“Amye!”
“My fault,” Doug mumbles. Pinching his nose, he marches for the door.
Leeka’s grip on his fingers tightens at the sight of more blood.
Reynard wants to apologize to Leeka for removing her from her home and people. Another poor command choice on my part. Compounding not only my life, but also an innocent with no frame of reference to survive among my crew.
REYNARD BRUSHES HIS fingers through the feathers of the dream catcher as he passes on his way to the medical bay. “You better work,” he whispers.
DOUG LEANS OVER a sink, washing dried blood from his face.
JC swabs the cuts clean on Reynard’s back before she rubs an orange cream all over the lacerations. “I doubt the swab is necessary. This bacterium heals everything.” She picks a flake of white coral from a cut with tweezers. “Habit of medical training, and besides, no one else has such healing technology.” JC inspects each gash to make sure she covered it completely.
“I’ve dishonored him.” Reynard glances at the far end of the medical bay where Joe floats in the orange liquid.
JC applies more orange cream to the sealed scar on his shoulder. “He will cleanse you once he heals. The bacterium doesn’t like him much. It is healing, but it’s slower than a snail. How did you repair your shoulder?”
“The sword.”
“It does more than kill Sandmen.” She does not ask a question.
“It holds power I have no idea how to utilize,” Reynard admits.
“You’ll learn.”
JC scrutinizes Doug at the sink. “I doubt this stuff will do little for your broken nose.”
“No woman should have so much weight behind her smerth’n punch.”
“It’s the gravity of her planet. Her muscles are denser, so on a lower gravity world she’s stronger.” JC explains.
“I know how it works.” Doug wipes a towel under his nose and finds it free of crimson. “Too bad a Sandman wasn’t controlling her this time.”
“Are we sure?” Reynard asks.
“I think it fled. I only detect them when they’re close, and Amye had enough mental faculties to attack me, hoping I’d blast her mentally,” JC says.
“We’ve weapons to combat them. Now we need to detect them.”
“Why didn’t they eat her brain or yours, Commander?” Doug asks.
“I don’t have a guess anymore.”
JC does a quick scan of Doug’s nose. She uses a pen-sized instrument, running it along the seam until it disappears from the scanner image. “All healed.”
“Doug, replace Scott at the helm. We need more Sandmen killer ammunition.”
“Smerth’n right, Commander.” Doug leaves the trio alone in the medical bay as Michelle escorts Leeka inside.
Her diplomatic poise befits her station. Speaking to the scared woman is where her training lies. She conveys empathy and tact while maneuvering Leeka into the corner out of the way.
“Leeka, JC needs to examine you.” Having to speak to her as if she were a child burns at him.
“What do we do with you?” JC slips the leather jacket from Leeka’s shoulders with no resistance. “Athena, full scan.”
“Reynard,” JC snaps. “Don’t mistake her lack of understanding of her new surroundings for her lacking intelligence. Her surface thoughts alone reveal incredible intellect.”
Australia enters carrying a stack of folded clothing. “We have outfits to fit you.”
Leeka gazes at the stack more with disdain than confusion to their purpose.
“Covering garments are a hindrance to my people,” Leeka says.
“The pressures of the ocean bottom may allow for the lack of clothing, but here the epidermis requires covering if for no other reason than protection,” Australia explains.
“Master, must I wear such cumbersome garments?” Her face is one of a person crying without releasing any tears.
“Anywhere outside your quarters you must dress per custom.”
“If you command it, Master.”
“On this ship and all the worlds we travel, I’m not your master.”
Leeka drops her purple eyes.
“I won’t own a person,” he snaps.
Leeka flings herself at Reynard, tightening her arms around him. “I’m yours. I belong to you. I’m unable to belong to any other.”
“Australia?” Reynard unhooks the girl’s arms, picking her up by the waist and setting her next to him on the examination table.
“I know nothing about her civilization, and I have never encountered a species living in the depths of extreme ocean pressures before. You will have to be delicate about this, Commander.”
“Men aren’t delicate about sensitive issues.” JC takes a jumpsuit from the stack based on the size the computer determined.
“I don’t want to wear this,” Leeka protests. “My people have no need for covering their bodies. We swim without confinement.”
“You have other concerns besides swimming. Having spent life at the bottom of an ocean, your skin may be sensitive to sunlight,” Australia appeals to logic.
“Clothes provide protection from ultraviolet radiation,” JC agrees.
“We’re throwing a lot at this poor girl.” Reynard side hugs her.
“We won’t turn her into a freethinking, independent woman overnight,” JC says.
“We retrieve Sam, and we repair the ship. We’ll have plenty of time to acclimate her to life on the Dragon.” He kisses Leeka on the cheek, whispering, “It’ll be all right. You’ve got to trust me.”
“I want to be with you, Master.”
“You go with Australia and Michelle. They’ll show you to your quarters.”
“If you don’t want me, why did you take me from my people?”
Bombshell. Reynard has no response.
“He could not safely leave you,” Australia offers.
He twists his head toward Australia. “See her to her new quarters, please.”
“Yes, Commander.”
Reynard lies on his belly as they leave. JC scrubs clean the dried bacterium from his healed wounds. The only evidence they existed are the tattered spots of the tattoo where the image no longer fits perfectly. “JC, you’re the only one who can warn us when a Sandman’s aboard.”
“I detect a disturbance only seconds before they strike.” She tosses the rag in a bin. She touches one of the eagle wing tips where the feather no longer aligns. “You’re all healed.”
Reynard hops from the table. “Any warning and I’ll kill
