Drayke Page 3

  “Let me talk to Dax. I don’t believe you.” I’m not sure I’ll believe Dax, but I sure as hell don’t believe what this male is telling me.

  His eyes narrow and nostrils flare. He’s definitely hiding something.

  “Certainly.” His voice is smooth. Too smooth? “First, let’s get you some food, and get you washed up.”

  “You will not lay one filthy paw on me, asshole!” I try to sit up, but the soft tether on my arm allows me no room. Being tied down amps up my panic and my eyes flare wide as I calculate a means of escape.

  “I mean you no harm, Miss Nova. Again, I beg you to calm yourself. Please don’t strain that arm, it’s so compromised.” He raises his arms at the elbows, palms facing me, the classic “don’t shoot” pose, then hits a comm button on the wall. “Miss Grace, would you be so kind as to come to medbay with some food for me and our new passenger?”

  He turns to me and explains, “Grace is an Earth female, like you. She can attest to the fact that everyone on board this ship is a free agent. I thought I would leave you two alone and let her give you a sponge bath.”

  He looks crushed, like I’ve offended him. In my experience, the more innocent a person appears, the more they have to hide. I definitely don’t trust him. I’m not even certain he’s a doctor.

  “Are you in any pain?”

  “I can’t feel anything from the shoulder down.”

  “Perfect. I’ve given you a nerve block that should keep you pain free. Just let me know when it starts to wear off and I’ll give you something to make you comfortable.”

  A few minutes later a sweetly pretty blond about my age appears at the door. The doctor helps her in with the tray. I look her up and down, it’s been two years since I’ve seen another human. I’m hit with a pang of wistfulness, my eyes watering, as my former life, everything I’ve left behind, comes crashing into my awareness.

  “Miss Grace.” The doctor interrupts my maudlin reverie. “Allow me to introduce Miss Nova. She was badly injured in her battle with Dax. I wondered if you could help clean her off while I go to my quarters for a moment. Her arm is fragile. Do you think you could wash her and help her, um, use the bedpan while keeping that arm completely still?”

  “Sure.” She turns and gives me a shy smile. I return it, but she probably sees more suspicion than friendliness.

  After the doctor leaves, Grace gingerly helps me with bedpan duties. Frankly, fighting nude in front of hordes of aliens for the last few years did not prepare me for this level of indignity.

  As she washes me, she tells me the same story the doctor did about why they’re all on the ship. I guess for now I’ll believe I’m free, just tied to the side rail for my arm to heal.

  “Dax told us all about the contest on Bellona. It sounds like you’re lucky to be alive. And brave.” She looks at me earnestly. “Dax described how fiercely you fought. I can’t believe there are female gladiators! And a human! You must be so strong.”

  I briefly tell her about my MMA training, she looks impressed.

  “Someday, when you’ve recovered, do you think you could teach me? Oh, I know I’d never be good at it, but maybe I could learn a few things. I’d like to feel more...powerful, more accomplished.”

  “Sure, if I’m allowed to do that.”

  She lets out a short giggle. “No one owns you anymore, Nova. No one prohibits anyone from doing anything on the Slacker. You do what you want and go where you want. If you want to leave the ship, you can choose to do that, too. You never have to fight again if you don’t want to.” She pauses, looking sad and wistful, then adds, “We can’t go back to Earth, though. That is not an option.”

  “Why not, if we’re free?”

  “One of us would undoubtedly spill the beans, or someone would figure it out, and then we’d be locked up as crazy. Or, more likely, we’d be studied in some underground government lab for the rest of our lives. We took a vote. None of us are going back.” She shakes her head. She seems tentative about a lot of things, but on this, she is certain.

  “What if I want to return? What if I promise I’ll say nothing?”

  “Well,” she hedges, “you could discuss it with Zar, the captain. At any rate, you’ll need some recovery time. In the meantime, you’d have to come up with a really good story about where you’ve been for the last…?”

  “Two years,” I answer dejectedly, already knowing it will be impossible to come up with a cover story for my lengthy absence.

