Glancing around the kitchen, I watch as the tireless little machines clean up and reset themselves. Burrowing back into the cubbyholes, they recharge for the next task. No expressions, no complaints, just ready.
I drag my fork over the last bite in the bowl. The orange sheen of the remaining sauce forms drag lines under my utensil.
The flavor of the meal, heat and salt, almost brings me some kind of comfort.
For a station run by a warlord who never cooks, never eats with anyone, never even enters his own kitchen, it tastes almost…human.
I don’t say that part out loud.
Starcroft takes the dishes from my hand and deposits them into a slot I can only assume is some kind of dishwasher.
“Back to your chambers then?” he asks.
“I mean, sure, unless you can get me out of here?” I joke.
“Blocked command. Does not compute. Please troubleshoot with admin,” he says like before, his eyes dead. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what happened there.”
“That’s okay,” I sigh as I walk through the doorway back into the hall. “Back to bed I go.”
Only when I extend fully from hunching through the kitchen’s opening do I realize that I’m mere inches away from my hulking alien captor’s chest.
I tilt my chin up, heart about ready to break free from my chest.
“Lights on,” Mekkra seethes.
His voice snaps through the hall like a live wire, and the formerly dim red lights of the space flare to life. I stumble as I give him my attention. Not because I want to offer him any kind of compliance, but because my body understands the command faster than my pride ever will.
The spines on his back flare as he grabs me roughly by the elbow. I don’t dare say anything because he seems absolutely pissed at me. Sure, I’m mouthy on my best day, but I’m not stupid on my worst.
He’s moving fast, almost too fast for my feet. I feel like a child being dragged through a department store by an annoyed parent. His spines scrape the metal wall sharply as we turn back into the main corridor. With his jaw set he's clearly mad, but more…disappointed.
“You asked the droid something you shouldn’t have.” Not a question—an accusation.
“I asked a lot of things,” I whisper carefully. “Starcroft answered. That’s usually how polite conversation goes.”
His hand slams into the wall just over my head, and I stop cold. The metal buckles—the impact of his palm echoes through my bones. I flinch and shut my eyes.
“Stop trying to be clever,” he growls.
I force myself to meet his stare. I just have this strange intuition that backing down now might go worse for me. His eyes burn into me as he leans in. Close enough that I can feel the heat radiating from his body.
“You think I don’t see what you’re doing?Trying to find the weak points in the station…trying to escape.”
“Maybe you need to take a good look inside yourself to figure out why I’m trying to escape a situation you put me in…I can’t even begin to understand your damn logic right now?—”
His hand drops from the wall and swiftly moves to cover my lips.
“I didn’t bring you here to understand me,” he growls. “I brought you here because this station requires balance.”
“Balance?” I mutter into his palm.
“Without a mate, my kind grow…unstable.” His anger slips for a moment, revealing a wary look of fatigue.
Mate.
The word hangs heavier than any of his other threats ever have. Slowly, he takes his hand off my mouth and brings himself to standing.
"I've heard of mates among a few of the alien species, but they made it seem like it had more to do with fate. Do you think we're fated?"
