Captive - Cheryl Brooks Page 0,17

she had, either.

“If you all are through talking about me like I’m not here,” Moe said briskly, “maybe we can plan our strategy for getting out of here.”

Nexbit rubbed his belly. “I’m hungry.”

“You’re always hungry,” Temfilk said with a roll of his eyes.

“Contrary to popular belief, shape-shifting requires considerable energy,” said Nexbit. “And I only got one piece of the pizza.”

“Sorry,” Moe said. “But I only took one piece, myself.”

“I’m not blaming you,” Nexbit insisted. “The Racks always eat more than their share.”

Bik, Jal, and Lis all began chattering at once.

Klara pinched the bridge of her nose. “Quiet down, guys.”

“Uh-oh. The boss has one of her headaches.” Temfilk hurried toward her, his manner positively dripping with solicitude. “Want one of those pills or will a song take care of it?”

“All I need is a little peace and quiet.”

“Seriously?” Temfilk’s bulbous eyes widened to what should have been a painful degree. “You’re sure about that?” He glanced at Moe. “I usually have to sing to get her to feel better.”

“Temfilk,” she began in ominous tones. “Drop it, will you? I’m just…tired.”

“You? You’re never tired.” The Norludian rounded on her former captive. “What did you do to her?”

Moe shrugged. “Nothing that would make her tired or give her a headache. Didn’t have to stun her this time. I, on the other hand, have been stunned twice today. At least, I think it’s still today.” He aimed a questioning look at Klara.

“Yes,” Klara replied. “It’s still today, which is probably why I’m not feeling so great. The onset of the Timavals always makes me feel weird.”

“Allergic to the dust, huh?” Moe said with a knowing nod. “I’m not surprised. The air around here is enough to make anyone sick even without the wind. You’ll probably feel a whole lot better on Terra Minor.”

“If we ever get there.” She hesitated, weighing the options. “Look, nobody is going to venture out in this wind tonight. We’re probably safe for now, but that doesn’t mean we can afford to be careless. Can I have a volunteer for first watch?”

“I’m still hungry,” Nexbit grumbled. “Might as well be me.”

“If you’re hungry, eat something,” Klara snapped. Not surprisingly, Nexbit recoiled slightly and the Racks scurried off to their cubby holes. Temfilk, on the other hand, folded his arms and began popping his suckered fingertips on the greenish skin of his upper arms in a display of frank disapproval. He was right of course. Her irritation level was inordinately high, even taking the Timavals into account.

Probably because Moe got the better of me.

Twice.

Telling herself that his speed was what had given him the advantage didn’t help much, despite its being a perfectly logical explanation. Something about him made logic less important than usual, and the way he’d tapped into her emotions was disturbing. She’d often been told she lacked emotion, although that wasn’t true and never had been. The emotions she normally displayed were anger or resentment. Those Moe aroused were different.

Perhaps it was simply because he was Zetithian. Until today, she’d never met anyone remotely like herself. That alone should’ve at least made her happy, but it didn’t. His presence reminded her of everything she didn’t have and everything she’d lost. He had family, a ship of his own, and a respectable business. Nothing about her was respectable, and she’d lost her own family long ago. The idea that she might own a starship was as laughable as it was unlikely.

“Where would you like for me to sleep?” Moe asked. A smile that wasn’t quite a smirk lifted the corner of his mouth. “Or should I keep watch along with Nexbit?”

“You can have the second watch,” she replied, her tone no less curt than when she’d spoken to the Sympaticon. “We don’t have any extra beds. I suggest—”

Temfilk popped all of his fingertips at once. “Better come with me, Moe. I’ll show you where to bed down since the boss isn’t feeling very hospitable this evening.” With a withering glance at Klara, he added, “And don’t worry, boss. I’ll shut the power down before I call it a night.”

All she could do was glare at the two of them, openmouthed with indignation, as they left the room.

She’d already been outnumbered by the males in her gang by five to one. Now there were six of them.

What was I thinking?

“That was the common room,” Temfilk said as they cleared the threshold. “Or, as I like to call it, the command center.”

Moe saw no need to stifle his amusement, although