“A wise choice, I think, my dear.” Captain Glo’ll nodded thoughtfully. “I do believe it will take some extreme measures to get the smell completely out. And after this experience, I do not intend to hire a Trollox ever again.”
There was a cheer from everyone, which let Lan’ara know that she hadn’t been the only one on The Dark Star who had disliked the awful Drung. Then everyone went their separate ways, except for Laxah, who took her by the arm and said,
“Come on, let’s get your new room all ready to go.”
Lan’ara allowed herself to be led away, but she found herself casting a glance back over her shoulder at Need. The big Kindred was still looking down at his bloody hands. The expression on his face was unreadable.
Laxah saw where her gaze was directed and gave her arm another sharp tug.
“Let’s go. You don’t need to be looking over there.”
“But…his hands,” Lan’ara said reluctantly. “He hurt them when he was killing Drung to save me.”
“Let’s not forget why you needed to be saved in the first place,” Laxah snapped. “It was because that man chose to sell you like a piece of property! Besides,” she added. “Kindred are fast healers—especially for superficial wounds like that. Now let’s go.”
Lan’ara at last followed the other woman down the long corridor that led to the main crew cabins. She had what she wanted now, she told herself. She was her own person—she didn’t belong to anyone. She could make her own decisions and she had a job that didn’t involve being sexually submissive to any man or having anyone’s baby. She ought to be happy.
I am happy! she told herself firmly. This is what I want—to make my own way and not call anyone “my Lord” or have to beg for my very existence. I have a job and I have a life and I don’t need anyone else but me to make me content.
But if that was true, why did she still feel a tugging in her midsection when she looked at Need?
It could have been different, she thought sadly as she followed Laxah away from the big Kindred. If only he could have brought himself to love me back. If only he hadn’t gotten so mad at me and sold me. If only…
But she pushed the thought firmly away. She was determined not to mourn for the past. She had a new life now and she intended to look forward, to the future.
Fifty-Nine
Lan’ara’s new life aboard The Dark Star was wonderful.
Every morning she got up early to make homemade bread, or sweet rolls, or flat cakes. Then she got started on any pastry dough and fillings she might need for the Last Meal’s dessert. Last, she made a variety of other First Meal foods and then ate with the crew when they got up.
The crew were on their own for Mid Meal—though Lan’ara often left out a selection of sandwich or fold-over ingredients for them to choose from. That way she was able to spend several uninterrupted hours with Laxah learning med tech protocols.
After a short break, she was back in the food prep area, making Last Meal, which always included a delicious dessert for most of the crew and a sweet-soil concoction for Captain Glo’ll.
She had the satisfaction of getting rave reviews every night and every one of the crew took her aside privately to tell her how much they had missed her and her cooking. Even Krax and Kreeva agreed on it, though the Duplo pilot hardly ever agreed with him/herself on anything.
Captain Glo’ll adored her too, and treated her more like a daughter than a crewmate. Her room and the common area were always adorned with the fresh flowers he constantly grew for her, making the ship a much brighter place.
In the evening, Lan’ara had time to relax and read—sometimes more med tech articles but often she also read for pleasure from the well-stocked ship’s library. (Captain Glo’ll believed in the improvement of one’s mind by reading.)
Sometimes she went to the common viewing room and watched a vid with Laxah and Psoas. The three of them laughed over the comedy vids from Psoas’ world—(which were funny almost by default because of all the long, stretchy characters bending and contorting their bodies every-which-way)—and had serious discussions over the dramatic vids from Laxah’s planet, which never included any males at all.
It was a good life—the life Lan’ara would have chosen for herself from the start, if she hadn’t had to go to the Twyleth Tigg Academy in order to keep her mother and brothers from starving. And yet, she couldn’t help feeling like something—or someone—was missing.
At first she tried to tell herself she was imagining it. She swore to herself she didn’t miss the big Kindred—didn’t miss his touch or the gentle way he had always cuddled her after loving. How many times had Laxah told her she didn’t need a man to be happy?