The Wos’kit Pollen Plot: Part 2
“Gretchen needs to be moved out of the palace until this wears off. If the idea was to make her vulnerable and distracted, it’s working. She’s an easy target.” Azo’lah activated her Ran’dyl. “We must take her to one of the country estates. I’ll arrange transport.”
I moved toward the sitting area, away from the suddenly overwhelming press of body heat at the table. I hoped to curb my raging libido until Ryan returned. They had been dispatched hours ago—or maybe minutes—time was immaterial at the moment, along with hastily programmed perception distorters that would allow Shockley to enter the palace disguised as an unassuming member of the staff.
I flopped onto the sofa that LinManHam was resting behind. Sebastian scaled the dino-skeleton spine like it was a cat-palace. My cat perched at the top of LinManHam’s skull and gazed judgmentally at me. “I can’t take your disappointment, too,” I whined, curling up into a tight ball.
As everyone trailed into the room behind me, Azo’lah complained, “We don’t have time to wait for Shockley. We need to move Gretchen, now.” She should quit putting up such a fight regarding my safety and just come here and put her hands all over me. Shit.
“Gret’chen?” Fleetwood asked. “Are you well?”
I waved my hand vaguely because Fleetwood couldn’t do anything for me that wasn’t being done, except…Wow, this was powerful stuff because I’d never once thought of Fleetwood that way, and here I was actually considering it.
“No,” Nyc’arra’s voice was low and firm. “You don’t get to touch her anymore unless absolutely necessary. And I get to decide that.” I lifted my head just enough to see Nyc’arra with her arm thrown warningly across Azo’lah’s chest, barring her way to me.
If Nyc’arra had still been wearing any shred of technology, I was quite certain that Azo’lah might’ve shorted out her implant a second time in accidental rage. Azo’lah’s eyes darted to the small, round nanotech bandage sitting right where Nyc’arra’s implant used to be, down to her bare wrist. “Why did you have your implant removed?” Azo’lah asked.
Nyc’arra smiled savagely. “It was a condition of the job.”
“Cousin,” Azo’lah turned to Fleetwood, “what have you done?”
And oh, this was so bad. The heartbreak in Azo’lah’s eyes as she met Fleetwood’s carefully ambivalent ones was almost as overwhelming as the wos’kit pollen.
“This is unquantifiably the worst.” Matt groaned from the nearby chair where he had flopped. A large mermaid sequin throw pillow was arranged decorously across his lap.
“Why don’t you go to your room, Matty-Matt?” Fleetwood suggested. I was honestly surprised Matt hadn’t left to go lock himself in his quarters the minute Chester had excused himself. Mey-ran had followed close behind, after a quick and non-subtle threat from Fleetwood that if Mey-ran took advantage of the situation, war would be the least of the Covlax Vic’s problems. Fleetwood was terrifying even when she wasn’t trying; when she was trying, it was bone-chilling. It also really brought out the family resemblance to Azo’lah, who was much too far away from me at the moment, much like Shockley. God, what the fuck was taking so long?
“I will once Ryan’s back and Gretchen’s safe,” Matt assured Fleetwood. “You’ll keep Ryan with your security detail the rest of the day, right? With everything going on—”
“The Captain has agreed to entertain Auhtul Cal’ton in my place. They’ll have a Myax escort of ours, plus the Auhtul’s full complement.”
“Where are you going?” I asked her, crossing my legs in vain and trying not to squirm at the position shift sent a wave of pleasure up my spine. Then I gasped a tightening spasm locked my arms against my sides.
The door chimed.
“Don’t move,” Nyc’arra instructed Azo’lah as she went to the foyer with Milyna. A moment later, Shockley strode in, his open jacket fanning out like he had brought his own wind with him. Even with concern twisting his features, he was handsome as ever. I sat up, shoving my sweaty hair out of my face sure I looked anything but appealing. I vaguely registered Tyler walking in behind him, twirling a perception distorter in his hand.
“Thanks for coming.” I immediately regretted my word choice.
He dropped to one knee in front of me. He placed his hands on the sofa, bracketing my thighs, careful not to touch me.
God, why wouldn’t anyone touch me?
“Never a dull moment with you, Name Police,” Shockley smiled. “I know Ryan said you asked for me, and I’m happy to help. But I need to hear it from you, given the circumstances.”
