“Huh. You and Yorso aren’t exactly the most intimidating of men—and I mean that in a good way. Osopa probably looks pretty frightening to a young girl, especially since he comes off as personable as a double-hulled wall.” Degorsk banged on the beige wall for emphasis as they resumed their walk.
“He’s not half-bad when you get to know him. I tolerate him reasonably well.”
Degorsk grinned at the joke. “I assume he’s been on his best behavior when it comes to your Matara?”
“He could be friendlier. He has a tough time coming out of that shell he’s built around himself. But Tina’s reaction doesn’t seem to have much to do with that. She’s begging to work for us.”
“Work?”
“Such as cooking and cleaning. And…the more intimate stuff too, but as if it’s some duty she’s expected to perform. She doesn’t offer it for her own pleasure, though she seems to enjoy it once we’ve started.”
Tukui’s face flamed hot. He hated discussing his Matara in such an intimate fashion to a man outside his clan.
Fortunately, Degorsk adopted his professional manner, acting in his capacity as a doctor. “Matara Tina is trying to earn her keep?”
“She’s going overboard with it, even to the point of ignoring her own needs. She acts as if she’s the least member of the clan.”
“When she’s the most important. Have you explained that to her?”
“We’ve tried.”
Degorsk was silent until they reached Medical, his expression informing Tukui he was thinking hard about the matter. Outside the doors to his department, he finally spoke. “I hate to say this, Tukui, but the truth is…I don’t know what to tell you. These women have been taught that they’re second-class and that their natural urges are sinful. That seems to be the root of the trouble.”
“Why would anybody do that to them?” Tukui’s abrupt tone was in full force.
Degorsk spoke before he could apologize for the slip. “What’s the great evil in any society? The lust for power over others, exemplified by Earth’s government and religion. You’re seeing tyranny on a tragic scale, because its leaders are assholes. Instead of serving their people as they should, they demoralize them.”
“What’s succeeding for you? How are you helping the rest of the Mataras recover their sense of self-worth?”
“Unfortunately, the effects of such oppression are manifesting in a different manner for every woman. There’s no single solution to make them feel better about themselves.”
Tukui groaned. “I’m stuck flying by the seat of my pants?”
“Where guaranteeing your Matara’s happiness is concerned? I’m afraid so.”
“Doctor, I’m in over my head.”
“If it’s any consolation, we all are. The best I can advise you is to be kind. Be patient. Give her the respect she doesn’t understand she deserves.”
With those disheartening words, Degorsk patted Tukui on the shoulder and entered Medical, leaving the young Dramok as helpless as before.
Chapter Five
Tina gazed in awe at the miniature paintings, examining each in turn. Landscapes. Portraits. Still lifes. All rendered in exquisite detail. “Tukui painted these? They’re amazing. Did he go to art school?”
None were bigger than her palm. Most were half the size of that. She paused longest at the portraits of Yorso and Osopa, impressed with how well the Dramok had captured Yorso’s gentle nature and Osopa’s rare and disarming smile.
“He’s self-taught. He’ll be sure to remind you of it too. He says we’d notice how amateur his compositions are if we put them next to an actual artist’s work.” Yorso was finishing making up the bed.
“He sells himself short,” Osopa sighed as he tugged on his boots.
“You’ll get no argument from me.”
“His work is wonderful.” Tina turned to look at the larger sculptural objects hanging on the opposite wall. The polished wood and gleaming metal, shaped in curved blades and delicate spikes, leant them an airy aspect. “And this is your artistry, Osopa. I didn’t realize primitive weaponry could be beautiful. Graceful. It’s difficult to believe you could kill with such pretty pieces.”
“Thank you. Some are too delicate to actually use. I sacrificed function for form.” His gaze on her was soft as he acknowledged the compliment. Tina wished for more moments when he looked approachable.
Then he was busy again, putting items in the many sheaths and pouches attached to his belt. He was leaving for his job, as Tukui already had. Tina wouldn’t be alone, however. Yorso planned to work from their tiny quarters that day.
Tina was at a loss as to how she’d spend the hours ahead. Yorso and Osopa had fed her breakfast and Yorso had cleaned up afterward.
With nothing else to do, she returned to examining the dozens of tiny canvases. “Why does Tukui paint such small pieces?”
Yorso swept his arm in a circle. “Lack of room. This isn’t a pleasure cruiser intended for luxury, so he has to keep his hobby scaled down.”
“What do you do for pleasure, Tina?” Osopa asked.
She was quick to answer. “Taking care of others, however possible.”
“That’s not a hobby,” Yorso griped. “My nature as an Imdiko makes me want to nurture, but I do it out of caring for my clan, not for fun.”
“I don’t see any examples of art from you.”
“I don’t craft or paint. I study history and alien cultures for my own enjoyment, among other pursuits. In fact, my hobby led to my job as a cultural liaison, so it served an extra purpose.”
Osopa stared at her, his brow wrinkled. “You must have some fulfilling pursuit.”
She shrugged. “I wove that little rug that was on the floor of my cell. I fashioned candles and soap from remnants. I suppose that counts as a hobby.”
“Do you wish to make more rugs?”
“Not really. We didn’t have much on Europa, so it was important to find a use for what we did have, including fabric scraps and such. I made it to give away. No one else was interested, so I kept it. It was ugly,” she admitted with a laugh. “But it added color to my room.”
“What do you want to do? For your own gratification?” Yorso tilted his head, his demeanor suggesting the matter was more important than Tina thought it warranted.
“Nothing. I like making everyone happy.”
Both stared at her. Had they heard the lie? She hoped not. She’d never admit to the selfish desire that would never come to pass, not when she was being taken to Kalquor to breed. There’d never been a chance she’d realize her fantasy anyway.
Yorso’s frown took nothing from his sweet demeanor or matinee idol looks. “I won’t settle for that, my Matara. You have to discover your passion. I’ll help you.”
“Help me what? There’s nothing I’m good at except cleaning and cooking.”
“Cooking can be a passion,” Osopa suggested.
“If it’s done for fun and discovery. Are you creative in the kitchen?” Yorso asked.
“I followed the recipes I learned. It never seemed important to do anything different. Brenda—a fellow aspirant—enjoyed experimenting with food, and sometimes she had great results. Sometimes not, and she’d get yelled at for wasting supplies.”