BROOKE

“Buh-brukh, are you all right?” Farli gives me a curious look over her shoulder. “You seem angry this day.”

I grit my teeth, my hands full of strands of her long, thick hair. Buh-brukh. Again with the Buh-brukh. I don’t bother correcting her—as I have many times in the past—that my name isn’t “Buh-brukh” but “Brooke.” No matter how many times I correct the tribe in a nice, polite voice, they never say my name right. Not that anyone’s name is pronounced correctly. Gail is Shail, because no one can say a “G” sound correctly. Summer is something more like Sooh-murrh. And Georgie is Shorshie. I suppose I should be lucky that I only stuttered when someone asked me my name, and so it’s Buh-brukh for now and forever in their minds. I could have retorted with, “It’s Brooke, asshole,” and then I’d be stuck with Brukh-Asshole for the rest of my days.

Doesn’t matter. Buh-brukh is what has stuck. Most of the time, I don’t mind. It’s even cute when it comes out of the mouth of one of the adorable, tiny-horned kits that wander around the tribe.

Of course, there’s one tribesmate in particular that has taken great pains to learn my real name. Taushen calls me Brooke…

But Taushen can also jump off a cliff for all I care. I’m done with his ass.

Just thinking about the male sa-khui makes me grit my teeth. It’s useless wasting breath—or thoughts—on someone like him. So I shrug, braiding Farli’s hair a little tighter. All these sa-khui are so competent and skilled it makes me second-guess myself. I may not be a great huntress like Farli or Liz, and I’m not terrific with electronics like Harlow, but being a hairdresser means I can make a fierce braid and that I can manage to look great even on a remote iceball planet. Since that’s the skill set I’ve got, I use it. Harlow’s got a pair of bright red French braids this day, and my own hair is done in a pink fishtail tail over one shoulder. For Farli, I’m doing a starburst coronet of braids—not so easy with someone that has a pair of horns. But her hair’s so thick it’s going to look downright magnificent when I’m done. Not that it’s hard for Farli to look magnificent. All she has to do is stand there, all pretty blue skin and lean, muscular body and proud horns. Someone like me with nothing going for her but boobs and an ability to braid has to play up her assets.

But when Farli tries to turn around and look at me again, it’s clear she’s wanting an answer as to why I seem “angry.” There’s a million things that pour through my head as to how I could answer, but all of them sound bitter, and I’m determined not to be that person. “Just thinking,” I tell her brightly.

Nothing more than that, no siree.

“Are you…what is the word.” Farli pauses for a moment, trying to choose her thoughts carefully. “Like Ell-ee? Your head hurts after what we endured?”

Is she asking if I’m traumatized by what happened? It’s sweet of her to worry. We’ve been through a lot lately, especially us new humans. First we’re kidnapped from Earth, and then not much longer after that, we’re dragged to the ice planet, given cooties, and told this is our new home forever and ever. Then, bad guys show up, take us all captive again, and come this close to selling us as slaves back on the intergalactic black market. It’s a lot to process.

Truth be told, the alien hijack and almost-kidnapping was scary, but it had a good ending. We’re still here on the ice planet. It was actually less traumatic than my last experience. No one stripped me naked and prodded me or checked my teeth. No one pinched my flanks or sniffed my hair or groped me. No one stole me away from everything I’ve ever known.

Except for one particular incident, it actually went much better than expected when one’s captured by slavers. “I’m okay,” I tell her. I want to ask if she’s okay, honestly. I think Earth people are a little more jaded than the sa-khui. We’ve had television to make us a little more immune to things like murder and slavery and all kinds of heinous shit. To Farli and her people, everyone’s happy and huggy and everything turns out well. It’s like they’re living in some sort of Disney movie.

If anyone’s going to be traumatized, it’s them. I’m getting better every day about moving past the bad shit. Did I cry a lot in the beginning? Yes. But all my tears are dried up. I guess this is what they mean when they say survival mode kicks in. I think if more aliens landed and attacked, I wouldn’t even cry at that point. I’d try to figure out what it takes to stay alive.

In the end, that’s all that’s important—getting to the next day.

There’s a clatter of footsteps up the ramp, and I freeze, waiting to see who pops inside the ship. But it’s only Rukh, Harlow’s almost-feral mate. I’d smile at him in greeting, but I know he won’t smile back. He’s been in a real mood ever since shit went down—not that I blame him. Both he and Harlow are missing their little son something fierce. I just nod at him in acknowledgment and then go back to braiding Farli’s hair as she twitches in her seat. For all that she’s graceful and strong, she’s a squirmy sort.

And I forgot to answer her again. Oops. Am I traumatized? “I’m not going to go all Elly and not bathe for months if that’s what you’re asking.” Elly has every right to be how she is. She’s had a really rough life, and I don’t hold it against her…but at the same time, I like clean hair far too much to ever go that far.

