"Neither should I, but here we are," I hiss back. "Now sit and pretend to be my boyfriend."
Straik glances over at us and I try to affix a loving, sweet expression on my face. I probably look constipated. I'm better at being vicious than I am at being sweet. That's Helen's domain…and then I ache with sadness, thinking about my friends. I'm going to save them. I am. This current situation is a speed bump, that's all.
Dopekh still hesitates, even when I tug on his hand. "I feel very uncomfortable right now." He leans in, his eyes going wide. "Do you think the rest of the crew is going to hear about this?"
"Does it matter?" When Straik turns away, I yank on Dopekh's hand and give him a “get the fuck over here” look. He finally sits down next to me and I clasp his sweaty hand in mine so we at least look SOMEWHAT loving. I nudge his shoulder with mine. "Afraid your buddy is going to find out you're into girls?"
He glares at me, his gaze flicking over to the captain across the room. "Quiet."
"At least tell me who it is," I whisper back. "Does he have the same face as you?"
Dopekh cringes and then nods, his expression woebegone. "It is wrong, but I cannot help myself. Nothing will ever happen between us, but that does not make me stop wanting it."
He looks so damn sad that I feel sorry for him. I rest my head on his shoulder, giving his hand a supportive squeeze. "I'm sorry. It must be hard to fall in love with someone you can't have."
He sighs. "The lack of meds makes it worse."
Meds? "What do you mean?"
Dopekh leans close. "Before, when we were slaves, we were all kept medicated to ensure there would be no issues. To keep us sterile and obedient. But then Lord Straik freed us, and he said we did not have to take the medications. And ever since then, when I am around Kazex, I feel…things. Parts of me…feel things." He leans in even closer. "Especially when he is naked."
Oh lord have mercy. I do not want to talk him through Baby's First Boner. "You've got a lot of suppressed things coming up to the surface. It's normal. And does Kazex feel the same way?"
He shakes his head. "He is very interested in females. They are all he talks about. He wants a mate. He saves all his credits for the day that he can retire and purchase someone to love."
Well, isn't that sweet and fucked up at the same time. But as a clone who was owned by someone, maybe he equates “purchasing” with “love.” Who knows. The sad look is back on Dopekh's face and I squeeze his hand and try to change the subject, just because I'm not the coach he needs to talk him through this. There's far too much to unpack for a whispered conversation. "It could be worse, right? You could be in love with your captain."
We both look over at Straik, who is doing his best to give us some privacy from across the room. He lounges in one of the chairs, idly flicking through his data pad and trying not to watch us too closely…almost like a chaperone.
"Never the captain," Dopekh murmurs. "He is a good, honorable male, but he does not let anyone get close to him. He is always alone."
Always alone? That strikes me as…sad. I look over at the blue guy, and there's definitely something…solitary about him. Poor Straik, with his mother from hell and a crew he thinks is betraying him, and yet he's still encouraging love.
Either he's the craftiest motherfucker out there, or the softest.
24
STRAIK
The female whispers with Dopekh for what feels like hours. They do not do more than share a few quick mouth-presses, and even those make the a'ani look terribly uncomfortable. Is it because I did not offer them plas-film? I think about all the rumors I have heard about humans and their diseases, but Ruth does not look like the type. She looks fresh and clean and…pretty enough, for a human, I suppose.
I don't like watching them, though. It bothers me and I know it shouldn't. It just…does.
Even though she glances my way repeatedly, a thoughtful expression on her face, I do my best to ignore them. I focus on my data pad, composing a missive to my uncle that will provide, in great detail, everything I know about the situation on the Star. I snack as I work, because I asked for all this food, and I might as well eat it.
I wake up at some point with a crick in my neck, my choppy hair in my face, and the sour taste of old noodles in my mouth. Must have fallen asleep. I rub a hand across my face, glancing over at the bed. It's empty.