Maverick Page 8

  “You are not,” he snapped. “You look like you’re about to keel over.” He hopped out of the pilot’s seat, placed his hands on her shoulders, and pushed her down onto the chair. “Sorry, didn’t mean to make you sick. I keep forgetting you haven’t been in space for a while.”

  “I’ll be all right. Just give me a minute.” She waved her hand in what she hoped was a dismissive manner. Unfortunately, her feeble attempt to dissipate his scent only intensified the effect.

  Larry obviously wasn’t buying it. He was freakin’ hovering, which could only make matters worse.

  She needed to put some distance between them. Now. “Maybe some ice in a wet washcloth would help.”

  “Right. Be back in a sec.”

  Take your time. Althea swiveled the chair away from the console and leaned forward with her head in her hands.

  A flutter of his wings heralded Brak’s approach. “He’s getting to you. Isn’t he?”

  I’m not answering that. I am so not answering that. “It’s only space sickness, Brak. I’ll be okay as soon as I adjust to the faster speed.”

  “We shall see.” Both his tone and the odd click of his mandibles suggested he didn’t believe her for a second.

  Damn. She couldn’t even confide in Brak. Not after blabbing to Larry about how Brak felt about him. She couldn’t very well expect the Scorillian to keep her secret when she hadn’t bothered to keep his. Of course, at the time, the possibility that she might be similarly smitten hadn’t occurred to her.

  Truth be told, she was actually a little miffed. She’d just found out she had a sister, and she’d allowed herself to be distracted by Larry’s scent.

  I have a sister!

  She’d always known the possibility existed, but given that Statzeel was practically on the other side of the galaxy, she’d never expected to meet any of her relatives, let alone run across them on the way to Palorka. What were the odds?

  She’d figure that out later.

  First things first.

  She raised her head and stared up at Brak. “I told him.”

  His wings rose slightly. “You told him…what?”

  “That you were in love with him. Sorry. Should’ve kept my mouth shut.”

  Mandibles agape, Brak stretched out a double pair of glistening wings that nearly spanned the width of the bridge.

  For a moment, she thought Brak was going to attack her.

  Instead, he leaned his long, slender body forward and whispered in her ear. “Shall I return the favor?”

  “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t. I’m really sorry, Brak. He wondered why you were acting strangely, and I told him what I’d picked up from you. I can’t help reading the emotions of others, but by now I should have figured out when to keep them to myself.”

  He straightened to his full height and rubbed the back of his neck with a pincer. “I don’t suppose it matters. A Zetithian and a Scorillian? Our mating is impossible, and I know it. But I simply cannot help the way I feel.” His thorax expanded in what she could only assume was a sigh. “He’s so amazingly dreamy.”

  Althea leaned back in her chair, pressing her fingers to her lips. This was not the time to laugh. “He is, isn’t he? I’d…forgotten.”

  He folded his wings in a rather smug manner. “So I’m right.”

  “Yeah. Unfortunately.”

  “What are we going to do about it?”

  “We? We aren’t going to do anything. He already has a girlfriend. I’m not going to be the one to break them up. I’ll just have to get over it.”

  Brak’s single-eyed glare was nearly her undoing. “You know it doesn’t work that way for Zetithians.”

  “It does if the feeling isn’t mutual. We aren’t mated. This is only chemistry—or something about his neck. I want to bite it so bad, I—”

  Larry came rushing onto the bridge, dripping washcloth in hand. “Here you go, Al.”

  She took the cloth from him with a grateful smile and slapped it against her forehead. “Thanks, Larry. I’m sure this will help.”

  “Great!” The killer smile he aimed at her started her mouth watering all over again. “Can’t have you feeling bad or passing out. Especially since I’m the one who dragged you out of the jungle to come on this trip.”

  She stole a peek at Brak, who was already sidling toward his station as though he would’ve liked to disappear. Poor Brak. Now that he knew the truth, he would be self-conscious in the extreme, and she was the one to blame. It wasn’t fair that Larry knew about Brak’s feelings and not hers.

