Orth
Everything was going far better than Orth had ever imagined. Ha. He’d even started to think of himself as Clover’s quaint name for him, Scrubs. It suited him. He couldn’t go around scaring all the pregnant mates of other warriors. They tended to get possessive and angry when their mate was upset. He felt the same way about Clover’s happiness.
He was quite sure he could keep her sexually satisfied. After all, it had been two weeks, and he’d spent a majority of that time exploring her skin and all the sensitive places on it. It was much better way to learn Terran anatomy than reading it out of a manual or watching a vid. He had begun to expect most of the vids were staged, anyhow. But things were still going well.
As soon as he’d come within range of Terra, he’d registered for mated housing. There was no way he’d take her into the warriors’ housing where he’d originally planned to stay, consisting mostly of bunks and exercise rooms. No, he needed a private space for his mate that had soundproof walls.
There was also the formality of requesting permission to take a mate. Technically, he’d filed the paperwork the moment he’d made it back to his cabin after his first run in and kiss, but he’d yet to hear of any actual approval. This was unusual. Etlonians were generally prompt with their paperwork.
And then there was the beginning of his training. Most of it was internship-based experience. All the other knowledge he needed was already included in his training. There were twelve others in his class, and having a Terran mate made him the top expert in the class.
After their second shift on Shackleton, he came back to their quarters, finding her using the terminal.
“I should like to practice an examination on you. Lie back on the bed.” He interpreted the look on her face as one of amusement. He did not know what he had said to make her smile, but he smiled back.
“Buy a girl dinner first, why don’t you?”
“You are hungry.”
“No, well, yes, kind of, but that’s beside the point. The point is your bedside manner kind of sucks.”
“This is standard procedure.”
“Imagine you are a girl and you’ve been impregnated with alien semen. Now some alien doctor dude wants you to spread your legs and examine your hooha. Wouldn’t you be a bit nervous having a stranger stare at your girly bits?”
“It is only to determine the health of the pregnancy. I would want the examination completed as thoroughly as possible.”
Clover’s sigh told him that answer was not acceptable.
“Then you should instruct me,” he said. Clover stood and walked over to him. She traced a finger down his chest.
“First, you should look the part.”
Scrubs closed his eyes, concentrated and changed his skin pigment to match hers. Clover immediately started giggling. He lost focus and reverted to his natural green.
“You are silly. That was ridiculous. Don’t do that again.”
“Doctors are green on Terra?”
“No. They wear labcoats and have stethoscopes around their necks. And they’ve got pens in their pockets to write with.”
“These are antiquated devices.” All of the Terran technology was ages behind Mahdfel, so much so that their devices appeared to be practically useless in curing most diseases.
“That doesn’t matter. If you look like a doctor from home, the ladies will accept you as a doctor from home.”
Clover went over to the bed and sat down on the edge of it. Then she patted the spot next to her. Scrubs sat and she placed a hand on his knee.
“I spent a lot of time in hospitals when I was little. The doctors were all very friendly and nice, sometimes too nice. None of them had the heart to tell me my mother was dying. My father couldn’t deal with it either. The night she died, the doctors tried, but my father put me in a car and drove and drove and drove and never really stopped.”
It was the first time she’d opened up to him about her childhood. He took that as a positive sign.
“I shall wear the doctor garb. Time for examination.”
She smacked him on the arm. “No. You make sure she’s comfortable. Make small talk. Crack a dad joke or two.”
“I am not a father.”
“Harmless clean jokes or bad puns that make you seem harmless, rather than a potent warrior with the ability to rip Suhlik throats out.”
“With my teeth.”
“See, that was a dad joke.”
“I don’t believe I understand the concept quite yet.”
“Ask me how I’m feeling. How is my mate treating me? What colors am I considering for the nursery? That kind of stuff.”
“How are you feeling?”
She put a falsetto into her voice and then batted her eyelashes at him in a false manner. “Why Doctor Scrubs, I just can’t seem to shake this ache in my back. I just keep getting bigger. I’m gonna get as big as a house. My mate isn’t going to think I’m sexy any more.” She patted her belly and bloated it out.
“Your mate will copulate with you even if you were extremely visually unappealing.”
“No. No, no, no, no, no. Make her feel beautiful, without being sleazy. Something like, ‘there’s such a glow about you, I don’t see how that’s possible’. Or something like that.”
“That might anger her mate.”
“If her mate is right there, then ask him a leading question, where the only appropriate response is ‘yes, I find you even more attractive than when we first met’.”
“And then I begin the examination?”
“Ask her if she’s ready to check out the little warrior’s health. Ask if she wants her husband to hold her hand.”
“That is not necessary for-”
“We’re not going for necessary. We’re going for nice.”
Clover continued to coax him through the process which took nearly three times longer than a standard Mahdfel exam. No wonder Terran doctors were always running behind, if they had to coddle their patients and not see directly to their medical needs. But Clover was insistent that this was the way it was done.
