Page 18 of I'm Not Your Pet

Huu-goh was strange.

He gawked at everything, for one thing. He’d cataloged all the tech, all the hallways, all the crew that he met as we made our way through The Dreamer toward the barracks for the first time. I moved slowly so that he would have time to take it all in, though I was remiss, because it would’ve been nice to be able to explain what everything was.

As captain, I had a set of private rooms near the back of the ship. It was the largest lodgings on board, and I had hoped that the sheer size of it would be enough to make the space not feel overcrowded now that I had someone else inside it.

I’d debated giving Huu-goh his own room entirely, but that seemed cruel. He knew no one but me on board. And though I was a stranger to him, we had at least shared a few conversations and a moment that meant more to me than I was equipped to admit at present.

Mala and Ushuu assured me that they could take care of my duties for a week as Huu-goh settled in. I appreciated their assistance, though the thought of anyone else manning the ship rankled, because I knew we only had a few short hours before take off.

The Dreamer wasmyresponsibility. With the ever-present threat of pirates hanging over our heads, it was hard to relax. I tried, but it was difficult. Even when Huu-goh was bouncing around my rooms.

He poked everything, opened all the cupboards, exclaimed in amazement when he figured out how the sinks and toilets worked. He thought my bed was fascinating—as evidenced by the widening of his eyes and the way his gaze kept lingering on it. And though I kept steering him toward the corner where I’d set up a bed for him too, he kept making his way back toward mine.

His single, solitary suitcase sat next to the door.

When I moved to retrieve it, Huu-goh was quick to dive in front of me. He glared up at me, hunkered over the damn thing like he was terrified I was going to steal it from him.

So instead of helping him unpack his things, I maintained distance between us, and let him continue his explorations.

I made myself busy at my desk, reading through articles about huu-mans on my HoverPad, the care guide I’d downloaded directly from A&R’s website both enlightening and abhorrent. The fact they had one at all was disgusting to me, but I tried to push through that emotion as I made note of the things Huu-goh could be allergic to, and the requirements necessary for caring for one’s huu-man.

I was so engrossed in my reading, I hardly noticed when the ship rumbled, preparing to take off. Huu-goh made a sound, however, and my gaze snapped from the screen to him, surprised to find him huddled in the middle of the floor cross-legged, his head tipped toward the ceiling like he could see the stars behind it.

Ah.

This was his first voyage.

At least—his first conscious one.

I flipped a few buttons on my HoverPad, pleased when the panels on the ceiling shifted colors, and the night sky spread out above us. It was a live feed, and would shift when our engines had warmed enough to take flight. I hoped he’d find it more fascinating this way. He was a curious creature, and I was more than a little excited at the prospect of making him smile again—like he had when I’d bought him pastries earlier.

Huu-goh made a shocked little sound that in turn caused me to grin.

Pride made my chest puff up as I enjoyed his reaction, pleased to have a captivating view of my own. His expressions were so easy to read. Though his features were foreign, I’d dealt with enough species over the years that I could recognize what most of the faces he made meant. At least…so far.

This face looked pleased.

More than pleased.

It was odd hearing him breathe and move around in my space. Difficult to tune out. Butthiswasn’t so bad. The expression of wonder on his face, however, was short-lived.

When the sky blurred and we officially took off, something horrible happened.

Huu-goh’s dark eyes went wide. He gawked at the shifting ceiling, the floor rumbling beneath him, and for a single solitary second all was well.

And then it wasn’t.

It’d been a long time since my first voyage so I’d forgotten how odd that shift could feel. As we picked up speed, the ship finding its equilibrium was often turbulent. I hardly noticed it now, but Huu-goh certainly did. It only took ten seconds for his excitement to fade and his skin to turn an awful shade of green.

He’d been sick all night after that.

Sick enough we’d spent a good hour in the bathroom. Him, with his head in the toilet, and me, stroking over his back while I flipped through pages on my HoverPad and tried to figure out if I’d made a horrible mistake or not.

Nowhere did it mention turbulence or huu-man’s weakness to it. And eventually, thank god, when Huu-goh stopped being sick I came to the conclusion that it was the space-legs that he didn’t have yet that had caused his violent reaction.

I’d hosed him off in the shower, keeping the spray warm, and he’d been too miserable to protest.

“Mai dohn-uts,” he’d said sadly in human-speak, his sweet, sick little head tucked against my shoulder. After he was dried off and I’d bundled him in blankets, I made a mental note to get more clothing for him.

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