  I think I hear someone approaching as she helps me put on a clean gown.

  “I don’t trust the doctor,” I whisper, my eyes sliding toward the door.

  “He’s a good male,” Grace answers earnestly. “He’s helped every one of us in some way. You have nothing to fear.”

  “He’s too nice,” I explain. “He’s a scammer.”

  “What you see is what you get, Nova. He’s as honorable as he appears.”

  Well, they all seem to be sticking to the same story. It remains to be seen if it’s true.

  Dr. Drayke sun Omrun

  I knock at the medbay door, waiting for Nova’s delayed invitation for me to come in. I showered and changed out of those uncomfortable patrician clothes and into my dark blue jumpsuit.

  “Any problems?” I keep my tone upbeat.

  “I’m clean and I've pottied.”

  I tilt my head; obviously the subdural translators we all wear didn’t do so well on that one.

  “Mission accomplished,” she explains and puts her left thumb in the air.

  “I’ll leave you two alone.” Grace smiles at us both. “It was nice meeting you. I can’t wait for you to teach me some moves in the gym, I mean ludus.”

  When Grace is gone, I see the food she brought is untouched. “I’m sure you’re hungry, Miss Nova. Do you mind if I join you?”

  She considers for a moment, then shakes her head. Does that mean she does mind or doesn’t? Oh well, I swing the tray table over her bed, make sure her head’s at a comfortable angle, grab a sandwich, and sit in a chair nearby.

  She digs in, poor thing must be famished. She has no trouble devouring her sandwich, but using the spoon with her left hand isn’t working so well. After her third aborted attempt to get soup to mouth, I offer to help.

  She spears me with a contemptuous look and a terse, “No thanks.”

  After two more unsuccessful attempts, she sets the spoon down.

  “You’re a proud female. I see that. There’s no harm in accepting help when you need it. I’d be happy to assist.”

  There’s something about her strength, her resistance to asking for or receiving help, that is attractive. She’s so strong, even on what has to be one of the worst days of her life.

  She considers for a long moment. “I don’t know what you’re up to, doctor. But just so you know, I don’t trust you.”

  “Absolutely. No trust. I get it. But would you like help with the soup anyway?” She’s still deliberating when I get up, walk to a drawer, and pull out a scalpel. “Here.” I swiftly set it on the edge of the tray. “Hold this in your left hand. Stab me if I get out of line.”

  She’s stunned, but that doesn’t prevent her from grabbing it and giving me a challenging stare.

  “Better?” I ask as I pull my chair to her right side and begin spooning her soup.

  “Everybody has an angle, doc. What’s yours?”

  “I went into the helping profession, Miss Nova. I like to serve.”

  No more talk. I refuse. I’m too absorbed in feeding her this soup. On my planet, it’s what bonded males do for their mates. We help, we provide, we remove burdens, we ease our females’ lives. It is a loving behavior I watched my father perform for my mother hundreds of times.

  Why I want to do this for her, an Earth female I’m not bonded to baffles me. No matter how much I want to deny it, though, the honor of being allowed to feed Nova actually makes my hands shake. If she knew the intimacy she was granting me at this moment, she would stab me with that sca
lpel.

  Chapter Four

  Nova

  I’m so tired. This has been one of the longest days of my life. After the doctor fed me, he went into the connecting lab to give me time to nap. I didn’t get much sleep, because three other women visited me, one at a time, for quick meet and greets. They all swore everyone on the ship is free. Each one treated the doctor with the utmost friendliness and respect.

  Dax came in when the doc slipped out for a moment. Even though my mind knew he saved my life, my body reacted by sending my heart pounding in double time. The big guy seems to be a gentle giant—he apologized about fifty times for my arm. I wouldn’t accept his apology—none was necessary. I reminded him if he hadn’t reached out and pulled me back I’d have been split in two by that huge swinging knife. I can tell he’s relieved that I don’t blame him for my amputation.

  Even though I’ve been on board this ship less than two days, I’m struck by how kind everyone has been. I’ve met four women, Dax and Dr. Drayke, and all of them seem to be genuinely concerned for my safety. Hell, both Dax and the doctor saved my life.

