"Oh." Kaspar thinks for a moment. "Well, I could teach you to navigate instead. Or help with the ship. You don't have to pirate."
"What if I don't want to be on a ship at all? I'll feel like a target every time you approach another ship. I'll worry every time you dock that someone's going to take us over and then I'll be a slave all over again."
He huffs. "We never get taken over. We're very good at what we do."
"No one's perfect, though. You said Shaalyn stole your ship once, remember?"
Kaspar is silent. "I'd protect you." His hand splays over my back, as if he's clutching me tight against him. "I'd die before I let anything happen to you. You know that."
"But I'd live in fear the entire time." I sit up, gazing down at him. "Do you know what it's like for someone like me out in your world? I'm unsafe all the time, just because of who I am."
His expression is thoughtful. "I do know what it's like. My sister Zoey…she's human."
"And was she scared all the time?"
"No, but Zoey grew up with us as her siblings." His smile fades. "We were terrified on her behalf, though. Always worried that someone would hear about her and take her from us."
I shake my head. "I don't want to live like that, Kaspar. I've had three years of it and I'm so tired. I just want to wake up one morning without worrying for my safety."
His expression grows melancholy. He reaches up and brushes his fingers over my cheek. "Then I'll find a safe place for you. Somewhere in the universe where you'll be protected from anyone that wants to harm you."
A knot forms in my throat. "Is there such a place?"
Kaspar nods. "There's a farm planet on the edges of mesakkah-space. It's a human refuge. They farm there and have property. I've heard that all the humans there are happy."
A farm planet. One where humans are normal and have homes of their own. Lives of their own. It sounds quiet and nice and perfect. I imagine waking up surrounded by wheat fields and fresh air, far away from alien shenanigans. "I like that idea."
"Then I'll take you there."
I smile. I have a goal now, a place I want to go. Already the sense of anxiety fades a little. I've worried that there's no place safe for humans in this universe, and since no one will ever take us back to Earth, I've felt like a hunted animal all this time. Knowing that there's a place for us takes some of that feeling away. "And will you come with me to set up house and farm?"
Kaspar studies me, then slowly shakes his head. "We both know I'd die on a farm planet."
Die? I want to protest his choice of words, but then I remember. His lungs. His childhood of isolation and enforced confinement. Kaspar loves excitement and adventure. He loves to take risks and be free. He needs a life full of sharp edges and intensity.
He's right—he'd die on a farm planet. His carefree spirit would wither away until he was utterly miserable. "Right. You need adventure."
His thumb skates across my lower lip. "But you don't want adventure."
"Honestly? I've had enough adventure in the last three years to last a dozen lifetimes. I want boredom at this point. I want a life of simple, quiet monotony. I want to know what my next week and my next month—my next five years—are going to look like." I gaze down at his chest, at his big, beautiful blue body. "I guess this thing between you and me is doomed to fail."
"You're still my mate," Kaspar tells me in an achingly soft voice. "It doesn't change how I feel about you. And I can fly out to visit you."
I nod slowly, then lean in and curl up against him again. His heart beats under my ear, steady and strong, and I imagine the whirring sound of his artificial lungs filling with air and then emptying again. I really like Kaspar. Sure, he's an alien, but he's been good to me—and he licks a mean pussy.
But it doesn't mean we're destined to be together. Long-distance relationships don't work. He needs adventure, and I want nothing more than to carve adventure out of my life. I want to find Jade and Helen and Ruth again. I want to tell them about the farm planet and have us all settle in together. I want to laugh over cups of coffee and feed space chickens or whatever it is farmers out here do. I want quiet happiness and security.
And I'm oddly bummed that it won't be with Kaspar. "I see. Maybe we can try the long-distance thing, sure." I pat his chest. "At least we have right now. I imagine it'll be a day or two before the distress beacon catches up with anyone, right?"