circle. “Lack of room. This isn’t a pleasure cruiser intended for luxury, so he has to keep his hobby scaled down.”
“What do you do for pleasure, Tina?” Osopa asked.
She was quick to answer. “Taking care of others, however possible.”
“That’s not a hobby,” Yorso griped. “My nature as an Imdiko makes me want to nurture, but I do it out of caring for my clan, not for fun.”
“I don’t see any examples of art from you.”
“I don’t craft or paint. I study history and alien cultures for my own enjoyment, among other pursuits. In fact, my hobby led to my job as a cultural liaison, so it served an extra purpose.”
Osopa stared at her, his brow wrinkled. “You must have some fulfilling pursuit.”
She shrugged. “I wove that little rug that was on the floor of my cell. I fashioned candles and soap from remnants. I suppose that counts as a hobby.”
“Do you wish to make more rugs?”
“Not really. We didn’t have much on Europa, so it was important to find a use for what we did have, including fabric scraps and such. I made it to give away. No one else was interested, so I kept it. It was ugly,” she admitted with a laugh. “But it added color to my room.”
“What do you want to do? For your own gratification?” Yorso tilted his head, his demeanor suggesting the matter was more important than Tina thought it warranted.
“Nothing. I like making everyone happy.”
Both stared at her. Had they heard the lie? She hoped not. She’d never admit to the selfish desire that would never come to pass, not when she was being taken to Kalquor to breed. There’d never been a chance she’d realize her fantasy anyway.
Yorso’s frown took nothing from his sweet demeanor or matinee idol looks. “I won’t settle for that, my Matara. You have to discover your passion. I’ll help you.”
“Help me what? There’s nothing I’m good at except cleaning and cooking.”
“Cooking can be a passion,” Osopa suggested.
“If it’s done for fun and discovery. Are you creative in the kitchen?” Yorso asked.
“I followed the recipes I learned. It never seemed important to do anything different. Brenda—a fellow aspirant—enjoyed experimenting with food, and sometimes she had great results. Sometimes not, and she’d get yelled at for wasting supplies.”
“If cooking doesn’t interest you, Tukui can show you how to paint. You can try music. Do you sing?”
“Sister Bernadette said I croak like a frog.”
“From your expression, I assume that’s bad? We’ll figure out something. Maybe playing a musical instrument is more your thing. Or it could be you’d appreciate more scholarly pursuits, such as studying history.”
Osopa snorted. “You might have fun writing incident reports. I’d be thrilled if you’d fill out mine.”
His attempt to joke was tentative, but sincere. She laughed and was gratified by the slight smile he gave her.
Yorso waved him off with a grin. “We’ll take a crack at everything. Maybe not writing Osopa’s reports, but you could try your hand at poetry and stories. This is going to be fun.”
He was so enthusiastic that Tina couldn’t help but appreciate his effort. She had the urge to hug him.
She wondered at her readiness to accept the clan, Yorso most of all, as her masters. Though she had no choice in the matter and it was imperative for them to not give her to others, she felt a real liking for them. Even Osopa, when he gave her glimmers of kindness.
Was she wrong to believe certain aspects of the men were nice? After all, they’d kidnapped her. They’d introduced her to sin so heinous, she wouldn’t dare return to face Earth justice even if she were given the option. Was she twisted in some way to accept what had been done? Or was she merely coping as any young woman in her position would?
Whatever the answer, Tina decided her situation could be much worse. Who knew what was happening to the rest from the convent?
That made her feel guilty as sex with the Kalquorians hadn’t. She’d been so focused on her own predicament, she hadn’t concerned herself with the fates of her fellow aspirants or the nuns who cared for them. Shame filled her as she thought of Sister Bernadette, hauled out of the convent’s dining room, screaming with furious resistance.
“May I ask—” Her voice failed her as Osopa looked in her direction, his countenance blank again.
“What is it, love?” Yorso’s was encouraging. “Ask whatever question you need to.”