Page 116 of Tanin's Treasure


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She’d already cleaned up the bridge – keeping it tidy required her popping in once every other day or so. She had Spot clean the floors in the halls and ran a chemical wash down in stowage. The blood stains were already gone when she emerged from Tanin’s room. The guys must have done it. Blood, it seemed, was the only thing they cleaned promptly and correctly. Ikvar messaged her again. It had been a little while, and she suspected that he was pretending to have forgotten to see if they’d mess up somehow. She was irritated with him and wanted to demand why Gissrn was still roaming free.

But she didn’t, because she didn’t want to actually talk to that guy. He was on her nerves and, honestly, she agreed with Tanin. As long as Gissrn wasn’t bothering them, she didn’t care what he did or what was happening to him. Responding to the peacekeeper captain was just another chore.

Now, she was bringing Vytln lunch.

The big guy rarely ever left his workroom. Of all the males here, he spent the least amount of time in his private quarters. She never saw him go into or out of the door she knew barred the way to his bedroom. He was always in his workroom, the one that was an antechamber to the engine room. She didn’t even see him go get food that often.

So, she decided to bring him food. Now that her deep clean of the Humility was done, keeping the place tidy was an easy task that didn’t require much time. Needing more time to think, she was reaching for any little chore she could. And, hell, if she could clean up after everyone else, she could also make sure everyone, including Vytln, was fed.

Coming to his door, she pressed the button on the small console beside it that acted as a doorbell, alerting him to the fact that she was there. His workroom wasn’t technically a private room, but because it was so close to the engine, it was hot in there. Like an oven. She had been advised by Alred that it wouldn’t be wise for her to spend much time inside. Or to go in without warning, as Vytln might be doing something that made the room more dangerous.

His people were hardy, Alred explained. He was a lvtl, and his species had two races that were highly polarized. Literally. One race was designed to tolerate extreme cold, while the other race, Vytln’s race, were evolved to handle extreme heat. They were the same species that lived on opposite sides of their planet. Vytln alone was capable of not only living in but thriving in the heat that the engine – with its cheap, inadequate shielding – put off.

With that warning in mind, Garnet patiently waited until Vytln opened the door. It slid back into the wall, revealing the large male with dark, rock-like brown skin. The many fissures crossing over his body. Through those lines, like breaks in the skin, she could see the same glow, like embers in a dying fire, that lit up his eyes. He gave her a look through those burning eyes, confused and suspicious.

Beaming, Garnet lifted up the tray. “Brought you food!”

His frown deepened. Really highlighting the crown of short, but sharp horns emerging from his big head.

“Why?”

“Because you always skip meals, and I thought you’d be hungry.”

“Er, the captain is usually on the upper bridge…”

“Yes, but he doesn’t skip meals. You do. So, here. I asked Alred what you liked, and he said you get this pretty frequently.”

Somehow, there was still room for Vytln to scowl deeper. But he accepted the tray, balancing it on one hand before slowly turning and stepping back. Like he wasn’t exactly sure what to do. But he left the door open, which prompted Garnet to come inside.

Shamelessly, she looked around as he walked the tray to what was clearly his workbench on the same wall as the door. There were a bunch of tools and half-finished projects strewn about all over it. The opposite wall had bigger machines and projects in various stages of disrepair spilling their mechanical guts all over the floor. Halfway across the room, there were two walls jutting out that created a divide between his workroom and something big that was rumbling and putting out alotof heat. Alred wasn’t lying. It was unbearably hot in here. There was already sweat beading on Garnet’s forehead.

But Vytln looked completely at ease. He walked with a stoop in his shoulders, like his muscular arms were so heavy, they were weighing him down. He set the tray in a free spot on the bench and stared at it like the very concept of food confused him.

Or maybe just the fact that she brought it to him.

“You’re one of Tanin’s guys,” Garnet said, smiling. Trying to get him to understand. “You help him. You work for him. So, I want to help you. Take care of you. And make sure you eat enough. You’re a big guy. You need to eat more. It’s not healthy to keep skipping meals.”

Vytln didn’t respond or turn. He just continued to stare at the food. Garnet went back to turning her eyes around the workroom.

The engine room, behind the angled, jutting walls, was the first thing that grabbed her attention. But when she looked away from it, on the opposite side of the room, there was another big, weird thing. It definitely wasn’t an engine. But it was certainly a… thing.

The outside was like a huge mass of metal objects that had all been melted and fused together into one big ball of scrap. Spiky and hard on the outside, there was something like a funnel effect in the center, leading to a small hole in which she could barely see something shining.

What was that? Would it be rude to ask? Would it be ruder not to ask?

Vytln suddenly stepped into her vision, making her jump. She smiled a bit too bright, laughing sheepishly. He was still scowling.

“Sorry. I wasn’t going to touch or anything. I was just curious.”

“That’s not for you,” he said.

“I know. I was only looking.”

“You’re the captain’s.”

If Garnet wasn’t already flushed from the heat, her face would have burned from the way he said that – so simply and definitively. Like it was just an established fact. Even the guys on the crew were already thinking about it like it was a done deal. And Vytln wasn’t even around that often!

“I’ll, er,” she hesitated, taking a step back. “I’ll bring you dinner later.”