Page 27 of Dax: Gratefully Bonded (Rogue Bonds #2)

Dax

I kept 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 interactions I 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.

Goroz narrowed his eyes and peered down his elongated snout at me. “Do all dimari speak for their masters so arrogantly?”

“No,” I said, steadying my feet on the ground as my heart rate sped up. “But this one does.” Whenever I had stepped in front of my master to divert danger before, he had been grateful for it. I had no reason to believe that this time would be any different.

Goroz made an odd, clicking sound in the back of his throat. My translator picked up the noise, and in a dull electronic voice, it reported to me, “Sound of general approval.”

I forced my expression to remain neutral. If I could generously translate the sound through different cultures and modes of communication, Goroz had just smiled at me.

“You are a brave little creature,” he said, tilting his head. “I can see why your master likes you. I think you are a good fit for his own bravery. But I would still like you to ask your comrades if they would be willing to speak to me,” he said, returning his attention to my master. “If they say no, I will respect that. But if we can understand more about the creatures we fought, we may be better prepared, if any of them succeed in crossing the wormhole.”

I glanced sideways at my master. He seemed to be at a loss for words. I suspected that he was dreading the idea of having to tell his own story from Ixralia to Goroz and his people. But on the other hand, having a willing and powerful fighting force ready to meet any intruders through the wormhole was certainly a huge benefit to us – and to the rest of the local sector.

“We’ll discuss it with our commanding officer,” I told Goroz, ignoring the fact that Henderson was my master’s commanding officer, but not mine. For the sake of this discussion, that detail was irrelevant. “Captain Rhodes does not have the authority to make such decisions on his own. But we’ll consider your request seriously.”

“Good,” Goroz said. “Now you can tell us what other work needs to be done here to help these refugees.” He cast a look around the park. “This camp is a mess. These people need food. And clothing. And there are two young men over there trying to steal each other’s tent poles.” He flexed his large hands, thick claws tipping each finger. “How would you like us to help?”

???

It was three o’clock in the afternoon, and I watched with private amusement as a tentative line of protestors loitered just past the entrance to the park. The group had been a lot larger about half an hour ago. They’d come marching boldly into the park, waving banners and shouting slogans about public property being taken over and a lack of community consultation with regards to the impromptu refugee camp.

Once my master had explained to Goroz what the protest was about, he had been deeply unimpressed. “They object to the Alliance helping people who have lost their homes to war?”

“Yes,” my master had confirmed. “They’re not happy about not being able to use the park for their children to play in.”

“These people are stupid,” Goroz announced. “Would you like me to scare them away? I might not be able to fight the Nwandu, but I can still protect refugees from small, angry hecklers shouting nonsense.”

And so Goroz and three of his teammates had formed a security detail of sorts, physically blocking the protestors from coming any further. Cowed by four very large, very angry- looking Ranzors, the group had quickly retreated back out the entrance to the park. There, they’d bravely made a stand, but with waning enthusiasm. Goroz had promised not to physically harm anyone – these were not warriors, my master had insisted, but civilians. They were annoying, but not dangerous. And so far, Goroz and his team had kept their word, doing plenty to intimidate the protestors, but nothing at all to harm them. I was curious as to what Colonel Henderson was going to make of this in the end-of-day report. Or what the media would do, when they inevitably got wind of the situation.

In response to the Ranzors’ presence, the group had quickly shrunk, three quarters of the protestors falling silent and slinking off home, where they would no doubt continue to complain amongst themselves, while the remainder continued to make a loud but insignificant nuisance of themselves.

Turning back to my own task, I slid the last bolt into the wall of the temporary camp kitchen that we were setting up, with Borl and Gatik, two of the Ranzors, holding up the wall while I secured it. Across the other side of the park, Nichols and Len were supervising the water connection to the shower block that had been brought in, and Vol, the last of the Ranzors, along with Privates Denny and Soll, were setting up twelve new tents that had arrived on a truck about an hour ago. That would provide more space for some of the single Halagals to spread out, after having been squished into the available accommodation last night.

