Chapter 7

Nakia:

Nausea rolled through Nakia. Harsh lights temporarily blinded her as she adjusted to the stark room. She placed a hand on her stomach, willing it to cooperate. Instantaneous travel via teleportation sounded good in theory, but it sucked in practice.

She shouldn’t have had breakfast or coffee that morning, but she had the suspicion that she’d feel just as bad post-teleport with an empty stomach.

“You don’t look so good.” A Mahdfel male—huge because they only came in one enormous size—rushed to her side.

“I think I’m going—” Nakia never finished that statement. She folded over, emptying her stomach onto the floor. Taking a step back to avoid splattering her shoes, her leg locked up. She crashed down to the floor, her hands landing in the warm puddle.

So much for a good first impression. So much for her Rohn—if he was her Rohn—ever seeing as something other than a girl who needed to be constantly rescued.

“Fuck this fucking leg,” she hissed.

The male crouched down next to Nakia. “Are you well?”

“Do I look well?” Her stomach heaved again, thankfully this time it was empty.

“Medical assistance is on their way. Remain calm.” The male gave Nakia a tentative pat-pat on the back. Surely, he intended that to be a sweet, comforting gesture, but it came across as nervous and timid. He handed her a water sphere and a mint. She sucked the water down to wash away the taste of bile in her throat and the mint quenched the nausea almost instantly.

The male helped her to feet, but her leg buckled again. “It’s my prosthetic,” she explained. “It seizes up from time to time. I think the teleporter scrambled something.”

“Unlikely,” the male said.

When the medics arrived, the male carried Nakia in his arms, which was embarrassing. As he carried her to the medical bay, she felt eyes watching her in the corridor, wondering what was wrong with her, wondering how long before she was found unfit and sent back. By the time they finally finished the longest journey ever to medical, she was determined not to let random doctor send her home.

She sat on the edge of a large padded table. An endless procession of Mahdfel in white coats or uniforms entered the room, looked at her, checked the translator chip behind her ear, or looked at their tablets. They punched a few buttons and they left again.

Great. She went from being a helpless woman on display to being completely ignored. When a purple-skinned male with horns in a white coat came up to her with a needle, she said, “I’m not defective. This is a hardware problem.”

The male took a step back, as if surprised at her defensive tone.

“There’s nothing wrong with me,” she added.

“An assessment of every new arrival is standard. Teleportation sickness is common, as you’ve experienced.”

“First off, do you have a name? And how is that needle part of a standard assessment?”

“I am Medic Levin, and this is for the nausea.”

“So, you were just going to jab that in me and not tell me what it was?”

His lips pressed together and stretched in a phony smile. “I am the medic. I determined that it was the best course of treatment for you, female.”

Yeah. She disliked the guy and hated the false concern in his tone, like he was talking to a child. “I’m no longer nauseated, so I’ll skip that needle. Is that even safe for me? I’m a different species than you.”

“You are not the first Terran I’ve encountered. Now explain to me the hardware problem,” he said briskly.

“My prosthesis. It froze up. When that happens, I need to call the service rep.” She tapped her fingers against the artificial leg. The medic barely glanced down at her leg, instead waving a handheld device over her head and staring at the tablet in his hands.

“Where’s my match? Shouldn’t he be here by now?” Nakia wasn’t normally so needy but she disliked the way this medic ignored her. He needed a refresher in his bedside manners.

“Who is he?” the medic asked in a bored tone.

“Rohn Ogana.”

Levin gave that thin, false smile again. “Your assessment is complete. Let me send him a message and get someone from engineering up here to look at that leg.”

Nakia waited, the back of her operational foot kicking against the table. Bored, she moved her leg to the table and unfastened the leg. The release of pressure and the dead weight of it hanging there made her sigh with relief. The day felt long, despite only being a few hours since her alarm went off.

Her apartment. Her job. Nakia made a mental checklist of everyone she needed to contact, starting with her mother. She always called Yvonne after being released from the testing facility. Would the facility contact her parents? Even if they didn’t, Nakia had no doubt that Darlene called Yvonne, ranting about how Nakia was irresponsible and totally fired for having a day off, and her mother would put the pieces together. And yes, Darlene had actually called her mother once before to verify that Nakia was legitimately sick that one time she dared to have the flu.

She should have quit that job ages ago, honestly. She lived modestly, had a bit of savings, and even if Darlene bad-mouthed her in every reference check, the amount of time she managed to tolerate working for that woman spoke volumes. Darlene had a reputation with their competitors; no one would doubt why she left. Besides, Nakia was damn good at her job.

A male entered the small room, dragging her thoughts away from impossible crushes and resumes. Nakia recognized him instantly thanks to his distinctive white gold tattoos.