  However, she had no plans to enlighten him. Not now. Not ever.

  She even managed to return his smile. “No problem, Larry. I’ll be fine. Just keep on flying, and don’t worry about me. After all, we have half siblings to rescue and comsystems to fix. We can’t let a little space sickness get in the way.”

  “True.” Resting a hip against the communications console, he folded his arms across his chest in an unconsciously sexy manner that elicited an inward moan. “You know, in a way, I’m kinda glad they’re having trouble. I’ve been dying to tell someone about them, and this gives me an excuse. Mom probably would’ve blabbed it all over the quadrant, but you can keep a secret.”

  Still pressing the washcloth to her head, she stared down at the floor to avoid meeting his eyes. Opting to ignore the remark about her own trustworthiness, she focused on his mother’s character instead. “I dunno… Jack kept quiet about the Statzeelian breeding program for a long time. You could’ve trusted her.”

  He hesitated as though giving this some thought before he spoke. “You’re probably right. But from a need-to-know standpoint, she didn’t need to know. You do.” His soft chuckle was even sexier than his stance. “All we have to do is rescue them, and then we can have one hell of a family reunion. I’m sure they’ll be delighted to meet you.”

  “Were they happy to meet you?”

  “Well, no,” he conceded. “Not at first. Like I said, they seemed pretty secretive. But they warmed up to me after I fixed their comsystem. Most people do.”

  All she could do was close her eyes and nod. Larry’s ability to fix comsystems wasn’t the only reason people liked him. He was naturally likeable. Always had been. Always would be. The fact that he was ridiculously handsome didn’t hurt, either.

  No doubt Dartula would fall for him too.

  Althea could hardly wait for that.

  Chapter 8

  “Just had a thought, Al,” Larry said. “Maybe you should be flying the ship. You know how it is with motion sickness. If you’re the one doing the flying, the changes in speed and direction don’t bother you.”

  Actually, given the Stooge’s smooth response to the controls, such changes shouldn’t have affected Althea at all. Larry was at something of a loss to explain why they had. Living in the jungle with no technology to speak of might be the cause, but she’d lived on a starship for the greater part of her life. Why would space travel affect her now?

  Yet another of life’s great unsolved mysteries.

  “That’s not a bad idea,” she said. “If nothing else, piloting would give me something to do.”

  He shrugged. “We’re on autopilot most of the time, but next time we need to make speed or course adjustments, you can take over. Of the two of us, you always were the better pilot, although the controls are pretty straightforward. Curly called them ‘idiotproof.’”

  “Sounds like something Curly would say.”

  Out of all of his eight brothers, Curly was the only one who’d inherited their mother’s penchant for the more colorful metaphors. “Yeah. Life was never dull with him around.” Larry couldn’t help thinking that if things had gone according to his original plan, Curly would’ve been the one piloting the Stooge, and Moe would’ve been navigating.

  And I would’ve missed out on the joy of working
with Brak.

  He was still contemplating the possible merits of this outcome, if any, when Althea lowered the soggy washcloth and leaned back in her chair. “You miss him, don’t you?”

  “Of course I do,” Larry replied. “We were littermates. We got along great.” He frowned. “At least, I thought we did.”

  “You did get along,” Althea said firmly. “Trust me. But you were always the ringleader. Maybe they wanted to be in charge of their own lives for a change.”

  He stared at her, wide-eyed with disbelief. “In charge of their own lives? Geez, Al. You make it sound like I was some sort of fascist dictator.”

  “Oh, of course you weren’t. They were simply asserting their independence.”

  “Uh-huh. From a fascist dictator.” He’d never seen himself in that light before. Needless to say, it hurt.

  “That’s bullshit, and you know it,” Althea snapped. “They love you to pieces, just like everyone else does. Maybe all they wanted was to get out of your shadow for a while.”

  “My shadow?” he echoed. “What the devil is that supposed to mean?”

