Total pages in book: 51
Estimated words: 46803 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 234(@200wpm)___ 187(@250wpm)___ 156(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 46803 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 234(@200wpm)___ 187(@250wpm)___ 156(@300wpm)
“Can you turn the light off?”
“Of course,” I say, immediately making the room dark.
I then stand there, not certain what else to do.
“You can go and…” her soft voice floats to me in the dark.
“I can go,” I say. “Yes. I will come back soon.”
I come back an hour later. Or, more accurately, I stand outside the room for a human hour. I want the medicine to have time to do its job, and I don’t want to go too far in case she needs me. But she also needs time to herself.
I check in with her via the collar. It is not transmitting much in the way of data, which probably means she’s resting. Good. That’s good.
“What’s wrong? Been kicked out?”
One of the human soldiers who should not have the run of the ship walks past and throws out a disrespectful quip. I restrain the urge to crush his throat. These humans are arrogant, and Arkan is doing little to control them.
I say nothing. I lean against the wall, standing guard over my unwell mate and loathing the situation in which I find myself. Much has changed in the last twelve hours. I have learned that I am capable of bonding deeply with a human and caring about her so completely I would tolerate the indignity of being put out of my own room like a house cat. But some things have not changed. Arkan’s insistence on transporting these arrogant, dangerous, murderous humans, for instance.
“Kahn?”
The instant I hear her voice, I forget all about my other concerns. I rush into the room, where I can instantly tell she is in much less pain. She is sitting up in bed, the color has returned to her face, and her features are no longer contorted in agony.
“Thank you,” she says. “I can’t believe you made that stop. Nothing on Earth ever seemed to make that stop.”
“You need to rest. Your body is lacking sleep and several key nutrients.”
“Most people would say something like, you’re welcome.”
“I don’t know what that would mean in this context. You are welcome to being free of pain?”
“Weirdo,” she laughs, but in a way that indicates she is pleased with me.
“So dense,” she mutters to herself. I am borderline compelled to remind her that of the two of us, I am the advanced alien. But there is no convincing this human that she is any less than I, and I am beginning to agree. She is strong. She knows how to contain secrets, and to be stoic in the face of pain. She is difficult to handle because she has never for a second considered surrender as an option. This young woman is a fighter and a survivor.
And that is why I get her some candy. I usually reserve this for rewards for good behavior, but in Stella’s case, I find myself wanting to reward her simply for being herself. It feels good to spoil her — and yes, I am aware that I am spoiling her. I am also aware that after one instance of copulation I have become something of a simpering slave to her whims. I promise myself that I will not allow that to interfere with her training. She still needs to be trained. Mate, pet, or simply human companion, she cannot be allowed to behave in an uncontrolled manner.
In another hour, she is sitting up in bed quite happily with wrappers all around her, watching some of the media we have salvaged from human history. Humans like to watch moving talking pictures. They are able to immerse themselves in such narratives, suspending their disbelief, and feeling all the feelings of the characters. It is quite a phenomenon to behold.
“I wish we still made movies,” she says. “But the only entertainment left on the planet is watching people get zapped by security fences, or shot by security forces or… you know, it’s weird, but it’s almost like the word security doesn’t mean anything anymore. These movies, it’s like they come from another planet. A whole different species of people who actually liked each other. Nobody gets stabbed in the street. At all. And it’s all so clean. And the buildings are intact. And….”
She is becoming quite upset as she notes all these little differences from past to present. She has lived in the ruins of a much kinder world her entire life. My brothers and I have often commented how difficult it is to find suitable pets, and that is partly because soft temperaments rarely thrive in a world where survival is a struggle each and every hour of each and every day.
“You are going to a new world,” I tell her. “A world where humans are prized. You have quite a pleasant life ahead of you.”
“As your pet?”
“Yes. In the eyes of the world, that is what you will be. My pet. My owned little beast.”