Farli chuckles, folding her legs under her and moving again, disturbing my careful braiding. “I was merely curious. You have been less…friendly with Taushen. I wondered if he said something cruel.”

Oh, did she notice the chill between us? I guess we’ve been a little obvious in our mutual disdain for one another ever since…the Incident. Not that I want to think about—or talk about—said incident. I grab another section of her thick hair and weave it into her dark braid, continuing my circle around the crown of her head. What to say about Taushen that won’t be considered rude and will end the discussion? Hmm. “It wasn’t anything he said,” I edge after a few.

It was definitely something he did, though. The dick.

The answer seems to satisfy Farli, and she remains quiet and still while I braid yet another section into her crown. I’m pleased with how it’s turning out, and just the sight of my handiwork relaxes the knot in my stomach that’s been present ever since the Incident.

A stiff breeze blows in, ruffling my own unbraided hair and carrying with it the sound of Chompy’s bleating. Farli chuckles, a happy little sigh escaping her.

She’s so easy to please. I’m envious.

We’re seated just inside the Tranquil Lady, at the top of the ramp that leads to the outside. Farli’s pet llama-thing is pawing at the snow below and nipping at frozen roots underneath. She wants him to stay close, but since he was pooping all over the deck, we decided to set up here so I could do her hair. It’s a good spot, with a fresh breeze…and an easy exit in case we have to run. Which might be silly to think about, given that the last enemies had laser guns, but I still consider such things.

After being held captive twice now, you start to keep an eye on every escape route in the nearby area. Just in case.

Of course, sitting at the entrance of the ramp means that we’re in a high traffic area. The hunters have to come through here to get to the interior of the ship, and we’re staying in the Tranquil Lady until we figure out what to do with her. She’s in better working order than the ancient ship, and she’s got guns. Plus, Mardok has working knowledge of how to run everything on this ship.

And then there’s the cargo, of course. Until it’s decided what to do with it—them, I guess—we’re staying here to keep an eye on things.

Not my favorite choice, but the room I’m staying in has running water, a toilet, and oh, no Taushen, so it’s a win.

As if our thoughts have summoned him, Taushen enters the spaceship hold next, coming up the ramp. Of course it’s Taushen, because I have the worst luck imaginable and naturally I’d run into him when I’d rather never see him again.

I watch him out of the corner of my eye as he saunters up the ramp. He’s got a spear in hand, a hopper corpse in the other. An alien guy shouldn’t look that good, I decide. A swish of a tail shouldn’t be sexy. Horns shouldn’t make me get all faint at the way they arch and curl around his head. Blue skin and bulging muscles shouldn’t do a thing for me. A fur loincloth should be stupid.

Stupid, I tell you.

Especially since I know how much he’s packing under that little scrap of leather. It’s doubly stupid, then. He needs more fabric.

And I should tell him that, but it’d mean I’d have to talk to him, and I’ve vowed not to do that anymore. So I just give a haughty sniff and pretend to concentrate really, really hard on Farli’s hair.

Taushen pauses at the top of the ramp at the sight of us. He nods at Farli and gives me a cold look. “Buh-brukh,” he murmurs, then saunters past.

Oh, burn. That ass. I know very well that he knows how to say my name correctly. He said it just fucking fine when he was balls deep inside me.

But I suppose that’s my fault, too, since I’m the one that seduced him.

Farli hisses, pulling away from my hands. “You are making my mane a very tight cord today.”

Oops. Did I pull too hard? “Sorry. I’ll pay more attention.” Especially considering that Taushen’s still lingering nearby. I don’t want him to hear that. I don’t want him to think that I’m even dwelling on him for one hot second. I pat Farli’s shoulder and try to forget all about Taushen, and that night in the ship. It didn’t mean anything, just like I told him then.

No idea why he’s continuing to be a huge dick about it. I’m pretty sure these people are familiar with the concept of “one and done.” And I’m also pretty sure that the situation we were in was an obvious one that meant no strings attached. And the sex was good. Really good.

But for some reason, Taushen’s had a burr up his butt ever since.

And if he’s expecting me to go to him and apologize for seducing him to save both of our lives? He’s going to be waiting a long, long damn time.

Because I am not that girl. And I can hold a grudge for-motherfucking-ever.

Then, Taushen leaves. He doesn’t say anything else, just up and leaves. I don’t care. I tell myself I couldn’t give a rat’s ass if he walked right into the engine room and turned into a crisp. It’d serve him right.

I’m a bad liar, even to myself, though. I chew on the inside of my cheek as I finish braiding Farli’s crown and use a small bit of leather to tie the end off. If I had bobby pins, I’d pin the tail end into her braid and hide it so it looks like a perfect circle. I don’t have that, though, so I just do a bit of artful tucking into the loops and hide it as best I can. “There. You’re more beautiful than ever now.”

