Total pages in book: 175
Estimated words: 166095 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 830(@200wpm)___ 664(@250wpm)___ 554(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 166095 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 830(@200wpm)___ 664(@250wpm)___ 554(@300wpm)
Jamef makes a low, growly rumble in his throat that sounds like pleasure. He likes my fierce kiss, as much as he liked Dora’s timid one. Heat pulses through me, a different heat than I felt with Dora. Different, but just as good.
It makes me a little panicky. I break off the kiss, tap him on the cheek in an affectionate slap, and walk away to Dora’s side. “There you go, fluffit. Feel better?”
She takes my hand and clutches it to her chest, beaming affectionately up at me. “This is going to work for us. Wait and see.”
I’m not so sure, but if it makes her smile like that, I’ll give it a try.
Thirty-Three
DORA
I don’t think I’m exaggerating when I feel things are weird for the next several hours. After our initial agreement, I guess I expected things to be different? But Bethiah mumbled something about needing to clean her weapons and disappeared. Jamef gave me a wry smile and retreated to the bridge, and it’s been just me alone for a bit.
That’s all right, I tell myself. We said we’d take things slow. We can go as slow as we need to.
For me, I can breathe a sigh of relief. If I’m part of a triad, no one’s going to dump me on a farm planet. Bethiah might want to, but Jamef would never let her, and vice versa. They’d have to agree on it and those two never agree on anything. I feel safe. We’re all staying here on the ship, nice and cozy.
I’m home now, in a way that I wasn’t before.
My mood is a cheery one with that realization. I hum as I go around the ship, tidying up. I pack up my things and remove them from the holding cell, placing them in the bedroom. I make the bed with fresh sheets and add my small pillow, wondering how all three of us are going to squeeze into the small frame. I put away my clothes next to Bethiah’s, and straighten up the bedroom. Bethiah remains in the weapons room, cleaning what looks like every weapon on the ship, so I bring her a cup of tea. I bring one for Jamef, too, and peer over his shoulder for a bit as he sets out some flight charts. He has a “turn in”—whatever that is—at a station called Haal Ui, so we’re heading there next. He’s tinkering with generated navigation paths, trying to determine which one is the most cost-efficient for fueling and won’t take us near danger.
Me, I think he’s just wasting time. It’s a comfort thing, like Bethiah with her weapons. I understand that, and I head off to try and do my own thing. Unfortunately, I don’t have a lot of memories of “my own thing,” so I mostly wander the ship, trying to figure out what to do with myself. I need to come up with a hobby, something that’s mine and gives me pleasure. Something that I can do to bring value to my presence here.
I scratch at one of the rusty-looking panels in the hall and wonder just what that would be.
Mealtime is quiet, and both Bethiah and Jamef seem reluctant to leave their posts. I allow it, bringing them both bowls of noodles and chatting for a bit. We avoid all mentions of our triad and talk about stupid stuff, instead. Bethiah and I talk about Ruthann and wonder how she’s doing with Ruth and Ruthie. Jamef chats a bit about a prior job he did where he chased a praxiian convict on the run for nearly a full year before the guy ran out of credits and the debt collectors handed him over with disgust.
I listen and I listen, and it occurs to me that I’ve paired up (triaded up?) with two loners that don’t know how to be around other people for long periods of time. This might be difficult for both of them.
So I’m patient until bedtime. The ship’s time is set to match the standard Homeworld time, which is just some arbitrary number that people in space use to keep on a similar schedule (or so Jamef tells me). I wait until it’s late enough, and then I head to the bridge and hold out my hand. “Let’s go to bed, Jamef.”
He sits back in his chair, gazes at my hand with a small smile, and then nods. “Very well. I’ll turn on autopilot.” He taps a few buttons and then gets to his feet with a creak of metal and takes my hand.
His is big and comforting and pleasant, and I give his fingers a squeeze. I beam at him and then head across the ship to retrieve my other partner, who probably won’t come along as easily. She’s going to feel vulnerable, so I need to distract her.