Page 4

Chapter four

Getting to Know Each Other

T he landing bay was eerily quiet in the pre-dawn light, most of the colony's day shift workers still at home brewing their first cups of coffee. Rowen suppressed a yawn as she approached the duty officer's station, datapad tucked under one arm.

She'd stayed up late completing the preliminary plant analysis, determined to get off on the right foot and prove herself after yesterday's awkward first day.

“Good morning,” she greeted the Verit pilot on duty. “I'm here for the zero six hundred transport to Casti.”

The pilot, Rhodan-Pa, according to his insignia, glanced up from his console. “Of course, Lady. I’ll be happy to take you.”

She really wasn’t good at mornings. She stifled another yawn. “Great. I’ll just grab a caffeine drink while I wait for Petre, then we can be off.”

Rhoden raised his eyebrows, “Ah, I’m sorry, Lady, but Petre-De already departed for Casti an hour ago.”

Rowen blinked, thrown off balance. “He…what?”

“Took the first transport at zero five hundred.” Rhodan was apologetic. “Said he had preliminary work to complete. I’m sorry, there must have been some confusion. Perhaps he didn’t know he was meant to be your escort?”

“I see.” She didn't, actually, but she'd be damned if she let his rudeness derail her. “Yes, of course. Just a mix up. Well, I still need transport to Casti. Can you—”

"Of course, Lady." He gestured towards the small office. "Why don't you help yourself to a warm drink while I prep the flyer? It'll be a few minutes."

She plastered a smile on her face, hiding her fury as she stalked to the small office kitchenette. It was far too early for this shit. The coffee machine hummed to life under her agitated jab, and she drummed her fingers impatiently against the counter while it brewed. She yanked open drawers looking for sweetener, slamming them shut with more force than necessary when they didn't immediately yield what she wanted.

It was not this poor pilot's fault that Petre was an asshole, she reminded herself, violently stirring her coffee until it nearly sloshed over the rim.

She dumped in another spoonful of sweetener, as if the additional sugar might somehow counteract the bitterness of being stood up by her new boss.

He’s such a dick! A rude, mangy, disgusting, RUDE—

"The flyer is ready, Lady."

The pilot’s polite interruption derailed her inner monologue, and she realized he stood awkwardly in the door, waiting for her.

Rowen boarded the flyer. Her fingers tightened on her datapad as she imagined smashing it right over the Petre’s arrogant face.

The flight to Casti passed in edgy silence, the gentle hum of the engines doing nothing to soothe Rowen's growing irritation. With each passing minute, her indignation multiplied, festering into full-blown anger. She stared out the viewpoint, watching the landscape blur beneath them, rehearsing increasingly scathing remarks in her head.

Who did he think he was? First day on a project together and he'd already shown spectacular disrespect for her time. It wasn't just the casual dismissal of their planned meeting time. It was the way he'd gone out of his way to avoid her—slinking off at dawn like some guilty creature rather than face her like a professional. Did he think so little of her that she didn't even deserve a message? A notification? Anything?

By the time they approached Casti's imposing silhouette against the violet sky, Rowen's knuckles were white around her datapad, her jaw clenched tight enough to ache. If Petre-De thought she would just meekly accept this treatment, he was about to get a rude awakening.

She found him exactly where she'd expected, already deeply absorbed in work at the main lab.

When she stomped in, he looked up at her in surprise. Just for a moment, she thought she sensed a splinter of guilt from him, before the odd smokescreen of his emotions wavered and obscured it, but she didn't care. She hoped he felt guilty, after abandoning her so rudely. The flyer ride had done absolutely nothing to curb the edge of her temper—if anything, it had honed it to a razor-sharp point.

"Good morning, Petre. You're here early," she said pointedly, her voice dripping with false pleasantness.

His fingers stilled on the controls for a fraction of a second. "Lady May. Good morning."

Lady May again, is it?

She set her datapad down with a click that echoed through the room. "Apparently, I missed the memo about a change in plans today."

He looked at her then, his expression unreadable. "I had preliminary work to complete. I didn't think you needed...supervision during transportation. We can proceed for our first meeting at zero seven hundred as scheduled-"

"Supervision?" The word emerged sharper than intended, slicing through his excuse. "Is that what you think this is?"

“That's not—” He cut himself off, jaw working. “I simply meant that as an experienced engineer, you hardly need me to hold your hand while you take a short flyer trip.”

