The Choosing (The Pruxnae Book 1) (9 page)

She found her
footing and wrapped an arm around his waist, holding him tightly against her side
as they eased their way toward the control panel, swaying through the ship’s
irregular lurches and the cold, cold fear that the Belnyin would wake up and
attack them again.

After what felt
like an eon, they reached the chairs. Ziri maneuvered Ryn into one, buckled him
in, and sank into the other, fastening herself to it automatically. He jerked
his chin toward Buzz, but she already knew what to do. She slid the panel back,
waited for the button to rise into its fully upright position, and slapped her
palm into it, shooting them across the galaxy and hopefully well out of reach
of the alien creatures that had attacked them.

* * *

A persistent
alarm prodded Ziri into alertness. She shook off the dizzying effects of space
travel and glanced at Ryn. He was slumped over in the seat, his head tilted at
an odd angle, his arms limp and unmoving. She fumbled her harness off and
pressed unsteady fingers to the pulse at the base of his throat, along the
bottom edge of his helmet. A harsh breath whooshed out of it, and she closed
her eyes and murmured a soft, thankful prayer.

The helmet
needed to come off. She groped along it, searching for a release mechanism. Her
fingers slid over a series of slight indents. She pressed each one, and at
last, the helmet clicked and popped open.

“Belnyin luf,” a
mild voice said.

Ziri twisted
around and glared at the viewscreen. “Where were you when I needed you?”

“Hrenig nyin.”

“
Request
denied
my bottom,” she muttered. “I could’ve been raped, you lanoo, or
worse, but no. You just sat there, sulking.”

Ryn stirred.
“Ziri?”

“I’m here, Ryn.”

She widened the
helmet’s hinges and pulled it off him as gently as she could, and bit her lip. His
skin was so pale. He had to’ve lost a lot of blood, and she had no idea how to
help him replace it. Repair every water filter on the ship? No problem. Bandage
up her wounded kidnapper? Not a clue. Unfortunately, that was the one thing
she’d never apprenticed at. Being a healer took more patience and fortitude
than she possessed, and now she regretted the lack.

The alarm
changed from a steady buzz to a whooping siren.

Ryn’s eyelids
fluttered open. He braced a hand on one arm of his chair and leaned toward the
control panel. Ziri hurriedly propped him up with a hand wrapped around his
upper arm and another across his broad back. His hands were slow as they shifted
across the instruments and not quite steady. The viewscreen flickered to life,
centered on what Ziri hoped were their new surroundings. A gas giant lay ahead
of them. Sweeping bands of color swirled through its atmosphere. A dull gray
moon rotated into view. Deep, shadowed craters were scattered in uneven
pockmarks across its lifeless surface.

Ziri focused on
helping Ryn, toggling switches he couldn’t reach, serving as his balance when
his strength waned. After a short eternity, the ship slipped into one of the moon’s
craters and landed on its floor. Ryn’s hands continued to move across the
control panel. One by one, the ship’s systems ground to a halt, the viewscreen,
the alarm, the ever-present hum of the engines. The lights went last, replaced
by the red glow of emergency lighting.

She sucked in a
breath. What had Ryn done? They wouldn’t survive an hour without heat and life
support. She didn’t have to be a travel-weary spacer to know that.

His hands slid
off the control panel. “Ziri,” he whispered, his voice so low and thin she
nearly missed the word. He draped an arm around her shoulders, leaning into
her. She braced her feet and heaved him upright, hauling him out of the control
room toward the one place she knew would help him. Not a medical bay. In her
time aboard Ryn’s ship, she’d never found one, though one was probably tucked
away behind one of the doors Ryn had locked against her nosiness. She wouldn’t
know what to do there anyway, but a shower and bed and maybe a first aid kit?
Those she could work with, if Ryn hadn’t cut the water system off.

