Theirs_Found and Claimed Page 4

  Somewhat to my surprise, she obeys me again, the scanning device still clutched in her hand. I prise her fingers open with care in order to retrieve it. Within moments, she is asleep.

  Chapter Three

  Llianna

  I have no wish to open my eyes. Not again. Not ever. It is too terrifying, simply too awful to bear.

  Again, I am alone. My people are gone, I knew that, but before I believed that my own end was also imminent. Not so any more.

  I will survive. The alien male tells me that and I know he speaks the truth. I am condemned to remain here, wherever ‘here’ might be, the sole Fyorlian to somehow escape the destruction of our planet and our race.

  No, I shall not open my eyes. I cannot face this. I will not.

  “Llianna, can you hear me?”

  The voice is low, and sounds gentle. This male is trying to reassure me, I realise that, but he fails miserably. Nothing will help and I refuse to answer him. There is no point.

  “Llianna, I know you’re awake. I need you to let me know that you can hear me.”

  His tone is harder now, a little sharper. He is losing patience, but that is his problem. I lie still and will my breathing to remain slow and steady. He will have to leave me alone, eventually.

  “Llianna, your face has turned yellow.”

  What? I shoot bolt upright and scrub frantically at my cheeks with the heels of my hands.

  “Ah, I see I have your attention at last. Don’t worry, I was lying about the yellow.”

  I turn to glare at the male perching on the edge of the bed beside me. He is grinning, and seems to find humour in my alarm and misery. I do not know what race he is, but these beings have an appearance not unlike my own. They are taller in stature though, even taller than the Fyorlian males I remember. These beings are muscular and solid, though pallid in complexion. This one—Luca?—is darker than the other but still his skin is lighter than mine. His hair is a rich shade of brown, though without the metallic sheen of a Fyorlian. And it is short. I wonder if that is by choice, or can this species not grow their hair long as we do? Did.

  All Fyorlians have eyes that are similar in colour, and this too is a trait not shared with these odd beings. The one regarding me now has eyes a shade or two darker than his hair. The other, who seems not to be present at this time, possesses eyes of a deep and penetrating green and his cropped hair is pale. I recall that his body was hard when I came in contact with him, and despite his care of me there was something forbidding and intimidating about him.

  This Luca scares me less, though only marginally. Neither male has threatened me, nor do they seem to intend me any harm, yet I cannot bring myself to consider them benevolent.

  Except, they brought me to this ship of theirs and restored me to health. I recall how desperately ill I had become, I could barely move, my head ached, my throat was raw, my lungs burning as I fought for breath. Now, I feel… fine. Well, almost. My limbs are heavy, I am listless and I lack energy or the will to do anything, but I am no longer in pain. I can breathe, I can move with ease.

  It is such a pity that I have no use for any of it. My restored health and strength is wasted on me. I should be dead, and I would be if they had not interfered.

  I turn a resentful gaze on my companion. “Leave me be. I have no wish to talk to you.”

  “Okay, I’ll do the talking and you can listen.”

  I turn my back to him, irritated by his cheerful smile, and lie down again on my side. I am still wearing the odd garment with which his other comrade covered me when I first recovered consciousness so I curl my fingers into that as though to draw its protection about me. I will not say so to this alien for I do not trust him, but in truth I am so frightened that I might actually expire with it.

  Chance would be a fine thing.

  “I need to check your condition.” He walks around the bed to plant himself in front of me once more and he hands me the small handheld scanner device. I briefly consider hurling it across the room but such tantrums were never my way. Instead, I grip it without further instruction. He records whatever data it supplies, then eyes me with concern. “Are you feeling all right? Your temperature is up very slightly.”

  “I am fine,” I lie. In truth, my head is starting to throb again and I feel chilled to the bone, but I refuse to seek further aid that would only serve to prolong my misery. Better that this end soon.

  “Okay. In that case, do you feel up to answering a few more questions?”

