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“I’ll try trusting you,” I offer before changing the subject. “How come there’s this whole United Congress of Galaxies or whatever, and humans know nothing about it? We’ve been studying space for like…forever and never saw even the slightest sign of aliens.”
“United Galactic Congress,” he corrects. “Primitive planets are protected under the Non-Interference Directive. All access to systems inhabited by primitive species is prohibited.”
That sounds…offensive, but I guess they have a point. “Primitive, huh?” I smirk. “We’ve been to space, you know?” I point out, feeling obligated to defend mankind.
“I know. I meant no offense, Astra,” Tareq immediately apologizes. “Earth is actually the most advanced planet out of all the ones protected by the Directive. I wouldn’t be surprised if you were invited to join the UGC within the next few decades.”
“Hmm, I guess it’s good to know you don’t see us as talking monkeys. But if no ships are allowed near Earth, how the fuck did these Gaxi-Gexi-ugh. How did the gray guys kidnap me?”
Tareq sighs. “The Genixarians figured out a way to sneak past the UGC blockades undetected. We suspected that slavers have been visiting primitive worlds to gather valuable slaves, but there was no solid evidence.”
“We,” I repeat, smirking. “You’re a cop, aren’t you? Is that what aren’t you telling me? Wait, do you have some cop buddies ready to get you out of here? Why haven’t you just called them?!”
Tareq shifts to hug his knees, a strange expression crossing his face. Is it embarrassment? It must be. It doesn’t take long for me to figure out the source, and I groan in disappointment. “Let me guess, you screwed up, and the bad guys found out. That’s how you ended up in this cell, sporting the lovely collar. You’re just as fucked as the rest of us.”
“No!” he protests, then rethinks his answer. “Well, yes, you are mostly correct. You are admirably intelligent, Astra.”
Oh, now he flatters me. I roll my eyes. “I don’t need compliments, Tareq. I’d much rather have a way out of here.”
“I will get us all out of here, I promise,” he repeats with such conviction I’m inclined to believe him. “Getting captured might not have been a part of my plan, but it got me aboard this ship. Once I make my way out of this cell, I just need to find the nearest communication panel and send a message. My squad is waiting for my signal. They’ll storm the ship and everything will be alright.”
“Mhm. There’s just one tiny hitch in your brilliant plan, my dear cellmate. We can’t exactly ask them for our one phone call, can we?” I ask bitterly, then rub my forehead again.
The pounding headache is back with vengeance, coupled with information overload and sudden exhaustion. I could probably sleep for a week if the floor wasn’t so damn cold and uncomfortable. “I’m sorry for being such a bitch,” I apologize, not wanting to anger the only person who’s been nice to me in this hellhole. “Is there something I can do to help? I was planning on stealing the collar remote from that creepy scientist, but after they gave me the translating thingies, I was barely able to stay conscious.”
Tareq goes to retrieve another bottle of water and a few of the berries the mantises gave us. I briefly think about Cricket. Is he alright? Did he get lost? Captured? Killed? My eyes find the ventilation grid, but there’s no sound or movement behind it.
“Drink, Astra,” Tareq says softly, handing me the water. “You are very brave and I’m grateful you want to help, but right now, you need to rest. Your brain is still processing data from the translator nodes and the headache will only get worse if you don’t sleep.”
Oh, perfect. I can hardly imagine something worse than the pain stabbing through my brain at the moment. “Thank you,” I say as I take the water, smothering a whimper. I’m exhausted, but I don’t think I’ll be able to fall asleep on the floor. “Tareq?” I ask between careful sips from the bottle. “Could you…” I hesitate. What if I’ve pissed him off?
“Do you want me to hold you and keep you warm?” he offers, as if reading my mind. “It would be my pleasure, Astra.”
“Yes, please.” Tears prick my eyes. God, I’m such a mess! “Just give me a minute.” I get up, grateful when he catches me as I stagger toward the waste bucket. He turns away to give me privacy but hovers nearby just in case I stumble again. Which happens. Several times. It’s like my brain is too busy to send the correct signals to my legs.
Tareq lies down and pulls me to his chest, letting me rest my head on his shoulder. It’s not very comfortable, but it beats lying on the cold floor. “What about you?” I ask, running my hand over his hot chest. “Won’t you be cold?”
“It seems that I run several degrees hotter than you,” Tareq replies, smiling. “Don’t worry about me, Astra. I’m used to discomfort. I wish I could take better care of you, but using my body as a pillow and a blanket is all I have to offer right now.”
“It’s perfect,” I mumble, fighting off the temptation to lick his pecs. We’re just cellmates sharing heat, nothing more. Or are we?
I try to sleep, but despite my exhaustion, my brain refuses to slow down. “Talk to me, please,” I ask, my fingers absent-mindedly drawing shapes on his skin. “Tell me about the galaxy. The aliens. Your people. Your planet. Something nice.”
He chuckles, a soft rumbling sound starting in his chest. He notices it too and places a hand over his breastbone as if he could silence it that way. “I’m sorry,” he says, patting at his chest. “It’s instinctive. I can’t really control it.”
“It’s amazing,” I repeat. “Should have guessed you can purr. I love it. Will you tell me about your planet? Is it nice?”
“Oh, Qara is beautiful. I think you’d love it. It’s very similar to Earth.”
Chapter 14
Tareq
I hold Astra close as I describe the beauty of my home planet. She claims to be a “city girl” but she’s intrigued by the beaches I describe, whispering to me that she’s never been to one on Earth. Her voice is full of longing and I almost decide to bring her to my home planet straight after my squad rescues us. Almost. Then I remember that no matter how much I wish to have her, this supple female cannot ever be my Myále. Her next words confirm it.
“Will I be able to go home?” she asks, her voice small and trembling as if she’s holding back her tears. “With it being a primitive planet and blockaded from the rest of the galaxy and all?”
A chuckle escapes me at the obvious bite in her words. She’s angry about being called primitive, and I can’t blame her for it. “Yes, Astra. The UGC will allow you a safe return home after…” I hesitate. Not wanting to stress her, I decide not to mention the memory wiping part. “After we get out of here,” I finish instead.