Touched at his concern and really fucking grateful for him at the moment, I clumsily reached for his hand, knowing anything else would lead to public indecency. “Yes, Max, I would like your help,” I smiled. My legs quaked from the way he smiled back or from a painful tightening of my calf muscles, I wasn’t sure. “Like, as soon as possible, please.”
I flushed, not having meant to voice that last bit. My brain-to-mouth filter wasn’t exactly functioning anymore, and the pollen’s effects on my muscles were about to make me start screaming. And not in a fun way.
Shockley stood. “You heard the lady.” He looked over at Tyler. “Do not blow up my ship while I’m gone.”
“You're staying here?” Matt asked, sweat dripping down his temple and onto Fleetwood’s throw pillow.
“Duh,” Tyler said like it was obvious. “Someone has to look after you.” Tyler’s handsome face reddened as he waved his hands frantically. “Not like that, but you know, Ryan’s covering diplomacy duty for FleetMerc, Chester’s got Mey-ran, so I figured I’d be on Matt-watch. Make sure you’re hydrated, fed—all that stuff! Oh, and I can give you viewing recommendations if you need some!”
Matt looked the closest to tears I’d ever seen him. Yet, he managed a sincere smile, despite the fact that I’m sure he was in similar agony to me. His hands gripped the mermaid pillow so tightly sequins fell to the floor. “Thank you, Tyler.”
Tyler shrugged and offered his hand. “Let’s get you to your room, okay?”
Matt’s Adam’s apple bobbed before he accepted. We all politely averted our eyes as he stood.
Fleetwood placed her palm on their heads as they passed on the way to the door, like a weird but sweet version of a papal blessing.
“God, this is mortifying,” Matt muttered as he passed. I could relate. I was ready to crawl in a hole and die of embarrassment, but only after climbing Shockley like a tree.
“The Killer Qu’een is prepped for takeoff,” Milyna informed the room. I had to give her props for her professionalism. Her mildly pleasant expression revealed nothing.
“Distorter on,” Nyc’arra instructed. Shockley activated his, turning into a plain Destyrian man wearing the uniform of a palace porter. With Shockley’s help, I half-walked, half-stumbled to the door. “Fulyiti, Azo’lah, time to pretend you’re still a happy family.” Nyc’arra fell into step beside Milyna at the back of the group. “But remember, Azo’lah, hands-off unless absolutely necessary.”
I barely caught Milyna’s confused look at us before she schooled it back into Myax neutrality. No wonder she was nonplussed. I was slated to become Azo’lah’s Favored in a few days. Even though Milyna knew our Favored relationship was a ruse, Nyc’arra’s forced separation would look strange to her.
“Is that why you’re coming?” I asked Azo’lah, the last syllable of her name coming out as more of a groan of pain. “To keep up the front?”
“Uh doy,” Fleetwood said, a little too airily. We’d managed to make it through the corridor outside Fleetwood’s suite and turn the corner without running into someone. But our luck, as shitty as it had been recently, didn’t hold. We rounded the corner just in time to see Councilor Jo’son with Lija’s aide, Roz’al. They were deep in discussion regarding a readout on Roz’al’s Rand’yl, but they looked up just in time to catch my sweat all over the palace floor.
The young aide dropped immediately into a bow. “Fulyiti, it’s an honor that the seven stars crossed our paths.”
“And where are you off to in such a hurry?” Councilor Jo’son asked with a much less sincere bow. His robes were pale pink, fluttery, and, quite frankly, the most yonic wardrobe since Janelle Monae’s vagina pants, and that thought was not helping me. My muscles spasmed painfully. I grit my teeth, hoping it would pass off as a shiver. I turned, instinctively, to Azo’lah, who moved close to me.
“Should’ve brought my jacket,” I lied lamely. Azo’lah smiled, the same conspiratorial smile she usually gave me when using her powers. Christ, I missed being able to use our technopathic link. I mourned the loss of my old implant.
“I had it sent to the ship, ket’li. It’ll be colder outside of the city this time of year.” Azo’lah ran her hand down my spine, causing another full-body spasm that knocked me off-balance. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Shockley reach to steady me, but Azo’lah had already effortlessly swung me up into her arms.