“How considerate of you.” She loaded her voice with sarcasm as she accessed her own terminal. “Though perhaps next time, a simple message would suffice. Unless basic courtesy is too much to expect? I thought Verit males had better manners than that.”

She pecked at the controls, bringing up the work she had completed overnight. “Clearly, I was mistaken in thinking you were a professional, and that we might actually work together respectfully. I was up half the night completing that analysis, and I would have expected that at least you—”

“You’re right.” He cut her off. “My apologies. It was rude of me.”

His apology threw her off guard, letting out all her steam. She met his crystalline gaze, his arrogant expression, and for a long moment she wasn’t sure how to respond.

He gave her a little formal head bob. “I give you my word it will not happen again.”

“Oh. Ok.” She didn’t really know what to say. “See that it doesn’t.”

“Casti,” Petre called. “Let’s begin reviewing Lady May’s analysis.”

“Rowen,” she corrected grumpily. He looked at her in confusion. “I asked you to call me Rowen.”

He stared at her impassively, then perversely, he broke out into a small smile. “Very well, Rowen.” She would never, ever understand males. Urgh.

“Indeed.” Casti's voice held what might have been amusement. “Welcome Rowen May. I look forward to our collaboration.”

Despite her lingering irritation, Rowen smiled at the AI's formal courtesy. “Thank you, Casti. I have to admit, I'm incredibly excited to work with you. I can’t wait to learn everything you can teach us.”

“Let’s start with The Garden project and go from there,” came Casti’s diplomatic response. They spent several hours going through the list of potential plants for The Garden, everything from vegetables and fruits to medicinals, but they quickly ran into a problem.

“We don’t have a wide enough sample range,” Rowen muttered, frowning at her display.

Petre moved to look over her shoulder, close enough that his breath stirred the loose curls at her neck. She made herself focus on the numbers swimming before her, not the solid warmth of him behind her.

“Show me,” he said. “It’s going to be challenging to get enough root and seed stock for these. Some of these are proprietary strains that the planets will be reluctant to hand over.” Petre frowned as he examined the list.

“Perhaps we should review the contents of my seed repository,” offered Casti. “The stock in there may be several thousand years older than the current iterations, but we may be able to rapidly evolve them into the stock we need. There may be other, hardier strains that are more suitable for genetic engineering.”

There was absolute silence in the lab. “Are you saying that you have seed stock onboard?

“Yes. I have extensive genetic samples from thousands of worlds,” Casti said. “Many of which no longer exist. Would you like to examine them?”

“That would be incredible,” Rowen breathed. She turned to Petre. “Did you know about this?”

His expression softened slightly. “I suspected Casti might have resources we could use. Though I didn't realize the extent of the collection.”

A door opened in the far wall, into another lab space, this one humming with a subtle resonance that made Rowen's teeth itch. Unlike the sterile precision of the main analysis lab, this one felt alive.

“The bio-genetic lab,” Casti explained. “This contains samples of seed and root stock from thousands of worlds, millions of plants.”

They entered the room and stood, rooted in shock. Samples hung all around them, in suspended animation. Like jewels in glass cases of all shapes and sizes, each one held the potential for new life, for plants not seen in thousands of years. They walked through the aisles of samples, the air cool and fresh.

"This is…"

"Extraordinary," Petre breathed. For the first time since she'd met him, his eyes lit with childlike wonder as he reached out to trace the glass case of a preserved flower. The transformation was stunning, his sharp features softened with genuine awe, making him seem younger, more approachable.

She was beyond astonished by both the specimens and this glimpse of the real Petre, and that was when she made her mistake. In her enthusiasm, she reached out and squeezed his arm without thinking.

The contact lasted barely a second, but it was enough. His emotions surged through her, her empathic barriers suddenly gone.

Beneath his arrogant exterior, Petre was a maelstrom of dark emotions so intense it made her stumble back. Anger, fear, guilt; they all crashed against her empathic shields and shredded them like tissue paper before he jerked away from her touch. The intensity of it made her head spin, sending a spike of red-hot pain shooting across her temples.

But worse than the pain was the realization that she'd glimpsed something that was deeply private and fiercely guarded. The flash of raw vulnerability she’d recognized before his walls slammed back into place told her everything she needed to know about how he'd react if he thought she'd sensed his turmoil.

No wonder he kept such rigid control. What she'd discerned wasn't just reserve, it was survival. “My apologies, Petre,” she stammered, scrambling for an excuse to cover her reaction. Her head throbbed, but she kept her voice steady, desperately trying to conceal that she'd sensed anything unusual. “I got carried away.”

