Page 25 of Reaper
She opened her mouth to say something, but suddenly stopped, her head turning sideways to look at someone coming from behind me. I looked over my shoulder to see the modified Creckels, Brees in the lead, approaching the ramp. Janelle released me and went to stand in front of the female, fists on her hips, and a stern expression on her face. By the amount of psychic energy emanating from my woman and swirling around the Creckels, there was no question she was chastising them for putting themselves in harm’s way, and that they were giving their counterarguments.
“Yes, you were impressive, but you still scared me,” Janelle finally said out loud with a bit of a pout. “And now, you’re a complete mess.”
“And so are the rest of us,” Doom said with a smile. “Don’t be so hard on them. They did phenomenally well for their first time. Maybe we should recruit them all in the Vanguard.” All the Creckels’ heads jerked towards him, a stunned expression on their faces. “Let’s clean up. We have a lot of work left to do.”
He gently caressed Brees’s head, being careful not to cut himself on her horns, before heading inside the ship. We followed him in. After a quick shower and donning clean clothes, we split up to try and get as much work done as possible before our lunch break.
Madeline and Thanh focused on repairing the damage the ship had sustained and running full diagnostics to make sure we wouldn’t have any surprises once we took off, likely tomorrow.
Doom and my Soulcatcher Martha went inside the base to work on opening the way into the basement. Unlike the entrance that previously had loads of rubble and twisted metal to remove without causing a collapse, the basement’s access had already been cleared by the Creckels years ago—aside from the few boulders that had fallen in when we’d worked on the entrance. But two thick plates of metal had been welded on top of the elevator shaft to prevent the cabin from going lower and blocking the only way down. Using the laser excavator, they went to work. It would take a few hours but, with luck, we might unseal it before nightfall.
Reklig, Stran, and I were responsible for butchering the Zebiers and handing over the meat for Jessica and Janelle to cut into more manageable sizes both for storage and consumption by the Creckels. There was way too much meat. We hadn’t planned on hunting that many Zebiers, but they hadn’t given us a choice. To my surprise, the modified Creckels joined our efforts. Half of them helping the women, slicing the meat with their sharp claws with the same dexterity Brees had displayed when she’d first cut the steaks I’d brought them inside the base. The other half, under the guidance of Stran, took care of peeling off the layers of scales so that Reklig and I could focus on butchering and deboning them.
By the time we stopped for lunch, we were barely a quarter of the way done.
As we entered the mess hall, Janelle cast a worried look at Jessica who burst out laughing. The automated buffet always provided a variety of foods from light to decadent. Jessica indicated all the dishes my woman could take from—steaks excluded. It was both hilarious and heartbreaking to see Janelle pile on a mix of everything permitted on her plate. She would never be able to eat it all, but after being deprived for so long, her reaction didn’t surprise me. But when she reached the desserts table, she froze, her eyes bulging and her nostrils flaring.
“That scent! What is it?” Janelle asked, pointing at some cinnamon buns. “It smells so good! It smells like you do sometimes. What is it called?”
Doom snorted, but quickly regained his composure, although still visibly trying not to chuckle. Reklig, irreverent as ever, burst out laughing. The women gasped, Martha biting the insides of her cheeks not to laugh as well. My face and my chest heated. Lucky for me, my dark scales further darkening didn’t show, unlike the Xian Warriors whose golden scales visibly darkened when they were embarrassed.
“It’s called cinnamon,” I said, trying to hide how mortified I felt.
Janelle cast a confused look at the others, an uncertain expression on her face. It struck me then that she must be thinking they were laughing at her ignorance.
“We’re laughing at Reaper,” Doom said, perceptive as always.
“Why? Because he sometimes smells like cinnamon?” Janelle asked, more confused than ever when the team laughed again. “Is it a bad thing? I like it.”
“It’s not a bad thingat all,” Madeline said, glaring at her mate and the rest of the team. “Reaper can tell you all about it later. For now, you slackers all need to hurry up and eat. We have a ton of meat that will soon go bad outside unless we get cracking.”
I could have kissed Reklig’s mate for sparing me further humiliation. I gave her a grateful psychic nudge, which she reciprocated. How was I supposed to tell Janelle that the cinnamon scent came from the pheromones I released every time I became aroused? That if I released enough of them, it would drive my mate—her—insane with lust?
We settled at the table and made quick work of our meal. Seeing my mate munch on the small piece of cinnamon bun Jessica allowed—barely a couple of bites—did crazy things to me. Seeing Reklig’s taunting grin as she did so made me itch with the urge to punch the insufferable male. Although he was one of my best friends—almost a brother—I often wrestled with the desire to give him a good trouncing. Provoking and taunting were pretty much a standard personality trait with male Scelks.
Sadly, we didn’t finish opening the basement or butchering the Zebiers before we called it a night. The basement would be a few more hours, but the Zebiers would take at least three full days. After much debate, we agreed not to let all that meat go to waste and tweaked the temperature of the cargo hold to temporarily turn it into a cold room overnight.
While Jessica was giving my mate another medical examination, I went back down inside the base and, with Madeline’s assistance, I downloaded all the records and files of the research Janelle’s parents had done. This way, my mate could refer to it as needed as she cared for the modified Creckels going forward.
When we came back up, Jessica gave my woman the go ahead to sleep in her own quarters. We were both extremely pleased with Janelle’s speedy recovery. After her initial weakness in the morning, my mate had steadily grown stronger during the day, despite the work she had performed. The only reason I hadn’t objected to her helping cut meat was because she’d done so under the supervision of our Chief Medical Officer, ensuring she didn’t overexert herself.
I escorted Janelle to the quarters that had been assigned to her, which were next to mine. Thoughtful as always, the women had brought along extra clothes for any survivors we might rescue, including sleepwear for the mission. My mate’s eyes widened at the sight of the room. It was decorated in the usual black and gold of the Vanguard, although with the lighter grey walls we often used inside ships. A large bed occupied the right side of the room, framed by a pair of nightstands. Two doors on the right wall gave access to the closet and to the bathroom complete with shower. On the opposite side, a small seating area with a loveseat and a chair faced a giant screen. In addition, a small breakfast table sat in the corner near the door.
Janelle approached the bed with hesitant steps before touching the mattress, a look of wonder on her face.
“This is your space until we get home,” I said softly. “If you need anything, you only have to ask. We want you to be as comfortable as possible.”
She nodded absentmindedly and looked around the room before staring back at me with an odd expression.
“Let me show you how things work,” I offered, suddenly feeling awkward.
I showed her how to operate the entertainment system, the com system—even though everyone usually communicated telepathically—the basic vocal commands for the ship’s artificial intelligence, and the room’s thermostat. Although she had already showered with Jessica’s help when I’d first taken her to the ship, I walked her through how to operate it again, seeing how she’d been fairly out of it back then.
As I gave her the tour, Janelle appeared to grow increasingly tense and quiet. I didn’t quite know how to interpret her behavior. When I asked her if everything was fine, she simply nodded. Was she just exhausted and wishing for me to leave?
“All right, you must be tired. I will let you rest. I’ll see you in the morning,” I said, utterly confused.
“Good night,” Janelle said with a neutral and detached tone.