“That was so hot,” I blurted. My crimson flush deepened, and I hid my face into Azo’lah’s neck, away from the rather scandalized expression on Councilor Jo’son’s face. Roz’al looked down to hide her amusement.
“Then I will keep you warm until we get to the ship,” Azo’lah smirked, moving down the corridor.
“You’re in public, love turds,” Fleetwood hissed, sounding the proper amount of embarrassed and fond. I heard her give a hurried, cheerful apology to the Councilor before hastening after us, Milyna at her side. Nyc’arra had seemingly vanished upon the approach of our unwanted company. I had no doubt she was watching from somewhere, though.
“Gretchen,” Azo’lah’s voice was strangled. I realized that my thumb was absentmindedly stroking her collarbone.
“Shit, sorry.” I forced my hand to settle on her shoulder. Her really lovely, muscled shoulder. Azo’lah stepped onto the amber-light transporter platform that led to the Qu’een’s dock.
“Gretchen,” Azo’lah began, her eyes wide and earnest in her exquisitely boned face. Guilt sank into my stomach as the platform descended. I wasn’t even sure if I could trust Azo’lah. Fleetwood and Nyc’arra had me half-convinced that our entire history was a con-artist’s curated performance. And here I was wrestling the part of myself that wanted so desperately for it to be Azo’lah who was staying with me after we got off the ship instead.
I flopped my arms uselessly against the bed, relishing the scent of the freshly laundered sheets. “I will never be able to lift my own limbs again, will I?” I whined into the lusciously fluffed pillow beneath my head. The royal country estate that we had absconded to for our sex convalescence was just as comfortably appointed as the palace.
Or at least this particular suite was. I hadn’t left it since we’d arrived yesterday. I’d been thoroughly preoccupied.
Shockley stretched out beside me. “Good, maybe it’ll keep you from running into danger for a while,” he said with a grin that promised he knew exactly how hypocritical he was being. He was naked, his hair still damp from the shower we had just taken, droplets of water cascading down his neck and onto his pillow.
I felt the fire of the last few days, the one that had been slowly lessening, rekindle. I opened my mouth to say so, but instead, a low crackle escaped my mouth. I licked my lips and sighed, “I’m thirsty again.” I couldn’t remember a time when I had ever been this dehydrated before–not only from my constantly raised internal temperature but also the wos’kit pollen-induced sex.
I lifted my arms weakly, reaching for my bedside table, and the glass of water I knew waited for me there.
Shockley’s delicious body heat blanketed me as he leaned across me, his chest pressing to my back. “All out, Gretch.” He snatched up the glass and placed a line of gentle kisses down the side of my face. “I’ll go refill it.”
I grabbed his elbow. “No, don’t go.” I captured his mouth with mine, and he stayed mercifully put for a few moments.
He pulled back, chuckling. “I’ll be right back.” When I whined, he kissed my temple and said, “You need water.”
“I need you.” Normally, I would’ve hated myself for being so needy, but I knew regardless of my situation, Shockley would never hold it against me. He was an asshole, but he wasn’t that kind of an asshole.
“And I’m not leaving you,” he promised, standing from the bed. He shrugged into a robe and shuffled into a pair of slippers as he strode across the room. The door disappeared as he stood before it. “I’ll be back before you know it.”
It felt like nine ages of the world before he did, a glass of water in each hand and a tray of snacks balanced on his forearms. “I come bearing sustenance.”
My stomach grumbled as it caught the aroma of fresh fruit and grilled breakfast meat. I inched my way up the headboard until I was upright and peered hungrily at the tray. “There’s no pyrotas, right?”
Shockley snorted as he settled the tray on the mattress. “Look who’s got jokes again.” He passed me one of the glasses, which I drained in three gulps. I made grabby hands at the other glass–the sweet raspberry tang to the water was even more refreshing in my current state. Shockley smiled and handed it to me. “Feeling better?”
“For sure,” I agreed, wiping stray droplets from my chin. I peered at the tray, and my stomach rumbled audibly. I teetered across the sheets and snatched up the bowl of melon and berries. “Thanks for grabbing all this.”
Shockley reclined against the pillows, his robe falling open to reveal his chest. He balanced a small bowl of nuts on it and tossed a few into his mouth. “Always happy to prove my worth as a provider, Name Police.”