  I do not, not really, but I doubt this will stop him. I manage a small nod.

  “Your companions, the remains we found on your ship… we can help you to conduct the proper rituals if you tell us what’s needed.”

  “Rituals?” I have no notion what he might mean.

  “We need to discuss funerals, a memorial of some sort. What does your species normally do in such circumstances?”

  Ah, he refers to transition rites. “There is no need, I performed the correct procedures at the time of their passing.” And I did so, again and again. With each death that occurred I helped to perform the observances demanded by tradition, until there was only me left so I consigned the commander into record unaided.

  “Do you wish us to preserve the remains? We could deposit them in a location of your choosing.”

  I shake my head. “There is no need, it does not matter. They are gone.”

  “But you kept them on board the Renascient. Why was that?”

  Why indeed? Because I could not bear to relinquish my last remaining link with my people. I say none of that, though. Instead, I shrug. “Eject them into space.”

  “Very well. We will encase them within a degradable casket, all together, and mark the container with a plaque which won’t decay. You can choose the wording for that, to ensure the memorial is appropriate. Could you tell me their names, please, Llianna?”

  So I do. I repeat the names of each of my companions, and Luca notes the information in his tablet. They will be recorded for posterity and that should please me, but I feel nothing. I want to sleep now and to never wake up again. Let Luca add my name to that grim list.

  Luca sets the tablet aside, his head cocked to one side as he regards me critically. “You’re very pale suddenly, Llianna.” He reaches for me and lays his palm across my forehead. “I wonder if you’re running a temperature…”

  I flick my head away, shaking off his touch. “I told you, I am quite all right.”

  He holds my gaze as he lowers his hand to my shoulder where he peels back the fabric covering me. Then he glances at my exposed skin. “These markings, they are natural, are they not?” He strokes the darker pigmentation that streaks across my clavicle

  “I do not understand.” I should attempt to move away from him, but I do not. His touch is not unpleasant.

  “They are part of your physiology, not an artificial decoration. Am I correct?”

  “Of course. Why would I wish to display false emblematic markings?”

  “These marks have meaning, then?”

  “Yes. They denote my status. I am unmated.”

  He lifts one dark eyebrow, as though this concept amuses him in some way. “Unmated? Does that mean you have no life partner? That you are unmarried?”

  “I do not understand… It simply means that I am unmated, I told you this. I—” My words are interrupted by a coughing fit as I struggle to breathe.

  He holds me until I am steady again, then gets to his feet. “Never mind. Whatever the markings mean, they are looking a lot darker now, which suggests your skin tone is paler than it was. Let’s repeat those readings. I’m worried that your condition may be worsening.”

  He thrusts the scanner back into my hand then frowns as he peruses the latest data generated by the device.

  “Sylvan really needs to check these readings; this is his specialism, not mine.” Luca taps some details into the tablet. “He’s working down in the cargo bay but I’ll get him back up here. I’m guessing you probably need anot
her slug of antibodies from him to help beat this infection. Meanwhile, you lie down and rest for a while. I won’t be long.”

  He leaves the tablet on my bed and exits the room.

  The last thing I want is more antibodies. I should be dead, and those antibodies are what stand between me and my true destiny. I reach for the tablet and start to scrutinise the information displayed there. It should be simple enough to amend the readings…

  * * *

  “Nothing unduly worrying here, but I agree she doesn’t seem as well as she did.” Sylvan and Luca stand close together to peruse my medical record. “According to these readings her temperature seems to be normal, and her blood pressure has levelled out now. I suggest we repeat the observations in one hour.” He looks up at me. “Are you hungry, Llianna?”

  I shake my head, though I am in fact ravenous. My attempted subterfuge is wrecked by a long, low growl from my stomach. Both males laugh, and the sound is vaguely pleasant. I resist the urge to smile. I have nothing at all to be even remotely happy about.