  I give myself a stern talking to. Never put your guard down, Nova. You learned that lesson early and often, I remind myself.

  “I’d like to change your dressing, Miss Nova.” The doc pulls me back to the present. “I want to get a good look at the surgical site, put some more topical antiseptic on it, and make certain there’s no infection. It’s been a long day. I’m sure you’re tired and want to get some sleep.”

  He leans over my arm and begins gently cutting off the dressing. I grab the scalpel he left at my bedside. I’m not even subtle about it. I think any other male might chuckle at this. I’m obviously not going to hurt him. But he frowns a bit, looking pained. He wants my trust.

  Trust? I don’t do trust. After fighting off eight older brothers since I was old enough to walk, and losing my freedom to aliens, I forgot how—if I ever knew to begin with.

  He gives me a look so deep and melancholy I can’t even put a name to it, then gets back to his task.

  “You might not want to look, Miss Nova. It’s going to be extremely swollen and the cut will be puckered and red. Perhaps you want to avert your eyes.”

  “I’m a realist, doc.” My voice is full of swagger, but I clamp my teeth together so I don’t make a distressed sound when I see what he just described.

  “You’re a strong female, Nova. You should be proud of how you handled everything you’ve been through.”

  That’s the first time he’s called me Nova instead of Miss Nova. Why does it feel sweet and caring and intimate? I glance up at him and catch him looking at me. We just stare into each other’s eyes. For the briefest moment, those dark blue eyes don’t look villainous at all. They’re full of concern. I can feel his tenderness. It overwhelms me. I pull my focus back to my arm.

  “Let’s get this show on the road, doc,” I put as much levity in my voice as I can muster. It’s false bravado.

  He’s all professional now, finishing snipping through layers of downy gauze then peeling them back. Clamping my teeth together didn’t help at all. A strangled sound escapes my lips. It looks horrifying—Frankensteinian.

  I’ve been cut up and beat up and badly hurt before. I have some ugly scars on my body, the worst of which is the gash from belly to flank I received in the fight with the asshole who used a blade he’d planted in the arena sand. He earned a slap on the wrist for cheating. I got a lot of pain and a permanent reminder.

  But I rarely see the scar on my midriff. This one will be in plain sight every day. It will remind me of almost being killed. What if I don’t regain full mobility or dexterity? This could be a game-changer.

  “It will look much better when it heals, Miss Nova.” His voice is so calm, so reassuring. “A few months from now you’ll just have a scar, you’ll be good as new.” He’s almost pleading now, could it be because tears are snaking down my cheeks? Tears? I don’t cry. I quit crying after my first day in captivity. It just got me smacked by my captors.

  Now that I’m crying, I can’t stop. Maybe I’m releasing a tiny fraction of the buckets of tears I’ve held back over the last two years.

  I’m safe. The thought arrows into my brain, insinuating itself. I’m safe for the first time in what seems like eons. And dammit, I think part of this feeling of safety is because doctor Drayke is here with me. This patient man who handed me a scalpel to help me trust him.

  I’m sad and angry and have a longing so deep I can barely stand it. I don’t even know what I’m yearning for.

  For so long I was completely alone and afraid; I had to pretend to be strong and courageous to everyone I knew. Now my safety allows me to experience the fear and sadness I’ve kept at bay—it’s overwhelming. I don’t like this feeling. Part of me wants to hide behind my self-erected protective walls.

  Through eyes filled with tears, I watch him apply medication and re-bandage me. He works quickly, gently—not mentioning my weakness. That’s nice of him. He’s been nothing if not kind and compassionate.

  I’m crying harder and can barely see what he’s doing now. He’s not touching me anymore. He must be finished.

  “What can I do to help?” His deep voice is so close his warm breath fans my cheek. “Let me help, Nova. Tell me how.”

  The floodgates have opened and I’m weeping now. I don’t know how to stop. I don’t know what to tell him. The defenses I’ve used for the past two years, hell, my whole life, are gone, decimated. I’m vulnerable as a newborn.

