Nev gaped at me. “I don’t think I could actually put you out an airlock?” He burst out laughing. “That might be the sweetest, most genuine thing anyone has ever said to me.”
My face grew hotter than an engine block. He was definitely making fun of me, but I deserved it for saying yet another idiotic, unsophisticated thing. I scoffed and leaned away from him, about to stand. I had to sleep before I babbled anything else I’d regret.
But the second I moved, his hand caught mine.
“Wait, I’m serious,” he said. “Don’t go.”
His touch, warm and solid, drove through me as it had on the destroyer, a solar flare bursting through his skin and radiating through my whole body. Something inside me rose to meet it, a mix of emotions so strong that I didn’t know how to fight it off. I was drowning in them, tumbling like I was caught in an ocean storm: excitement, confusion, guilt, fear, and finally wanting, a want so potent, I almost reached for his face with my other hand.
But then the darkness flickered and swirled across my vision, like smoke and sparks. Since Nev was staring intently at my face, he saw it.
His eyes widened and he suddenly dropped my hand. “I’m sorry,” he said, startled. “I shouldn’t have…I don’t think I should…”
All other feelings were devoured by a cavernous shame, hollowing my insides. The darkness was already gone, but the damage was done.
I was too different. I was disturbing.
“I’m sorry,” Nev started, half-standing. “I didn’t mean to…”
I was sure he hadn’t meant to, but he couldn’t help it.
I spun around and left the bridge so fast I was nearly running. I didn’t look back.
My extensive tutoring included an overview of the notable disasters in the history files. To pick a few:
Systems Date 0: The Great Collapse—the portals that provided instantaneous travel to different systems and galaxies inexplicably implode. Civilization as it was known ends.
Systems Date 216: Belarius the First commissions the first test of his star drive design for faster-than-light travel. It, the ship, and the hundreds onboard are never seen again, but some postulate that it will be responsible for the singularity that ends existence.
Systems Date 345: An attempt to do a solo spacewalk between Thalius IV and Sonmara results in a collision with an unaware spacecraft, which in turn leads to a chain reaction that burns the atmosphere of the Sonmara moon to an uninhabitable crisp.
Systems Date 416: Prince Nevarian Dracorte attempts to cook.
That last one wasn’t recorded yet, but looking at whatever I had doled out on various platters in the common room, I felt certain that it would be. I had been trying to re-create the same baked fruit paste that Eton had whipped together in moments the night before, but the congealing slabs in front of me looked more like primitive ancestors of that food. Which had then been fossilized. And then melted under the thrusters of a ship.
I had gone to bed unsure I’d be able to fall asleep again. Attempts on my life involving the airlock and Qole transforming into a super-being were becoming routine, and yet our conversation had been anything but. I still wasn’t quite sure what had happened during the course of it…and especially not at the end.
I leaned over the infopad in the galley, trying to concentrate on the recipe and find out where I had gone wrong. “After the consistency probe reads point-four-five, disperse two tumbler-widths of Tantion spice and resume with the plasmic dehydrator….”
My mind wasn’t on it at all. I had grown up being taught the fine art of conversation and had only a tiny subsection of family and teachers with whom I could rely on for mentally and emotionally stimulating interactions. But last night—well, four hours ago—I had experienced an impromptu conversation that had been simultaneously fascinating, challenging, and…and what? Exciting, I supposed. Maybe it was because we were both so tired and our guards down, but I hadn’t connected with another human being so genuinely in years. Or maybe ever.
And then I messed it up just like this free fall of a meal. I turned the infopad off in frustration. I wasn’t sure how, but I’d made Qole angry enough to nearly black out again. Had it been taking her hand? I hadn’t meant to grab it; it had just been automatic.
More and more of my interactions with Qole were just coming naturally. When I gave up trying to preempt her responses, quit planning out my own words and actions as if I were in a diplomatic conference or a war game simulation, then everything with her ceased being an actual battle. Touching her had felt like something completely new. I hadn’t wanted to stop. And yet…
I wasn’t sure how it had felt to her, but it obviously wasn’t good. So when I woke up, the first thing I had done—outside of getting out of bed very stiffly—was try to find her and see if we could continue the conversation now that we were both in a different frame of mind.
I’d found her on the bridge with Basra, and it didn’t take any training in social graces to see that she hadn’t wanted to talk to me. She’d informed me that as a next-to-useless member of the crew who was part of the reason the chef was locked up, I could take over cooking duties and provide everyone with a hot meal.
I surveyed the meal I had created. It was undeniably hot, yes. I tried to remember if she had specified that it had to be edible as well.
Basra coughed discreetly at my elbow, materializing out of nowhere in the disquieting manner that he had. “Feeling finished?”
I sighed and ran another eye over my creation. “In the words of my great-great-grandfather, I have yet to begin fighting.”
Basra also eyed it. “Have you ever heard the saying, ‘Only a royal would rage against a dying star’?” He changed the topic without preamble. “The Kaitan hasn’t used its Belarius Drive in years, so we’re almost out of antimatter. We need to stop and refuel, and it’s a good chance for me to unload the Shadow catch we have in the hold before it degrades the canisters any further. The captain wants you to come with me.”
“She does?” I busied myself scanning the infopad to cover my confusion. I wasn’t sure why she’d be sending me off the ship with Basra. Of what use would I be? “Where?”
“We never unloaded the Shadow at the cannery, so we need to find someone who can buy and process Shadow canisters,” Basra explained. “That limits our options somewhat. Fortunately, we’re within a few parsecs of Nirmana. I can easily find a purchaser there.”