She came from a world where plenty was expected—plenty of food, entertainment, comfort—even luxuries, he was sure. He was competing with that, not just the other males who might try to kill him for her and take her.
Eventually, he was certain, her people would come for her and if he had not convinced her to stay, then she would go.
His belly tightened with the anticipation of pain at that thought.
He was already growing accustomed to her presence.
The emptiness, the loneliness would be far worse when—if—she left.
Beyond keeping her as a prisoner, was there anything he could do to prevent that, he wondered?
A more comfortable living abode would certainly go a long way, he was sure, but was there any way he could offer that within the time he was allowed?
Not unless he found something with some potential that had been abandoned for reasons other than the sickness, and he did not think the odds of that happening were high.
He needed to search, nevertheless. Time was not on his side. He was certain of that. He had no way to determine the speeds their crafts were capable of, or the distance she had traveled, but she was a young woman and the ship had been relatively small, he thought, too small for her and the other crew members to have lived in it for any great length of time, surely.
He had no firsthand knowledge of such things. The fall had come before his memory, but his parents had spoken of such things. They had believed their people were on the verge of being able to travel to the stars. They had not only mourned all of their losses, they had mourned the achievements that they had lost the chance to accomplish as a species.
He was so lost in thought that he had no idea how many minutes passed before the movement his eyes detected was processed by his brain—long enough that sheer terror gripped him when he became aware of what was happening and realized, instantly, that it was already too late for him to stop it.