She touches her braid, a smile brightening her face. “Shall I go show Mardok?”

“Only if you want him to throw you down and ravish you like the glorious creature you are,” I tease, my spirits a little lighter at her happiness.

“That is exactly what I wish to happen,” she exclaims, her expression eager. Then, she sighs. “But I should not distract him from his work.”

“I should see what Harlow needs me to do,” I tell her. I get to my feet, dusting off my leather tunic of any stray strands of Farli’s hair. “After all, I stayed behind to help her, right? Might as well do it.”

“Might as well,” Farli echoes, agreeing. An impish look crosses her face. “I am still going to find Mardok and show him my mane, though.”

“You do that,” I say, chuckling. At least someone’s determined to have a good day. That’s the thing with Farli—nothing gets her down. She’s sunshine personified, and I have to admire that.

The rest of us are having a harder time keeping that cheer going. Especially Harlow. When I make it to the far end of the ship in the med bay, where she’s working, her eyes are suspiciously red as she makes notes on her electronic pad-thingy. It’s kind of like an iPad from back on Earth, except it responds to hand flicks instead of tapping, and so when she uses it, it looks a bit like her hand is spasming. She told me the other day that it also responds to pupil movements, but it doesn’t read our eyes correctly, thanks to the glow from the khui within. So, hand-twitches it is. Rukh hovers in a corner of the room, spear in his grip, looking like a really big blue vulture. I know he hates to leave Harlow alone. Can’t blame him. Not after what we recently went through. “Hey, Harlow,” I say, keeping my voice cheerful to try and bring her up, too. Seems kind of insipid to ask her how she’s doing this morning, so I opt for humor instead. “You look like you’ve lost weight.”

Harlow’s eyes widen and she chuckles, patting her heavily pregnant belly. “I do, huh?”

“Oh yeah, at least a pound,” I say cheerily. “So, what can I help with today?”

She looks at the scatter of broken components spread out on a table, a helpless look on her face. Some of them are larger—one even looks like a hair dryer—and some are so small that they’re no bigger than my pinky nail. Given that there’s literally a hundred of them neatly spread out before her, it looks like the world’s crappiest jigsaw puzzle. “Let me think. Not this—it’d take more time to explain this than it would for me to just do it myself.”

“Darn.” Secretly, I’m glad. I’m not good with puzzles.

Her expression brightens. “You can go check on the pods. It’s about time for the morning rounds anyhow.” She turns and moves to Rukh’s side, caressing his shoulder as she picks up another tablet on the table near him. I don’t miss the way he softens when she approaches, or the way he strokes her fingers lightly as she touches him. There’s so much fierce love for her in his eyes that it hurts me to look at it.

Well, that and it makes me envious, too. I’d love for someone to give me a look as hot as that one, especially years into a relationship.

Harlow turns away from him and waddles toward me, holding out the pad. “You remember how to operate this?”

“No? Wait.” I make a jerk-off motion in front of the pad. “Huh, didn’t turn it on.”

Harlow snort-giggles. “Very funny.” She does a double finger wiggle in the corner, and the screen changes. “Here are the notes. You remember—”

“I do, yup,” I tell her before she can launch into the explanation. I immediately feel bad for cutting her off and give her a smile. “Sorry. It’s just not my favorite chore.”

“Oh.” She bites her lip. “Well…maybe I can think of something else.”

“It’s okay,” I tell her as Rukh starts to glare in my direction. I know what he’s thinking—don’t stress out the already-stressed pregnant lady. I don’t want to, either. I just need to suck it up. “It’s something I can do, and I’m glad to help. I guess I’ll head out.”

“Thank you, Brooke. It really is appreciated.”

“Just send someone after me if I don’t come back in an hour,” I joke. Sorta.

Except I’m not joking all that much, I think, as I head out of the med bay and down one of the dark, twisting metal halls of The Tranquil Lady. The cargo bay creeps me out. It’s like something out of a horror movie. But Harlow can’t do everything herself, and I did stay behind to help. And I’m an adult. I shouldn’t be scared of people sleeping in coffin-like things. They’re harmless. They’re asleep. They won’t even know I’m there.

The more I tell myself that, maybe I’ll start to believe it.

For all that the ship looks massive outside, on the inside it’s a lot smaller. There are a lot of passageways, but the actual rooms themselves aren’t very big, except for the cargo bay. It’s clear that’s where most of the room is allocated, and going from the normal-sized tunnels to the big, yawning cargo bay is always a bit eerie. Add in the fact that it’s atmospherically dark, and it’s really not helping my horror movie ideas.

“You stayed behind to help, you ninny,” I tell myself, the closest thing I can get to a self-pep-talk. “So quit your bitching.”

