Page 3 of My Alien Bughead (Supernova Casanovas #4)
Chapter 3
D’Aakh
“What the fuck, Captain?!” I yell the moment I bump into Zarkan in one of the destroyed corridors.
Nonplussed, he merely tilts his head in my direction. “Good day to you too, D’Aakh,” he rumbles, the twitch of his thick tail letting me know he’s suppressing a laugh.
I, on the other hand, am not laughing. “Good day? How is this a good day?”
“Well, we’re alive. I’d say that constitutes a good day.”
I can’t refute that. Better than anyone on the ship, I know how close we all came to dying. Our chances of survival were pretty damn bleak when the hyperdrive malfunctioned right next to a neutron star. Cai calculated them for me within three decimal points of accuracy. They were miniscule.
Yet, we survived. It wasn’t just thanks to my desperate, yet brilliant plan but I dare say I played a vital role in our escape. Which is why this hurts even more.
“You’re hiring another technician?” I blurt out, masking the hurt in my voice with anger.
Zarkan sighs. “I don’t have any doubts about your technical skills but a ship of this size—”
“I can handle everything on my own! I always have before.” My ahni twitch, their tips glowing bright orange, a sign that I’m about to explode.
“You have,” Zarkan agrees, his tone placating. “However, that was back when we were a regular Voidstalker squad with UGC staff at our beck and call. We’re alone now and this ship is huge. You’re a brilliant technician, D’Aakh, but you’re only one person. Cruisers aren’t built to be maintained by just one person, even if they’re in top condition, which the Supernova is not. Hence, the extra technician to help us with repairs.”
Everything he says makes sense. He knows it. I know it. But the molten pit of anger and despair that’s been burning inside my chest for weeks won’t let me accept it.
Shoving my hands in my pockets probably makes me look like a brooding adolescent, but I need to hide how much my hands are trembling. If Zarkan sees it, he’ll know something is wrong. He’ll order me to rest, to stay away from work, and I’ll lose the only thing in my fucked up life that still makes sense.
Squeezing my shoulder, Zarkan leans in to look me in the eyes. “When was the last time you slept, D’Aakh? Really slept, not just napped in the maintenance walkways in between fixing things?”
The last time I truly slept? I can’t even remember.
It doesn’t matter. I don’t need sleep. I need to fix things. Me. Not someone else. Someone who’ll just fuck everything up and then I’ll have to fix it again after they’ve finished, anyway.
“I don’t need sleep,” I repeat out loud, immediately knowing it was a mistake.
Zarkan narrows his eyes at me. “Yes, you do. You haven’t been yourself since Mzr—”
“Don’t,” I snarl as I grab the front of Zarkan’s uniform. “I love you like a father, Zarkan. Hell, I love you more than my real father. But don’t fucking say her name again. It’s…” It’s too much. I can’t think about her. Every time I do, that molten ball of lava inside of my chest grows until it threatens to swallow me whole.
“It’s normal to grieve, D’Aakh. But what you’re doing isn’t grieving. You’re hiding from the pain instead of letting yourself feel. We all grieved but the rest of us were able to accept her death. You never have.”
He sounds so fucking calm I want to punch him. “You think I haven’t accepted her death? She died in my arms! She bled out while I was trying to save her. I watched her fucking life leave her eyes. I know she’s dead!”
“Knowing something and accepting it are two very different things, my friend. You never got to the acceptance phase.”
“Fuck your phases and fuck you too, Captain.” I’m so done with this conversation I consider just storming off but I can’t, because we still haven’t addressed the current problem. “Is that why you’re bringing some half-brained primitive aboard? Because I’m not in the right ‘phase’?” I put as much venom into my words as I can, hoping to get a rise out of him. Hoping he’ll just snap and yell at me. Punch me. Fuck, I want someone to punch me.
But Zarkan keeps his ever-frustrating calm. “No, D’Aakh. I’m not trying to replace you. But this ship is falling apart and you’ll die of exhaustion if you try to fix it on your own.”
He’s probably right, but dropping dead from exhaustion isn’t as terrifying a prospect to me as he thinks it is. I’m not going to kill myself but if I were to simply die… Let’s just say, I wouldn’t complain too hard. I don’t think anyone would miss me much, either. They’d probably be relieved.
Since I’m not dropping dead at the moment, I need to get back to work. Preferably without anyone interrupting me. “I can handle things myself, Captain. Besides, Cai told me the only available technician on this station is a human. Seriously? A human? What would a human possibly know about spaceships? Their idea of space travel is straddling a hydrogen tank and setting it on fire!”
