“Of course. He won’t impact my training either,” I promise. “He’s very good.”
“I’m not sure anything could be a hindrance to your training,” he says drily, setting up the computer screen. “Because based on your performance, there is no way to go but up.”
Ha. At least he’s relaxing a bit. I realize that having a child in here was maybe not the most sensitive thing I could do, based on his reaction to even talking about children the last time we were together. And I suppose he’s right about the safety thing. But it’s too late now.
Maybe it will be good for him. Show him that children aren’t so scary.
I argue. “I need another chance. I was not performing at my best.”
He clears his throat. “It’s said that humans are one of the more optimistic species in the galaxy. You are nothing if not a prime example of your kind.”
But he still told me to come back. If I’m that awful, why is he bothering to assess me? Zandians are efficient. Don’t waste time. So, he must want me here in some capacity, right? Probably the same capacity I’m hoping it’s for.
Braxton comes over, intrigued, and wraps an arm around my leg. He peeks out to look at Tarek.
“Large warrior,” he observes.
“Yes, he is. Large and very skilled. And handsome, too, don’t you think?”
“Compliments will get you nowhere, little human,” Tarek says, but he appears amused.
“Very good detail orientation.” I stroke Braxton’s head between the tiny horns. “Maybe he can teach you some moves.”
“I don’t think so.” Tarek turns his back.
“Well, then I can teach you, once I learn them.”
Tarek mutters something. It sounds sort of like, “Not likely.”
“What’s that?” I step closer, pulling Braxton along gently like an extra limb. He giggles.
“I said, I’m going to get this next program set up for you. We’ll see how you do this planet rotation.”
“Excellent. I plan to beat my score from last week.”
He coughs. “I hope you are capable of doing that.”
“I’m bringing it this planet rotation.” My voice is lower and huskier, and I remember what I brought last time. What he did to me. How I loved it.
“Good.” His voice is low, too, and sensuous.
Stars, but how I want to toss that computer out the door and grab him and beg him to make love to me. I mean, not with the young watching—once his
mother fetches him, of course.
Speaking of his mother, Kara is back, her satchel full of fruit.
“Oh, Zina, thanks a million stars.” She holds out her arms for Braxton, but he turns away and darts behind me. “Sweetling, we need to leave now so I can head to the ag planning meeting.”
“No. Boring meeting!” Braxton screams it. “I stay with Zina. And him.” He points to Tarek.
Wow. He’s maybe not the most well-behaved child, but who am I to judge? He does certainly have good taste.
“We’re just novel,” I apologize, in case Kara is offended.
But she is not. She laughs.
I’m fascinated. Watching mothers in action—mothers who do not answer to slave masters, is exhilarating and complicated and so different from anything I’ve experienced. It’s nice.