KIVIAN

It takes about two days for the hunted look to leave Fran’s lovely face. It takes about two days and one hour for Fran to charm my crew. I know they’re going to get along just fine when I go into the mess one morning to find her arguing with Sentorr over the best-tasting meal packs and Tarekh’s laughing at both of them because Fran’s been eating my supplies instead of theirs. It seems that she likes the same salty noodles I do.

“She’s got good taste,” I tell them with pride, even if it does leave me with nothing but the leftovers. I don’t mind. Not for Fran.

It’s been days and she’s already wormed her way into my heart and soul. Hard to believe that I would fall so fast—no, “fall” isn’t the right word. More like “crash.” There was no in-between in Fran storming into my life and my falling in love with her. She’s just suddenly everything. I think of her when I drift off to sleep, and she’s the first thing on my mind when I wake.

Clearly she doesn’t feel the same way about me yet, but she’ll get there. How can she not fall for me? I’m incredibly charming. She’s just stubborn, my Fran. She’ll come around.

“I don’t see how a pirate can spend so much damn time farting around with sleeves,” she says, her hands on her hips as she glares into my closet. It’s become one of her favorite pastimes—criticizing my wardrobe. “Don’t you have pirate-y things to do other than spend hours lacing up your sleeves?”

“Like what?” I lounge on one of my chairs since I’ve learned that lounging in bed makes her skittish.

“I don’t know. Whatever space pirates do?” She casts me a look over her shoulder. “Make someone walk a space plank? Board a ship? Something?”

“First of all, a space plank is just ridiculous,” I tell her as she picks the least complicated of my shirts and pulls it from the closet. “Second of all, why would we board someone else’s ship? We’re in hiding. You were never very good at hide-and-find as a child, were you?”

“Humans call it hide-and-seek, and I was very good at it,” Fran tells me, and takes the shirt into the water closet with her to change. I wait until she returns a moment later, swimming in the fabric, and she comes to my side. “Show me the sleeves again?”

“It’s a raithu knot,” I tell her. “All the rage on Homeworld.” I take several of the cords hanging from the sleeve fabric, and when she holds her arm out, I begin to tie them in place, creating the sleeve out of the puffs of fabric.

“Can I cut the shirt down into a dress for me?”

“Cut it?” I pretend horror at the thought. “Do you know how much this cost?”

“No?” She looks crestfallen. “Was it very expensive?”

“A year’s wages for most workers, I imagine. I don’t run amongst the lower-class circles, so I’m not entirely sure if that’s accurate, but it’s expensive, yes.”

Poor Fran looks aghast at the thought. “All right, show me the knots again.”

I do, and by the time the sleeves are done, she’s twitching with impatience. It’s adorable. I could watch her all day. In fact, I might just do that since there’s nothing else to do…but wait. Once the sleeves are finished, she takes a braided cord and loops it tight around her waist, making a belt. My shirts are big enough that they fit her like dresses, and it’s both erotic and adorable to see her clothed in nothing but my gear. Sentorr offered up a few old shirts, but I growled at him until he promised he wouldn’t bring it up with her.

I like her wearing my things. She can dice them into pieces for all I care as long as they make her happy.

“So what’s the plan today?” she asks, combing her hair as she peers into a mirror and then peeks over at me.

I shrug lazily and spread a hand. “This?”

Fran puts the comb down and frowns at me. “You mean there’s nothing for you to do either?”

There’s plenty, but I don’t feel like it, not when she’s so delightfully entertaining. “Either? Are you bored?”

She tilts her head and gives me a patient look. “You have no idea.”

“Well then, what would you like to do?”

The little human sits in a chair across from me. “I don’t know. There’s not much for a captive to do.”

I can feel myself frowning at her. “You’re not a captive. You’re a guest.”

“Then take me home to Earth.”

“Nice try, but no.”

Fran makes an exasperated sound and then leans back, her arms crossed. I notice that she crosses her legs, too, and I’m fascinated by that elegant movement. “Then what do you do if you’re stuck in a quiet ship all day?”

I shrug. “I catch up on paperwork. It’s dreadfully boring, I know, but even a pirate has communications he has to answer.” I think of my brother, who’s sent another message that I haven’t yet had a chance to respond to. He sent more pictures of tiny Kivita, my ugly, fascinating little namesake, and urged me to come out and visit them. I’ll reply to him soon…when I have an answer. Right now I’m more focused on the female in front of me. “Sometimes I read a book.”

She makes a face at me. “All your books are in a language I don’t understand.”

I chuckle. “Listen to music, then? Or I practice my sticks.”

“Sticks?” Her brows furrow. “That’s the game you were playing with Froggy, right?”

I incline my head at her. “That’s the one.”

“Can you show me how to play it?” She turns her chair to face me and gestures at the table between us. “We could play right here.”

“Do your people have games of chance?” I’m constantly surprised by the things she tells me. Humans aren’t nearly as primitive as I’ve been led to believe.

“Oh yeah. I’m pretty good at cards.”

“Cards?” I give her a strange look. “You play with cards? Little pieces of paper? Why would you do something so foolish?”

“Are you kidding me? You guys play with sticks! Freaking sticks! Now who’s the foolish one?” She sounds so indignant.

