“Idiot.” Pantariste snorted. “You’ll take Ishtara with you.”
Another of her teachers, but much younger than the rest, Ishtara sometimes hung out with Clarabelle. She liked to think they were friends. Having her along would help a lot.
“What do I do if I find a place that has everything we need?” Clarabelle asked.
“Send word that we might inform your sisters. They shall have the choice to join you.”
Clarabelle wanted to do cartwheels. Instead she wrapped her arms around Pantariste and exclaimed, “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me yet. This quest of yours might end in failure, which is why you will not tell anyone about it.”
“Not even my sisters?”
“Could they handle the disappointment?”
Clarabelle realized that she couldn’t raise their hopes and then possibly dash them. “I won’t say a word.”
Pantariste waved. “Off with you before I change my mind.”
She ran before that could happen. It took her only a few minutes to pack but longer to say goodbye to her sisters. She hugged them and when asked where she was going would only say that she was going on a voyage with Ishtara to space. Which, needless to say, caused some jealousy.
It was especially hard for her to lie to her best friend, Betty.
“There’s something you’re not telling me,” Betty accused.
Clarabelle clasped her sister’s hands. “I’ll send you messages.”
“Promise?”
“Promise,” she said, hugging her best friend.
Then it was on to sweet and shy Sade, who looked lost as she hugged herself, her blonde hair spilling over her shoulders. A fragile soul, she’d not adapted well to the violence and fighting on Zonia.
“Don’t let them walk all over you,” Clarabelle reminded softly.
Sade sighed. “I wish I could be more like you. Fearless. Adventuring.”
“One day you’ll have a grand adventure of your own,” Clarabelle declared.
Sade snorted. “Ha. Next thing you’ll be saying I’ll find a husband.”
“You never know. Louisa found two.”
“Bring back a couple,” was Katrina’s demand. “We can share.”
Which spawned some good-natured arguing, with Josee declaring she didn’t need a man to satisfy her.
Clarabelle skipped out the door before they could see her tears. It was harder than expected to leave them, especially without telling the truth. Did they suspect her story was a lie?
It didn’t matter. She owed them. She couldn’t fail.
The cavern where the ships were kept retained its rocky ceiling, though it was sprayed with a clear coat of something that made it crack-proof. It could withstand a direct blast from most weapons capable of firing in space. She’d declined a live demonstration.
It was freaking huge and could hold up to fifty ships. It was buzzing with activity, most of the scurrying bodies small and orange, their four arms and a tail making them quick with tools. They swarmed over the ships, fixing things and jabbering in a strange language.
The Zonians among them appeared gigantic, and yet everyone got along. The business arrangement with the Psalandrs saw both sides winning.
Only one ship wasn’t crawling with mechanics. She aimed for it. The gangplank extended from the bottom, and her boots clanked on it as she boarded the ship.
And paused, feeling a little dizzy. She braced herself and swallowed hard. This was it. She was really doing this, leaving her home, her family.
Oh shit.
Deep breath.
Fear was but an emotion, and she could control it. She reminded herself that people flew on these ships all the time.
Some didn’t return.
Most did, with wondrous stories.
Her turn to leave and discover what was out there.
Her nerves steadied, and she stepped past the embarkation chamber. A fancy term for the tiny room that could seal shut and spit you into space. She remembered the movies on Earth.
The hall proved smooth walled, like the ceiling, which extended to about ten feet. It was tall enough and wide enough for a Zonian. She traced her fingers over the paneling with its almost imperceptible seams. Fine work. The Psalandrs, of course. The Zonians had no patience or time to build ships, but they had the wealth to buy them. Protection, food, and other things were given to the orange mechanics, and in return, they built and maintained the technology.
“Stop petting the walls and get in here,” Ishtara’s voice barked from a speaker.
To the casual observer, she might sound angry. All the Zonians spoke in that same manner. In the beginning, Clarabelle had mistaken it for them being mean. She knew now that Pantariste and the others would lay down their lives for her and anyone they considered family.
Entering the bridge, she found Ishtara sitting in the command seat.
A yellow gaze fixed on her, and the beak smirked. “There you are. Taking your lazy time. Don’t look so impatient to me. Perhaps you don’t really want to go on this trip, caw?”
“Just because I didn’t run all the way here doesn’t mean I’m not pumped about this mission.”
“Mission!” Ishtara snorted. “I believe Katrina would call it a booty call, given we are hunting for breeding stock.”
“That’s a rather nasty way of putting it.”
Her indignation had Ishtara grinning. “Would you prefer I call your males dinner?”
“Not funny, Ish,” she grumbled as she tossed her pack on the floor and sat in her seat. She’d stow it later.
“You know, if it’s human males you need, then we could pop into the Obsidian market and see what we can bid on.”
“We,” Clarabelle enunciated, “don’t want slaves. We want boyfriends.” The word didn’t really translate despite the emitter embedded inside her ear.
“Why would you be friends with a male?” The very idea flummoxed Ishtara.
“Because they’re fun to talk to. They make you feel special when they flirt. Sometimes it’s nice to just cuddle.”
“If you wish for hugs, I will give you one that you won’t forget.” Ishtara cracked her knuckles, and Clarabelle waved her off before she could break some bones.
“I don’t want a hug from you. Or my sisters.”
“Only from a male? Why?”
“Because it’s different. Nice. When you cuddle with someone you care about, it’s special and makes you feel warm inside.” She struggled to explain something she barely understood herself. It had been a while since her time on Earth. “I want to find a companion. A human one that will understand me. Not a slave or someone whose sperm I’m going to take before I ditch him. I—I mean we,” she hastily corrected, “want a real chance for a connection on an emotional level. Maybe if we meet the right guy we’ll have a kid with them, although I’m not going to be the one staying home. If I end up with a baby daddy, he could take care of the runt.”
“You’d share the raising of progeny with a male?” Ishtara sounded aghast. “You’ll ruin them. What if the male’s weakness is passed on?”
“But that’s just it. On Earth, men and women are basically equal.” For the most part. There were some inequalities still, but nothing like the drastic difference she’d experienced since going to space. Space-travelling aliens were not as progressive as expected.