"cooler" meant he was uncomfortably cold most of the time. He also missed the freedom of being nude, and without missing a beat his mind made the leap to Kyra and how he'd teased her to stop wearing her long dresses and wear nothing but jewelry like the Darconian females did. She had finally given in but had never seemed very comfortable with it--no matter how terrific she might have looked.
Trag considered his two new shipmates carefully and decided that while Windura
might adopt the Darconian style eventually, he couldn't see Micayla ever doing it, no matter how hot it was. She wore that space station uniform as though perpetually
anticipating a formal inspection; everything tucked, buttoned, and zipped up tight. She wasn't what you'd call timid, though--the exchange between her and Rodan proved that--
but she did seem awfully quiet sometimes--even aloof--especially around Trag.
This irked Trag because she seemed able to talk to everyone else on board, which
didn't make a bit of sense. She was Zetithian, for heaven's sake! He ought to at least be able to talk to her. Peering at her surreptitiously across the dinner table, Trag pondered
this until he simply couldn't stand it anymore.
"So, Micayla," he began. "You're from Earth, right? Any idea how you got there?"
***
Never having encouraged him to speak to her, Micayla glanced up at Trag in
surprise. Unfortunately, she now had to fight the urge not only to hiss at him, but to bite him as well. The desire to sink her teeth into his succulent flesh was almost
overwhelming. In fact, the only way she could answer his question without attacking him was to avoid looking at him entirely. "My family was being chased through a spaceport,"
she replied, staring down at her plate, "and my mother handed me off to a stranger--my stepmother, Rulie--and told her to keep me safe. She took me to Earth."
"And your real family?" he prompted. "Do you know what happened to them?"
"They were killed," Micayla said, still keeping her head down.
"I'm sorry about that," Trag said warmly. "I was lucky that way--Ty and I were captured and sold together. You must feel very lonely."
This sounded like another version of Rodan's approach, but rather than getting
into a lengthy discussion, Micayla opted to cut it short, replying with a terse affirmative.
She couldn't deny that she felt something for him--though she wasn't quite sure what it was--but talking to Trag made her uncomfortable. She didn't trust the unfamiliar reactions triggered by his presence.
"I'm surprised Jack never found you though," Trag went on. "She's put out the word all over the galaxy about what happened to Zetith and that the Nedwuts were
responsible. I can't believe you didn't know you were Zetithian."
"My stepmother did her best to keep me safe--from everyone," Micayla replied.
"If she heard anything about it, she would have assumed it was the bad guys looking for survivors."
"True," Trag agreed. "I'm not sure I would try to contact Jack if I'd been in hiding like that. Of course, Earth's a pretty safe place to hide--even from us."
Micayla's curiosity got the best of her. "What do you mean by that?"
"We can't land there," Rodan chimed in. "We're all undesirables." The emphasis he put on that last word, along with the accompanying chuckle, suggested that he was either proud of the fact or thought it was ridiculous--Micayla wasn't sure which.
"Can't go to Terra Minor either," said Trag. "The toughest immigration and landing regulations in the galaxy, though Lynx did get them to allow any Zetithians needing refuge to go there--with the exception of me because I've been hanging out with these guys."
"Which means we'll be considered undesirables too, I suppose," Windura said bleakly, "or murderers."
Micayla started to ask what she meant but then remembered Grekkor's accusation
implicating the two women in the death of the Norludian. "So we're outlaws now, huh?"
Micayla mused, shaking her head as she stabbed
Trag considered his two new shipmates carefully and decided that while Windura
might adopt the Darconian style eventually, he couldn't see Micayla ever doing it, no matter how hot it was. She wore that space station uniform as though perpetually
anticipating a formal inspection; everything tucked, buttoned, and zipped up tight. She wasn't what you'd call timid, though--the exchange between her and Rodan proved that--
but she did seem awfully quiet sometimes--even aloof--especially around Trag.
This irked Trag because she seemed able to talk to everyone else on board, which
didn't make a bit of sense. She was Zetithian, for heaven's sake! He ought to at least be able to talk to her. Peering at her surreptitiously across the dinner table, Trag pondered
this until he simply couldn't stand it anymore.
"So, Micayla," he began. "You're from Earth, right? Any idea how you got there?"
***
Never having encouraged him to speak to her, Micayla glanced up at Trag in
surprise. Unfortunately, she now had to fight the urge not only to hiss at him, but to bite him as well. The desire to sink her teeth into his succulent flesh was almost
overwhelming. In fact, the only way she could answer his question without attacking him was to avoid looking at him entirely. "My family was being chased through a spaceport,"
she replied, staring down at her plate, "and my mother handed me off to a stranger--my stepmother, Rulie--and told her to keep me safe. She took me to Earth."
"And your real family?" he prompted. "Do you know what happened to them?"
"They were killed," Micayla said, still keeping her head down.
"I'm sorry about that," Trag said warmly. "I was lucky that way--Ty and I were captured and sold together. You must feel very lonely."
This sounded like another version of Rodan's approach, but rather than getting
into a lengthy discussion, Micayla opted to cut it short, replying with a terse affirmative.
She couldn't deny that she felt something for him--though she wasn't quite sure what it was--but talking to Trag made her uncomfortable. She didn't trust the unfamiliar reactions triggered by his presence.
"I'm surprised Jack never found you though," Trag went on. "She's put out the word all over the galaxy about what happened to Zetith and that the Nedwuts were
responsible. I can't believe you didn't know you were Zetithian."
"My stepmother did her best to keep me safe--from everyone," Micayla replied.
"If she heard anything about it, she would have assumed it was the bad guys looking for survivors."
"True," Trag agreed. "I'm not sure I would try to contact Jack if I'd been in hiding like that. Of course, Earth's a pretty safe place to hide--even from us."
Micayla's curiosity got the best of her. "What do you mean by that?"
"We can't land there," Rodan chimed in. "We're all undesirables." The emphasis he put on that last word, along with the accompanying chuckle, suggested that he was either proud of the fact or thought it was ridiculous--Micayla wasn't sure which.
"Can't go to Terra Minor either," said Trag. "The toughest immigration and landing regulations in the galaxy, though Lynx did get them to allow any Zetithians needing refuge to go there--with the exception of me because I've been hanging out with these guys."
"Which means we'll be considered undesirables too, I suppose," Windura said bleakly, "or murderers."
Micayla started to ask what she meant but then remembered Grekkor's accusation
implicating the two women in the death of the Norludian. "So we're outlaws now, huh?"
Micayla mused, shaking her head as she stabbed
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