I laughed. “Yes, your Hunter-Gatherer skills are fantastic.”
“Hey, I may not have had to trap and kill it all myself,” Shockley argued, “but I did have to brave the Tundra-like mood that pervades the rest of this house.” With my mouth too over-stuffed with fruit to speak, I rolled my hand in a ‘go on’ gesture.
“The tension between Nyc’arra, Azo’lah, and Fleetwood is so thick I couldn’t even use my blaster to shoot my way through it.” Shockley chuckled softly as he pulled himself into a seated position, his back straight and legs crisscrossed beneath him. His snack bowl returned to the tray half-empty. When he continued, his voice was gentle but full of concern. “What the fuck is happening, Gretchen? Someone tried to kill you, and you won’t talk to me about it. Whatever else is going on between us, we’re still friends.”
My stomach threatened to regurgitate everything I’d just eaten. “Max, I’m so sorry, I didn’t–”
Shockley held up his hand, stemming my apology. “I’m not reaming you out to make you feel bad or guilty or what the fuck ever. I just don’t want you to forget that I’m here for you, no matter what you need. Whether it’s a sex-friend to ease you through an accidental wos’kit pollen ingestion or a rival archaeologist to race against to an invaluable alien artifact.”
Overcome by his unexpected sweetness, I leaned over and kissed his cheek to hide my wide smile. “You’re not an archaeologist.”
“Notice you didn’t argue about us being friends.” Shockley squeezed my knee. “So now that’s settled, want to talk to me about what’s really going on?”
My throat clenched at his sincerity. “Max…”
He ran his hand through his still damp hair. “I’m not asking you to spill Destyrian state secrets here. But maybe you could shed some light on why Azo’lah and Fleetwood, who are tighter than most siblings, won’t look at, let alone speak to one another. Or possibly help me understand why Fleetwood has appointed Nyc’arra, a member of my crew and disgraced former Myax who was not even allowed on Central Continent soil, as your personal protector.”
“It’s…complicated,” I whispered, tapping my fork against the edge of my bowl.
“Then uncomplicate it for me, Gretch. Because from where I’m sitting, there are only a couple of reasons for this shit to happen, and all of them are pretty goddamn unlikely.”
I brought my thumb nail to my mouth and gnawed at it. I wasn’t going to lie to him, after everything he had done for me, and not telling him anything seemed like it wasn’t an option either. “Max, I…”
“I get that there is stuff you can’t say,” he continued. “Whether it’s because you don’t know how to say it, or because it isn’t your right to tell me, but what if I guess? If I guess what’s going on, would that make it easier for you to talk to me about it?”
I gulped. “I can’t promise I’ll confirm or deny anything.”
“Fair enough.” He nodded. “Azo’lah did something, or maybe lied about something, that Fleetwood views as a betrayal. This something that Azo’lah did is connected to you almost dying, which is why Fleetwood doesn’t trust Azo’lah anymore.”
I said nothing. Shockley took my silence as a concession.
“Now, that brings us to Nyc’arra.” He waved in the general direction of the rest of the house. “Fleetwood could’ve appointed her because she was conveniently close and the most likely to piss Azo’lah off to no end. But,” Shockley bit his lip thoughtfully as he reached up and caressed my temple where my new implant sat, “something tells me that isn’t the only reason.”
“Nyc’arra has worked with English-speaking humans before,” I said feebly. “Makes communicating easier.”
Shockley’s hand trailed down to my Ran’dyl-less wrist. “It does, but if Nyc’arra’s implant hadn’t been removed, that wouldn’t be an issue. Why would your bodyguard need to have her implant removed when almost all high-level Myax have one? And where’s your Ran’dyl been this whole time?”
“Pretty sure I’ve been too distracted to need a Ran’dyl,” I joked.
“Gretchen.” The way he said my name was soft and familiar and a bit like coming home. “Don’t insult either of our intelligence like that. I’m going to say one word, and you don’t have to say anything back.”
My shoulders locked up, my palms were suddenly sweaty, and it had nothing to do with the wos’kit pollen. “Max, please don’t—”
“Iz’waij.”
I did everything within my power not to react.
Shockley smiled and pumped a fist into the air victoriously. “I knew it!”