  “We prefer you to be truthful about your needs, but that will come with time. Food, then sleep.”

  They both watch me as I nibble at a hard biscuit of some description. It tastes all right, I suppose, though I have little enough enthusiasm for it and my throat hurts when I swallow. At last they allow me to lie down and rest, though by this time my head is throbbing and my throat burning.

  I doze off, I think. When, later, I crack open my eyes, I see Sylvan seated at the consul across the room, his back to me. Luca is nowhere to be seen. I lower my eyelids as shudders rack my body, and I surrender once again to this virus. This time, surely, I will not survive.

  * * *

  “Fuck the readings. There must be some sort of malfunction in the scanner, or the original optimum settings were inaccurate.” Sylvan’s tone is strained, angry even. I curl tighter into a ball, try to escape the displeasure in his voice.

  “Good thing you were here and spotted that she was burning up. How long has she been back on the link?” Luca’s tone is anxious. I hear his footsteps as he paces the room. Sylvan is beside me on the bed and remains motionless for which I am thankful. The slightest movement and I am quite sure I would shatter.

  “Not long enough. The virus has mutated slightly and is reproducing fast. In another few minutes it might have overwhelmed her system and it could have been too late. I can’t believe I didn’t see…”

  “You did see, and you took action. That’s why she’s still alive.”

  “CAID, I need you to run a system check.” I cringe inwardly as the one named Sylvan barks out his command. “Those data readings must have been flawed and I want to know how the fuck that happened.”

  “Affirmative, sir, though a full system check is not necessary to ascertain the cause of the error.”

  “Oh, and why’s that?” This time it is Luca who takes up the questioning. The footsteps are stilled now.

  “The original readings were erased, sir, overridden by new data.” The computerised monotone pauses, and I know my deception is about to be revealed.

  “Elaborate, if you please, CAID.” This, from Sylvan.

  “The Fyorlian altered the recorded data, sir, and input readings which indicated that her physiological systems were operating within normal parameters.”

  “But why?”

  “Unknown, sir.”

  Luca utters something I do not properly comprehend but suspect to be obscene. “Okay, so try this. When did she have the opportunity to do that? I was with her the whole time, or Sylvan was. And how could she have known how to access the data? She knows nothing of our technology.”

  “She accomplished this whilst you were absent. You will recall that you requested that I maintain a visual scan and alert you to any sudden change in her condition. I continued to do so after you left her alone in order that you could seek Sylvan to—”

  “Fuck, yes. I left the tablet here. But how did she…?”

  “I observed that the Fyorlian experienced minimal difficulty in utilising the device, sir. The evidence suggests that she is familiar with the technology, or was capable of learning its functionality sufficiently quickly in order to accomplish her objectives within the limited time available to her.”

  “And why the fuck didn’t you tell us that she’d been tampering with the readings whilst I was gone?”

  “Those were not my instructions, sir. However, when Sylvan queried the means by which inaccurate data came to be recorded, I was able to supply that information.”

  “Fucking moron…” mutters Sylvan. He addresses his next remark to Luca, clearly becoming more annoyed by the second. “You did say that the technology on board the Renascient was advanced for that time,” he growls. I shrivel further into my protective huddle as he continues. “It stands to reason that Fyorlians would be good with digital systems. Maybe our guest is just a lot smarter than we gave her credit for.”

  “I daresay you’re right. And it’s obvious she did this on purpose. She wanted to conceal her condition from us. She intended to die.”

  “And she almost fucking succeeded.”

  Luca lowers his voice, but my technical capabilities are perhaps not the only thing about me that they have underestimated. I possess excellent hearing, too. “There has to be a reckoning for this. We can’t let anything of the sort happen again.”

  “Agreed. If this was a deliberate attempt to harm herself, as soon as she’s well enough to take her punishment, we’ll teach her a lesson she’ll remember for a long time.”

