He makes a growling sound. “I know about one human... mine.” He clears his throat. “But you have interacted with many. You understand the way they use humor and sarcasm and understand the range of human emotions.”
“It’s true. During my last operation, the med techs gave me the title of honorary human as a joke.” I had to spend so much time in the med bay with the human med staff that sometimes I felt like I was becoming one of them.
Drayk makes a face, sort of twisting up his nose, according to my scanner, which I take to mean personal horror at this designation. But I found it endearing. The humans who tended me meant it as a compliment, they explained, because I had become so resilient to the continued poking and prodding.
“I’d like to talk to them.”
To her.
I take another step in their direction. I have the urge to comfort the grown female. Wrap my arms around her and tell her she’s safe. “Reassure them.”
It’s the young offspring who’s the most critical here because she’s the long-lost daughter of our doctor’s human mate, Bayla. We’ve been searching for her for many solar cycles. But veck if I can’t stop feeling a strange pull toward her caretaker.
“Go, then.” My captain nods. “If any being can help them, it is worth a try.”
Their heat signatures get stronger in my mind as I approach, and I stop a few feet away, crouching down to make myself closer to their level. Zandians are larger than humans, and I’m taller than most. Muscular, too, from all my training.
They’re together on a med bench. The scent of adrenaline and fear wafts from their skin.
“You’re on a Zandian ship, headed to Zandia. You’re safe,” I say. “No being will hurt you here. I promise.”
Neither of them speak, but I sense the smaller one start to tremble harder.
I back away a pace. “We rescued you,” I add.
Silence. The little one starts to cry.
“The Zandian warriors who took you were disguised as Mauk, as they probably explained.” I clear my throat. “They did not wish to scare you, but time was of the essence.”
The little one buries her head in the older one’s shoulder and sobs uncontrollably. The grown female flinches, but doesn’t move. Instead, she strokes the child’s hair. “Yes, we were told.” Her voice is raw and hoarse. She puts her chin up. “I won’t allow you to hurt Enya.”
In her weakened condition, with no weapons to speak of, she couldn’t prevent it. But veck, if I don’t admire her fortitude.
“It’s true.” I turn my eyes in the direction of hers, and my sensor pings internally when I lock on to her pupils. It frustrates me that I can’t see her, never will see her, but at least I give the semblance of a normally sighted being when I do this. And I’ve learned it dramatically increases the comfort level of the being to whom I’m speaking. Nobody likes a vacant dead gaze.
“She’s still terrified.” Her voice is low and tired, but something in it reminds me of the waterfalls back on Zandia, the ones by the crystal grotto. “And frankly, so am I.” She makes a sound that might be an attempt at a laugh.
“You are Zina?” I ask. “And the young is Enya?”
When she nods, I tell her, “I’m Tarek. I’m the navigator on this ship.”
“Tarek.” She says my name, and veck, if my horns don’t stiffen. Nothing has ever sounded so good. Not even the sound of brand-new engines on a newly built Class-3 destroyer.
Stars. I force myself to focus. An outward display of my attraction to the little human isn’t going to put her at ease. “I’m getting us safely back to Zandia,” I promise her. “Where many humans have been granted asylum.”
She nods warily.
The young, Enya, hasn’t stopped trembling.
I back up immediately, gesture to the med tech, who’s hovering a few paces away, and refocus on the humans. “You’re safe now.”
My words seem to have no effect, so I go quiet.
Zina whispers into her ear, and after a moment, Enya goes quiet, although she still sniffles.
Without thinking, I reach out my hand and touch Zina’s arm. “I promise, you’re in good hands,” I tell her.
It’s like a spark to my fingers. Her skin is warm and soft, and pulses with life. She’s so fragile—these humans are all so delicate compared to Zandians! I fight the urge to push the little one aside and cradle Zina in my arms, against my chest.