His farcical examination did lead to another useful thing. He was able to examine his own mate without her slapping the medical scanner away. He’d been trying for nearly a week to run a full health scan. He couldn’t help himself. It was compulsive. She was his mate, and if there were any problems, he’d want to know about them.
Clover’s results came out clean. Very clean. His mate’s health was surprisingly good, considering she thought watching the Mahdfel run along the tracks on Shackleton was exercise enough. She was also already carrying his son. He’d been pondering how to tell her. Human medicine generally couldn’t detect a pregnancy until weeks after conception. She had only been carrying his child for a few days. He told himself that there was still a higher than acceptable risk that she could lose the child before she even knew she was carrying. He should wait until she was comfortable with him, until they had settled into a more comfortable place in their relationship before he told her.
That was what his logical brain told him. His emotional side wanted just a few more weeks with her before he had to share her with his son, or even just the idea of a son. It did change his plans a bit. After all, he still hadn’t quite worked out how he planned to make their relationship work. Clover had been correct when she had said it was difficult to marry the life of a stationary physician with the life of a cargo captain, always away on a trip somewhere.
After her professional examination, followed by a thoroughly unprofessional examination of her clit with his tongue, Scrubs got on the terminal and did some research. The files were full of Terran stories of long distance relationships. It was not ideal. It was not ideal in the least to have his mate far away and carrying his child and unprotected from Suhlik invasion or injury. But he could already see the way she twitched around the base with little to nothing to do, and he would still have six more months of internship to go through.
If she was going to go on a run, it was best to do it now before she became less mobile and her health became more precarious as she came closer to the end of her pregnancy. It took him a week to present the idea to her over dinner.
He chose to eat in the food area overlooking one of the main recreational areas on the beach. His research had shown that Terran women liked to be taken out by a warrior to show off their eating skills in public. This particular spot got a lot of traffic from the Terrans and Mahdfel alike. Clover had seemed both pleased and confused by his location choice, all at the same time.
“The Mahdfel promised you a cargo. I have arranged for one that is a bit closer and a lot further away from any Suhlik sightings. All in all, it would be a two week run.”
She blinked at him, her fork frozen halfway to her mouth. He had managed to surprise her.
“But if you do not wish to go,” he said hurriedly, “I will arrange for that as well.”
“You… arranged for me to leave?”
“Why is that surprising? You are a cargo captain. A mate can get a bit testy when she is forced to give up all her occupations. Terran mates like to be useful. But one should not assume. One should ask. Would you like to go for two weeks? I cannot join you, but I have-”
“I’ll go,” Clover said. She waited, as if she expected him to object. When he didn’t, she stated, “in the morning.”
Scrubs nodded.
“I have prepared for your trip.”
“Oh, really?”
He passed over the photo that he’d manage to find and antiquatedly put onto gloss paper.
“What’s that?” Clover picked it up and looked at the photo and then up at him.
“It is a custom, when being apart, for Terran mates to exchange photos, so that you may look upon my likeness with fondness.”
Clover giggled. “Yes. But it’s not supposed to look like a mug shot. It’s supposed to be a handsome, sexy pose.”
“Oh. Shall I take another?”
“No, this will do for now.”
“I have also made you another object to remember me by.”
He handed her the box that he had so painstakingly wrapped in the paper that all the manuals said was required of gift giving. It seemed a waste of resources, but knowing it would just be recycled into something else, Scrubs was at least placated into thinking she would find joy in the custom that he had learned.
“What is that?”
“It is a present.”
“It’s not my birthday.” She just stared at it on the table in front of her. He gave it a nudge in her direction.
“While it is traditional to get one a gift on one’s-” Scrubs stumbled over the word, “day of birth, it is acceptable to present gifts at any time of the year.”
“It’s got Christmas trees on it.”
“Festive trees is not appropriate paper?”
“In December. And it’s not December.”
“There were only two selections available. The others were pictures of latex sacks of helium, which did not seem appropriate at all. They are so fragile and easily broken. Festive greenery is better.”
Clover rolled her eyes. “Balloons are for celebrating. They are decorations. Christmas trees are for December and that’s a whole holiday unto itself. My dad and I haven’t celebrated Christmas for years. Since we left Earth.”
Clover was suddenly sad. Scrubs ripped off the unsightly and offending paper and presented her only with the box. “There. Now, it is only a box.”
“My dad only got me a present when he wanted something.”
“I want something. I want your happiness,” he said honestly. “Open it.”
She still looked dubious, but she reached over and took the lid off the box.
“Is that what I think it is?” She reached in and poked it with one finger.
“It is my cock. Take it out.” It was a grand gift, and he had been so sure that she would live it.
“No,” she said in a firm whisper.