  With a sharp inhale, she pressed the washcloth to her forehead again. “Sorry. I seem to be mucking this up rather badly.” She drew in another breath, then pressed her lips together for a moment before she spoke. “Let me see if I can say this right. Even as a boy, you were talented, articulate, and intelligent. Your brothers looked up to you. Now that they’re older, they simply needed their own opportunity to shine—somewhere away from your light.”

  Larry could scarcely believe what she was implying. “You make it sound like my brothers are a bunch of dummies, and they aren’t. They’re all sharp as tacks, as Mom would say.”

  She threw up her hands in a gesture of futility. “I dunno, Larry. Maybe it’s because you were the oldest.”

  If birth order meant anything, Larry had been his litter’s firstborn. “Yeah, right. By all of five minutes.”

  “I know it doesn’t sound like much, but in a monarchy, those five minutes would make you the heir to the throne and your brothers the spares. Fratricide has been committed for less.”

  He didn’t even want to think about the possibility of fratricide, choosing to focus on the more obvious argument. “Last time I checked, my family isn’t a monarchy, and I’m pretty sure we’ll all be named as heirs when our parents die.” Larry had a hard time imagining his parents growing old, much less dying. Cat had endured twenty years of slavery, and Jack was larger-than-life. From that perspective, he could envision them living forever.

  They wouldn’t, of course. But he was pretty sure they weren’t going to die anytime soon.

  She peered up at him from beneath the dripping washcloth. “How did we get started on this?”

  “The gods only know,” he said with a weary sigh. “I was trying to figure out a way to make you more comfortable. Not sure what happened after that.” Maybe that sort of thing was to be expected when two long-lost friends got back together. Especially friends who’d grown up closer than most cousins and a good many siblings. He held out a hand. “Here, let me wring that thing out before you drown.”

  Larry took the washcloth and squeezed it into the nearest liquid-recycling port. The Stooge had a lot of nice features, not having to stop for water very often being one of them. He returned the cloth to her, noting that the ice was almost entirely melted. “Need more ice?”

  “No, thanks,” she replied. “And just so you know, you’re doing a fine job of looking after me. I’m feeling better already.”

  “Glad to hear it.” He nodded toward the console. “Check out the controls whenever you feel up to it.” She was already sitting in the pilot’s seat. All she had to do was turn around. Deciding how he felt about what she’d said about his brothers would require considerably more effort.

  He’d never dreamed he might be overshadowing his brothers in any way. They each had their own particular talents, and Curly’s piloting skill was a hell of a lot more exciting than repairing comsystems. Al seemed to have forgotten that any girls they’d ever met always thought Curly was the coolest. Not only could he fly a ship as well or better than their mother, he’d also been blessed—perhaps cursed—with her rather brash attitude. Truth be told, unlike most Zetithian males, he was a little on the cocky side.

  Then there was Moe. Brak might’ve been an excellent navigator, but Moe had him beat six ways from Rigel. Always the sensible one, he’d been the voice of reason on more than one outlandish venture. However, contrary to his cautious and methodical nature, he would occasionally astonish everyone with a sudden burst of gut instinct or inspiration that usually proved to be the best alternative.

  His younger brothers were equally capable, but because he and his littermates had helped to raise them, they related to their elder brothers almost like an extra set of parents.

  Despite the overload of inner turmoil, he yawned. “Sorry. Haven’t been to bed yet. I tend to forget sometimes.” Brak didn’t seem to need much in the way of sleep, which had influenced Larry’s own habits.

  “How long before we reach JR-51?” Althea asked.

  She’d addressed her question to Larry, but it was Brak who answered her. “With the increase in velocity, we should reach the planet within two standard days.”

  “Thanks, Brak.” She smiled at Larry. “Sounds like you’ve got plenty of time for a nap.”

  “I don’t want to go to bed right after you woke up. Seems kinda inconsiderate.” With all of the food for thought he’d been given, he doubted he’d be able to sleep anyway. Plus, the way she’d been smiling had him slightly puzzled.