  What do I want? What would help? I want warmth. I want companionship. I want connection. I want the constant fear I’ve lived with my entire life to go away, even if it’s for the briefest moment.

  For so long I’ve kept my distance from everyone. I was afraid anyone I got close to would die, or be sold, or sent away. I protected myself by staying emotionally isolated. But now I’m on a ship full of free people. If I believe what they tell me, I’m safe here. I’m safe with Dr. Drayke. For the first time in my life, I don’t want to be alone.

  “Stay with me doc. Can you do that?” Where I found the courage to ask that I will never know. But now that I’ve said it, I realize I want it more than I’ve wanted anything in a long, long time.

  “Absolutely.” He sits in the chair next to my right arm.

  I feel ridiculous. What now?

  A wave of fear overtakes me. It’s like every emotion I smashed down for two years is crashing to the surface of my awareness in the span of half an hour. My eyes open wide in fear as I wordlessly look at him.

  “I’m so afraid. It’s like I’m drowning,” I whisper.

  “How can I help?” His face is serious, earnest.

  “I don’t know.”

  There’s a long pause. The silence is only punctuated by my soft sobs, then, “Once upon a time…”

  Seriously? This doctor is going to sit with his patient and tell her a fairy tale?

  “Once upon a time there was a little girl. She was a good little girl who got lost in the woods…”

  His voice is deep and relaxing. I don’t know if he’s making this story up as he goes, or if perhaps his mom told him this story when he was a little boy. But there is something so reassuring about the slow unraveling of this simple bedtime tale. I’m not crying anymore. The tears that trailed down my cheeks are drying on my skin.

  It’s so achingly sweet when he sits up straight with his shoulders thrown back speaking in a high voice as he mimics the little girl. “‘But I can’t find my way home,’ the little girl says.”

  Then he puffs out his chest and his head sinks low when he uses a deep male voice to imitate the gruff giant. “‘I’ll help you find your way,’ the big giant says as he pulls down a tree and lays it across the banks of the river for her to walk across.”

  He doesn’t seem embarrassed as he puts his heart and soul into acting out this story. He seems determined to make this little tale so compelling I focus on it rather than my fears or my sadness.
/>
  I haven’t felt this safe and protected in...ever. In my life, no one ever read me a bedtime story. My lips turn upward in a fraction of a smile.

  I find it hard to stay awake as he prolongs the story with more and more detail. I think he just wants to keep talking until I fall asleep.

  My eyes have drifted shut, but I listen all the way through until he says, “and together they lived happily ever after.” Then he eases up slowly, saunters to the medbay door, and locks it. The sound of the electronic mechanism locking us in together should scare the living shit out of me, but it doesn’t. The overhead lights flicker off, I hear his unhurried footsteps approach the bed next to mine in this small room.

  “Doctor Drayke?” My voice sounds little to my ears, like the girl in the story.

  “Yes, Nova?”

  “It’s not fair of me to ask,” I say. Nor do I have any idea why I’m doing it. “Would you sit in the chair next to me for a bit? Just until I fall asleep?”

  “Would it make you feel safer?” he asks, his voice rough.

  “Yes, I think it would.” It’s like I’m watching myself answer his question. I don’t understand why I want him this close. This is a risk. I don’t like to take risks.

  The room is dim, with just a sliver of light streaming out from under the bathroom door. I watch him pull his chair a bit closer to my bedside, then settle in. I feel a pang of guilt that he’s going to be uncomfortable in that small, hard chair.

  “Just until I fall asleep,” I tell him, then take a deep, calm breath, the first I’ve breathed in a long time, and allow myself to fully relax.

  ~.~

  Someone’s screaming. I wake with a start, every muscle tense. I’d forgotten for a moment about Bellona and the amputation and the fact that my arm is tethered to the bed rail, but it all comes crashing back along with the awareness that I was the one who was screaming.

  “It’s okay, Nova.” It’s Drayke’s deep, reassuring voice. “Just a bad dream. You’re safe now.”