“No, that’s not–”
Shockley’s beam diminished to a moue of concern as he reached for me. A protectiveness rose up in me like a snake beneath the lull of a charmer. “Max, you have to promise me you won’t sell this information to any of the other Auhtulas. I know you worked for Pola in the past. But, please, this is my family. Everything is already a mess with Fleetwood finding out. If anyone else learns about this, Auhtula Tyuria– Azo’lah doesn’t want that, and…”
“Hey, hey, I’m not going to say anything or tell anyone. If I’m right–which I think I am–then Azo’lah’s secret is safe with me.” Shockley held a hand over his heart. “Scout’s honor.”
I snorted. “You were never a boy scout.”
“Fine. Mercenary’s honor.”
“Mercenaries don’t have honor. It kind of comes with the territory.”
Shockley clutched at his chest mockingly. “You wound me, Name Police.”
I shoved playfully at his shoulder. Shockley tipped gently to the mattress, grabbing my hand and tugging me down to the pillows with him. He cupped my face between his warm palms. “Don’t worry, Gretchen. I’m not going to tell anyone.”
“Thank you,” I said, turning my head to place a kiss against his thumb. “For everything.”
Shockley grinned. “Of course, what are emergency sex friends for?”
As someone with social anxiety, it wasn’t unusual for me to feel like everyone was staring at me. What was unusual was for it to be true. I walked into the common area on the Killer Qu’een shortly after our takeoff back to Thal. I had been looking forward to easing my sore and tired (but in the most excellent of ways) body into one of the plush armchairs and distracting myself with a murder-mystery paperback I’d borrowed from Chester’s room. However, I found myself in the Bermuda Triangle of Tension formed by Azo’lah, Fleetwood, and Nyc’arra and immediately wished I had opted for my room or stayed in the cockpit with Shockley.
“Uh, hey,” I waved lamely, avoiding everyone’s gaze, but especially Azo’lah’s. She was seated on one end of the tacky, lip-shaped sofa, polishing her already gleaming zali’thir.
“Qua’pir?” Nyc’arra indicated the decanter set on the end table next to her with the glass she was holding in her hand. “If I had to spend that much time with just Shockley’s pathetic face for company, I would need a drink afterward.”
“Myax do not imbibe on duty,” Azo’lah said tartly.
“I’m no longer a Myax, and Gret’chen hasn’t taken the oath,” Nyc’arra reminded her saccharinely. I cringed, hoping this mentioning of my resistance to taking the oath wouldn’t rekindle Azo’lah’s prodding of the issue. “We don’t have to abide by your boring rules.”
Nyc’arra tipped her glass in a mocking toast to Azo’lah before taking a drink. Azo’lah turned her gaze back to her zali’thir. I noticed that the liquid level in Nyc’arra’s glass didn’t go down. She was pretending to drink just because she knew it would piss off Azo’lah. Fleetwood probably knew this too but didn’t care to intervene because she was too pissed at Azo’lah to care.
Fleetwood stood and crossed to me, pouring me a generous glass of qua’pir. “Are you well, Gret’chen?” Fleetwood asked, leading me by the hand to the bean bag chairs, in the corner farthest from Azo’lah but still well within earshot.
“I’m okay,” I lied. Well, it hadn’t been a lie until I came into this room. Now, my skin felt like ants were crawling on it, and I wanted to slink away to anywhere on this ship that wasn’t here.
“You look like you were dicked downtown,” Fleetwood pronounced, ignoring the choked-off sound Azo’lah made before she could restrain herself. “It looks good on you, sugar boo.”
“I feel the sudden urge to vomit,” Nyc’arra announced. And for a moment, I could absolutely see how she and Azo’lah had once gotten along well.
“I still don’t understand why they dosed me,” I said, mostly to distract from the current topic of conversation. It was bad enough that everyone knew what I’d been up to for the last few days. I wasn’t keen on giving out details.
“I thought that was quite obvious,” Nyc’arra said.
“To catch you with your pants down with Shockley,” Fleetwood supplied. “To disprove you and Azo’lah aren’t actually going to Bone Town. And then, they’d yeet you back to Earth.”
Nyc’arra shook her head darkly. “I hate that I understood that entire sentence. I need to spend less time around Tyler.”
I cleared my throat. “So, what’s the plan for when we get back?”
“Counting wooly mammals,” Fleetwood said, “gotta look swell for your big day.”
