Hero (29 page)

"What's for lunch? I'm starving!" Making a beeline for the stasis unit, he pulled open the latch and stuck his head inside. Micayla could tell how pleased he was by the way his butt wiggled as he did a little happy dance. "Great Mother of the Desert!" he exclaimed. "Would you take a look at this!"

"At least no one will have to cook," Micayla observed. "Unless, of course, you want fruit soup or a pie or something."

"No way!" he said, backing out of the unit with his arm stacked with two crafnets, a cluster of sporak fruit, and a bottle of water. "It's perfect just the way it is."

This observation led Micayla to suspect that Trag had never tasted blueberry crisp with vanilla ice cream. His loss. "Well, you're easy," she said.

Trag grinned at her. Dumping his goodies on the table, he pulled up a chair and

sat down. "Not really," he said. "You'd be surprised how hard it is to find food like this in the places Leroy goes." Taking a big bite of a crisp crafnet, he chewed on it for a few blissful moments before asking, "So, what are you reading?"

"Curly's report."

"Anything interesting?"

"Yes," she replied. "But he wasn't kidding when he said he didn't find very much--though what he did find is very informative. You should read it."

"Later," Trag said dismissively. "I'd much rather do something else."

The suggestive lift of his brow wasn't lost on Micayla, but rather than make it

easy, she chose to tease him. "Oh, and what would that be?"

"As I recall, you were going to suck my dick all the way to Nerik," he said. "I've got the course laid in, so now it's your turn."

"All the way to Nerik? I don't think it would survive the trip!"

"Maybe not," Trag agreed. "But it would be fun for a while."

"True," she concurred. "But I'll never have your babies if that's all we do."

Trag's eyes widened as he tried to swallow a chunk of crafnet that was a little too big. Making a quick recovery, he said, "Grekkor would freak if you walked in pregnant, wouldn't he?"

"He'd probably have a coronary on the spot," she agreed. "Then again, you almost had one yourself just now."

"No I didn't!" he insisted. "It's just that the idea takes a little getting used to. I've never thought of myself as a father. I mean, I love kids--Ty's kids, and Jack's--we've got lots of Zetithian children now--and there was this little girl on Orleon--"

"Yes?" she prompted him when he stopped.

Trag blinked and looked away for a moment. "She was... real cute," he muttered.

"Gave me a strawberry."

Micayla nodded. "Believe it or not, I saw that," she said. "I was on my way to work but Windura distracted me and when I looked back, you were gone. I wanted to go looking for you, but Windura warned me to stay away from that part of the station."

"Wish I'd known that," he said. "Though I wouldn't have thought you'd notice me--unless you could tell that I was Zetithian."

"I didn't find that out until later," she admitted. "My friend Dana is the woman you spoke to in the park. She thought we might be the same species, but even before I knew that, there was still something about you..." Pausing to study his reaction, she
added, "Dana said you seemed very sad. What was bothering you?"

Trag shrugged and focused his attention on the sporak fruit. He might not have

been evading the question, but he was certainly avoiding her gaze. Micayla waited for him to speak, noting that he was clearly wrestling with some very strong emotions.

Finally, he took a swig of water from the bottle and met her eyes. "Just... things," he replied. "And the little girl--Cara--she looked like my sister."

This was a side of Trag she hadn't seen before, though she'd felt it the moment she laid eyes on him. His usual devil-may-care attitude didn't quite mesh with it, but then she remembered what Leroy had said about him; that he had everything he could wish for but still wasn't happy. Micayla was beginning to understand why that was. "Dana told me about that too. I barely remember any of my own family, but you probably remember a lot more about yours, don't you?"

Nodding, he said, "I was about twenty when I was taken prisoner, so yeah, I

remember a lot more."

"That must have been hard."

"It's all been hard," he said. "I know I lived through it, and I've tried not to dwell on it, but yeah, it's been tough. I left home when I was pretty young, but at least I knew my family was still there. Then losing everyone but Ty, being captured... sold as a slave...

Scalia was great, but even so..." He shook his head, looking down at his hands where he toyed with the fruit, plucking the shiny purple globes of sporak from the vine. "For a long time Ty and I thought we were the only ones left." Glancing up at her, he added, "But you'd know all about that, wouldn't you?"

