When Triymin woke in the morning, it was to find herself alone in the sleeping room with the two other Gaoians. Xiù was not present, and she experienced a strange feeling of concern.
During the night, after she was certain the other three were asleep, she’d slipped off the nest-bed to sleep on the floor. The bed was very comfortable… so much so that it was distracting, and she’d had to switch to the more familiar floor in order to fall asleep at all. As she’d done so, she’d glanced over at the lone human in the dim light of the room. Unlike the Gaoians, Xiù did not curl into a ball to sleep, but instead stretched out on her back on the floor, one arm tossed over her eyes. For some reason Triymin had half-expected her to growl or hiss as she slept, but instead she merely breathed silently in slow, deep breaths. She could almost feel the air pressure in the room fluctuate with each inhalation, though it was certainly her imagination.
When she woke Xiù was nowhere to be found in the sleeping room. Triymin stood and quietly slipped out of the room, only remembering at the last moment that she was supposed to put on her overalls. She stepped out into the yacht’s lower corridor, letting the door slide closed quietly behind her.
She paused to listen. Even the egg-h-… Corti, at the first station, had commented on the acuity of her hearing. It was the unhappy product of a lifetime in the claws of creatures who rarely spoke, and when they did missing a word could mean an agonizing death. She had learned from the beginning to listen for the tiniest of sounds.
So she listened, and in the middle of the corridor, underneath the soft hiss of the air circulation and the barely-detectible hum of the power systems, she heard a rhythmic thumping from one of the nearby rooms. Curious, she moved over, and the wide, tall door slid open at her approach. She did not go inside, because she could feel much stronger gravity pulling at her whiskers even as she poked her muzzle over the threshold.
The room was large and well-lit, but lacked beds or storage. Instead, there were various pieces of equipment of no purpose she could name. Upon one of these pieces of equipment – a large, flat thing with a moving surface – was Xiù, facing away from the door and unaware of Triymin’s presence. The human was… running? The moving surface slid at a steady pace underneath her, and the other female kept up a steady pace to avoid being tossed off backwards, a pace Triymin could not have matched. Her arms and legs moved in unison, moving through the air and gravity with effortless grace. Unlike the clothes she’d worn the night before, which seemed to be adapted versions of Gaoian overalls, she wore more tight-fitting grey clothing that left her legs and arms bare.
Though each step produced a thump, it was not Xiù’s motion that produced the steady beat Triymin heard. Instead a kind of noise filled the air… it changed tone and pace, and there was a female voice, speaking in tune with the rest of the noise in a language she didn’t understand.
“I’m holding out for a hero till the end of the night-”
She watched quietly, hypnotized by the way the human’s muscles rippled under her skin as she ran. A light coating of moisture covered her – it made Triymin think of the Masters, but the flesh was more deeply coloured, not white, and that somehow seemed more… wholesome. Xiù’s pace was impressive enough, but it was her endurance that was awe-inspiring: she ran, and ran, and ran, far beyond the point where another being would be shattered. Others could match or exceed the speed – the Vzk’tk were quite swift over open space – but none for so long. Even the Masters couldn’t exert themselves at such a level for more than a brief period.
The noise in the air ended, and then a new, different sound began to play. If anything, it was even more frantic than the last, and Triymin was fascinated… so much so that she twitched slightly as Xiù suddenly spoke in her accented Gaori, only very slightly out of breath. “Computer, program: double current speed over one ri, maintain for two ri, and then slow to zero over three ri. Begin.” The computer obeyed, and Triymin’s eyes went wide as the device went faster and faster until Xiù was pelting along its surface at a breakneck pace. The running-device shook underneath the impact of her feet, all the human’s limbs pumping. It brought to mind a well-oiled machine, though the human wasn’t cybernetic in the least.
The effort caused even the human to breathe heavily in hissing breaths, her bare flesh turning deep pink, and more moisture appeared on her skin. After a few moments – when Triymin was sure even the tireless human would have to stop – the running-device began to slow. Xiù slowed with it, still breathing heavily, but by the time she was merely walking she’d recovered, her chest pulling in deep lungfuls of air.
“Computer, file that under `Favourites’ and save position.” She turned to climb off the running device, and finally noticed her silent observer. “Oh! Good morning, Triymin.”
