“There was a female on board,” he said, trying to tamp down on the embarrassing excitement in his voice. “She’s here in the transport with me now. Injured, but alive.”
“A female?” another voice butted in—Elten. “What species?”
It was the most excited he’d heard the male in years. Why did that rankle?
“Elten,” Thalen said, reprimanding. There was the sound of a scuffle.
“I don’t know.” Rentir glanced at her. Her eyes had gone glassy, unfocused. Concern knitted his brow. “I’ve never seen anything like her.”
“Bring her in,” Thalen said. “We’re organizing a team to track down the pods she dropped.”
“Can’t yet. I have to set down to deal with a critical failure in one of the propellers.”
“Very well. Once you’re sure you can stay airborne, return immediately.”
He piloted the limping hovercraft down to the beach, stirring up a cloud of purple sediment. The landing gear unfolded with a series of clanks, and the transport jolted softly as the propellers powered down.
He turned to the female when he was done, studying her once more. She had been doing the same, it seemed. A strange red flush rose to her face as their eyes met.
“What’s your name?” he asked, musing to himself since she clearly couldn’t understand him.
She said something and shrugged. His translator could make no sense of her words yet. They understood fragments of her written language from what they’d found on her ship’s systems, but there had been precious few samples of her spoken language, and her ship’s AI had been nearly impossible to reason with. Fendar, their technology specialist, said it was as though the program itself was diseased, incapable of doing much more than announcing errors.
He bit his bottom lip, thinking.
“Rentir,” he offered, gesturing to himself. He waved his hand toward her. Her eyes fell on it, widening slightly. “Your name, female?”
When she didn’t respond, he tried again.
“Rentir,” he repeated, patting his chest.
“Rentir?” she echoed uncertainly.
He beamed at her, delighted by the sound of his name on her lips.
“Clever female,” he crooned. The flush on her face darkened, worrying him. He pressed the back of his hand to her cheek.
Her skin was soft as feather down, eliciting a strange shudder of pleasure from him. Her face was warm, but not feverish. Of course, he had no idea what a normal temperature was for her species. Concern nagged at him. He’d only just found her, and already the thought of her perishing made him feel ill.
She batted his hand away after a moment, frowning.
“Rentir,” he said again with a hand on his chest, distracting himself. He gestured at her.
She snorted, her eyes lighting up. She babbled something at him, then sighed.
“Cordelia.” She pointed at herself.
“Cordelia,” he purred.
Cordelia sucked in a sharp breath, averting her gaze. She tensed, turning toward him and letting out a stream of frantic words.
“Cordelia, I don’t know what you’re saying,” he said in a soothing tone, touching her hand where it rested against the cushions. She stared down at their joined hands before sliding her own away. He battled the strange urge to reach out and reclaim it. Her fingers had been cold as ice beneath his own.
She twisted in her seat, peering out the window closest to her that faced the forest further inland. Pointing, she began to rant once more. He could only stare at her, lost as to what she was trying to express. She growled, threading her hands through her hair.
She pantomimed something with her hands a few times, ranting all the while, until it finally clicked. She was asking himabout the pods that had deployed from her ship before the crash. Were there more females within? He wanted to ask her, but what would be the point?
“We are searching for them now,” he said in a tone he hoped was reassuring. “They will be brought to you. Do not worry.”
