The boy sauntered over. “I used to be impressed with our human technology and how we’d come so far out in space. Then I get a look at what the Travians have going and I realize how backward we really are. I’m Joel Porter, by the way.”
He held out his hand and Frey took it without thought. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d shaken hands with another man. “I’m Frey Bjorkson.”
“I know. I got the deets from my master right after you arrived.” He leaned against the edge of the window and folded his arms across his chest. The hand holding the end of the leash twirled it around.
“You’re a pet.”
“Yup. One of the originals. I’m on my second master,” he added with a wry smile.
Frey felt as if he’d won the lottery all over again. Here was someone unexpected, someone who could maybe help him sort out his confusing feelings for Rone. “You don’t seem to hate it—being a pet, I mean.”
Joel shrugged. “I used to before Arath. Even with Arath, in the beginning.”
“What changed?”
Joel didn’t answer right away. Instead, he peered into Frey’s eyes and smiled broadly. “You’re in love with him, aren’t you? Your master. And it’s freaking you out because you shouldn’t love this creature that fucked your ass without so much as an ‘If you don’t mind?’”
Frey leaned against the wall on a groan. “Yes, that’s it. That’s exactly right. What’s wrong with me?”
Joel laughed. “Nothing. You stopped fighting him and realized that he made you feel good. You also realized that he’s doing what he’s doing ’cause that’s what Travians do. They see things so differently from us. They’re not trying to be cruel.”
Closing his eyes, Frey remembered Arpell and Kuren and just how vicious they’d been with him because they’d enjoyed the power and his pain. Rone had been so very different, and not only because he’d been careful with Frey. He’d actively tried to give him pleasure. Was that reason enough to love the alien?
He groaned, opened his eyes and looked over at Joel. “I can’t love him. It’s stupid, if only because I barely know him. It’s like some steroid version of Stockholm Syndrome or something.”
Joel twirled the end of his leash some more. “And yet, you brought him all the way to this station, even though you were in almost as bad shape as he was.”
“That was nothing. He’d have done the same for me.”
“Yes, he would. I mean, I don’t know him, but Arath told me that the first thing your master did when he woke up was demand to know where you were.” He snorted. “They had to like strap him to his sick bed for treatment when he kept trying to get up and find you.”
Frey couldn’t hide the smile that popped up at the information. “I wasn’t that bad, and the stuff they made me bathe in healed everything up in this amazing way.”
“I call it the miracle goo. It cures just about anything that ails you.”
“I think they put it on my broken arm, too, a while back.”
Joel’s eyes narrowed. “Was your master the one to break it?”
Frey shook his head. “No. It was this other Travian—my first master, actually. Rone strangled him to death for it.”
Joel grinned. “See? No wonder you love him.”
“I guess. He has been good to me, for a Travian. Where is he now?”
“With Arath. He’s being debriefed on whatever mission he was on. This shit with the traitors who are trying to overthrow female rule is serious. From what I understand, Rone had been trying to infiltrate the supply system.”
“He succeeded, until someone recognized him as incorruptible, and the whole thing went to hell. I had this crazy idea that I could help him maybe try again.”
“That’s a good idea. You and the monkey thing—”
“Preen,” Frey corrected, turning to Joel.
“Preen, right. Anyway, you help with his cover, I bet.”
Frey looked out of the window again. “I guess I do. It makes him look like a big shot, having exotic pets or something.”
“Heisa big shot, according to my master.”
