theDorimisafelt closer than ever as I headed to the galley, as though squeezing me down a path not entirely of my choosing. Much as I hated hearing from Mother, I didn’t dare ignore her veiled threats to me or Airida.
I kept my breathing steady, but I couldn’t control the nausea or the frantic jittering in my chest.
The human was a distraction and one I could ill afford.
I had to protect my brother at all costs, and that meant maximising profit and proving my worth. It was all that mattered, all I was allowed to want.
Garrison
I HEADEDoff in search of water. There couldn’t be too many more places on the ship. But as I walked past the bridge, terse voices carried through the door.
I knew I shouldn’t, but I paused.
“I have a message from your brother.”
“How is he?”
“He is well enough. He remains very grateful for your continued contributions to his welfare.”
“I am so pleased to hear it. Thank you for letting me know, Mother. Please pass on my affections to him.”
I frowned. The formal, stilted conversation didn’t sound anything like the Shohari I was getting to know. Not that I knew the captain very well yet, but what Ididknow? She was brusque and irritable—and real. This was restrained and false, and the unsettling edge of it writhed in my gut.
I crept past the bridge, my agitation receding as I turned down another narrow corridor, drawn by the faint whiff of food. Sure enough, a bulkhead door slid open as I approached, the control panel flashing with colourful lights and emitting a soft trill.
TheDorimisa’s mess hall was far more spacious than I’d expected. Long, metal counters looped round the far end, and I weaved between the table and a worn but plush red sofa thoroughly inconsistent with the utilitarian metal of everything else. A drinks machine perched on a near countertop, the same brand as in the guest quarters on Draim Station. I couldn’t help but grin. Look at me being all worldly—galaxly?—already.
Helping myself might not have been the right thing to do, but Shohari had said she’d show us, and then we’d gotten… distracted. And now she had more important things going on. She didn’t need to deal with wilting human cargo herself.
I drew myself a cup of chrya. The others might have preferred the coffee-like neka tea, but I’d grown fond of the herbal sweetness served with galaxy standard mystery-milk. None of us asked what it was made of, or what animal it might come from; the translator told us it was milk, my brain told me it was from a cow, and that was all I needed to know. That, and it hit the spot.
The hot beverage coated my throat as it slid down, firing up my taste buds and gifting me a moment of calming familiarity. Eyes closed, I could have been anywhere, but it was enough to be here. Could I anchor myself to a cup of tea?
Of course I could. Nan would have been proud.
I leaned against the counter, the metal cool through my shirt, and I tipped my head back. My shoulders softened, my breath easing out in a lazy exhale.
“Making yourself at home, cargo?”
I stood to attention instinctively, but the prickly captain no longer made me wary. She might grouse about having us here, but unless something serious went down, she struck me as all bark and no bite.
“’Fraid so, Captain. Would you like a brew?”
My throat itched with the need to offer my support, but it wasn’t appropriate. Like she’d want my help anyway. So I offered tea—hopefully it was a universal language.
She tilted her head. “Chrya. Extra milk. And sugar.”
