Page 54 of Dax: Gratefully Bonded

Holy fuck, I thought, taking an involuntary step backwards. What the hell was he going to do next?

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Dax

Ikept a surreptitious eye on my master as I helped load the injured people into the ambulances. He’d gone to talk to Goroz, and I was feeling apprehensive about the large species. I didn’t like Goroz’s attitude, nor the way he kept watching my master. So when he suddenly puffed himself up and lifted his tail in warning, I moved faster than I had believed possible. Two seconds later, I was planting myself between the hulking man and my master, standing as tall as possible and perfectly willing to do anything in my power to defend my master from this threat.

Goroz’s gaze swung from my master to me, but he didn’t move away. But on the other hand, he didn’t attack us either, so I decided to count that as a win.

“Yes, I’ve been to Ixralia,” my master said, apparently continuing whatever conversation they had been having. From his tone, he was more annoyed than scared.

“And you survived?” Goroz asked.

My master snorted. “Well, yes, obviously.”

Goroz glanced from me to my master and back, and perhaps I was misinterpreting things, but I got the impression he was confused. “Why is this Vangravian attempting to defend you?” he asked.

I didn’t care that my ‘attempt’ might have looked laughable to Goroz. If my master needed my help, he would get it, regardless of whatever the consequences might be.

“He’s been helping to look after me since I was injured,” my master said, still in that flat, disinterested tone. He was apparently not feeling any need to try to impress Goroz.

I felt my scales ripple at the minor lie in his words. Yes, I had been bought to help care for him, but until very recently, I’d been doing a terrible job of it. But this giant, lizard-like creature didn’t need to know that.

“Ranzors do not buy dimari,” Goroz said, his eyes fixed on me. I suspected he might have been sneering at me, but with his elongated snout and reptilian eyes, it was difficult to tell. Not all species had the same body language or used the same facial expressions. “We do not need to be coddled by helpers performing our menial tasks. But I can see the value in having one care for an injured warrior.”

Was his approval of me a good thing? Did that mean we weren’t going to have to fight?

He returned his attention to my master. “But I mean no threat to you. Why is your dimari upset?”

“How about you lower your tail and put your teeth away,” my master said, keeping his voice even. “People on this planet see both of those things as threatening.”

Goroz took a sudden step backwards. “Truly?” he asked. As requested, he lowered his tail and closed his mouth, to hide the majority of his teeth. “That is… unexpected. I had not realised you saw it that way. That may explain some of the interactionsI have had with humans before. We have always thought you seemed unnecessarily hostile. I was merely expressing surprise, not a threat.”

A weighty silence followed. “That’s… interesting,” my master said. I felt his hand on my shoulder, a gentle pressure tugging me back towards him, so I moved to stand by his side, rather than in front of him. “We’ve often got the same impression of Ranzors.”

Goroz swished his tail a little – a sign of discomfort, perhaps? But then he seemed to dismiss the comment. “I would like to know more about Ixralia. We saw your beacon, warning others to stay away from the wormhole. Ranzors do not fear rumours and ghost stories. We assembled a team and sent a ship through the wormhole to see what pesky nuisance the Alliance was so afraid of.”

I put a gentle hand on my master’s arm and gave it a firm squeeze. This species was not like us. If a Solof or a Wasop had said those words, they would likely have earned themselves a swift punch in the face. But perhaps Goroz actually intended no offence? I’d been taught a little about their species during my training, and by reputation, there were indeed fierce warriors. Their technology was far more advanced than anything the Alliance seemed to have access to, so perhaps this was not boasting, but mere statement of fact, from his point of view?

“Ten of our warriors went through the wormhole,” Goroz continued, his stance drooping a little. “Only three came back. And they told stories of such horrors that my people immediately added our own warning buoys to the wormhole. Our engineers are now searching for a way to permanently close it.”

“It’s slowly decaying,” my master said, ignoring the bit about rumours and ghost stories. “Our physicists believe it will collapse by itself within another two years.”

Goroz nodded. “If we can close it sooner, we will do so. If we cannot, then we will continue to monitor it to ensure none of those demons enter this sector of space.”

The Ranzors were monitoring the wormhole? That was surprising. And, I considered, it was probably both good and bad news; good, because it meant extra protection for this sector of space, but bad, because if even the Ranzors considered Ixralia to be that dangerous, the creatures there must be truly monstrous. I was thankful that I’d never had to see them in person. I opened my comm and began making notes. My master was going to have to report this to Henderson later, and it would help him if I had already compiled some of the details.

Goroz looked my master up and down in a frank – and slightly rude – assessment. “How did a human survive such a place?”

“With a laser gun, a lot of brute force and a huge pile of being fucking pissed off. And for the record, there are three more people on Rendol 4 who survived as well,” my master told Goroz. “A Solof, a Wasop and a Denzogal. So I guess that proves that more of our species are tougher than you might have assumed.” I squeezed his arm again, hoping to keep him calm. I could tell from the tone of his voice that he was right on the limit of his patience.

Goroz seemed taken aback by the announcement. “We have underestimated the Alliance,” he said, with his usual blunt honesty. “I would like to meet these other survivors.”

There was a weighty pause. “That won’t be possible,” my master said. “They’ve retired. Two of them live in other cities.”

Goroz looked affronted by that. “But you have not even asked them.”

Perhaps it was time I stepped in, before my master lost his temper. “Members of the Alliance do not typically enjoy rehashing stories of their battles,” I explained to Goroz.“Perhaps this is different in Ranzor culture. You may enjoy hearing the story, but there would be little benefit to the soldiers in question to spend time explaining it to you.” I was taking my cue from my master, in being both firm and direct with my answer.