“One step ahead of you.” She sounds smug, and I turn around again, and do a double-take. The orange floof is in her arms, purring in contentment, the lucky bastard. “Pumpkin’s a good boy, isn’t he? Yes, he is. The best boy.”
I am a fearsome Draekon warrior. My enemies quake when I approach. I cannot possibly be jealous of a floof. I refuse this emotion. “You have named the creature after an orange fruit?”
“Of course. He’s got orange fur, so he’s obviously a pumpkin. Is it weird in your culture to name pets after food? If you had an orange pet, what would you call him?”
Having a pet. How would the Supreme Mother have reacted if we’d dared to suggest such a thing? Her wrath would have rained down on us in the form of the rathr. “We weren’t even given names,” I murmur. “Pets were unimaginable. The scientist who created us—the Supreme Mother—wanted blind obedience to her orders. Any attachment we formed was a threat to her dominance over us. It was considered disloyalty, and it was punished.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I see the pair of pink floofs creep out onto the ceiling. Shaking my head to get rid of the images of the past, I jump straight up in the air, snagging one of them in my grip. The other one crashes to the floor. Along the way, she grabs a strand of my hair to slow her fall, nearly tearing it out at the scalp. Her claws snag on my shirt, ripping the fabric, and then she lands in my arms with a pleased purr.
Destructive little beast.
“Have you named them yet?”
Naomi shakes her head, her lips pressed firmly together to keep from giggling.
“Good,” I say grimly, holding out both floofs to her. “Because I have some suggestions. Meet Plague and Pestilence.”
She breaks into peals of laughter. “Plague and Pestilence?” She sets the now-sleeping Pumpkin down on the floor and takes the Terrible Twosome from my hands. “Come on, that’s not fair. These little monkeys are far too adorable for that.”
Plague—or is it Pestilence?—wriggles free from Naomi’s grasp and makes a beeline for my tablet. I grab him before he can push it off the console and drop him back in Naomi’s arms. “Bad monkey,” she says, trying to sound stern and failing miserably. “Don’t break Danek’s things.”
“Adorable,” I say dryly, sweeping up the tablet before the next floof finds it. “Sure thing. That’s what they are.” I look around. “Where's Pumpkin?”
A look of horror flashes across her face. “Oh God, I wonder what he's up to?”
I start to laugh. “In the interests of my ship’s safety, not to mention getting out of here, might I suggest corralling them into their cage while you pack?”
I send a quick message to the Rebellion, letting them know we’re heading to Noturn ahead of schedule. Then I gather my belongings. It doesn’t take me very long—most of my stuff is already packed.
Naomi is still packing her newly acquired clothing. I should offer to help her, but there’s something I want to do while she’s occupied. I head to the cockpit, shut the door, and comm Alice.
She appears in front of me. “Fifth,” she exclaims. “What a nice surprise. Did you mean to call Kadir? He’s on the flight deck, but he’ll be back any minute.”
“No, it is you I want to talk to.”
“Is something wrong? Is Naomi okay?
“Yes, everything is fine.” Alice looks tired. Her normally cheerful smile seems dimmed. “What about you? Are you all right?”
“It’s nothing.” She makes a face. “The colony ship is making me seasick. I’ve been throwing up a lot. I can't wait to get my feet on the ground with the sun shining on my face.” She looks abashed. “God, I sound so whiny. The Draekons that settled on Nestri were in a colony ship for two years. I’ve barely been here one day and I’m already grumbling.” She shakes her head. “Never mind me. How’s Naomi?”
“She took Dariux’s advice and bought floofs as pets. They’re tearing apart my ship.”
“What are floofs?”
“Fluffy, uncontrollable monsters. We have three. Pumpkin, Plague, and Pestilence.”
I send her the vid from the Aheat’s security feeds. She chuckles at the floofs’ antics, but when we reach the end, her smile fades and she gives me a thoughtful look. “That was interesting.”
“Why?”
She tilts her head to one side. “You’ll find out,” she says inscrutably. “What did you want to talk to me about?”
I gather my thoughts. “Naomi said something I don't understand. Is there some kind of significance to being forty?”
Alice frowns. “What exactly did she say?”
“We were in a store. Naomi was trying on clothes. We’re supposed to be newly bonded, so I was watching her admiringly.” I was hard as a rock. Not that I’m going to tell Alice that. “Then, when we were alone again, she yelled at me. She said that nobody would believe that I could be attracted to her. Then she said something about creaky knees, grey hair and being a forty-year-old woman.” I run my hand through my hair. “I don’t understand. Why is her age relevant? After all, I’m more than a thousand years old myself.”
“You know as well as I do that the time you spent in stasis doesn’t count,” Alice chides. She chews her lip. “Okay, let’s see if I can explain. Human society values youth and discounts age, especially in women, who have historically only been valued for their fertility. That attitude still lingers.” She sighs. “In human women, fertility starts to decline in
