Havik thumped his way up the ramp attached to a distressed matte black ship. Flecks of paint clung to the rivets and seams but otherwise it looked as if the paint had been scoured away. Divots caused by who-knows-what pitted the surface of the hull. Gravel? How did a spaceship get sprayed with gravel?
The ship appeared painfully flimsy. Thalia had lived with plenty of store-brand goods and hand-me-downs that were third-rate, or worse. She grew up with bargain shampoo, no-name shoes, and food perilously close to the expiration date. A sketchy ship that looked like it’d fall apart if it got wet was where she drew the line.
“Not happening,” she said.
“She’s a perfectly operational vessel,” Ren said.
“Oh, wow, that evokes no confidence in me at all. Perfectly operational. What about safe? I’d like to use a perfectly safe spaceship today.” She kept her tone light, jovial even, but inside, the warlord’s words kept repeating. Her pod had been recovered from the debris. She had drifted in the darkness of space with only a backup battery system to keep her alive. If any seal had been faulty, if the chamber had been damaged in the explosion…
A shudder rippled through her.
“Appearances are deceiving. This ship has traveled many lightyears with no distress,” Ren said. He gave a light squeeze to her shoulder, turning away when Havik barked something from deeper within the ship.
The overhead light flickered.
“I can fix that,” he promised, ambling away.
Three women died in damaged stasis chambers, which were little more than glorified coffins. Six women survived. All had been abducted. None knew what their abductors had planned. Luck had been on Thalia’s side—for once—when she clawed her way out of her frozen grave, a ravenous zombie demanding revenge.
She’d make them pay.
Her goody-two-shoes aliens were too law-abiding to understand their opponents. They approached every problem with a hammer—maybe a club was a better visual—even if the situation required nuance and subtlety. Nope. Mahdfel just kept swinging their club around, not making progress into anything but property damage.
Thalia understood who they hunted just fine. After all, bugs and worms clung to the underbelly of rocks on any planet. She’d find the aliens responsible for the auction, for smuggling not just her, but the other survivors, then she’d go back to Earth and see that justice finally found Nicky.
Havik
“Your cabin,” Havik said, sliding the door open with ease. He had spent hours lubricating the track for effortless opening and closing.
“Wow. It’s big.” Thalia stood in the center of the room and nodded.
Pride swelled in Havik. He had spent the last two years preparing the room for his mate. Ex-mate. Everything in the cabin had been designed with Vanessa in mind and needed to be perfect. Fresh paint, soundproofing, and gentle lighting gave the cabin a quiet, inviting feel. The original furnishing had been replaced with carefully chosen pieces. He had wanted to fill the space with objects that Vanessa would appreciate, but beyond the plant on the built-in shelf, he had no idea what that might be. Adding to his shame, he did not know the colors she favored, so he painted the cabin a bland peach.
“I combined two cabins.” He had intended to share this cabin with Vanessa. It needed to be large enough for two adults. The bed reflected that.
The plant and the bed were the only two things he could add with certainty. He did not know enough about his mate—former mate! —to perform a task as basic as furnish a cabin. He really had been a selfish mate to Vanessa.
“Bit sparse. Nice though.” Thalia’s voice dragged him away from his dishonor. Her bag thumped down on the bed. She opened drawers and pressed on panels, revealing storage spaces.
“What type of plant is that?” Thalia stretched out a hand as she approached the plant.
“A water leech.”
Her hand snapped back.
“It is native to my planet and adapted to absorb moisture out of the air. Observe.” Havik picked up the small bottle next to the planet and sprayed a gentle mist. Brown tendrils unfurled, revealing delicate filament, each strand as fine a hair. The tendrils moved toward the water, the filaments shivering and the color deepening to a pleasant green.
“Wow. That’s amazing,” Thalia said.
“In small doses. Observe.” He took her hand, watching her face carefully for refusal, and sprayed her palm. He moved it toward the plant and the tendrils latched onto her hand.
“It tickles.” She pulled away, meeting a moment of resistance before the water leech relinquished its grip.
“They are useful and dangerous,” he said. “The roots store water but taste bitter. If you are thirsty enough, the bitterness is nothing. They burrow in the sand. A slow target can easily be overwhelmed by a cluster. Do not camp overnight near a water leech.”
Her eyes went wide. “Am I going to wake up with that thing hugging my face?”
Havik tapped the clear nylon strap that held the potted plant firmly in place. Those measures were to keep the plant stationary, since life on a small vessel could be turbulent, not to stop any moisture stealing from slow-moving vegetation.
Thalia eyed the water leech dubiously. Vanessa would have been thrilled with the specimen.
“As long as it stays on its side of the room, I guess it’s fine. No cleansing room? Shower?”
“Down the hall. It is shared.”
“Oh. Lap of luxury.” She fell back into an overstuffed chair.
“There is only Ren and me onboard. It is not an issue.” The original, cramped facilities that came with the ship had been a problem. Havik had barely been able to squeeze into a cleansing unit, let alone stand up straight. “The facilities were updated, and they are spacious.”
“Commodious, even.” Her lips pulled back to bare her teeth in a Terran smile. Those always appeared so strange to him. “No? Commode? Not even a chuckle? Must be the translator. I refuse to believe you lack a sense of humor, Danger B. The universe didn’t make all that