“The foreman assured me that Lucía Nores is the best mechanic they have around here. Also, the only one they can afford to spare if they don’t want to hinder their crylonite production.” He sighs. “You’ve been living with humans for weeks now, D’Aakh. Do you really think their intelligence is so low? I took you for an intelligent male, not a bigot.”
“Of course I don’t think they’re all stupid,” I mutter, my ahni drooping low at Zarkan’s reprimand. “But this is advanced engineering we’re talking about. There’s no way a human could have the required knowledge or experience to work on the Supernova.”
Zarkan shrugs. “You can assign her simpler tasks and see for yourself. But, if she’s working on one of FrenCorp’s highest profit facilities, she can’t be all that bad. I assume she’ll arrive in a couple of hours. Then we’ll unseal the maintenance walkways, find the insects that are hiding in there and assess the damage to the ship. Until then, get some rest.”
I want to protest more but Zarkan gives his best don’t-fuck-with-your-commanding-officer glare, a deep snarl rumbling in his chest. “That’s an order, D’Aakh. We might not be an official Voidstalker squad anymore but you voted me as the captain of this ship, so you will follow my orders. Is that clear?”
After years of service, instinct has me replying “yes, sir” before I can think of another response.
“Good.” Zarkan nods. “Dismissed.”
Again, my feet carry me away without consciously deciding to walk. Sometimes I feel like Zarkan is using special psychic powers to influence us, aside from just his natural authority.
Begrudgingly following the captain’s order, I head to my quarters, making a pit stop along the way. Everything in the infirmary reminds me of Mzr. I try to avoid it as much as I can but I’m almost out of stimsticks.
Fortunately, the infirmary is empty. Nikolai, the human who took over Mzr’s kingdom, is probably busy going at it full throttle with his new mate in their room, so there’s no one to question my presence here. No one to ask why I’m taking two weeks’ worth of stimulants that are absolutely not meant to be used long term.
As soon as I’ve found the drawer containing the small oblong objects, I click one into the inhaler and breathe in deeply. That familiar feeling of every synapse firing on high spreads through me, causing a full body shudder from the influx of energy. Sleep? I snort. Who needs sleep?
Filling my pockets until the drawer is almost empty, I hesitate. Before, I usually just took one or two, but as my body’s tolerance for the drug grows, I need them more often. Yes, I know that’s not a good thing. There’s a reason these things aren’t widely available—they’re highly addictive and the withdrawal symptoms are severe. In some cases, deadly. When I run out, I’ll probably die.
Smirking at the negative thoughts now filling my head, I think, Who the fuck cares?
I clean out the rest of the drawer. If I’m stealing, I might as well do it properly. Nikolai won’t notice the stimsticks missing, anyway. It’s not like he knows what they’re for or that we even have them on board. He’s just another human.
He might be a surprisingly fast learner but no amount of studying will help him overcome the disadvantage of being born on a primitive planet. Yes, he spends almost all of his spare time learning about the biology of various species. He’s been studiously reading up on medical technology, chemistry, and a number of other things he’ll need if he ever wants to become a proper doctor. The human sleeps almost as little as I do. I’d admire his dedication to learning if his efforts weren’t completely futile. He’ll never be as good as Mzr.
No one will ever be as good as Mzr.
Besides, Nikolai is weak. He still sleeps. If he really was intelligent, he’d have learnt about stimulants first. Then he could have been dosing up like me and spending every day and night studying instead of sleeping.
There’s a tiny voice of reason in the back of my mind arguing how fucked up my thought process is and that maybe, just maybe, Nikolai is the smarter one here. I block it out. I know what I’m doing.
Mechanical things are easy to fix. There’s always a loose wire, a damaged cog, or a faulty block of code. Every time I repair or build something, I get a rare few seconds of happiness. Of feeling that maybe I’m not a complete failure. That I’m good for something, after all. Even though I couldn’t fix the one thing that mattered most to me. I couldn’t save Mzr.
I’ve gone over her death a million times. Logically, I know I did everything I could have. I tried my best, did everything I was supposed to do. I followed the first aid steps to the letter.
She still died. Because I couldn’t fix her.
As I angrily wipe away the tears rolling down my cheeks, I realize I do know the answer to Zarkan’s question.
The last time I slept? Sixty-three days ago. The night before the only female I’ve ever loved died in my arms.