The stench of
whatever covered him wafted to her. Ziri grimaced and guided him down the long
hallway toward his bedchamber. Please let the water work, or at least, let it
be fixable. She hefted his arm into a better position around her shoulders and
racked her mind for probable locations of sterile bandages.

Gentle hands
swept over Ryn’s leg, waking him. He held himself still under the steady
touches, measuring their progress along his limb as he prodded his memory. The
room was cold and nearly silent, the only sound the distant thrum of a barely
audible engine. He ached from head to toe, especially along the right side of
his torso and down his left leg. The fingers grazed his bare skin high on his
thigh, just below his manhood and above the ache, and a soft breath blew across
his naked penis, stirring more than a little interest within the traitorous
appendage.

His eyes flew
open. Ziri sat on the edge of his bed beside his legs, staring at his growing
erection. Wait, that couldn’t be right. Every time he got anywhere near her
with an erection, she shied away. He lifted his head slightly and squinted at
his lower body. A large bandage covered the top part of his thigh. Her fingers
plucked at the tape holding it in place, maybe trying to remove it. His skin
tingled wherever she touched, warming him to the core, fanning the flames of
need he’d struggled to control since meeting her.

He groaned and
let his head fall into his pillow. It wasn’t working. The more he was around
her, the more he wanted her. Even now with his body so stiff and sore he wasn’t
sure he could move, it roared to life, demanding her touch.

Air stirred
around his stomach and the bed shifted. Ziri tucked the covers under his arms
and smiled wanly. “Good morning, Ryn.”

Dark shadows
under her eyes marred the fragile paleness of her smooth skin. He groped for
her hand and clasped it in his own, alarmed by the tremor running through it.
She glanced at the ceiling and blinked, and her smile faded. Her lower lip
trembled once, then firmed, and something both tender and fierce clutched Ryn’s
heart in a tight fist. His brave Ziri. What had she gone through since he’d
passed out on her?

He tugged her
gently down, cradling her against his chest. “I’m sorry, Ziri, so sorry.”

She cupped her
fingers over his ribs and buried her face in his throat. Her sniffles became
sobs and her body shook, and he held her, simply held her until the storm
passed, comforting her the only way he could, with the strength of his embrace
and softly murmured words she couldn’t yet understand.

A long while
later, her sobs quieted and the tremors running through her transformed into
shivers. She eased away from him, face averted, and went into the head. Water
splashed in the sink, and he frowned as memory caught up to him. Jumping into a
nest of Sweepers, killing them one by one, finding Ziri on the bridge with the
last one standing over her doing Tyornin knew what to her.

He’d shut most
of the systems down, leaving the ship on backup power while there was a chance
the Sweepers would come after them. That meant no water, but that wasn’t what
was important. Ryn rolled unsteadily off the bed, ignoring the twinging aches
of healing wounds and the near-frigid temperature of the air against his bare
skin, and padded after Ziri.

She was standing
at the sink, staring at herself in the mirror. Her gaze swung around, meeting
his evenly, and he frowned. Her skin was blotchy, her eyes puffy. That wouldn’t
do, not at all. He’d only seen her cry once, on the night he’d taken her. Even
then, her tears had been few, her fear limited to hoarse pleas. After, she’d
thrown her shoulders back and stuck her stubborn chin out and made the best of
her situation, but she hadn’t cried.

Ryn stepped into
the bathroom and gathered her close, and her arms wound around his waist. She
was warm and soft, in spite of the bulk of her clothes. His clothes, he amended
with a grin. From the feel of it, she had on at least three shirts under the
oversized sweater. Relief rushed through him. A woman’s tears were a mystery to
him. How did a man go about fixing what hurt his woman? But the cold he could
fix, and would as soon as he pulled on some clothes.

Ziri eased back,
her eyes fixed on his chest. Her fingers drifted there, rubbing lightly along
the skin covering his sternum, touching him exactly the way he’d hoped. He jerked
his chin toward the sink and arched an eyebrow, and her cheeks flushed pink.

