CHAPTER EIGHT

MARA

Mara pressed herself against Dannica’s cryo-bed, her arms full of laundry and her eyes full of tears. Over the past few weeks, the Sykorian ship had become her hidey-hole. A place where she could sit beside a friend and vent. She dropped her head to her knees, and then regretted it when the scent of Syrek washed over her, sweat and spice. Her head spun.

“What a dumbass,” she said to Dannica.

She meant herself, of course. Oh, she’d heard all the clichés about the earth moving and time stopping. But Syrek had helped her experience all those fairytale feelings. She had lost control. He made her lose control. He opened her up and exposed emotions she spent her life denying herself: want, and longing, and desire.

And freedom.

Like the clichés, her heart had soared free.

It all came crashing down because he had reminded her what she was. A slave.

Mine.

The word echoed in her thoughts.

“He bragged about everything on this ship belonging to him,” she said. “Oh, Danni, I know I was a fool to follow him, but I did it anyway.”

When his face had lit up talking about his ship, his pride had warmed her. His determination and strength, and those intense eyes, drew her in. Underneath his gruff exterior, he cared for the ship, like he cared for the plants.

“That kiss was something else,” she muttered.

Yet she was sure he couldn’t care for her.

Not when he could remind her that he was his to do with as he pleased, and then to callously cast her aside. She kicked the clothes away and dropped her head into her hands.

“And then he told me to do his damn laundry!”

She groaned into her palms and bit her lower lip. It tingled pleasantly from his kisses. Luall’s warning about fraternization popped into Mara’s head. She dragged her hand across her mouth, trying to erase all traces of their lip lock.

Kisses that’ll never happen again.

She had to ensure that nobody on board learned of her and Syrek. If they found out, it wouldn’t be Syrek paying the price: it would be her. And who knew what the punishment might be? She wrapped her arms around herself and shuddered. Haven was, well, a haven, compared to living with the Sykorians. If she lost her place here, she also lost her chance to help Dannica and the other humans.

“I know what you would say, Danni. You would tell me to be smart. Play it safe.”

A chime rang through the corridors. The dinner bell. Oh drat, is it really that late?

“I’ll see you later, Danni.” She gathered up the clothes and exited the ship.

She followed the stream of hungry passersby. When she recognized the hallway, she turned off toward the barracks. Mara stashed the laundry under her bed, and then hurried to the galley to grab a bite.

“Where were you?” Gymari demanded, as Mara slid into an empty spot beside her. “You didn’t report to the Left Hall.”

Across the table, Clez looked up, her eyes narrowed. Her nostrils flared.

Mara swallowed a mouthful of vegetable stew. “I-I got sucked into…” What had Syrek said they were doing? “Oh, I got sucked into rerouting coolant.”

Gymari sniffed. “Next time, let me know when plans change.”

“I will.”

Mara bolted down her food and rushed back to the barracks. She only had a little time. She gathered up Syrek’s clothing and bedding and hurried to the laundry. The protective aviator gloves Luall had provided had only four fingers, but they fit well enough for Mara to dump laundry dust over the clothing in the tub. She slammed the door shut and spun the handle, coating the fabric inside with the disinfecting powder.

When the night-shift bell rang, she hauled the clothing out, shook the dust free and hurried back to the barracks. She was kicking the last of Syrek’s sheets under her bed when the other workers wandered in.

Mara threw herself onto her bed and stared at the ceiling. Her heart thundered, but at least the scent drifting up from the clothing was of fresh laundry. The smell of Syrek wouldn’t drive her nuts all night.

Luall flopped onto her bed, studying Mara. “Are you okay?”

Mara pasted on a huge smile. “Yup, just beat from all that work today. Phew! What a day.”

Across the way, Clez eyed her suspiciously.

“Okay,” said Luall, but her expression said she didn’t buy Mara’s false cheerfulness. “I’m gonna go play Casters tonight.” Like always, she added, “You can join us, if you want.”

Unlike every other night before, Mara sat up. “You know what? I think I might watch tonight.”

Even Clez looked shocked.

“Sure!” Luall said. “If you watch, you’ll pick up the rules.”

Mara followed Luall to the center of the room, where Gymari and the others were setting up. They eyed Mara, but nobody said anything as she perched on a chair behind Luall. Gymari took the seat next to Luall, and Clez picked a seat across from them. Her sharp eyes never left Mara’s face.

The truth was that Mara had zero interest in learning to play Casters. What she needed was information, and the only sources of information were seated in a circle around the rickety table.

“Deal,” Gymari said to Oyoyoi.

Clez groaned. “We will be here all night if that windbag deals.”

Oyoyoi puffed her jellyfish-like tendrils and began doling out the brightly colored tokens used to play the game. For a while, nobody spoke. Only the clacking of plastic tiles against the table filled the air. Mara fidgeted. She was dying to ask questions. To steer the conversation toward Syrek. To learn all that she could about him.

Obviously so she wouldn’t make the same mistakes again.

She bit her lip and her eyes flicked to Gymari’s back. Mara shrieked and stood so fast her chair clattered to the floor. She pointed a trembling finger at Gymari’s neck. “Th-there’s a maggot in your neck!”

The others, who had surged to their feet in confusion, froze. Even the unflappable Oyoyoi paused, her tendril wrapped around a token.