Triymin swallowed, unsure whether it had been proper to watch for so long. “Hello,” she answered.
“Computer, set room gravity to Gao normal. Come in, did you sleep okay?”
She felt the pull of the room abate to something more comfortable, and stepped inside as she’d been instructed. The door slid closed behind her. “I slept adequately,” she answered.
Xiù gave her a strange look, but Triymin reminded herself that she didn’t understand the human’s expressions… she barely understood the body language of her own species. Xiù shook her head side-to-side. “I hope I didn’t wake you. I try not to make too much noise.”
“What were you doing?” Triymin asked curiously.
“Oh, just exercising. I like to do it in the morning so I can have the room at Earth gravity. Regaari likes to exercise too, because he’s a soldier, and Ayma does it mostly because we do.”
She was familiar with exercising, though the Masters usually exercised in the form of battle-practice, or while chasing a hapless and terrified prey for amusement before a meal. “If you all exercise, should I do so as well?”
Xiù looked at her with careful gaze. “You can if you want, though I think you should be careful… you’re still building up your strength.”
“What do A-Ayma and Regaari do?”
“Regaari will run and lift weights,” she replied, nodding at a rack in the corner which held a number of small dumbbells. “Ayma will usually just walk, although sometimes she’ll run.”
Suddenly it seemed important that she not be considered weaker then the foul-tempered Mother. “I can run.”
“How about just walk, until you’ve put on some weight and are feeling stronger?” Triymin bobbed her head, though her head ducked and her ears drooped a little. Xiù noticed and hesitated, then reached out a hand which she ran gently over the Gaoian’s head. Triymin stiffened at the contact, then relaxed; it was pleasant. “Just to begin,” Xiù said. “Always start with a little less than you know you can do, then make it harder slowly. Even I exercise that way.”
Triymin bobbed her head reluctantly, then let the human show her how to work the “treadmill”, as she called it. Soon she was walking at an easy pace along the moving surface; Xiù nodded and moved over to an empty area which had a railing along one wall. She tried not to stare as the human placed one foot up on the rail, leaning over until her head touched her knee – a feat Triymin couldn’t have duplicated even if she dislocated something.
She was quietly glad that Xiù hadn’t let her run… the walk alone was taxing her ability, but she dared not complain. Though she was coming to believe that Xiù would never declare her defective, the terror of it was ingrained deeply. Meanwhile the human stretched and balanced, sometimes standing on the tips of her toes (didn’t that hurt?) and occasionally twirling on the spot. Then followed a series of slow, dance-like movements that reminded her of flowing water, smooth and graceful.
“Okay, that’s enough. Computer, stop. Very good.” The surface ground to a halt, almost taking her by surprise, and her alarm spiked as she found herself wavering on her feet. Xiù’s eyes briefly went wide. “Here, Triymin… sit.”
She obeyed, Xiù helping her down to sit on the side of the treadmill. Her ears drooped, and she shook slightly. “I’m sorry,” she said.
“Why? Don’t be,” Xiù answered gently. She sat down beside her, her longer legs stretching out; to Triymin’s sensitive nose she smelled oddly of salt and water. “You just taxed yourself. You’ll be fine in a moment.”
She wasn’t used to someone else excusing her weakness, but she wouldn’t argue against herself. So she sat still, concentrating on her breathing. As the other had promised, she soon felt much better. She grasped at anything that would distract from her embarrassment. “What… were those sounds you were listening to?”
“That? That was music. From my homeworld, Earth.”
“I… liked it.”
The human’s face twisted oddly, one corner of her mouth rising. “You didn’t hear all of it. It’s a very strange mix, stolen by people who didn’t know what they were taking. Even I don’t like all of it. Ayma and Regaari… well, they don’t care for the loud stuff I like.”
“I like that… stuff. It is very strange and exciting.” She was used to telling people what they wanted to hear, but she found she meant it. She dipped her head again. “The… Masters, they don’t have anything like it. They are very quiet.”
Xiù frowned, and Triymin worried she’d said something she shouldn’t have. But then the human blinked, and her lips curled upward. “Well, they aren’t here, and we’ll be loud. Are you feeling better? Would you like to get something to eat?”