So, she’d been
up to something, had she? His mind flipped through the possibilities as she
fidgeted and nibbled on her lower lip, her blue-gray eyes wary. Did she know
enough about the
Yarinska
to figure out how to operate each system
separately? Or had she merely used her knowledge of the water system to turn it
on?

She stepped out
of his embrace, keyed the bathroom door shut, and switched the shower on.

Ryn crossed his
arms over his chest and leveled a stern look at her.

She grinned
sheepishly and shrugged, and he relented, too charmed to rebuke her. He’d
wanted her to learn how to operate the
Yarinska
anyway. This was a good
enough start and it proved her interest, at least in the ship.

Maybe he was
growing on her a little, too.

Ziri plucked at
a bandage covering his upper right arm. He glanced around and caught his
reflection in the mirror hanging above the sink. Self-adhesive bandages dotted
his arms, covering most of his skin around larger, white gauze held on by gobs
of bandage tape. He pulled one self-adhesive bandage off and discovered a
shallow scratch, hardly deep enough to worry over. Another one went the same
way. It, too, hid a mere pinprick. One by one, he pulled off bandages,
revealing cuts and scrapes so minor, he never would’ve noticed them, let alone
bothered to tend them.

Humor rose,
swift and pure, and he grinned at the top of Ziri’s bent head. She’d tended
him, maybe not the way a trained healer would, but her gentle hands had done
the trick, caring for him when he’d been unable to care for himself. Tender
warmth rose, mingling with the humor. She’d stripped off his soiled and torn
clothing, cleaned him somehow, and bandaged his wounds. From the looks of him,
she’d used nearly every one he’d had on hand and then some.

He made a mental
note to check the first-aid supplies and restock them as soon as they found a
decent trading post, a price he’d willingly pay in exchange for knowing she’d
cared enough to try.

* * *

Ziri stayed
inside the tiny head, her eyes trained on him as he cleansed himself under the
shower’s thin spray. Ryn refused to turn his back. She’d already seen every bit
of him, probably touched every bit, too. If it offended her to see him naked,
she could easily leave. Instead, she leaned a shoulder against the wall and
watched him bathe, a worried frown furrowing her brow.

He was glad for
the company, and not solely because his limbs were shaky and alarmingly weak.
How long had he been out, anyway? He shook the question off and scrubbed his
skin, removing the last of the Sweepers’ stench. They had a lot of work to do.
The Sweepers’ bodies needed to be removed from the
Yarinska
before they
started to rot. The places where their bodies had been would have to be
scrubbed down with the strongest cleaning agent he could find. He needed to
assess the damage the Sweepers had inflicted and, at the very least, make sure
it was safe to restore full, system-wide power to the ship.

Chances were
good they’d need repairs of some kind, and for that, they’d have to find a
trading post or repair station, depending on what kind of damage the Sweepers
had done to the
Yarinska
.

He forced his
aching body into movement, toweling off with Ziri’s help, not because he needed
it. She offered and no man in his right mind would turn down having her hands
stroking over his bare skin.

Ryn was a long
way from being out of his mind.

She ignored his
inevitable erection, insisted on helping him dress, and he let her simply for
the pleasure of having her soft hands on him. He ducked into the galley on the
way to the bridge, then changed his mind. The hunger gnawing at his belly would
have to wait. He’d never keep food down while surrounded by Sweeper stench.

Ziri followed
him to the bridge, her smaller feet scuffing quietly against the floor. He
stepped across the threshold of the broken door and faltered to a halt.

The Sweeper that
had attacked her was gone, along with most of its stench.

Ryn whirled and
stared at Ziri, and pointed toward the place where it should’ve been.
Understanding spread across her lovely features. She smiled shyly and took his
hand, twining her chilled fingers with his, and his worry disappeared as if it
had never been.

She was touching
him, voluntarily, openly. Tyornin’s hammer, had there ever been anything so
sweet as Ziri’s bare skin on his?

