Miktar paced the floor outside Captain Ream's office, raking his fingers through his hair over and over again until it flowed down his shoulders in smooth waves. It was an anxious wait. He knew the captain was busy but this was urgent.
Now that most of his patients had gone and he had more time to himself, thoughts of all that was going on with the ship assailed his waking hours as well as his dreams. Particularly with what was going on with that pregnant Rictorian, how could he not? He felt itchy all the time. His heart was racing. He couldn't rest.
After what felt like hours, the door finally opened and Miktar stepped inside. Captain Ream looked up from his desk, disgruntled. His hair was a mess. There were shadows under his eyes.
'I don't understand why you couldn't tell me what was so urgent over the phone,' the captain said, folding his hands upon his desk.
Miktar looked through the window towards Rictor 5 gleaming like a blue ball in the distance. He licked his dry lips. 'I want a companion.'
'You will likely get a companion. You/we/us all.' He twisted his mouth. 'Whether we have a choice in the matter or not.'
'I don't want it to be "likely", Captain. I want it to be certain. And I want it now. I want her now.'
Captain Ream cocked an eyebrow. 'Are you giving me an order, Miktar?'
'It's never been fair,' Miktar said, ignoring him. 'Why should I miss out?'
'Because Drake is our senior medical officer, not you.'
'But I am now, aren't I? With Drake now a father ...'
'The baby isn't born yet. It may never be born.'
'He's a father. His duties are over. He needs to be there to support his mate.'
'Miktar ...'
'I want my female!'
Captain Ream's eyebrows shot up. He reeled back into his chair.
'I'm sorry, Captain.' Miktar grabbed at the collar of his shirt as his eyes darted back to Rictor 5. 'I cannot be alone anymore. If you will not give me ...' He shook his head. 'I cannot wait. I cannot work. It's all I think about.'
He fell silent.
'Perhaps you should go back to Zibon 8 if this is too much for you,' Captain Ream said quietly.
'Captain ... I've done so much for this ship. Above and beyond. It's only fair I'm ... compensated like the others.'
'What is the point of this ship if all of you are decommissioned?'
'There are more senior operatives arriving.'
Captain Ream waved his hand in annoyance.
'Is this not our new mission, Captain?' He gestured at Rictor 5. 'Why else are we here?'
'I need you as our senior medical officer, Miktar.'
'My men are perfectly capable. Reece is able to take my position.'
'And then what?' Captain Ream said. 'Then will he be standing in my office demanding the same?'
'Of course.'
Captain Ream shook his head.
'How can you not want one?' Miktar said. 'How can you not understand? Don't you want someone to love?'
'Being captain is what I love. I care about my men, that is all.'
'If you care about us, give us what we want. Captain ... I-I can't do this anymore. And I won't go back to Zibon 8. Not with what I know now.'
Captain Ream clasped his hands in front of his face, then shook his head. 'I cannot believe this. What a mess. Take a shuttle, then. Go. Get Quinton to help.' He swivelled in his seat, looking at Rictor 5. 'A troublesome planet. A troublesome species. Things should be simple.'
'Simple is boring.'
Captain Ream grunted.
'Thank you, Captain.' His heart sitting somewhere high in his throat, Miktar left.
*
Another shift done—thank God! Another late night. But it was far from over. Somehow she had to get enough sleep so she could return well-rested the following morning. Hospitals never slept. And apparently neither did she.
'I love my job. I love my job. I love my job,' Rachel repeated under her breath as she unlocked her car and got inside. The moment the door shut, tears were sliding down her face. She gritted her teeth as she gripped the steering wheel.
She only became a nurse because she wanted to help people. Now, after two hectic, difficult years of dealing with the demanding, the violent and the nasty, she decided that she actually hated people.
'What a joke,' she said, wiping at her face. 'What a fucking joke.'
Switching on the engine, she backed out of her parking spot.
A few minutes into her drive she was starting to feel better. Winding down the window, she allowed the wind to gust through her hair.