Scrubs reached into the box and took out the silicone object. “You see? It is just like mine. I had it made from my scans. It is even the same color.”
Clover’s face turned red and she began to slink under the table. “Would you please stop slinging your cock around in public? It is not polite.”
“You like my cock. But if you like, you can make another. You can change the color. Or add vibration. I have programmed the options into your ship’s computer.”
Clover grabbed the cock from his hand, put in the box and slammed the lid shut.
“Okay, number one,” her voice lowered to an aggressive whisper. “For the record, if you planning on giving a girl gifts like sex toys, or lingerie, or anything that has to do with the bedroom, you give it to her in the bedroom, not in a public place where everyone can see your business...”
“I am not the first to request such a scan. Apparently, it is very much done by many warriors who must separate from their mates.”
“That’s not the point. The point is, you don’t go waving your junk around in public.”
“But do you like my present? I would have you use it. You will be in range for nearly half of your cargo run. I intend to sex call you several times.”
A Terran female two tables over snorted. Clover did not seem amused. She stood up and walked away. He grabbed the items off the table and followed her.
“Are you sure you have finished? You have not consumed your required nutritional allotment.”
She didn’t reply. Clover just swiftly headed back to their quarters.
“My sweet, forgive my rude arrogant behavior.” It was a standard reply that the vids said generally worked when one’s mate was upset for no reason. Clover just kept walking.
“My love, my light, my angel.”
That brought her up short. “Okay, no. Just no.”
Scrubs did not understand. He had done something horribly wrong and realized they were not heading to their quarters. She was heading to her ship.
Clover didn’t stop until she stepped through the hatch and closed it behind him. It was cold in the cargo hold with just the maintenance heaters on. He could practically see his breath with every puff of his lungs.
“I do not need some interfering man telling me what to do!” Clover shouted.
“Please explain.”
“What?”
“I do not believe I have told you to do anything. Please tell me what I have told you to do so that I may correct the error.”
Clover blustered a bit, her chest heaving about in an appealing manner. “Honey, baby, sweetheart, angel.”
“Those are terms of endearment, not demands. Or has the translator failed me? What words do you wish me to use? I can research others. Terra has a data bank in many languages. I thought that was your preferred language, judging from your idiomatic expressions. Was there a flaw in my research?”
Clover sat there with her mouth open. It wasn’t the most flattering of poses, but at least she was no longer yelling or running from him. Unfortunately, she began to cry instead.
“It’s not you. It’s me.” Scrubs’s heart wrenched and he was at a loss for words. Instead, he risked her ire by scooping her up and carrying her into her cabin. It was still cold, so he laid her in the bed, climbed in beside her and then covered them both with the blanket.
She sobbed into his shirt for an almost unbearably long time. He would have cut off his own hand to make her stop, but he could not think of any words that might not make it worse. He had heard of Terran women going hormonal during pregnancy, but it was still way too early in her cycle to predict those changes.
Finally, her sobs turned into snoggy hiccups and he breathed a sigh of relief. Her body was still not quite asleep, but at least she had relaxed into his warmth.
“Every time they wanted me to do something, I got a present. Something small. A candy bar from Earth, a strange new alien trinket. Then I’d have to walk into a bar and distract some drunken customer while my dad fleeced his friend. Or I’d have to spend twenty minutes of a shopkeeper’s time while my dad browsed the other side of the store.” Clover took a shaky breath.
“Every time they ordered me around, I got a ‘honey,’ ‘sweetheart’. And every time I refused, I got a threat and a reminder of how lucky I was to have a spaceship to live in. Garn learned how to manage me from my dad. It wasn’t until the old ass died that I realized how liberating it was not to have to answer to anyone. Not to be under anyone’s thumb. It’s like I could breathe for the first time in a long time.”
Scrubs was still afraid to speak. He wanted to find this Garn and flay him.
“So when you showed up and started waving your cock around, giving me presents-”
“I shall not give you presents unless you request them. You can make up a list of acceptable endearments, or if you wish, I shall only call you Clover.”
“But when will the other shoe drop?”
“I did not give you a shoe. Would you like a shoe?”
“It’s an expression. You gave me something. What do you want in return?”
“I told you. You are my mate. Your happiness and my duty to the Mahdfel are my only concern.”
“And what if those are opposite?”
“Are you going to be in league with the Suhlik?”
“No, of course not.”
“Then we shall always find a compromise.”
“But-”
“If it is any consolation, I will say that my gifts were entirely self gratifying. I very much want to watch you enjoy yourself with my cock.”
“You mean this one?” Clover’s hand sneaked into his uniform and wrapped around his shaft. His body immediately responded to her.
“I was referring to the silicone one, but that is very pleasant.”
“All I get is a pleasant? I’ll have to work harder.”
Scrubs was pleased that his mate was once again pleased with him, and he was going to tell her that, but he was suddenly distracted by her mouth. He would tell her later.