Xiù lead her back up to the galley, the young Gaoian curious and eager to find out what new delicious food the human would offer. It ended up being a kind of toasted bread with a thin layer of pulped fruit spread on top, and Triymin wanted to ball it up and stuff it into her muzzle all at once.
“Eat slowly,” Xiù said, and Triymin wondered if humans could read minds. But her lips were curled upward again, and she’d decided that was the expression Xiù made when she was pleased or amused – humans may not have had mobile ears, but it was still surprisingly easy to read their moods if you paid attention.
She sat at the table, savoring each bite, while Xiù puttered among the gadgetry of the galley. Music played over the audio units embedded in the ceiling… loud, thumping music with a rapid, chaotic beat. It seemed to echo in Triymin’s chest, tickling her ribs. It made her want to get up and run circles around the table despite her tiredness. It made her want to bite things! It was strange and alien and exciting… she loved it!
Unfortunately, the opinion was not universal. “Computer, stop that noise!” The galley went silent suddenly, and both of the younger females turned to see Ayma standing at the entrance. “Shoo, what in the stars?”
Xiù stood straight, though her face turned slightly pink. “Sorry, we didn’t know you were awake.”
“As if we could sleep through that… whatever it was!”
“It was just some dubstep.”
“It was noise. You know we find it unpleasant.”
Triymin protested quietly. “I liked it…”
“You don’t know what you like,” Ayma said rudely.
“Ayma!” Xiù hissed. Triymin hunched down, frightened by the strife and knowing she was the cause. Xiù saw this and bit off whatever else she was going to say. Her eyes closed briefly and she took a breath. “Do you want something to eat or not?”
Ayma refused to meet the human’s eyes, staring down as she adjusted her overalls as if embarrassed by her own behaviour. “Not today. The restaurant owner has asked for my help reviewing his ingredient orders this morning. It’ll be a working waking-meal.” She glanced up, and this time there was no anger in her expression, only wry amusement. “Also, he’s placed an order for another twenty of your `pizzas’, and an equal number of plates of your bao.”
“Twenty?” Xiù replied, horrified.
“Yes. Is it too much?”
Xiù sighed. “No, I can do it. I think that’s the limit, though.”
“You’re a victim of your own success.”
“I had more free time as a failure. This is going to take all day.”
“Accomplish what you can.” Ayma glanced over at Triymin and her ears flattened, just a little bit. “Triymin will assist you. She can do the cleaning.”
Xiù scowled. “Ayma, she’s still getting her strength back-”
“I can clean!” Triymin blurted. She wilted as both females turned to her and she realized she’d interrupted. She’d simply been too eager to prove her worth… at having a task, even if it wasn’t really phrased as an order. “I can clean, I can do that.”
Sighing, Xiù gestured in reluctant agreement. “Fine. But if you feel tired or sick, you stop. Okay?” The comment was directed at Triymin, but the human’s glare was aimed at Ayma, daring the older female to challenge the conditions.
She didn’t, barely looking at the young woman. “Fine. I have to go, now.” She turned and started for the door.
“Ayma, wait.” The Gaoian paused and turned, her ears tilted back just a little… clearly expecting more argument. Instead Xiù held out a piece of bread already smeared with fruit. “At least take a piece of toast, you can eat while you walk.”
Her ears flicked with surprise, but she took the gift. “Thank you.” A quick glance was cast Triymin’s way, then she turned and left.
Triymin turned her attention back to Xiù, who watched the Mother leave with an expression she didn’t understand. After a moment she sighed again sadly and turned to the other female. “Well, before I start making pizza dough, would you like another piece of toast?”
It wasn’t long before Regaari arrived, fur brushed and neat, wearing the tough grey overalls that went with his ship technician job in the bays on the other side of the station – a job that was purely for appearances, Xiù explained, though Triymin had no idea why “appearances” were important. He barely flicked an ear at the human, who was kneading a huge ball of the “dough” she needed for her pizzas, and instead sat down with a bowl of fruits and nuts as his morning meal.
“It’s not real dough, of course,” Xiù was explaining to Triymin, who was watching with fascination at what looked to be a ridiculously laborious process. “On Earth we have yeast, which is a kind of… um… plant? Regaari, what’s the Gaori word for a plant that doesn’t use sunlight?”