  I cannot contain my whimper, though this time it is fear of the retribution to come that causes me to betray my feelings. Sylvan hugs me tighter against his body and squeezes my shoulder.

  “Hush, little one. It’ll be all right. You need to recover your strength, then we shall talk.”

  His tone is uncharacteristically gentle, which heartens me but I am still too weak, too exhausted to reply. I try to lift my hand but even that feels too heavy. Warm, strong fingers enfold my own.

  “Later, Llianna. It can wait.” Luca’s tone has softened again, too. I drift back to sleep as he holds my hand.

  Chapter Four

  Luca

  “How is she?” I turn my head as Sylvan strolls onto the control deck.

  “Awake again, and very contrite.”

  “So she fucking ought to be. She could have died.” I return my attention to the astral chart on the screen, and continue to plot in a course that will bring us into the vicinity of the interstellar hub closest to our current coordinates. Even at optimum velocity, though, we are still several months from there so our reluctant guest will need to adapt to life on board the Zephyrean. That means we start as we mean to go on, and she needs to understand that we will not tolerate any further attempts at self-harm.

  “Could the virus have caused her to act as she did? Might it have created some sort of delusional state, a sort of side effect?” This possible explanation has been on my mind for a few days now so I have to voice it. From Sylvan’s expression I suspect he has been wondering much the same thing.

  He nods slowly. “That’s a possibility, though I would have expected to detect some residual signs of it, some remaining mental confusion or emotional dissonance. I found nothing apart from raised levels of stress and grief, which you’d expect in the circumstances.”

  “Maybe that was enough. We’re not familiar with her species, remember. Who knows what might be going on between her pretty ears?”

  “And that’s the problem. We need to find out. We need to speak to her, try to find out what was behind all of this. We can’t risk a repetition.”

  “Agreed. But if there’s a doubt…?”

  “Then she should get the benefit of it.”

  I narrow my eyes at him, then incline my head in agreement. If Llianna has earned a punishment we won’t duck that, but if she couldn’t help what happened, that does change things. “Shall we get this over with then?”

  S
ylvan hits the wall panel to open the door to the companionway beyond and gestures me through. “After you,” he drawls as I pass him.

  Llianna is still using Sylvan’s quarters, and he has taken up temporary residence in one of our guest cabins. She’s been steadily improving for the last week, and has required no further infusions of Sylvan’s antibodies for three days. Her own immune system seems to be taking the strain well enough now and as far as we can tell her health is fully restored. There is no reason to delay this conversation any further.

  “So, we’re agreed. You’re bad cop this time.” Sylvan marches beside me as we approach Llianna’s room. “If it comes to it I’ll secure her if need be and keep an eye on her condition, and you administer the whipping.”

  I nod grimly. I’m not averse to a spot of physical discipline, neither of us is, though not usually in a true punishment scenario. We like to play rough, and we find plenty of willing females around the galaxies to enjoy our games with us. This is different. This matters, and we’re not playing. Llianna has to learn that we mean business here, but neither of us wants to terrorise the Fyorlian or harm her, even less do her an injustice. She’s been through enough.

  We discussed skipping the spanking and just settling for giving her the dressing down she deserves for endangering her life that way. That would be the soft option though and we can’t risk it. If this was a deliberate act she has to learn this lesson, then move on. Whatever she might have allowed herself to think back then, Llianna does have a future to grasp. She’s still here, like it or not. It’s time.

  We enter without knocking. Llianna is dressed in another of Sylvan’s shirts and I suppose nothing else. Her slender legs are bare, her shimmering hair damp and falling loose across her shoulders and back as she sits on the end of the bed. A hairbrush is in her hand. It occurs to me I might find an alternative use for that.

  She’s not alone. Eric is hopping around the room, his nose quivering, his expression inquisitive as always. His ears prick as we enter. The rabbit has taken to spending much of his time in here although Llianna has been asleep during most of his visits. Still, the pair seem to have now formed a friendship of sorts.