Once the kitchen was complete, Borl and Gatik headed off to do another sweep of the camp. Their presence was proving incredibly effective at getting the Halagals to behave, and my master had gone to pains to assure the refugees that any genuine requests for food, medical care or basic necessities would be met with calm and reasonable responses. But at the same time, troublemakers would not be tolerated, and the Ranzors seemed more than happy to be acting as security guards. Despite our conversation this morning about the apparent misunderstandings about the Ranzors’ natural level of aggression, it was becoming clear that they were far more willing to engage in social conflict than most Alliance species were.

I glanced around, trying to figure out where my master had disappeared to. He’d been overseeing most of the efforts throughout the day, quick to jump on his comm to organise more food, or to chase up the second doctor, who had ended up being half an hour late. I wasn’t able to see him anywhere around the park, so I headed over to the office. If he was inside, he would either be wrangling more supplies, or having a minor meltdown, and I wanted to check which it was.

I stepped into the small space and instantly froze in a panic, seeing my master sitting at his desk with tears streaming down his face. What the hell had happened in the half an hour I’d left him alone for him to be in this state?

But there was also a holographic projection sitting above his comm, and I instantly recognised the face of Lieutenant Ru Dolve, the Solof woman who had been on the AEV Defender with my master the day I’d met him. I caught my master’s eye and made a ‘going away’ motion, my eyebrows raised, but he shook his head and waved me into the room. I closed the door quietly and stood just in front of it, not wanting to interrupt the conversation.

“Thank you,” my master said to Ru, somehow managing to keep his voice steady, despite the tears. “It’ll be good to see you.”

“What about the others?” Ru asked. “Are they coming?”

“Gasrin is. He still lives in the north of Hon, so it won’t be far for him to come. Matchi said no. The distance is a perfectly good excuse, but I get the impression it would just be too much for him.”

“That’s fair,” Ru said. “It’s still a lot to deal with.” She hesitated. “How’s Dax?” she asked next, seeming apprehensive.

I felt a flush of warmth at her question, frankly surprised that she even remembered me, never mind that she was concerned about me. I wasn’t really a part of their group, and I’d only spent a couple of hours with her, spread out over the few weeks they’d all been recovering in the Delaville Space Station, before we’d all been shipped back to Rendol 4 and gone our separate ways.

A small smile broke onto my master’s face. “He’s good. You’ll see him when you get here. It hasn’t all been smooth sailing, but we’re getting through.”

Even on the holographic projector, I could see the relief in Ru’s posture. “Thank the gods. Well, I’d better go. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Can’t wait,” my master said, with a wobbly smile. Then he cut off the connection and the room went quiet.

“That’s good news,” I said, having picked up enough of the conversation to follow what was going on. “Two of your crew are coming.”

“I don’t know if it’s because they want to talk to the Ranzors, or just to see me. And each other, of course. Making sure nothing can come through the wormhole is probably a good motivation…”

“But it means digging up some of the old demons,” I finished for him, when he trailed off.

“Exactly.”

“Are you all right?” I asked, stepping forward. My master grabbed a couple of tissues from the box on the corner of his table and hastily cleaned up his face.

“I’m fine. As much as I’m dreading talking about all this, it’s probably a good thing. Facing up to the past and realising that we still have a future. I spent a long time not being able to see that. It’s going to be a lot. I’ll probably be very stressed tomorrow, so maybe keep an eye on that for me? Maybe we can bring some herbal tea with us?”

A sobering chill ran through me. Subtly, but clearly, my master was saying that talking about Ixralia was going to make him want to drink. And one lone week was not long enough for him to have developed any solid defences against that desire, his inability to purchase alcohol notwithstanding.

“I’ll make sure I bring some,” I promised, making a mental note of several other preparations I might need to make – scheduling some breaks throughout the day, for example, or maybe even faking an urgent call from Henderson to give my master an excuse to be able to slip away for a few minutes. The pressure to make such plans was daunting, but also oddly invigorating. I was needed. I was useful. I was responsible for managing logistical activities that my master was unable to handle on his own.

This was what I had always been taught my master would require of me, and I felt a swell of love in my chest for this remarkable man, as a shy smile settled on my face. “I’d better go and see if the next food delivery is here,” I said, backing towards the door. If I didn’t do something sensible, I was going to start fawning over him like a lovesick teenager.

“Sounds good,” my master replied. “I’m just going to stay here for a minute.” He swallowed, then straightened his shoulders. “I’ll be outside soon.”