“Fungus,” he answered between bites while tapping on his data tablet.
“Right! Fungus! We use that, and it makes the bread soft and light. I haven’t found the same thing here, but baking powder is still baking powder, so I use that. The bread is harder, but nobody complains. And on the plus side, I don’t need to wait for it to rise.”
Triymin nodded dutifully, although she barely understood what she was being told. Xiù was using her knife to cut the large dough ball into smaller pieces, which she set aside except for one. The human had tied a piece of cloth around her head – to keep hair or sweat from dropping into the food, she explained. She picked up a smooth piece of metal pipe – which may actually have been a pipe, for all Triymin knew – and began rolling it back and forth across the remaining piece of dough, pressing it flat and spreading it out.
Regaari stood. “I should be off now. Sister Shoo, you said you had a packet to include with my message to Gao?”
“Oh! Yes! I sent it to your tablet. Thank you.”
He tapped his tablet, confirming the file was present. “Very well. I’ll see all of you probably about a tenth-day after my shift ends.” He went to pick up his bowl to put it in the sink, but Triymin jumped to her feet and held out her paws.
“I can take that!”
Regaari flicked his ears. “Are you sure?”
She reached out and picked it up, her hands possessed by nervous energy and fidgeting as she held the bowl. Her ears tilted shyly. “M-Mother Ayma said I should help by cleaning. This is cleaning!”
He looked at her carefully and then bobbed his head. “Yes it is. Don’t work too hard, however… you’re rebuilding your strength, and this ship is large for us Gaoians.”
“I… I won’t.” Regaari nodded, picking up his tablet and waving at the two of them as he left. Not long after they heard and felt the rear doors of the yacht open and close.
Triymin glanced over at where Xiù was still working with the dough but was looking at the Gaoian with her lips curled and eyes twinkling. “W-what?”
“You like him.” Xiù made the word “like” oddly long… perhaps it was a human thing. Still, Triymin ducked her head in embarrassment. “Don’t be embarrassed, everyone likes him. Even I like him… it’s too bad he’s not human.”
Still embarrassed, Triymin didn’t answer… instead padding over to the cleanser to clean the bowl, ignoring Xiù’s quiet laugh behind her.
Despite Xiù and Regaari’s warnings, Triymin threw herself into cleaning with fervour. It was a task, and one she knew how to do! Even the Masters liked things clean and orderly, despite how brutal and savage they were otherwise. Cleaning was always something the meat-slaves didn’t have to be threatened into doing… especially once they learned that the smell of blood simply made the Masters more hungry. The location of a slaughter was always scrubbed as soon and as vigorously as possible.
So Triymin scoured the ship, dusting and polishing. She picked up the blankets Xiù had covered herself with to sleep and folded them into neat squares, then used the sweeping tool on every atom of exposed floor, picking up dust and shed fur.
By accident she discovered the small room that furred species could use to clean themselves – a lone bench in a nearly empty room, where they could douse themselves with fine, sweet-smelling powder taken from a nearby bucket. The dust could could then be brushed out, taking dirt and oils with it, and the used dust swept into collectors along the edge of the floor. She’d only learned of the process shortly after being returned to the Dominion, and had only been able to enjoy it once or twice before they’d discarded her. But she remembered how wonderfully clean she felt afterward, and wondered if she’d be allowed to use the dust bath later.
The shower was a far less welcome find – she couldn’t imagine any reason why an intelligent being would voluntarily soak themselves with water. The Masters would sometimes soak prey before consuming them, so that dirt or other debris wouldn’t interfere with the taste of the meat… the sapience. It was like finding a torture chamber in the middle of a garden, and once she realized what the shower was for she could only stand and shake for long moments.
Eventually – once she regained her wits – she realized the place couldn’t possibly be for cleaning prey before eating them – there were no Masters on board! And why would prey torture themselves? It had to be for creatures like Xiù or the Corti, who had very little fur. There were even prey-species who needed water, as alien as that was. Scolding herself she cleaned it as well, though her paws shook the entire time.
