Page 23 of Lorran
“That would be Mylomon, my partner for this mission and superior officer. You should not be here,” he repeated.
“Yeah, yeah. Dangerous mission, fragile human. I get it.” Her hair had been pulled back into a queue, but the curls strained to escape. A few strands around her face hung free in long, twisting curls.
“No, I mean here, in the navigator’s seat.” Damn it all, he wanted to see her hair unbound.
With a dramatic huff, she stomped over to the seat furthest away. The navigator and pilot’s seats faced the console. Two additional seats were built into the wall, across the helm and facing each other.
“Better?” she asked. He tilted his head in agreement. “How long until we get…wherever?”
“Approximately thirteen hours in total. We arrive at the jump gate in ninety minutes.”
“A gate is a big fancy teleporter?” The color drained from her face, leaving her rich complexion otherwise ashen.
“A gate creates a temporary wormhole between another gate. Teleportation works on the same principle, only scaled down.” He held out two hands and moved them closer to demonstrate.
“Is that safe? For me?”
“Yes,” he said truthfully, withholding that traversing through the gate would be uncomfortable. Already affected by teleportation sickness, she could not enjoy the process. Bypassing the gate would add days to the journey—an unacceptable option when there could be survivors. “A basic field kit should contain medication to counteract the side effects. You will take the medication to be cautious.”
She nodded. “Can I call my mother? Just to let her know I got here okay. I tried, but my comm won’t connect.” Bronwyn held up a comm unit, the flexible resin screen glinting in the light.
“That is not possible. This is a covert mission. No communications.”
“I thought it was a rescue mission,” she replied.
“A covert rescue mission.”
A grin tugged at the corners of her lips, which perplexed him. “Tell me why you smile,” he demanded. “I am not being charming or amusing, yet you smile.”
“I seriously doubt you’d know charming if it came up and bit you in the ass.”
“Incorrect. I am charming and a delight,” he said with surety.
“Sure, Jan,” she said and rolled her eyes.
“I know what that means.” He did not know the identity of thisJan,but the message conveyed with the gesture of passive-aggression—possibly sarcasm—was known to him. His brothers’ mates favored that gesture.
“Look, I know you’re all salty that I’m crashing your top-secret, boys-only clubhouse, but I didn’t plan this. The computer said you were on the shuttle, and the medic guy dropped me off. I’m not going to apologize for you failing to get the memo. The volunteer center arranged everything. Sorry not sorry.”
“I received no such memo. The message arrived only after I discovered you hiding like a stowaway.”
“I wasn’t hiding,” she protested, her voice rising.
“The privacy screen was drawn.”
“With my bright pink luggage out in the open? The medic gave me something for my headache—which is fine, thanks for asking—and it made me drowsy.”
“That is…perfectly reasonable,” he admitted, irritation draining away.
“Will you two be quiet? There will be no sleep once we arrive! Do not disturb my rest now!” an angry voice shouted from the back.
Lorran shut the partition and initiated a sound dampening program.
“Apologies. I did not intend to raise my voice. I know this is not your fault,” he said, determined to employ some of the charm he so humbly bragged about to turn this situation around. He understood something of Terran females, as his brothers’ mates were Terran. He considered Hazel a good friend, and he quite liked Rosemary.
Bronwyn drummed her pencil against the notebook on her lap. “Who takes three weeks to repair communications? I thought you guys were like badass space warriors, the defenders of the universe, but you can’t even get your messages. What sort of slide shoe operation is this?”
Lorran shook his head in confusion. The translation chip worked without fail, but it often garbled idioms. “Slide shoe?”