They wended
their way through the ship to the cargo bay, and Ryn glanced around, astounded.
The Sweepers had been dragged to the airlock and piled haphazardly near its
entrance. The airlock itself was shut. The floors had been scrubbed reasonably
clean and most of the mess the Sweepers had made as they’d bumbled around in
the dark searching for him had been tidied.

His gut sank
slowly to his knees. He had a feeling he’d been out at least a full day, maybe
two, and during that time, Ziri had worked herself into the ground.

He shook his
head. It didn’t matter, not now, though he’d never let her do that again, not
on her own. Still, she’d done the best she could with the Sweepers’ remains.
He’d finish the job while she took a well-earned rest. First, though, he owed
her a decent meal in a warm ship.

He tugged her
into a hug. “Dyankyu.”

She leaned back
and grinned up at him, her eyes twinkling, her nose reddened by the cold. “You’re
welcome,” she said, followed by a long spate of words in her native language.
He smiled, content to have her lyrical voice washing over him for as long as
she needed him to listen.

Later, they went
to the bridge, and he walked her through a systems check. The secondary AI was
being more cooperative than usual, so he asked it to assess the hull while he
searched for a nearby trading post. The closest one was three systems away, an
easy jump by any standard.

Ryn scanned for
a Net connection, scowled at the low signal strength. They weren’t
that
far from civilization. Maybe the radiation emitted by the gas giant was
interfering with the signal. He pondered the problem for a tick, well aware of
Ziri studying him from her seat in the pilot’s chair, and finally settled for
the ship’s onboard knowledge base, pulling it up on the main viewscreen for her
benefit.

The trading post
was located on Lodem, the fourth planet of the Ursine system, the center of
which was a yellow dwarf edging toward the end of its natural lifespan. There
was a somewhat reputable repair station in orbit around the planet and a
landing zone on the planet’s surface. The trading post had a slightly seedier
reputation, far worse than its host city, but it appeared to be large enough to
resupply nearly anything they needed, including self-adhesive bandages.

Ryn smiled as he
searched for the jump point nearest Lodem and plotted a course, then pulled up
the secondary AI’s damage assessment. His smile faded. Kraden airlock needed
work, serious work if they wanted to make it home in one piece, though it would
survive one more jump the way it was. Between that and repairing the doorway to
the bridge, he’d barely have enough vud left for the bride price.

He glanced at
Ziri out of the corner of his eye. She was staring intently at the viewscreen
as her fingers tapped an irregular rhythm on her thighs. They needed a better
way to communicate. Either he needed to replace the primary AI or find an
autolearner programmed with his language, preferably both. Either one would
strain his credits. Both on top of the
Yarinska
’s repairs would drain
his accounts almost completely.

He slumped into
his seat and scrubbed a weary hand over his eyes, breathing through the sorrow
clogging his chest. If he’d waited two more Galactic Standards, this wouldn’t
have been an issue. Two more years of trading and raiding would’ve padded his
accounts against hardship. If he’d chosen a quicker path home, they never
would’ve jumped into that nest of Sweepers, but Ziri wouldn’t have had time to
get to know him, either.

If, if, if
. The
possibilities crowded through his mind, teasing him with what might’ve been
while the bleakness of reality clawed at him.

He could see no
way to keep Ziri and ensure her safety, too. It was simply beyond his means.
Repair the ship the way it needed to be repaired and he wouldn’t have enough
vud for the bride price. The Choosing was too close for them to avoid it. On
that night, she’d stand as a candidate, but some other man would take his place
in the inner circle, and Ryn would lose her forever.

Her eyes flicked
to his, curiosity widening their blue-gray depths, sparking a chain reaction of
emotion and need within him. Hard resolution won out. He’d find a way to do
what needed to be done, but he’d never give Ziri up. Her bright warmth was too
precious, too rare to be discarded so easily, and her presence eased the aching
loneliness he’d lived with for far too long. She was his, and now that she was,
he’d fight for her no matter what odds he faced.