She worked well past the point where her muscles began to ache, but a lifetime of experience let her ignore such discomforts. The shower and multi-species toilet offered a few stains that were stubbornly resistant to pure muscle power, and she had to ask Xiù where the cleaning agents were located. The human gave her a suspicious look, pausing from where she’d been decorating the circles of dough with green sauce and vegetables, but Triymin hid any signs of exhaustion easily. Then Xiù directed her to a metal cabinet embedded in the far wall.
The cleaning chemicals stung her paws, but made the surfaces she cleaned with them shine. When she was done she put them away and examined her handiwork. The immaculate areas made her feel proud.
And in the back of her mind, the shadow of memory and habit whispered to her. Whispered the hope of all the meat-slaves: that if she was going to be killed and eaten today, maybe her hard work would earn her the right to have it be quick and painless.
Triymin’s guess about the shower ended up being correct. Soon after finishing her own labours, Xiù stood over twenty huge pizzas waiting to be baked, and twenty plates of small dough balls (“They’re called bao, and let me tell you, this would be a very strange mix of food on Earth…”) Then she declared that she was going to take a shower and wash up. To Triymin’s silent delight, she also offered her the use of the dust bath.
She was still brushing the last of the dust out of her fur when Xiù poked her head into the room. The human’s long head-fur was loose and still wet, pulled forward over one shoulder and moistening the long red robe she’d pulled around herself. She saw Triymin struggling with her shoulders and back and covered her mouth to stifle a giggle.
“Here… let me help.” She held out her hand for the long, bristled brush, and the Gaoian sheepishly handed it over. Human digits were slightly longer and more slender than Gaoian, except on their feet… she found herself oddly fascinated by Xiù’s toes as the human stood behind her and began brushing. Their legs were so long… how did they balance?
She brushed the fur on Triymin’s back almost excessively gently, smoothing it with her other hand. The dust came out in soft puffs, drifting to the floor and occasionally settling on top of Xiù’s feet, but the human didn’t complain. Already the Gaoian looked healthier… her fur wasn’t glossy, not the way Ayma or Regaari’s was, but the matting was gone.
“Well, we finished a lot faster than I thought we would,” Xiù said conversationally. “You did way more than I expected! I hope you didn’t work too hard.”
“N-No, I’m fine,” she answered. The stinging of her pads was barely noticeable.
“Well, what should we do for the rest of the day? We could play games. Or… we could watch a movie?”
“A `movie’?”
“Ah, that’s the human word. I mean a… holovid? Yes, that’s the word.”
Triymin ducked her head, embarrassed. “I don’t know what that is.”
Xiù paused as she finished brushing. She reached down, brushing the dust off her feet. “Then let’s show you.”
After a quick mid-day meal of vegetables pressed between slices of bread, they they moved back to the sleeping room, sitting down on the bed she’d slept in the night before. Xiù fluffed it so it acted more as a comfortable reclining chair, then she moved over to the wall, tapping on a black portion and causing it to light up and display text and images. She tapped and pushed the text around, muttering to herself in her human tongue.
“No, no, too violent. Aliens? Sure, Xiù, let’s show that to the traumatized survivor of alien cannibals. The Hangover? No, too stupid. Not that one either, Gaoians don’t even do `romance’… Ah! This one.”
She tapped one string of text more authoritatively, nearly hopping over and curling up on the floor near Triymin’s feet. “This one is called The Iron Giant, and the only reason I know how to say that in Gaori is because whoever stole it also put it through a translation program… so you don’t need to worry about not understanding the dialogue. It’s a story, told using animated pictures. I sent a copy to the commune on Gao, and Myun and all the cubs really liked it, so hopefully you do, too.” Triymin wouldn’t have said no anyway, but Xiù’s eagerness made her curious.
For the first little while of the video, she was simply confused. Soon after that she was rapt. She didn’t understand what was going on in the holovid all the time, but she decided she didn’t care. She hung on the edge of the bed, entranced by the story of the Iron Giant – a lost, confused being in a sea of aliens, unsure of its purpose or future. Were all human stories so… interesting?
Not long after the holovid ended, Xiù stood and went to the galley, where she started getting the evening meal ready for when Regaari and Ayma would return. Lacking anything else to do, Triymin followed, sitting in a chair and watching her work quietly. Xiù chatted while she did, asking Triymin questions about what she thought of the “movie”, and if anything had confused her. At first the Gaoian was panicked, not knowing what the answers should be, but the human never demanded quick answers or different answers. Xiù mostly seemed interested in simply encouraging Triymin to speak, a completely alien activity to the former slave. When her voice began to rasp, Xiù paused in what she was doing to pour her a cup of cold water, letting her drink in silence for a while.
