Page 25 of Master
Clara
The boat rose and dipped; the waves rising around us like demons, ready to pounce and drag us to a watery grave. Clinging to the side, I glanced at Curtis. He’d harnessed himself to a large chair mounted at the rear of the boat; the end of his fishing rod sank into what looked like a silver cup suspended mid-chest. The muscles in his forearms bunched and flexed as he fought whatever deep-sea denizen was on the other end of the line. Curtis laughed while I clung to the railing, trying not to vomit.
“Clara!”
Despite my churning stomach, the sound of my name imparted an immediate sense of safety. I opened my eyes expecting to see blue skies and rippling waves.... praying for it. Instead, the dull gray interior of the spaceship pulled me from dream to reality with such harshness the threat of tears stung my eyes.
"Clara!" It wasn't Curtis' voice I heard in my dream, but Tarook. Even with that realization, the warmth of security laid like a warm blanket over me.
"I'm awake." I sat up in the bunk, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. Tarook perched in the pilot's chair, long fingers flying over the control panel. Past him, through the thick glass, space seemed to undulate as the ship jerked and chugged.
I didn’t know squat about spaceships, but I knew enough to guess something wasn’t right.
“What’s happening?”
“You need to get up here and strapped in. Our starboard thrusters are failing. I knew we’d lost some shield panels on that side, but the engine diagnostics didn’t discern a debilitating problem.” Tarook’s voice belied on a hint of aggravation.
I jumped from the bunk, the pitch, and roll of the ship, making me stagger like a drunk after last call.
"Are we going to crash?" I asked, making it to the co-pilot's chair and shimmying into the harness. Tarook cast me a glance, a grin curling one side of his mouth, despite the tenseness of his posture.
“Yes, and no."
"What does that mean?" I snapped as the nose of the ship took a downward roll, causing my stomach to churn.
“See that planet?” Tarook jerked his chin to the left.
My eyes followed the direction he indicated, centering on what looked like a marble suspended in starry blackness. It looked like Earth, all green and blue, covered by misty clouds.
“That’s Tau Centi.”
“Oh, Thank God!” I breathed in relief.
Tarook's mouth curled into a smile but it didn't soften the hard glint turning his golden eyes dark ochre. "We don’t haveenough thrusters to get us to the settlement, but we should be able to land without too much damage.”
My stomach fluttered—this time with fear. “Define ‘too much damage’."
Despite what seemed like a monumental effort to maneuver the skiff, Tarook shifted in his chair to face me,his gaze soft and mesmerizing. The palm of his hand felt warm and comforting as he cupped my cheek. "It will be alright, darlin'. Sit down, strap in, and put your head down."
Darlin’.
His calling medarlin’seemed to be turning into a habit.
I didn't hate it.
I just wished I had more time to enjoy it before the skiff began mimicking a spinning roller coaster.
If crashing and dying were in my immediate future, please let me go with a little dignity and not barf on him.
Oddly, having my head buried between my knees kept the nausea at bay. It also forestalled what would have been screams of terror, uttered instead as faint gasps and whines.
Through it all, Tarook talked to me. Explaining each step of entering the planet's atmosphere with soothing words and promises of survival. His voice was deep, the timbre soothing, and through it all, he called medarlin’.
I really didn’t hate it.
I actually kind of liked it.
The way he said it, drawing the syllables over his tongue, gave a cowboy tinge to his whole, alien Jamie Fraser vibe.