She was being overly dramatic, she knew. There were always going to be those bad shifts. And this one had been particularly terrible. The worst she'd ever had, in fact. She could hardly remember what had happened, what she she'd actually done. So much of it a blur.
She pondered calling in sick tomorrow but thought better of it—she needed the money. She was already behind in her rent. Goddamn money. Goddamn job. Goddamn life. She would do anything to get away from it all.
At least home wasn't far. She pulled up into the drive. The house looked shut up tight, her housemate already asleep. Grabbing her bag from the passenger seat, she locked her car and entered her house. Using the light from her phone, she made her way through the darkness into her room.
Dropping her bag on the floor, she switched on her bedroom light.
She only had time to widen her eyes at the figure standing in the corner before he was upon her with a speed that was incredible.
Rachel tried to scream but his big hand was already covering her mouth. She grabbed onto his arm. He murmured incomprehensibly in her ear as she clawed her nails into his forearm. She struggled but he was immensely strong! His other arm was wrapped firmly around her hips as he held her tightly against his front. It might be the shock of the situation but he felt huge, like a wall of rock against her.
He was still murmuring in her ear as Rachel tried to thrash out of his grip without success. What was he saying? It sounded like gibberish. She tried to kick her heels into his shins. He suddenly hauled her bodily against his chest, her legs and arms firmly bound with his astonishing strength.
Finally, she could scream. She shouted for her roommate. 'Help! He's got me!'
She screamed and shouted but nobody came. Then they were out of the door. He dropped her to her feet. She tried to run but he seized her again, hauling her over his shoulder with such speed and strength it took several moments before Rachel knew what had happened. Then he was thundering down the street. Now she could no longer scream; it was like something freezing was gripping her throat. All she could do was choke and splutter—and she hated herself for it.
His boots thudded loudly against the road and still nobody came. A dog was barking. A car blasted its horn from somewhere in the distance. Nobody would help. Nobody would come!
They passed from the road and into bush, the leaves crackling loudly under his footsteps. She could hear the sound of his breathing. The moon was bright but soon there was dazzling light coming from what seemed like all directions. She could hardly see. She shut her eyes.
Finally, something woke up in her throat. 'Let go! Help! Help! HELP!'
She staggered as he dropped her to her feet. He gripped her wrist. She yanked and pulled but he dragged her ahead. Her feet met something metal. Her shoes pounded it as he dragged her up a slope.
She squinted against the light but it was hard to see much, her eyes watering. She'd been right. He was huge. Like a dark shadow, like some kind of demon against the light. And then she suddenly realised what he was dragging her into. It looked like a ... it looked like a ...
'Oh my God!'
It couldn't be! The man kidnapping her turned and Rachel froze. He looked like a man—and yet not a man. His features were sharp and striking. Yellow eyes. No. It must be the light from the ship. From the Goddamn spaceship!
He turned and Rachel's legs stumbled after him as he dragged her through a doorway. Another two men stood by. Equally huge. Equally daunting with the same sharp features and yellow eyes. They were yellow. All Rachel could do now was stare, her fight forgotten. Her need to get away lost somewhere on the ramp along with her common sense. Along with what she'd once believed was the only reality.
Aliens. Their clothes were certainly different, silverish shirts that flashed and glittered when they caught different angles of the light. What a stupid thing to think—aliens. This had to be some kind of set up. Maybe even a joke. But those eyes!
She stared back as they stared at her. They reminded her of wolves. They had a greedy look to them.
Then Rachel was moving through the ship. The ship? The ship! The man was gentle but firm as he dragged her on ahead. There were lots of lights and metal. It smelled funny. The air tasted different. Rachel stared at the dark hair flowing down his shoulders.
Then they were in a room. An automatic door shut behind them. It was small, almost empty except for a bench set against a wall and an array of metal equipment pushed up against the other side. There were red and green flickering lights. There were no windows and only one door. It reminded her of a storage area—or a cell.
The man released her and sat on the bench. Rachel didn't move. He looked up at her and Rachel looked back, aghast. He said something in his deep voice, patting the spot beside him.