“No. You’re the wrong one. I’m matched to Rohn Ogana,” she said, stomach churning. She picked Rohn. They sent her to the wrong place, and she’d have to be teleported again and, frankly, teleportation sucked big time.

“Well, pleasure to make your acquaintance,” the male said, perfectly affable and not offended. He set down a cloth bundle on the table next to her, unrolling to reveal tools. “I understand you require an engineer.”

“Oh, you’re the technician.” Thank the stars. The turmoil in her belly calmed.

“I’m Jaxar, head of engineering, but I couldn’t find another male brave enough to look at your leg. Is that it?” He pointed to the prosthesis resting next to her on the table.

“Yes. Don’t tell me the big Mahdfel warriors fear a woman with one leg.”

“Oh, it’s not you. It’s your mate. He’s very… shouty.” Jaxar turned the leg over in his hands, the white casing gleaming under the lights. Pressing a nearly invisible button near the ankle, the casing opened, revealing the inner circuitry. “What seems to be the problem with this?”

“Stupid thing locks up. Happens once every few months. Usually a tech just replaces the circuit board.”

His brow furrowed. “If it’s blowing a circuit board that regularly, the design is defective.”

“I know. Trust me, this model is a class action lawsuit waiting to happen. I planned to switch back to my older leg but, you know,” Nakia waved a hand to indicate the medical bay and the ship as a whole, “here I am.”

“Would it bother you to put this back on so I can see it in action?”

Nakia clenched a fist, remembering the last time a technician wanted to study the way the neural interface operated. “Don’t touch the neural circuits. It hurts.”

“Understood.”

She adjusted the compression sock on her stump before reattaching the prosthesis, lining up the sensor connections implanted into her stump with the receptors in the device.

“You did that quickly.”

“Practice.” Taking the prosthesis off at the end of the day was as satisfying as taking off her bra. More. The device hadn’t caused physical discomfort in ages but taking it off after a long day, like kicking off her shoes and changing into pajamas, was part of her wind-down process.

Jaxar lifted her foot gently, turning it this way and that. “Can you raise your leg?”

She tried to lift it and then to circle her foot, failing on both accounts. “No. Sorry. It’s completely unresponsive.”

“How fine-tuned are the sensors on this thing?”

“When it’s working? Amazing. I can feel contact on the surface, just like skin.”

“And now?” Jaxar gave a clinical stroke across the bottom of her foot.

“Nothing.”

Another medic walked into the room. He took in the scene of her skirt pushed up and Jaxar holding her foot in his hand and scowled. “What are you still doing here?”

Rohn:

Merrek strolled into the office, coffee in one hand and tablet in the other. He nearly dropped them both when he saw Rohn.

Rohn knew he was a hard taskmaster for his crew, but he didn’t believe he was drop-your-coffee hard.

“What are you still doing here?” the male asked.

“I work here.” Rohn waved a hand to encompass his desk, the office and the flight deck beyond.

“But you were matched to a mate. You should not be here. Your mate is waiting for you.”

“I have no mate.”

“You do now,” Merrek said slowly, as if Rohn were mentally deficient. “The message came in hours ago.”

Rohn frowned, trying to remember if he ignored a communication. Surely not, but so many people vied for his attention, he may have been distracted. No, he would remember if he had a mate.

“I couldn’t be happier for you,” Merrek said, landing a jovial slap on Rohn’s back.

Rohn had no idea why his crew felt comfortable enough with him to be in high spirits. He certainly spent most of his time shouting and cursing the day they were conceived.

“Maybe your mate will put a smile on your face?”

Ah, that was Merrek’s angle. Rohn definitely needed to spend more energy shouting and cursing. He turned his head and glared at the male’s hand still resting on his shoulder. “Hoping I’ll be too distracted to notice your sloppy work?”

Merrek quickly removed his hand. “Just want you to be happy.”

“Our work is vital to the clan. The pilots depend on us to keep them safe and their mates and families rely on us to bring them home safely. The warlord relies on the pilots to keep the clan safe. The planets in our alliances, the planet of our mothers, rely on the warlord to keep them safe. Where, do you suppose, is there time for happiness?” Pain. Frustration. Fatigue. A Mahdfel’s life offered that in abundance, but not something as trivial as happiness. Briefly his thoughts flickered to Vox and the young babe Rohn held in his arms just yesterday.

Some males were lucky. Rohn had enough years to know he was not.

The screen on his wrist communicator lit up. The head medic wanted to speak to him. “Ogana, why is your mate still in my medical bay?”

Kalen Halse, charming as always.

“There’s been a mistake. I received no notification of a match.” He slipped on his glasses and scrolled through the notifications on his communicator. He hated to wear them, hated more for his crew to see them, but reading the fine print on the tiny screen made the lenses necessary. If a notice did arrive, it had been quickly buried under the litany of status updates, communications, and service requests.