Luall’s eyes grew wide, and she shook her head slightly at Mara.

“What?” Mara said, taken aback by their reaction. “I’m serious. Something gross is poking out of Gymari’s neck.”

Gymari turned to face Mara, her arm dangling over the back of her chair. When she spoke, her usually brusque voice was frosty. “I know. That’s my child.”

Mara paled. “W-what?”

Gymari reached her hand to the back of her neck and pulled out the pale yellow wiggling maggot-like thing. She extended her hand to Mara. “This is Junior. He’s my son.”

Mara’s eyes flicked to Luall, who pursed her lips and nodded.

“Oh,” Mara said. “I-I’m sorry.”

“You’ve hurt his feelings now,” Gymari said, a gleam in her eye. “Better apologize to my boy.”

Mara leaned forward. Did Junior even have any ears to hear her words? “I-I’m sorry, Junior.”

Gymari tilted her head and listened for a moment. “Nope, he says he wants you to hug it better. Go on, now.” She shook Junior in Mara’s direction.

Across the table, Clez snorted.

With a shudder, Mara extended her hands, and took Junior from Gymari. He sat about the size of a banana in her hands, and her stomach lurched when he writhed against her skin. To her surprise, he wasn’t cold and slimy, but warm and firm, with a slightly fuzzy texture. She wrapped her hands around Junior and drew him close to her body.

“Wow,” Mara whispered. “He’s so…” As all the aliens around the table tensed, Mara scrambled to find a suitable word. “Strong. He’s so strong. I bet that’s a sign your mama takes good care of you, huh, Junior?”

With a satisfied nod, Gymari turned back to the table. “Keep dealing, Oyoyoi.”

At her signal, the rest of the table returned to the game, Mara’s discomfort forgotten. With the writhing alien baby in her hands, Mara straightened her chair and sat.

Soon the game was underway. Despite what Luall’s assurance, no matter how hard Mara tried to focus, the rules didn’t become apparent to her. Junior wiggled in her arms, and she found herself rocking him. Slowly, the conversation around the table moved from how the janitorial department cleaning went today to one of the newer mercenaries who had recently molted, revealing his hidden hotness.

“I swear,” one of the aliens was saying, “if I’d been left alone with him for five minutes…”

The crowd laughed, and Mara flushed. It really had only taken five minutes alone with Syrek for all her defenses to fall. She spoke quickly, trying to keep her tone casual. “What about the fraternization rules?”

They all turned to face her.

Mara’s cheeks grew warmer, but she kept going. “Luall told me that there are rules against fraternization. What happens if you… you know?”

Luall blinked guiltily and turned her attention back to the tokens.

“Well,” drawled Clez. “Rules are made to be broken.” The smile she gave Mara implied that was a rule Clez took great pride in breaking.

“It’s a sound rule,” Gymari said. “But it’s not really enforceable. Haven is a small, close-knit community. Fraternization tends to happen now and then, because the heart wants what it wants.” She shrugged. “If we didn’t let off steam in one way or another, we’d all be as cranky as Clez.”

They all laughed, except for Clez and Mara.

Mara took a deep breath. “Yes, but, what happens if… you know…”

Gymari dropped her tokens to the table. The mirth erased from her face. “Girl, has someone been untoward? Forward? Pushing boundaries with you when they shouldn’t?”

“No!” Mara rushed to ease their minds. “Nothing like that! Really. I was just curious.”

“Well,” Luall said. “The last guy who tried anything like that was Slakk. Remember him?”

A few of the women around the table nodded. “What a creep,” one muttered.

“He didn’t get to do it more than once,” Luall said.

“What happened to him?” asked Mara.

“He got flushed out an airlock,” Gymari said. “By Syrek himself.”

Mara nodded. “I got the feeling he doesn’t like others messing with his property.”

The silence this time was infinitely louder than the time Mara insulted Junior. She blinked at the serious faces around her.

Oh, crap. What did I say wrong this time?

“We don’t belong to Syrek,” Luall explained. “We don’t belong to anyone but ourselves.”

Mara blinked. “But, aren’t we all slaves?”

“Slaves?” Clez hissed. “We’re freeholders, you idiot!”

“We are all equal shareholders in Haven,” Gymari said, her voice sharp. “Some of us get hazard pay on top of what we earn, but simply being on Haven means you reap the rewards of all the missions. Equal say, equal shares.”

What? Mara gaped.

“We all work together,” Luall added, “because we all benefit.”

“What about me?” Mara whispered. “Aren’t I a slave?”

“You were with the Sykorians, but not here,” Luall replied. “Here, you’re free. There’s nothing you can’t do and nowhere you can’t go.”

Stunned, Mara sat back. The game resumed around her, and while she had learned more than she had intended, she found she couldn’t move. She sat there, petting Junior’s soft body, and tried to come to terms with her new freedom. Junior snuggled into her arms as her mind spun.

She wasn’t a slave.

She was free.

So why the heck had Syrek claimed she was his?

Even when the game wrapped up and they all headed to bed, Mara couldn’t sleep. She stared at the dark ceiling, her mind a swirl of conflict and doubt.

She was free.

Yet deep down, she knew that even if she had her freedom, she wouldn’t be free of Syrek so easily.

She rolled over and forced her eyes closed, willing sleep to come claim her.

But instead, all she heard was Syrek’s voice, whispering to her: Mine.