Since we discovered the twenty pods of unconscious people that the slavers had with them, one of the focuses of our group—in addition to dismantling or removing any signals, traces, or records of our planet that might be stored—is keeping them safe.

Safe, and still securely in storage, asleep.

The consensus is that they’re slaves, after all. Slaves being carted off by slavers to take to the black market. Just what kind of slaves, though, we don’t know. There are four men, and they all look fierce and terrifying. Of course, I thought the sa-khui were fearsome when I first saw them, too, and now I’m no longer scared of them. The other sixteen are human women. All of them pose a problem. They could be innocent women dragged from their beds in the middle of the night—like me—or they could be humans who have been in the “system” so long that they’ve half forgotten how to be human, like Elly. And the guys? None of them are human, so no one knows anything about them. For now, it’s kinder to leave them asleep, where they don’t know what’s going on, until the sa-khui chief, Vektal, arrives.

He’s going to decide if we wake them up, and what we do with the ship.

I move down the long row of pods in the cargo bay, thinking about the people sleeping here. Was I in one of these when I was kidnapped? If so, how long was I under? I don’t remember anything like this. I just remember going to sleep after a party and waking up and finding myself in a holding cell, surrounded by aliens. I had no clothes, and for a while, I thought it was just a really vivid bad dream. After a few days, when I didn’t wake up, I had to accept the fact that it was reality, and a waking nightmare. I shudder, thinking of the aliens that poked and prodded me, exclaiming over my hair and my boobs. Oddly enough, I thought my large boobs were going to paint a target on me, like they did back when I was in middle school and grew into double-D-cups long before the other girls filled out A-cups. Turns out that aliens aren’t much fans of big boobs, and I got rejected by more weird-looking alien buyers than the small-breasted girls.

God bless my great big tatas.

I move to the first of the coffins—excuse me, pods—and tap the button on the top corner of the control panel. A bright flood of weird-looking characters covers the small screen, looking like nothing more than a bunch of dashes, wiggles, and dots. Space cuneiform, I decide, comparing the message to the one written on my tablet. I can’t read alien writing, but Harlow has walked me through enough to show me what the screen should look like when I punch the button, and so I compare the characters, wiggle by painstaking squiggle, to make sure that everything matches up. If something doesn’t, I have to go get Harlow or Mardok because there’s a problem of some kind.

As jobs go, this is a pretty easy one. Time consuming, but easy. I compare writing, check each pod, and go. But because I’m a chicken, it creeps me out. It’s so quiet in the cargo bay, and the room’s so big. And I’m so alone with a bunch of “dead”-seeming people. Maybe that’s why it freaks me out. Or maybe it’s their expressions, I decide as I lean over the pod to stare into the sleeping face of one of the strangers. They look dead, or like mannequins. No breath fogs the glass on the pod, and they don’t twitch or move like people do in sleep. They’re completely and utterly still, like dolls waiting to be taken out of the box to be played with. The analogy creeps me out, because it’s far too real. I gaze down at the face of the guy in the pod, wondering about him. He’s a strange shimmering gold all over, with a pattern on his skin that looks almost like scales, and his hair is thick and sticks up like an animal mane—

“Buh-brukh,” a voice says, and I yelp, jerking backward in surprise.

I nearly drop the tablet in my hands, scrambling to hold on to it. “Jesus, you scared the shit out of me, Taushen. Don’t fucking do that!”

“Do what?” He leans to one side in the doorway, the picture of insolence. His expression is hard. “Address you by name?”

“Sneak up on me,” I snap at him. “I realize you blue dudes have catlike stealth, but I’m a human and I can’t hear when you sneak up.” I clutch the tablet hard and move on to coffin number two. “And don’t think I didn’t notice that little jab about my name, dickface.”

He snorts. “I came to ask if you needed assistance with anything.”

“If I want your help, I’ll tell you,” I say, giving him my sweetest, fakest smile, and lean over the second coffin and jab the button. Wiggles flood the screen, but I’m not going to be able to compare the two until Taushen leaves and stops distracting me. I stare at the screen anyhow, doing my best to look busy.

“Like that night we were trapped together?”

I jerk upright, gasping at him. “How dare you! I saved our lives.”

His jaw flexes and he looks pissed. “Perhaps I did not wish to be saved.”

“Really? I didn’t notice you protesting when I touched you. Or when you grabbed my tits and pushed my thighs apart. Or when you groaned my name as you came. Twice.” I give him a tight smile. “During which of those times did you protest? Can you refresh my memory? I must not be remembering correctly.”

Taushen’s eyes narrow and he straightens. For a moment, he looks like he wants to say something—and it’s not something nice. Instead, though, he just whirls on one foot and storms away in a cloud of black hair.

“Fuck you, too,” I mutter, and try to get back to work.

Of course, I can’t. I’m trembling as I think about that night.

Everything changed that night, and I don’t know if I’m ever going to forget how it felt.