She was just finishing the cup when Ayma returned. Xiù greeted her cheerfully, but there was a forced quality to it that even Triymin noticed. The younger Gaoian shrunk in her chair and tried to be invisible, and the Mother didn’t even glance her way – much to her relief. Instead, she took a seat on the opposite side of the table and slouched.
“Was his ordering plan that much of a mess?” Xiù asked curiously. In front of her the dizi meat burbled happily in a hot pan, filling the air with strange and enticing aromas as she added spice after spice. Triymin found that her mouth was watering, an odd sensation.
Ayma glanced up tiredly. “I think you mean `process’… and no, he has surprisingly good supply, especially considering how close we are to the edge of civilized space. He was just rather unsubtle about trying to wheedle the recipes to your food out of me. There’s not much more annoying than a Vzk’tk who thinks he’s clever.”
“Why, Ayma… that sounded speciesist.” Triymin’s eyes went wide, but Ayma wasn’t offended… in fact, she snorted with amusement.
“It’s his speciesism that annoys me. Th’tk’rk’ottk has been plain in his support of caging your homeworld, and yet here he is… begging for human recipes. He thinks your people are savage and dangerous – and yet every other day, without even knowing it, he’s begging me to encourage a human to come work in his kitchen. He’s even offered to sponsor us translation implants if we sign an employment contract.”
“Implants?” Xiù shuddered. “No, thank you.”
“Of course not. It’s not like you can undergo surgery in disguise, and I doubt he’d be willing to pay the cost of an omni-translator for me. It doesn’t matter… your Gaori has gotten quite good.”
Xiù didn’t reply, only curving her lips and seeming pleased. The light tension in the room eased, and Triymin relaxed. Ayma still refused to look at her, but truthfully she preferred it that way.
The human continued to work, the Mother simply rested, and Triymin stayed quiet… feeling odd that there was nothing required of her at the moment. Xiù was just fetching some strangely-shaped food items from the galley’s baking unit when Triymin heard the large rear door of the yacht open and close. Her ears twitched, and a few moments later Regaari stepped through the door.
“Good timing,” Xiù greeted. “Are you hungry?”
“Yes, thank you,” he replied politely, although Triymin could see his ears quivering just a bit as he looked at the bowls and plates that the human was carrying over to the table. He set his data tablet onto a shelf on the wall and took a seat between the two Gaoian females.
“A busy work day?” Ayma asked as he sat.
“Quite. A gas harvesting ship docked with accretion generator failure, and the chief mechanic was demanding we fix it far too quickly. One of the technicians nearly got sucked in.” He bobbed his head, his ears tucked backward. “The Vzk’tk are hard workers, but they let themselves be bullied by their cousins too easily. Of course, I’m free to tell him he’s being foolish – being there mostly for appearance’s sake has its advantages.”
“Enough talking about work,” Xiù declared. “Tacos are ready.”
A plate had been set in front of each of them, holding three of the flat, curved things Xiù had been baking earlier. Inside their curve had been filled with a little bit of the spicy meat, and that was topped with some shredded cqcq leaves. Triymin picked up one of the “tacos” as the others did, not entirely sure what to do with it… but as she watched as the other three added some more toppings from some small bowls in the center of the table. Unsure which to pick, she decided to imitate Xiù, who’d only added a little bit of a white cream.
The tacos crunched loudly as they ate. Xiù seemed clinical, chewing slowly and analysing the taste… perhaps thinking of ways to improve it. Ayma had no expression, simply eating mechanically. Regaari, who was always so blaise and even-tempered, seemed like he was fighting the urge to shove the entire taco into his mouth all at once. His ears stood tall, wordlessly expressing his pleasure. The former slave lifted the taco in her paws to her mouth and took a bite.
The first thing she noticed was the crunch – so different from the soft nutrition spheres or the crispness of the vegetables the night before. The shell cracked between her teeth, and she savoured the noise as she chewed once. Then the flavour exploded across her tongue and she froze, eyes wide.