He searched her face, likely looking for any sign she might have noticed anything amiss. Eventually he responded, “No apology necessary, Rowen.” His voice was back to normal, though she noticed his hands were clasped securely behind his back. “Your enthusiasm for the project is understandable.” He smiled tightly. “No harm done.”

She turned away, discretely massaging her temples as she considered her next move. Petre was still watching her with wariness, likely wondering if she'd picked up anything through that brief contact.

“The genetic diversity of the seed samples in here is staggering,” she said, deliberately focusing on the lab. “We have to have a look at what technology Casti has to support accelerated germination.”

He slowly relaxed as she launched into a discussion about cross pollination. It was the right choice, she decided. Whatever inner demons he was fighting, he was entitled to battle them, however he saw fit.

***

The colony's only bar was busy but not crowded, the evening shift just beginning to filter in. It was run by an enterprising Malurien and had been dropped in from space two months ago, ready built from a cargo ship. Being Malurien, it tended to dark reds, tans, and blacks inside, with lots of intimate booths and spaces, and a large open courtyard with a raised platform for a band to play.

It didn’t have a name as such, but most people called it Rok’s, after its owner AriatRok, a middle-aged, no-nonsense retired Malurien soldier. She had no idea how the female had got permission to open a bar on the colony, but given she’d seen K’Dec Maral and her Malurien mate drinking here several times, she had some ideas.

By the time she made it to Rok's that evening, Rowen's frustration had developed an edge. She found Fila and Zera at their usual corner table.

“How did your second day go?” Fila asked as Rowen collapsed into her chair.

“My new boss hates me,” she said without preamble.

Fila cracked up. “I’m sure he doesn’t. Petre’s the most level-headed Verit I’ve ever met.”

“Oh, really? You were there yesterday morning.” She pointed a finger at Fila. “Tell me he wasn’t pissed.”

Fila waved down a server and ordered a round of drinks for them. “Ok, I’ll grant you he seemed a bit grumpy. But in his defense, he was annoyed before we arrived. I don’t think it had anything to do with you. Maybe he was just having a bad day?”

Rowen shrugged. “Maybe.” She told them about the flyer situation. “He was an absolute dick about it.”

Zera was outraged. “He did WHAT? That’s awful. I would have torn strips off of him.”

Fila was shocked. “It’s just so odd. I know a lot of Verit males aren’t good at female interactions and struggle with boundaries, but he’s been here for two years now. He is a senior colony administrator, and he works with Falosians all the time. It’s not like he hasn’t had time to acclimatize.” She grabbed the drinks off a tray when they arrived. “I’ve spent a bit of time with him. He’s an old student of Broken’s and they’re still close. I’ve always found him nice enough, if a bit of a stickler for things.”

“I don't understand him,” Rowen admitted, taking a long sip of her drink. “One minute he's apologizing for being rude, the next he's doing his best to imitate an ice block.”

“Maybe he’s just reserved?” suggested Zera.

“Reserve implies dignity,” Rowen countered. “This is more like… emotional hibernation. He talks about the project, he responds to questions, he just doesn’t respond with any emotion at all.” She couldn't mention the maelstrom she'd sensed beneath his rigid exterior. That felt too private, too raw to share. “There’s a weirdness when I try to sense his emotions. It’s like they’re muted, behind a dark pane of glass. All I get are odd spikes. Do all Verit males keep themselves locked down this tight?”

Fila and Zera exchanged glances. “No,” Fila said, surprised. “They're usually very attentive to females. Especially ones they work closely with. There’s formality there, but there's usually warmth beneath it. They’re a passionate people. At their core, they crave female relationships.”

Zera looked concerned. “That level of emotional lockdown isn’t healthy. Almost like he's…”

“Hiding something?” Rowen suggested, then immediately regretted it when both women's attention sharpened.

“Has he done anything inappropriate?” Fila asked in a hushed voice.

“No! No, nothing like that.” Rowen backpedalled quickly. “He's just… distant. Like he's determined to keep me at arm's length.”

“Maybe he just doesn't like you,” Fila offered. “It sucks, but I don’t like everyone I meet, and I don’t expect them to all like me. Not everyone is compatible.”

Zera shook her head. “Verit males are almost incapable of truly disliking females,” she said. “It goes against their genetic programming. Even if they clash with one, they maintain courtesy.”