'Who-who are you?' she said. What are you? would have been better.
He patted the spot again.
His yellow eyes. His perfect face. And she could see that beneath his shirt he had an astonishing body, hard, muscular. Little wonder he could cart her around so easily.
She looked over her shoulder towards the door. She went over to it, her back prickling with the feel of his eyes. He didn't follow. He didn't stop her as she yanked at it furiously. It was firmly shut—of course.
Rachel spun around as he spoke again. Again, he patted the spot beside him.
'I can't sit there,' she said. 'I have to go home. I have work tomorrow.' She felt numb. Her ears were ringing. What a stupid thing to say.
He stared at her blankly. She recalled how he'd murmured incomprehensibly back in her room. She kept near the door, as far away as she could get, those yellow eyes both magnetic and terrifying. His massive hands were resting on his knees. She'd never seen such big hands before.
'What are you going to do with me?'
He patted the spot beside him, then rested his hands palms up on his knees. Rachel swallowed. What else could she do? She stumbled a little as she went over. She sat awkwardly, keeping enough distance that they didn't touch. Rachel stared at the wall.
She lurched to her feet as he reached out to touch her hair. 'What are you doing?'
Maybe he wasn't an alien at all, she suddenly thought. Of course he wasn't! He was just a man. A huge man, granted. With contacts in his eyes. Was he going to rape her? Was he going to sell her? Was he going to murder her and wear her skin as an outfit? She pushed herself against the wall.
Raising his hands, he said something again in a calming voice.
'Just keep away,' she told him. 'Don't touch me.'
He clasped his hands in his lap with a nod. And that was when Rachel realised something astonishing: was he ... was he nervous? His hands were soft in his lap. His shoulders were slightly hunched. He kept his yellow eyes a little lowered so he wasn't quite looking at her.
What if he really was an alien? What if they really were in a space shuttle? The room lurched. Rachel staggered. The man leapt to his feet. He reached to steady her but Rachel jerked away.
'Fuck! Are we lifting off?'
*
She was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. Miktar knew he was being foolish, he knew he was only thinking this way because she was going to be his. That she was already his. He didn't care. It didn't matter. Once they were bonded, she truly would be the most beautiful, perfect creature in the universe—at least to him.
Once the shuttle steadied its flight. Miktar sat down and patted the bench beside him again. 'Join me.'
She was pale. She was sweating. Unsurprising. She was wearing what looked like some kind of uniform. Her shoes were worn. Tentatively, she sat down, though keeping her distance.
He pressed his hand to his chest. 'My name is Miktar.'
She looked at him blankly.
'Miktar,' he repeated.
She was staring at him with her wide pale eyes. Her blonde hair was tucked up in a bun. Her fringe was sticking out all over the place. Though she was surprised and alert, she looked tired.
At least she wasn't screaming. At least she wasn't fighting or clawing at him like he'd seen with the others; or tucking herself away fearfully. Strangely enough she didn't seem all that shocked. She was different from the others. Better, he thought to himself.
He didn't realise he was smiling at her until she scooted away from him along the bench with a frown.
'Sorry.' He straightened his face. 'I'm just excited, you know. I've been waiting for you.' He clasped his knees, taking a breath. 'I've been alone for too long. I need you. I need you in my arms. I need you in my heart. I-I want a family. Isn't that what everyone wants?'
She didn't respond, staring back at him with her wide, tired eyes.
'Speak. I want to hear your voice.' Again, he pressed his hand to his chest. 'Miktar.'
He waited, lowering his eyes to her arm where the light made her skin shine. Her hands were small and perfect. Her nails were smooth and gleaming. Miktar gripped his knees more tightly, resisting the urge to reach out and touch her.
'Rachel,' she said.
He jerked his eyes up. She had her hand to her chest.
'R-a-kel,' he repeated. 'R-a-kel.' The word was incredibly hard.
She chuckled. She actually chuckled. And it was the sweetest thing he'd ever heard. Miktar grinned as his stomach swooped.
'Hello R-a-kel, my name is Miktar, and you're going to be mine forever.'