I burst into laughter. “Fair enough.”

Her indignant look turns to a smile, and then she chuckles. “I guess they all sound silly when you break them down. All right, so show me how this works.”

I tap a panel on the table and my favorite sticks set rises out of its storage place. “Well, as I like to say, it’s all in the wrist.”

She arches an eyebrow at me. “I feel like I’ve heard this one before.”

I grin. “Perhaps you have. Shall I show you my technique?”

I expect her to make a scathing comeback, but she only leans in and gives me a sultry smile. “Show me what you’ve got, hot shot.”

Her words make me fumble for the sticks case, and the playing pieces scatter across the table.

Fran’s little laugh of amusement is utterly delightful, and I fumble a second time.

I don’t even mind.

* * *

Playing sticks for hours a day becomes part of our new routine. Sometimes we play after we wake up and before we head out to the mess for breakfast. Sometimes we play after dinner, when all the work for the day is done and I have some time to myself. Fran doesn’t have much to do, so she busies herself with hand-sewing a dress or two from my least-favorite shirts and she practices her sticks techniques. She looks forward to our gaming sessions every day, and I do as well. There’s nothing I’d rather do than spend an evening with Fran, laughing and talking.

She’s quickly become my favorite person to talk to. Not just because her acerbic sense of humor matches mine, but she’s able to see things from an entirely different perspective than I can. She’s also quick to let me know when my ego is getting in the way, and when such feedback might have irritated me if it came from Alyvos or Sentorr, Fran just makes me laugh and realize I’m being an ass.

I like learning about her, too. There’s so much about human society that sounds both fascinating and odd, and our conversations sometimes highlight just how different our cultures are.

“So your brother’s wife is pregnant?” she asks me one night as we play sticks. “How’s that possible?”

I chuckle and give her a playful look. “Well, Fran, when a male and female love each other very much…”

She rolls her eyes. “Very funny.”

“—they get together and purchase the finest plas-womb that the medics have to offer.”

Her eyes widen. “Wait, what?” She looks startled. “They purchased a test-tube baby?”

“Actually, no. I think they’re doing it the old-fashioned way.” I think of Chloe’s bloated stomach and suppress a male shudder of unease. “She’s growing it in her stomach. I imagine there was some medical assistance, of course, but if you have enough credits, anything’s possible.”

Fran stares at me, her jaw hanging open.

“What?” I cast my sticks down and wait for her to take her turn.

“You’re grossed out by it, aren’t you? By her having a baby.”

I frown and gesture at the gameboard in front of us. “Your turn. And no, I’m not ‘grossed out.’ It’s just…unusual.”

“Because of hygiene laws?”

“Among other things, yes. Most mesakkah females don’t bother having their children naturally. Not when there’s a perfectly good artificial womb waiting to be rented. You donate your biological information, pay a fee, and then you can pick up your child when it’s ready.”

“That’s…weird.”

“It’s all very sanitary, I assure you.”

She puts a hand to her stomach, disturbed. “I don’t think I’d want to do that if I ever had a baby. I’d want to carry it if I could. Your homeworld’s laws just seem so…cold.”

A few weeks ago, I might have agreed with her. But since then, I’ve seen Fran’s smiles and breathed in her scent. I’ve touched her soft skin and licked her thigh. To say that I’m hungry for more would be like saying the universe is vast. There’s no end to how much I want her and crave her.

“They do seem like cold laws,” I murmur. I think of Jutari and how happy he seems, how content. It’s clear he doesn’t think about sanitary laws. I do wonder how much happier we’d be as a people if we weren’t so focused on disease. Interesting to think about.

Fran gives a little shake of her head and then casts down her sticks on the board. Her throw is terrible, but I can flub my next one so that she pulls ahead and the game continues a bit longer. It’s cheating in a way, of course, but I look at it as practice. Who knows when I’ll have to hoodwink the next target in a game? It’s best to know how to play against anyone, even a terrible player.

Besides, nothing makes Fran laugh with more delight than when she “wins” against me. I’m addicted to that triumphant giggle.

“I can’t imagine a society where you can’t even kiss the person you love,” she tells me, studying the table in front of us.

“Kiss?”

“A meeting of mouths. It’s a show of affection amongst humans.”

“Care to demonstrate?” I give her my best lazy grin, though my heart is pounding at the thought of her putting her plump lips against mine. Sanitary laws be keffed, I want to taste her.

But all she says is, “I’d hate to break your hygiene laws.”

“I’m a pirate, my sweet. Breaking laws is what I do. Don’t let that dissuade you from your goal.”

She just wags a finger at me as if I’m being naughty. “You may be a pirate, but I’m not. I’m just a pirate’s captive.”

“Ah, yes, because I won’t let you go back to Earth. Can’t you just be a guest?” I pretend to study the table in front of us, though in truth I’m concentrating on Fran and her expression.

My human looks thoughtful. “But a guest is somewhere because they want to be there, right? So I can’t say that I’m a guest, either.”

“Then what are you?” I ask. Other than mine, because I’m never letting you go.

She purses her lips and thinks. “When I figure it out, I’ll let you know.”