Page 15 of Lorran
She really was in space.
“This is amazing,” she whispered.
The medic brought her to a busy hangar. The Mahdfel were there, obviously, doing serious things with serious expressions while flexing their muscles. Women and children mixed in the crowd. The number of human women surprised Wyn, but the Mahdfel had a treaty with Earth for nearly two decades. Plenty of women had been matched.
The hangar, despite being just as gray and bland as the corridors, had a holiday atmosphere. People seemed excited, especially the children, who bounced around with endless energy. The adults standing nearby, presumably parents or guardians, had tired but fond expressions on their faces.
Everyone spoke loudly, to be heard over the constant rumble of ship engines, adding to the excited atmosphere. Warning bells rang as small crafts hovered above the floor and moved toward the far end of the hangar.
“It is Golau. Many travel to Sangrin to celebrate,” the medic said, preemptively answering Wyn’s question.
So it was a holiday. Good to have that clarified. The translator had garbled the conversation she heard between the medic and the tech when she arrived.
“Where’s Lorran?” She followed the medic as he weaved between shuttles and people. This was exhausting.
“Here.” The medic paused at a boxy gray shuttle. Seriously, the Mahdfel needed to talk with someone about design and color. The ramp was lowered, and the door opened.
The medic carried her bags inside, ducking through the doorway to avoid hitting his horns. He frowned at the empty shuttle.
Soft blue lighting illuminated the interior of the shuttle. Again, more gray and uninspired design. Obviously the Mahdfel prized functionality over aesthetics. The interior felt more lived-in and well used, with worn spots in the fabric of the seats and discoloration on the floor from countless footsteps.
“Lorran will be here soon. Wait here,” the medic said. “Does your head continue to pain you?”
Wyn pulled her hand away from her face, as if she could hide that she had been rubbing her eyes. “A bit. It’s better than it was. The lighting doesn’t help.”
The medic made a humming noise and produced a hypo from his kit. He pressed it to her arm. “This will ease the pain. Now, rest. Your mate is on his way.”
“Do you know him? Is he nice?” Wyn rubbed her arm and sat on the nearest seat. Tall and wide, the seat had been built to Mahdfel proportions. Her toes brushed against the floor as if she were child sized.
“I do not know him well. Remain here,” the medic warned one last time before departing.
So cheery.
Wyn’s eyes grew heavy. The throbbing in her head ceased but staying awake required effort. She’d traveled across countless light-years and then horked up her meager breakfast. Taking a nap seemed like a brilliant idea.
She stretched out on the rows of seats. Yeah, no. Not to be a Goldilocks about it, but the seat cushions weren’t designed with a comfortable cat nap in mind.
A partly opened door separated the seating area from the rest of the ship. She pushed it opened, expecting to find cargo and storage space. Four bunks were built into a wall, stacked on top of another two by two. The other wall had various boxes strapped onto shelves and drawers built into the shelving. At the far end were two large cylinders. Made of a frosted glass, blue light glowed from the bottom, they were large enough for a person. Scratch that, large enough for a Mahdfel.
Were these stasis chambers? She peered into the glass but could see nothing to suggest a person or body inside.
Wyn wandered back to the bunks. The thin foam mattress promised no more comfort than the chairs up front, but she was too tired to be picky. She climbed into the bottom bunk and found it to be just right. Goldilocks indeed.
Lorran had three weeks to prepare for her arrival. She couldn’t wait to see what he had planned.
Lorran
“Daddy! I fell and hit my head so hard my eyeballs burst! And the warlord was there, and he said I was big enough for a mission, so I did the mission,” Gavran babbled as he rushed through the door, launching himself at his father.
“What happened?” Seeran caught him and lifted him high enough for Gavran to grab his horns.
“Uncle Lorran let me climb all the way to the top! Then I fell. I bleeded. It’s gross.” Gavran twisted to show Seeran the back of his head.
The little traitor.
“He did not bleed. No blood was involved,” Lorran said.
Seeran set the child down. “Seek your mother. She requires your assistance.”