She chewed again. Then stared, awed, at the taco still in her paws.
Xiù giggled. “I think you’ve found a fellow taco enthusiast, Regaari.”
So crunchy! So tasty! So noisy! It was everything a nutrition sphere wasn’t! No wonder sapients didn’t eat them unless they had to! She chewed rapidly, loving how the crunch echoed in her head. Almost before she knew it the taco was gone, and she grabbed the next on her plate.
“Slow down, Triymin,” Xiù advised with a smile. “I’m glad you like them, but if you eat too fast you’ll make yourself sick.” Embarrassed, Triymin paused, but the human didn’t look displeased. She took another bite, reluctantly chewing more slowly. It made her feel better when she met eyes with Regaari, and the lone male looked both sympathetic and amused… implying that maybe, perhaps, he’d been told the same thing.
On her third taco she decided to try some reddish pulp – “salsa”, Xiù called it. As she reached for the spoon, Regaari looked at her paw and squinted. “Sister Triymin? What happened to your paw?”
Xiù’s hand flicked out, faster than Triymin had thought it possible to move… but her grip was gentle, turning her paw up to expose the small blisters on her pads. “Oh no! What happened?”
“I… they started to sting after I cleaned…” she replied nervously. The Masters didn’t care if their slaves damaged themselves, so long as it didn’t impede their ability to work. Somehow she knew her current companions wouldn’t see it the same way.
“Eh? Oh no, the cleaning chemicals…”
“Didn’t you know they were harmful to bare flesh?” Ayma demanded.
Triymin wanted to disappear into her seat, but it was Xiù who answered. She let go of Triymin’s paw, patting her gently on the elbow. “It’s my fault. They never bothered me, but I never thought she would be more sensitive-”
“It’s written right on the bottle!”
“I can’t read Gaori!”
“She can!” Ayma made a noise of frustration. “Honestly, Shoo, I know you want to take her with us – but how can we, if we need to be constantly on the watch for the damage she’ll do to herself? We can’t guard ourselves from outsiders and nursemaid her at the same time! We need to take her to a station with an embassy. We can leave her there-”
“Stop talking about her as if she isn’t sitting across the table from you!” The snarled rebuke shocked the Gaoian Mother into silence. Triymin wished she could flee; the meal which had seemed so amazing now sat in her stomach like a lead ball.
Xiù closed her eyes, taking a deep breath and unclenching her hands, which had curled into fists. When she spoke again her voice was level. “Regaari, can you treat Triymin’s paw?”
“Of course.” He stood, and though he was as calm as always there was a hint of relief in the set of his ears. “Come, Sister, this won’t be difficult.”
Triymin followed the male, her ears flat and head down in misery. He lead her quietly down the ramps at the rear of the ship, to the lower level. Almost directly below the galley was a small med bay, located between the rear doors and the sleeping and exercise rooms. Regaari had her sit on a small bench and hold up her injured paw. Moving carefully but purposefully, he gently poked each of the blisters with a small needle to drain them, then spread a salve gently over the injuries. The salve tingled slightly, taking away even the tiny lingering pain.
“The salve will prevent infection and encourage the skin to heal,” he explained as he wrapped her paw in gauze. “By tomorrow morning you should be able to remove this.”
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
He paused. “It wasn’t intentional on your part. You’re only foolish if you don’t learn from it, and I believe you will.”
She nodded, although she still felt plenty foolish. Worse, she felt disruptive – like she was damaging the peace aboard the small ship with nothing more than her presence. She’d been so happy to offer something back, to be useful, and now that effort had turned around and bitten her.
“We’re done. You should either go and rest, or you can return and finish your meal. Just don’t use that paw.”
“Do you think they’re… done?” she asked nervously.
Regaari winced, displaying the reluctance universal to males of every species when caught between warring females. “I… hope so. I can check in a moment…”
Triymin quietly declined, not wishing to impose upon him further. She liked Regaari… he was quiet but confident, oddly pleasant to look at, and she felt like he – like herself – was just a little bit of an outsider, swept up in the wake of the other two residents of the yacht. Leaving him to clean up the few items he’d used to treat her paw, she quietly crept up the ramps to the upper deck.