Cyra silently thanked her best friend for always believing in her. Next order of business. “Did Dez eat?”
Veda tilted her head. “Not much.”
“Do you know where he is?”
Veda supplied the room number he’d selected. Cyra noted it was the smallest crew quarters available. Used in the past for the low-level maintenance crew, it had a double bunk and not much else if she remembered correctly. She’d stayed in one when she’d first come aboard.
“Dez?” Cyra knocked on the door. It slid open, and she took a step back. Shirtless, Dez was even more mouthwatering than fully clothed Dez. Cyra blinked away the inappropriate impulses. “Veda says you aren’t eating. Are you sick?”
“Surprisingly no. I should be from eating the trays of substance you call food.” He crossed his arms and his muscles bulged. Dark lines traced the edges making them stand out even more.
Cyra crossed her arms. “You have to eat. The meals are balanced with protein, carbs, all the nutrients.”
“Processed in an approved warehouse and machined into packages. I can taste every wrapper, every box the garbage you call food was transported in before it reached this ship and sadly my plate.”
Heat lit Cyra’s cheeks. “I’m sorry we don’t have a chef, your highness, but might I remind you, you’re not a passenger. You’re cargo. Cargo I have to deliver in some semblance of health. So you will eat. If I have to put you in a medical coma and put a tube down your throat.”
Dez puffed up, his yellow gaze burned into her like lasers. “Fine, Captain. But may I make use of the remaining capsaicin oil?”
“The what?” Cyra hadn’t expected him use such a calm tone as angry as he clearly was.
“The oil I used to repel the spiders—no one else seems to appreciate it. It will help me to swallow the muck you call food.”
And there he went, reminding her of how he’d saved her ship. “Of course you can use that if you like it. Can you also please join us in the galley? I’m sorry about the cargo comment. It was uncalled for.”
“It was accurate. And yes, I’ll join you.” Dez relaxed his stance. “Anything else?”
“We’ll be landing on Morgual soon.”
Dez nodded. An electric silence sparked between them. Neither making the move to fully retreat. Cyra opened her mouth to say something to fill the void, inexplicably unable to walk away.
“If there’s nothing else?”
Cyra shook her head.
The door closed between them and Cyra felt it low in her belly. She chided herself all the way back to the deck. Dez was cargo, and she had to eliminate any attraction she might hold for the male. Cargo. If she repeated it often enough to herself, she might remember the next time she saw him.
“We have all the authorizations to land,” Cyra told Blaize and Rhysa the next cycle.
“Have we heard from the buyer?” Rhysa asked from her seat on the bridge as she refined the landing plans to route to the assigned dock.
“He’s hedging, but we have the spiders.” And no way to get rid of them. “It’s not like he’s going to get another shipment anytime soon. We’re one of the few transporters that caries biologics in this region. Not many ships are even equipped for live cargo.” Acid swirled in Cyra’s gut as she repeated all the reasons the customer had to accept the order more to refocus herself than appease the crew. “The environmental systems, lock downs, redundant life support systems, food delivery systems. Captain Auvi put his investment money there. The ship may not have the latest greatest in terms of engines and navigation, at least it didn’t, but we do have the best cargo support systems.”
“What’s the plan if the customer doesn’t pay.” Rhysa’s pink gaze bored into Cyra.
“First, I’ll try to wait him out, but we have a short window for that to work. The spiders will be starving.” And Cyra so didn’t want to buy spider food or to even know what they ate. “He may be trying to bluff. If that doesn’t work, I’ll post them for sale and see if we have any takers on-planet.”
“Good. If he sees a posting for his cargo, that may be the fire he needs to finish the deal.” Rhysa turned back to her screen.
The landing went perfectly. Cyra couldn’t have asked for more technically skilled partners—they did the work of a crew of ten easily.The Treasurewas docked in the high security area of the port. Veda would stay on board with Dez while Cyra met with the buyer. Blaize and Rhysa were taking on the task of finding more fuel and food.
Cyra arrived at the satellite office of the pharmaceutical company. The air was thick with the tang of chemicals and char. The landscaping had a distinct brownish-gray tinge. Cyra couldn’t wait to get off the planet, but first she had to get the contract paid, the spiders delivered, and hopefully another contract secured. No pressure.
She waited in the utilitarian lobby. Pale gray floors, high windows, and bare white walls with framed images of happy beings in sunny locations clearly benefitting from better living through chemistry. And clearly not on this planet.
A male stomped toward her. Hairless, with mottled greenish-skin that had a rubbery appearance. His eyes were big and slightly to the outside of his head. She’d have to ask Veda what planet he was from. Maybe he was a native, but she hadn’t seen anyone like him at the docks. He didn’t greet her, just came to a stop and stared.
“Habarek? I’m Captain Cyra Maejzur ofThe Treasure. I have your delivery.”