"I was even more in the dark than you were," she agreed. "I never knew where I came from or even what I was. I felt out of place no matter where I went." Shaking her head, she went on, "But that's all changed. I know so much more now, and I feel...

normal... for the first time in my life."

It was a moment before Micayla realized she was staring down at the link module

without comprehending a word of the text. Looking up, she found Trag's glowing green gaze riveted to her face. "My dear Mick," he said. "You are so much more than normal."

He'd said it like he really meant it--with a fervor that made her feel awkward, the subsequent silence only serving to amplify the effect.

In another place and time, she would simply have left him then, not being able to identify the emotions, or to understand why they felt so alien. She'd always dealt with such instances by remaining aloof, pretending not to care if anyone teased her about her feline features or called her "Ice Queen." Trag hadn't been the first to refer to her in that manner, but he was the first to reach her on another level--delving beneath the ice to understand the reason for it. "Thank you," she said softly. "That means a lot to me."

"And thank you too," he said. "You're the first woman who didn't prefer my brother over me."

"I doubt that," she said. "Tychar is very charming, and I'm sure he's very talented, but he certainly doesn't have your personality."

Trag grinned at her. "Don't feel like biting him?"

"Not at all," she replied. This was perfectly true; though the slightest glimpse of Trag's twinkling green eyes had her salivating. "Or any of the others, for that matter. Just you."

"Aw, now, Mick," he drawled. "You wouldn't be falling for me, would you?"
"Maybe," she said with a shrug. "I don't know. Not sure how it's supposed to feel when you fall for someone. I mean, I had a boyfriend once--sort of--and I've been hearing other girls talk about it all my life, but until it happens to you, you can't really understand how it feels, can you?"

"Guess not," Trag agreed. "But then, I'm not a girl. Men don't analyze these things as much as women do." Reaching over to pop a sporak in her mouth, he added, "A guy just knows."

"Oh really?" she said skeptically. "That's all there is to it? You just know?"

Trag didn't reply right away, seeming to contemplate this for a moment. "I'm not sure it's in your head, though. You sort of feel it in your--"

"Dick?"

Scowling at her, he went on, "In your gut, Mick. You feel it in your gut."

"Not your heart?"

"I think that's where women feel it," he said thoughtfully. "It's more visceral with men."

"I guess I'll have to take your word for it," she said. "I barely know how a woman is supposed to feel. Men are even more of a mystery."

"Not really," Trag said. "We're pretty basic on most things."

Micayla wasn't convinced of this but let it drop. "I see you figured out the ship."

"Yeah," he said. "Would you believe it's all manual? Not even a computer to help you out. Took me forever to find how to cloak the damned thing."

A soft snicker from somewhere overhead had them both frozen in place for a

moment.

"Unless it's all voice activated," Micayla suggested.

"You're kidding me, right?"

"Oh, no, she isn't," a breathy, high-pitched feminine voice said. "You only had to ask me. I would have helped you."

This was obviously the computer speaking. "And just where were you when we

were looking for a flight manual?" Trag demanded.

"Waiting for you to ask," the computer said with a decided pout. "Veluka never asks. He makes me keep quiet until he needs me. He doesn't care for conversation." The computer sniffed as though fighting back tears. "At least, not with me."

"Great!" Trag said morosely. "A touchy computer."

"I'm not touchy!"

Micayla shot Trag a quelling look. Piss off the computer and this could be a very bumpy ride. "Do you have a name?"

"Not one that you could pronounce," the voice said. "But you can call me Roslyn."

"Roslyn?" Trag echoed. "What kind of name is that?"

"It's Terran," Micayla said. "And, oddly enough, her voice sounds familiar."

"Sounds like a fuckin' slut," Trag said under his breath.

"I don't want to sound like this," Roslyn mourned. "I was programmed that way."

Trag shook his head in disgust. "Never could stand women who talked like that."

"Obviously Veluka can't either," Micayla observed.

"I'd love to sound brisk and efficient," Roslyn said plaintively. "I can't help it that I sound like a--a--" She broke off there, dissolving into sobs.
"Dumb blonde?" Micayla said.

