“If cooking doesn’t interest you, Tukui can show you how to paint. You can try music. Do you sing?”
“Sister Bernadette said I croak like a frog.”
“From your expression, I assume that’s bad? We’ll figure out something. Maybe playing a musical instrument is more your thing. Or it could be you’d appreciate more scholarly pursuits, such as studying history.”
Osopa snorted. “You might have fun writing incident reports. I’d be thrilled if you’d fill out mine.”
His attempt to joke was tentative, but sincere. She laughed and was gratified by the slight smile he gave her.
Yorso waved him off with a grin. “We’ll take a crack at everything. Maybe not writing Osopa’s reports, but you could try your hand at poetry and stories. This is going to be fun.”
He was so enthusiastic that Tina couldn’t help but appreciate his effort. She had the urge to hug him.
She wondered at her readiness to accept the clan, Yorso most of all, as her masters. Though she had no choice in the matter and it was imperative for them to not give her to others, she felt a real liking for them. Even Osopa, when he gave her glimmers of kindness.
Was she wrong to believe certain aspects of the men were nice? After all, they’d kidnapped her. They’d introduced her to sin so heinous, she wouldn’t dare return to face Earth justice even if she were given the option. Was she twisted in some way to accept what had been done? Or was she merely coping as any young woman in her position would?
Whatever the answer, Tina decided her situation could be much worse. Who knew what was happening to the rest from the convent?
That made her feel guilty as sex with the Kalquorians hadn’t. She’d been so focused on her own predicament, she hadn’t concerned herself with the fates of her fellow aspirants or the nuns who cared for them. Shame filled her as she thought of Sister Bernadette, hauled out of the convent’s dining room, screaming with furious resistance.
“May I ask—” Her voice failed her as Osopa looked in her direction, his countenance blank again.
“What is it, love?” Yorso’s was encouraging. “Ask whatever question you need to.”
“I wish—I mean, I don’t want to be a bother—” Words died again. Why would they do anything special for her?
“You’re the least bother I can imagine.” Yorso shot Osopa a glare before smiling at her. “What is it, my Matara?”
“My friend—well, she’s more of a mentor—Sister Bernadette?”
“I’ll check on her and let you know how she’s adjusting. Anyone else?” Osopa took out his handheld and tapped it for a couple of seconds. He glanced up at her, poised to enter another name.
His readiness to gather information for her peace of mind flustered her. “Oh, any of the rest are fine. I wonder if they’re okay. I’m sure they’re being treated well,” she added hastily.
“I’ll get a general report on the children and elders—we’re keeping them together on Europa, where they’re more comfortable. I’ll also inquire how those who’ve been clanned and those to be taken to Kalquor are doing. And a specific inquiry on your Sister Bernadette.”
“Do you need our Nobek to look into anything else?” Yorso asked.
“No. That’s wonderful. Thank you.”
“I’ll bring word at the end of the evening. Have a pleasant day, my clanmates.” Osopa dropped the all-business attitude to offer them a quick smile before he left.
A warm glow filled Tina. Osopa’s willingness to do her such a favor, without her earning it, was a pleasant surprise.
* * * *
Following his conversation with Degorsk, Tukui hurried through the ship to reach the bridge. He was in no danger of arriving late to his duty station. He’d developed the habit of showing up several minutes early, having figured out that it looked good to Captain Tranis. Though he’d still be a few minutes ahead of schedule, it felt wrong that he’d be slightly later than had become his usual.
The unease of not being on the bridge when he preferred joined the general disquiet he felt after talking to the head medic. His thoughts churned as he tried to come up with some method of proving to Tina she didn’t need to earn her place in his clan.
Though he was a Dramok, the breed of Kalquorian inclined to leadership, Tukui was used to feeling less capable than most Dramoks. It was his own fault. He’d long gotten away with letting fate blow him where it would, and he’d been fortunate in that it usually sent him in the right direction. His talents were good enough to allow him to succeed with little effort.
It was becoming clear that natural aptitude and luck weren’t enough to help Tina. If he were a better Dramok, he’d be on top of it. She needed him to be that better Dramok.
The stakes are too high to screw this up for her. I’m afraid I’m out of my depth to provide what she requires. What she deserves.
Unfortunately, he had no clue what it was he was supposed to provide. If he could just—
He was so deep in his thoughts, that he failed to notice the foot traffic as he neared the bridge. He walked into another man.
“Oops, sorry.” Then he noticed who he’d bumped into. “Oh. Zevs.”
“Someone’s not with us in the real world,” his former rival snorted. “Are you thinking, Tukui? Must hurt, engaging your brain for a change.”
“You wouldn’t know a lot about it,” Tukui shot back, trying to step around him.
Zevs moved to block him, his ugly smirk filling Tukui’s gaze. “Are things going poorly? New Matara not working out…or are you not working out for her?”
“Typical jealous Zevs. Get out of my way.”
Maybe something showed on Tukui’s expression, because Zevs sneered. “I’ve often wondered whether Yorso doesn’t regret his choice. Congratulations. Now you’re a disappointment to two clanmates.”
The urge to pound the scorn off Zevs’ mug walloped Tukui, and he obeyed the impulse without a second thought. He swung. The flash of pain that resonated in his fist as it scored satisfying contact with Zevs’ jaw made him absurdly happy.
They bounced from one side of the corridor to the other, trading blows as a crowd gathered. For every punch Zevs landed, Tukui got in two. It was sheer joy to bleed out the worries of the past day—not to mention give his opponent the thrashing he deserved.
Someone yanked them apart, violently enough to fling them both to the floor. Tukui’s heart stuttered when he discovered Weapons Commander Lidon staring down at him.
It took Zevs longer to figure out what was going on. He jumped to his feet with a curse, to be promptly knocked on his ass again by the glaring Nobek. The look on his face when he realized who’d broken up the fight was almost worth the trouble Tukui was in.
Almost.
“Navigator Tukui. Technician Zevs. Thank you for leaving me plenty of skin to flay. My office. Now.”
Though what was coming was nothing Tukui wanted to rush, delay would land him in more trouble. He was on his feet and moving toward the dreaded punishment as fast as he could, with Zevs at his side. The two Dramoks glared at each other the whole while, though they stayed silent. They didn’t dare speak with the weapons commander on their heels, primed to tear them limb from limb.