“Well, this one missed that particular lesson,” Rowen muttered into her drink. “Though I suppose two days isn't long enough to really judge his character.”

“Give him time,” Zera advised. “Whatever's causing his behavior, it's unlikely to be personal. Verit males can be… complicated.”

“Complicated,” Rowen repeated dryly. “That's one word for it.” She sighed. “I know it’s stupid, but I want us to get on. This project is a dream, and I think I just built it up in my mind that it was going to be this amazing, perfect once-in-a-lifetime experience.”

“That’s a lot of pressure to put on anything.”

“I know.” She took another long sip. “Alright, message received. I’ll give it time and try not to take it personally.”

As they moved on to other topics, Rowen found her thoughts drifting back to Petre. Whatever was eating at him went beyond a simple personality clash or cultural differences. But that was his business, she resolved. She was here to work, not unravel the mysteries of one emotionally constipated Verit male.

***

Petre paced his quarters, unable to settle. His objectives had been simple; complete the assignment, protect his brother. Stay away from the Falosian. He couldn’t risk her sensing anything.

A soft chirp drew his attention to Kina, his Volpur, watching him from atop the environmental controller with concerned golden eyes. The small navy-furred creature's tail twitched anxiously, responding to his agitation. He forced himself to pause in his pacing, reaching up to scratch behind her ears. She immediately wrapped her prehensile tail around his wrist, tiny hands patting his face as if checking him for injury.

"I'm fine, little one," he murmured, though they both knew it for the lie it was.

His early morning attempts to hack past security had been an abject failure. He'd nearly had a heart attack when Rowen stomped in and found him. Thank the Goddess, she'd been too mad at him to really look at what he was doing. He'd been able to slip the jamming crystal back into his pocket before she'd seen it, but it had been too damned close.

The memory of it still made his skin prickle with cold sweat—the sound of her boots in the corridor, the split-second panic as he frantically closed the display. If she had arrived even thirty seconds earlier...if she had been less angry and more observant...The thought twisted in his gut like a knife.

His HUD beeped subtly, and dread settled onto his chest like the weight of a flyer. He'd known this was coming. Kina's fur bristled at the sound, her tail tightening protectively around his wrist. He gently unwound her, depositing her on the bed before he accepted the comm. "Maman."

“Report,” Bylelle commanded.

It set his teeth on edge, but there was nothing to be done for it. He had to play the game and buy them time. “Proceeding as planned. I’ve conducted a preliminary assessment of the security system. My initial attempts to get past it failed. I’ll have to try again another time.” He paused, modulating the anger in his voice. “They have increased security across the board for the project. It’s made it significantly more difficult.”

Kina pressed against his leg, chittering softly. Her presence helped ground him, even as Bylelle's voice scraped across his nerves.

“That is unfortunate.” There was a frigid silence. “Continue with your report.”

He took a deep breath, one hand absently stroking Kina's fur to keep himself steady. “The Falosian engineer—”

“Rowen May.” The way Bylelle caressed the name made his hackles rise. “Yes, I've reviewed her file. Quite accomplished for someone so young. And apparently quite… friendly.”

The edge of possession was difficult to miss. Maman did not take well to other females playing with their toys. Kina hissed softly, her fur standing on end as she picked up on his tension. Poor Rowen. She was an innocent, had no idea what kind of drama she had been dropped in the middle of. The last thing he wanted was to draw her to Bylelle’s attention. His heart clenched at the thought of what a vicious creature like Bylelle would do to someone like Rowen.

Still, he was a Verit warrior, not a puppy. He bared his teeth in challenge and chose his words with precision. Threading the needle between respect and strength.

“She was brought in to support the project by Broken, not me.” He bit off each word. “Her expertise is useful to the project's success.”

Bylelle was silent for a long moment. “Remember the stakes here.” A pause. “Your father can’t afford any distractions.”

She waited, and he refused to dignify her comment with a response. Eventually, she chuckled darkly. “I do like you, Petre. You never do things the easy way.” Her voice was a snake’s hiss in his ear. “I want you to access the engineering deck. Some of the storerooms should have engineering supplies. There should be some interesting technology that we can use.”

“Yes, Lady.”

“I expect another report in one week. I do hope you will have good news to tell me.”

The connection closed before he could respond, and his heart sank. He laid back on his bed, consciously relaxing his muscles. Kina immediately climbed onto his chest, her worried chirps filling the silence as she pressed her forehead to his chin. He stroked her absently, taking comfort in her unconditional affection.