“Consider this your notification. Now hurry up or I’m sending her home with Jaxar.”

“No!” The force of his response took him by surprise. Rohn might be friendly with the engineer, but he’d rather twist his horn off than let the male have unsupervised time with his mate.

His mate.

The idea was foreign but not unpleasant. A mate in his quarters, with a smile on her face when he entered the room, in his bed. The image appealed to him, especially the in-bed part. His possessive instincts stirred, not even knowing his mate’s name or what planet she hailed from. Would she be from Sangrin, the planet of his birth? Or Earth, which supplied so many of the new brides?

No. He could not indulge in these fantasies. He was too old and his body too broken for a mate. The female waiting for him would expect a younger warrior, with two functioning eyes and a physique not adorned with alloys to hide its disfigurement.

Besides, he was too busy for a mate. Clearly the fact that his day had been too fraught with activity to notice the arrival of a mate was indication enough.

He would send her back, and he considered the most efficient way to do just that. Sight unseen would be best. If he went to medical, the sight of her, or the scent of her female pheromones, could trigger a primitive instinct. The Mahdfel were made to crave their mates and he might succumb to temptation and keep his mate. Such a strategy felt deceitful, but Rohn did not want to see the disappointment in the female’s face when she saw his disfigured horn.

Ridiculous that he should twist himself so regarding a simple decision. He did not want a mate and he did not have to explain himself.

He called Kalen back. The moment the medic answered, Rohn rushed to say, “Send her back.”

“No,” Kalen replied.

“I have the right to refuse a match.” Not many males did, but it happened.

The medic sighed heavily and Rohn could feel the burn of a disapproving glare. “Not sight unseen. Have the decency to look the female in the eyes and then send her home. I will not do your dirty work for you.” The call disconnected.

Fuck.

Growling with frustration, he entered the medical bay. A large, circular space, examination tables ringed the room. The occasional partition allowed for privacy.

He spotted Jaxar immediately, kneeling at the feet of a Terran female. The engineer had a hand on her calf, stroking the length of her leg. She looked down at him, smiling.

Rage filled Rohn and he failed to understand why. He did not want a mate and planned to send her home immediately. He should not be upset at the sight of her enjoying the company of another male. In fact, it would be best if she did move on to another male, another match. If she already found an agreeable replacement, then she would not be too upset when he sent her back.

She was lovely, with a warm bronze complexion, like she was made to be caressed by the sun. Long, loose curls hung over one shoulder in a dark wave. She wore a skirt, which was pushed up, exposing her captivating long, lean legs. He could imagine them wrapped around him. The leg Jaxar touched was a shining white, different from the other. An injury, then. It did not matter. The contrast in the artificial material against her skin spoke to strength and made her appear more elegant.

He did not deserve such a beautiful mate, and she would be better off without him.

But the sight of Jaxar’s hand on her calf.

Anyone but Jaxar.

Rohn growled, snagging her attention.

She turned towards him, and her face softened into a smile. He recognized her then, changed by the years, leaner in the face and more herself, and wholly unmistakable.

Nakia.

Possessive pride surged in him, that his little friend grew into such a lovely female, and that every male in the room stared at her with longing. She was vulnerable and alone and his to protect, his instincts insisted.

“Do not touch her!” He clamped a hand on Jaxar’s shoulder and roughly pulled the male away. The foolish smile did not falter on the engineer’s face. This was a joke to Jaxar—laughing and touching another male’s mate. Rohn wouldn’t have been surprised if Jaxar had misrouted his messages, causing him to leave Nakia waiting.

His annoyance grew, his tattoos burning bright with his heightened emotions. Jaxar was always pulling practical jokes, but stealing his mate was too far.

“Finally,” the idiot said.

Fury rose at the male’s insolent tone. Rohn grabbed Jaxar by his topknot of hair, pulling the male’s head back sharply. With throat of his rival exposed, Rohn fought the urge to sink his fangs in and rip his throat out. It would be gruesome but satisfying.

No, the sane part of his mind supplied, females did not like blood.

Shame. If anyone deserved to have their blood decorate the medical bay floor, it was the mouthy engineer. Instead, he gripped the base of Jaxar’s horns. The male thrashed and twisted, but he could not shake Rohn’s grip.

Jaxar threw his weight backward, slamming into Rohn’s chest. Together they stumbled, knocking into a cart and sending the contents to the floor. Vials shattered and glass crushed underfoot. His foot slipped in the fluid but he maintained his grip on the offending engineer.

“Cease at once!”

Rohn ignored the shouting medic, all his attention focused on Jaxar, which is why he did not see Kalen jab him with a needle.

* * *

“What did you do to Rohn? Will he be all right?”