"Yes!" Roslyn wailed.

As her sobs increased in volume, Trag covered his ears. "Make her stop!"

"Roslyn?" Micayla said gently. "Would you like something to do?"

"Oh, yes, please," Roslyn said gratefully. "Anything!"

"Could you run scans of the communication traffic and see if you can locate

someone named Rutger Grekkor? He's supposed to have gone to Nerik after leaving

Orleon Station."

"I'll get right on it!" Roslyn said with undisguised enthusiasm.

"Thank you," Trag said to Micayla, mouthing the words. "Thank you, Roslyn," he said aloud. "We'll let you know if we need anything."

"I'll be here," Roslyn said. "Call me anytime. Bye now!"

"Wow," Trag said after a moment. "That was weird." Hunching his shoulders, he peered furtively over his shoulder as though Roslyn might have been standing right behind him. "Do you think she's still listening?"

"Probably not," Micayla replied. "Most voice-activated computers don't unless you address them directly. Though this one seems a bit unusual."

"No shit," said Trag. "For a minute there I thought we'd have to listen to her bawling all the way to Nerik."

"Don't like weepy females?"

"Not at all!" Trag declared.

"Glad I'm not the weepy type," Micayla said, "or this would be a very long trip--

for all of us."

"The way I see it, it's not going to be long enough," Trag said. "I've already got the ship flying itself to Nerik and now Roslyn is busy doing your job."

"Your point?"

"That leaves us plenty of time to get to know each other better," he said.

"And leaves me free to suck your dick all the way to Nerik," she finished for him.

Rolling her eyes, she added, "What was I thinking? I never thought you'd actually hold me to that."

"I won't," Trag chuckled. "But I thought we might delve into your little brain for a while." Eyeing her speculatively, he went on, "What about it, Mick? Got any hot fantasies? Something you'd like to play out?"

Her first inclination was to laugh out loud, but the look in his eyes assured her that he was perfectly serious. "You'll probably think it's silly," she began. "I can't remember if I dreamed this or saw it in a movie or came up with it on my own, and I've never told anyone about it, but I think about being in an orchard with a man. It's hot and we've been picking peaches and get to goofing around while we're washing the fruit, and we splash each other with water and then I run and he chases me. Eventually he catches me and we make wild, passionate love under the trees."

Trag's expression was unreadable. Micayla shrugged and went on, "It's not much, I guess, and maybe not terribly exciting, but it got stuck in my head a long time ago. I had a summer job picking apples, and a boy tried to get me to go off with him, but I was too chicken." Shaking her head, she added, "Though I must admit, I'd hoped I'd actually want him to chase me, but as it turned out, I didn't."

"Was this your 'sort of' boyfriend?"
"No, that was Adam. He and I got to be friends and he wanted more, so I tried

having sex with him, but it was the most emotionless experience I've ever had. All I could do was just lie there and let him do his thing. I think he would have appreciated a little more enthusiasm because he quit trying after a while and we sort of drifted apart."

"Well, I hate to sound selfish, but I'm glad you didn't--show more enthusiasm, that is." Trag paused, running a hand through his hair. "The guy in your fantasy... I don't suppose he looked anything like me, did he?"

Micayla blinked hard and then her eyes widened. "Well, I... yeah--now that you mention it, I suppose he did. I've never had a clear picture of his face in my mind, but he had hair like yours and..." Micayla closed her eyes, trying to remember. Was she simply inserting Trag into her fantasy? She didn't think so--in fact, she hadn't thought about it for some time, but-- "Green eyes," she said, opening her own. "He had green eyes."

"And he pounces on you from behind a tree, right?"

Micayla nodded. She swallowed hard as a wave of tingles tightened her scalp.

"How did you know?"

"Because that's my fantasy," he whispered. "Or maybe it wasn't a fantasy. Maybe it was a vision."

"And we each had the same one?"

"Seems like it," he replied. "I've had that one in my head for a long time--even before the war--and I always thought it was just wishful thinking. But maybe it wasn't."

"It was the only way I knew how it was supposed to feel to be with a man,"

Micayla said, "even though it had never actually happened." Scowling, she added, "I always thought it just gave me unrealistic expectations."