Captivate (Manipulate, Book 2)

Chapter 6

Claire’s cruise ship had risen into orbit several hours ago, with a quietness that seemed deafening to Claire, instinctively braced for propulsion jets and engine burn. She’d waited for several hours in the room she’d been shown to, shivering in her wet tunic and stroking Kit’s shivering form. She didn't want to remind anyone that she was here until she had to. Thankfully the burn of the rain only lasted a few minutes, though her skin felt tight and sunburned now.

Eventually, mostly dry and very hungry, Claire ventured out of her room, hoping to find one of the aliens she'd talked to in the loading bay.

In the hall, which seemed both too narrow and too tall, another Spo crew member sent her along to a mess hall.

The hall was pretty clearly divided between Merith and Spo, with Spo food on a counter against one pale green wall, and Merith food against the opposite wall, a violent orange. Small round tables filled the middle space, with the kind of stools and squats favored by both species.

She sat alone, feeling the weight of antagonistic stares the whole time she scarfed down the food. It tasted strange, but anything solid and textured was bliss after years of mush.

After dinner, she returned to the room she’d been shown to, and gave some fruit to Kit. He climbed onto her shoulder and his fur tickled her ear.

“We made it, Kit. This is better, right? You didn’t want to stay with Faal and be bred and studied and exhibited. Of course not.”

He finished his slices and slid down in front of her, to be cradled like a baby.

“You are ridiculous,” Claire said. “You must have been genetically engineered to be cute, and I love you anyway.”

She stroked his furry belly and he purred.

But then her roommates began to arrive, and Claire’s stomach began to churn. They gave her brief nods, but no one tried to talk to her, and she didn’t want to antagonize anyone by trying to make small talk.

She tried to lie down and sleep, and the weskit curled up on her chest, but it was no good. Her stomach felt horrible. Claire sat up quickly and the weskit slid off onto the floor. She grabbed the recycle bin between her bed and the next one and vomited into the small container. Her throat burned and her head felt like it would split open behind her eyes.

“It’s sick,” said the Merith in the next bed. “Foul.”

“I’m sorry,” Claire choked out, spitting into the square container. Another wave of nausea hit her, and she threw up again, the last of her dinner leaving her system.

"I apologize," Claire said again, when she could speak.

She would be sharing the cabin with these three Merith females, and she didn’t want them to resent her.

“Are you done, bruck?” said the Merith next to her. She was the crew chief who had gotten Claire this spot, and when she'd introduced herself Claire had been so muddled she hadn't quite caught her name. It sounded something like Kitten, which Claire thought was faintly amusing. She’d never seen such a heavily-muscled Merith. If they had weight lifting competitions, she felt sure Kitten could win.

“I’m done,” Claire said. Her stomach felt weak, but better. “I think I ate the wrong things. I don’t know what to eat here.”

“I’ve seen your kind,” said Kitten, casually. "I bet it was the rain. Your skin is too thin for it."

Another Merith woman spoke up, the one who had changed out of a wet jumpsuit when she got there. "And ours isn't? Only the Vel are unaffected by the alkaline rain. And still we were sent to load in the storm!" The Merith woman took out a bottle and began to cleanse her eye, which looked red and swollen.