“I administered a paralytic. He will be immobilized for ten minutes. Consider it a time out.” A foot kicked his side, not a crippling blow but one that would elicit a response, such as a fist to the jaw. Eyes open and staring at the white ceiling, Rohn could only groan. He would make Kalen pay for this.

“Do not think of retribution,” Kalen warned. “This is my medical bay, a place of healing, and I will not have two idiots fighting.”

Nakia leaned over him, concern in her eyes. She was lovely with her velvety brown eyes and red lips. He wanted to express his admiration and to explain why he had to send her back, but all that came out was a gurgling groan.

“Is that color normal?” she asked.

Kalen leaned down, pressing two fingers to Rohn’s throat, then opening his mouth. Rohn’s tongue lolled uselessly, blocking his air. “Stop fighting, idiot,” the medic scolded, then rolled Rohn over to his side. A bit of broken glass dug into his cheek. He tried to protest the change in view but appreciated being able to breathe easier.

“Is your prosthesis functional?”

“Yeah, it seems fine now,” his mate answered.

“We should monitor the effects of the ship’s gravity on your muscle and bone structure. I have scheduled a follow up in a month.” She agreed. “The paralytic will wear off on Jaxar first. We will wait if he needs to advise you further. Until then, your scans are acceptable and your immunizations up to date. Any discomfort?”

“My head hurts a bit.”

His mate was ill. Rohn wanted more than anything to jump to his feet and comfort her, to demand that the bossy medic do his duty and fix his mate, but he was stuck on the floor, unable to move.

Damn Kalen Halse. Damn him right out an airlock, straight into space.

“Adverse reactions to teleportation are not unusual. Sleep is the best cure,” Kalen said.

Jaxar stirred, the male sitting up slowly, then resting his head in his hands. “Why did you shoot me? I wasn’t the one attacking.”

“I had to make a snap decision. It seemed prudent,” Kalen said in a crisp tone.

“Cheers for that. I could do without the aftertaste.”

“Consider it an incentive to never misbehave in my medical bay. Next time, I’ll have the warlord take your horns.”

“Again, I wasn’t the one who attacked.” Jaxar rose to his feet and out of Rohn’s view. “How is it working now?”

“Perfect,” Nakia said.

“If it gives you any more trouble, come to engineering. Poor design is unacceptable. I’ll take some scans and manufacture a non-malfunctioning unit.”

“Thank you.” Gratitude warmed her voice. Was she smiling at Jaxar? Rohn tried to move but his body would not respond. He should not care if she smiled at Jaxar, he told himself. He was unfit for a mate. He would say as much as soon as he could speak.

Damn Kalen Halse. Because of him, Rohn had to listen to Jaxar speak idly in that way Terrans found charming, chatting about nothing in an amusing manner. It was the one trait of Jaxar’s that Rohn found the most irritating.

In a matter of minutes that felt like an eternity, Rohn was able to sit. His hair and shirt were soaked with the spilled vial contents. He smelled medicinal and required a shower. Kalen plied him with water and a swift rap of the knuckles on the back of his head, like Rohn was a child and not the medic’s elder by a century.

“Will he be all right?” Nakia asked, because she was kind and concerned.

“Only his pride has been injured,” Kalen replied.

She approached him, apprehension visible on her face. “I don’t know if you remember me, but we met. During the invasion. You—”

“She cannot stay,” Rohn said to the medic, turning his attention away from her. “Send her back.”

Kalen furrowed his brow. “Are you certain?”

“You said I must meet her in person, so I did. Now send her back to Earth.”

“What? Rohn, no,” she protested. The hurt in her voice tore at him, but he had to resist the urge to comfort her, making promises of never leaving her side. His young Nakia had grown into a stunning female who deserved better than an old male like him.

“Was I not clear?” He used his authoritative tone, the one that sent his crew scurrying. He moved toward the door.

Nakia stepped directly in his path, her shoulders squared and ready for a fight. “No,” she said. “You will not ignore me, and you are not returning me like… like defective merchandise.”

Kalen nodded at her words and turned his cold, calculating gaze to Rohn. “Your mate had an adverse reaction to the teleportation and requires rest.”

“She can rest here. Tomorrow she returns to Earth,” Rohn said.

“I have no interest in running a hotel. Take your mate back to your quarters.”

Rohn moved to stand toe to toe with Kalen, using his height to full effect. For a moment, he thought the younger male would strike him, or inject him again, but violence gleamed in the male’s eyes. The head of medical was known to be as harsh and inconsiderate as he was brilliant, but he had never struck a patient. Then again, no male on the Judgment had ever refused a mate before.

Rohn stepped back, momentarily ashamed of his behavior by attempting to bully a male with a quarter of his years. “She may rest in my quarters,” he said with reluctance.