  “I’ve been awake for a while,” she said. “I’ve already taken a shower and had breakfast. Would you believe I actually found some eggs amid the cheeseburgers?”

  He frowned, still not sure what to make of her smile. Was she being polite? Or was she trying to get rid of him?

  “Well, okay,” he finally said. “If you insist. Although I hate to put us on opposite shifts. We still have a lot of catching up to do.”

  “I’ll make a point of staying awake until you get up,” she said. “We can talk more then.” Her smile grew even brighter. “Sweet dreams.”

  “Thanks, Al.” After a brief nod and a quick word with Brak, he left the bridge. He was halfway to his quarters when he decided she had definitely been trying to get him to go away.

  If only he could figure out why.

  * * *

  “I thought he’d never leave,” Brak said as he fluttered away from his station. “Now we can talk about him all we like.”

  “Talk?” Althea echoed. “You mean gossip, don’t you?”

  Brak drew back, waving his pincers in protest. “I would never stoop to spreading gossip about Larry.”

  She arched a brow. “Oh really?”

  Brak tilted his head to the side—or perhaps rotated was the proper term. “It’s only gossip when you pass on a juicy secret he doesn’t want anyone else to know about. Larry doesn’t have any secrets like that, except maybe the one about the Statzeelians, and you already know that.”

  She hated to admit it, but he did have a point. “Okay. So you’re right about that. But I’d still rather not discuss him.”

  “Then what will we talk about?”

  Althea wasn’t convinced they needed to talk about anything. All she’d really wanted was to get Larry out of range of her fangs. However, offending Brak probably wasn’t a good idea, especially considering how sharp the barbs on his “arms” were. “What about those Statzeelians? Did they strike you as being mated?”

  “No.” Brak waved his antennae back and forth in what she assumed was a negative response. “Not lover-like at all. If anything, they seemed to dislike one another.”

  “Hmm… Given the standoffish nature of the average Zetithian female, that could be a good sign or a bad one. Did he seem to li
ke her more than she liked him?”

  “I have no idea. Dartula seemed nice enough. Keplok, however, was a bit of a dick.” Thrusting his mandibles forward, he lowered his antennae. “I didn’t like him at all.”

  Althea chuckled. “Guess the Zetithian bloodline didn’t help reduce the males’ belligerence as much as their women had hoped.”

  “I should say not. At least not in Keplok’s case.”

  “The secrecy of their mission could’ve affected his attitude, especially since they were having trouble with their comsystem,” Althea conceded. “Admitting they needed help might’ve brought out the Statzeelian in him.”

  The Scorillian’s wings quivered, creating a scratchy, rustling sound. “If the other males are anything like Keplok, I never want to meet a purebred.”

  “You probably won’t. They don’t travel much. We ran into a few of them while I was a kid, but they’re comparatively rare in this quadrant.”

  Once again, Brak’s wings trembled in what Althea now recognized as an expression of revulsion. “I hope it stays that way.”

  “You’re a long way from home yourself,” she observed. “How did you and Larry find one another?” Somehow, she doubted they’d met through a dating site.

  Zetithian pilot seeks gay Scorillian navigator with an eye toward romance.

  She pressed the washcloth to her mouth to cover her smile.

  “I was listed on an employment website,” he replied. “A headhunter sent my resume to Larry.”

  “I see.” Althea couldn’t help wondering how many others had applied for the job.

  “I was the most qualified of all the applicants,” he said, sounding simultaneously smug and defensive. “I was also one of the few who weren’t Terran females.”

  “Gotcha.”

  Over the past twenty years or so, word had gotten out about the remarkable sexual attributes of Zetithian males. As a result, most of the unattached guys tended to be leery of overzealous women. Case in point, Larry asking for her empathic opinion of Celeste. Unfortunately, even being choosy hadn’t prevented Larry from hiring a navigator with a crush on him.