I took a sip of qua’pir. I had almost forgotten completely about the Favored Ceremony. Was it already time?
“Her appearance can only be improved from here,” Nyc’arra said blandly. “But I do not think rest will do much.”
“Shut up,” both cousins said in tandem before returning to completely ignoring each other. Grimacing, I took my glass and headed toward the cockpit and Shockley’s easy, uncomplicated company.
I scooped up Sebastian and flopped onto my bed. My cat curled into a warm ball on my chest, purring. I loved this stupid furball, so, so much. We’d returned later than usual for dinner. I seized the opportunity to eat alone in my room. Well, alone except for Nyc'arra, my for-now-silent-and-unseen shadow. I think we were both supremely glad she’d elected to remain stationed in the foyer. It gave me at least some space to think. And by think, I meant brood on the spectacular bisexual disaster that I was.
“Politics are dumb, Bash-bash,” I told him. “So is love. And I’m dumb for maybe being in it. Maybe with someone I trusted with my life who may be trying to kill me. Urgh.” Bash stared at me with his large, yellow-green eyes before rubbing his face against my cheek in a conciliatory manner. He was the absolute best, most understanding cat.
My door chimed. “Wait,” Nyc’arra ordered from the foyer.
“Tell whoever it is to go away,” I whined, hardly caring that Nyc’arra was probably judging me for it.
“Not a fucking chance of that,” Ryan called cheerfully. I clutched Sebastian closer as my bed was invaded by Matt and Ryan and a deluge of snacks. I eyed Chester, who was pulling the table up to my bed and depositing a small barrel on top of it.
“What are you doing? Oh, hey, Tyler,” I added as the latter entered the room with cups.
“Humans-only hen do before your Favored Ceremony,” Matt grinned. “We thought you might be brooding.”
“Gretchen, brood?” I glanced up, surprised to see Shockley swaggering into the room, tossing his perception distorter languidly between his hands. Nyc’arra trailed behind him. He was wearing a plain navy blue t-shirt that fit him like a second skin. I let myself have a rare moment of pride that I had bagged that several times. He climbed over Tyler and shimmied his way in between me and Matt, pressing a genial kiss to my cheek. “How’re you feeling, Name Police?”
“I’m fine. Why’re we having a bachelorette party? I’m not getting married.” It still didn’t stop me from accepting the cup Tyler proffered me. Apparently, we were just all going to party on my bed. If the party was happening whether I wanted it or not, at least I didn’t have to move.
“It’s us, Gretchen,” Ryan tore open a bag of Doritos. My mouth immediately salivated. Destyrian food was delicious but predominantly healthy. No one did craptastic junk food like Earth. “We saw an excuse to party, and we took it. Also, I wanted to hear about everyone’s sex vacations. I need details for my totally-not-based-on-this-event fanfic.”
Everyone groaned.
“Fan-fucking-tastic, Captain,” Shockley said with no trace of shame. Nyc’arra pulled a chair up to the end of the bed, kicking her feet up on the mattress and rolling her eyes at the Captain.
“You didn’t have to hear it,” Nyc’arra snorted. She refused the glass that Tyler offered her. She instead stole the bag of Swedish Fish directly out of Matt’s grasp. “It was repellent.”
I hid my mortified face behind the Dorito bag. “Oh my god.”
“I wasn’t referring to you,” Nyc’arra clarified. “It is Max who should be ashamed. He sounded like a Phloebian Sweinward in heat.”
The rest of the group broke into amused laughter. Shockley accepted the jibes with good grace. He shrugged. “It’s not my fault I can’t control myself when faced with the full force of sexy Gretchen Borowicz,” he winked at me before tipping his glass at Chester. “Where’s your Vic-shaped shadow, by the way?”
The conversation turned to Mey-ran, and I gave thanks to all of the alien gods for it. I also gave Nyc’arra a small nod of acknowledgment, grateful that she did not expand on my mortification by making an easy joke at my expense. She returned it with a wry smile, her eyes alight with mischief. I was finally understanding why Shockley and Tyler liked her, and not just for her considerable, dangerous skillset. I let Chester steal the Doritos and took a sip of my drink. But it was this, the friendship I was fighting so hard to stay on Destyr for, that warmed me far more than any beverage ever could.