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“Sully, I’ve got to head out.” My shout echoed through the empty plasmasteel framing our newest build. Sully circled his hand in the air and carried on, used to me jumping back and forth from one job to the next.
I typed back a quick “thank you” to TeyTey. At least I wasn’t the only one looking out for Ginger’s best interests. I should’ve never mentioned the Starry Mountains to her. “What a blanting terrible idea,” I mumbled. I straddled my hovercraft and flew to Makir’s.
Every one of my well-honed instincts shouted that a trip to the Starry Mountains wouldn’t end well. The enforcers had been plagued with problems accessing the remote location. Cancel the trip, my gut screamed. But no matter how good my reasoning, I’d be shocked if Ginger accepted it.
If females on my planet weren’t so rare, I might’ve learned how to persuade Ginger to my side with soft words instead of barking commands. She wasn’t one of my soldiers. When Geo returned, I would ask him how to talk to her without offending her.
TeyTey was the only female I’d never had a problem communicating with. She seemed to like it when Sully complimented her. She accepted Sully’s help with a smile and responded to him with affection. Why doesn’t Ginger behave the same as a Rock Dweller female? Instead of raining compliments, giving gifts or caring for me, she spat insults and called me King Kong.
Though she had offered to fix my pants. Twice. Did that mean she was attracted to me? My heart kicked up a beat at the thought. Did I want that?
Loading supplies on the back of my hovee with more force than necessary, I tapped out an update to bossman Geo on my wristport.
Sully’s in charge. I’m spending the rotation trapping with Ginger. She’s fighting me every step of the way. How does a male talk reason to an Earth female who takes too many risks?
A cloud of cold air ghosted before me, turning to fine crystals, but the dropping temperature did not reach my core.
Transmissions from Lorne lagged, but Geo’s laughing emoji was flashing on my wristport’s screen by the time I’d arrived.Ginger’s a tough nut. Whatever you do, don’t baby her.
That didn’t help. I’d never handled a new youngling in my life.
I stopped my hovee in front of the open bay door where Ginger stood next to Makir’s hovercraft. Her hair was plastered to her forehead with sweat, and her hat lay on the snowy ground just outside beside a heap of supplies. Before I even opened my mouth, her pretty eyes were rolling at me.What had she called that mesmerizing color? Hazel?
“Great,” she huffed. “King Kong’s here to save the day. I can’t get this stupid thing started.” She kicked the cushioned saddle. Not for the first time, judging by the footprints of melting snow on the leather.
A bucket of rags sat inside the open hover bay doors next to a rack of tools, and I picked up a mag torch, too. With my voice low, I moved to where Makir’s hoverbike lay on its side.
“I’m no hovic, but I know Makir’s hovee has a temperamental starter. It has caused him problems in the past.” Problems that had led him to bond with Geo.
I tilted the engine hood up and wiped the surface of a greasy disk, relieved to discover a problem. We wouldn’t be traveling to the Starry Mountains after all. Even better, it meant I remained in her good graces—she couldn’t possibly blame this on me.
“This is cracked.” Pieces of the starter disk filled my hand.
She grunted and picked up her bags, dragging them through the snow toward my hovee.
“What are you doing?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” She swept up her hat and placed it back over her sweaty hair, then proceeded to strap her bags over the top of mine. “We’ll just share your hoverbike.” She smiled—more bared teeth than sweetly curved lips—and straddled my seat.
Huh?
I closed Makir’s bay door and took my time securing his dwelling, hoping she’d change her mind. When I circled back and found her still seated, ready to go, I suggested, “Maybe we could wait until it warms up a bit?” Aiming for somewhere between not babying, whatever that meant, and not commanding.
“I have commitments.” She waved a mittened hand in front of her. “It’s no sweat off my back if you don’t come. Sisip will loan me a bike.”
I tripped as an image of my palm smoothing over her sweat-slicked back popped into my mind. Then I processed what she’d said. The lead enforcer likely would. Ginger alone in the Starry Mountains was unacceptable, so I squared my shoulders and maneuvered behind her. She jostled her hips backward, and I gasped as her soft bum cradled my groin. When her linnea scent stole my breath, my coil hardened against her cushioned rear. On a long groan, I inched backward, fighting the instinct to clutch her hips and grind.
“Let’s hit it.” She slapped my leg like I was an animal that needed prodding.
At her touch, a tremor ran through me. I tied the rag I’d picked up from Makir’s bucket over the bottom half of my face and inhaled tentatively. My grip on the handlebars relaxed enough for me to drive. The sharp, oily tang helped block her scent.
Three suns later, the frozen wastelands were behind us and the sparse forest of saplings regrowing around the base of the Starry Mountains appeared. Above the sad skirt of trees lay rock. Endless layers of glassy black rock, interspersed with moss-covered ledges, so steep my neck arched to take in its peak. Not so different from the landscape in the Yagras district at home.
When we stopped, I lifted her off the bike and placed her in front of the meager clump of scraggly saplings, out of the wind. Away from my sheltering bulk, Ginger’s teeth chattered.I thanked my Rock Dweller genetics. Before meeting Ginger, I’d been unaware that temperature extremes could cause such effects.
“Did you bring your hot drink?”
She nodded, lifting her chin toward her bag, shivering too much to argue. After quickly finding her thermos, I pulled off her mittens and passed her the warm container. This was ridiculous. She was in no shape to sit out here for suns trapping linobee. I rubbed my hand over my exposed head, chapped from the cold. How can I convince her to return? She dug through her bags some more, fished out the snare wire and formed a coil with clumsy fingers—the first of many.
