Page 9 of Bikar

Bambi’s last comment did not escape my notice. She is not used to a male taking accountability for their actions, nor apologizing for any wrongdoing.

Thankfully, I am not a stupid male.

Well…

Not any stupider than the rest of my brothers, even if part of my brain is no longer organic matter. Mulling the situation over,I realize strategy must be implemented. Every good mission starts out with a foolproof plan.

Step one of wooing my mate is simple:

I must apologize for my misdeeds.

But…how?

Typing in the commands for the autopilot, I input the coordinates for Viri 9 before leaning back in my seat, contemplating the best way to apologize. That’s when I realize I know next to nothing about my mate.

She flees from me or hides behind her friend every time we are in the same room. It was not so bad before my mating collar formed, but now she avoids me like I have a contagion.

Thankfully, I have a solid sense of self-worth, or else her avoidance would have wounded me deeply. Truth be told, the only contact we have had is the rotation she fell into me and triggered the mating bond. Cringing, I now realize that carrying her from the room immediately afterward was extremely foolish. I can still remember the sound of her breath coming in shorter and shorter gasps as the scent of her terror intensified, until she was so frightened that she appeared incapable of conscious thought.

Racking my brain for an idea, I rifle through different versions of a plan, and then it hits me. It is glaringly obvious, and I am a fool for not realizing it sooner.

The data block!

It holds everything a being could want to know about human society. Social etiquette, history, art, literature—it iseverything. Would it not be grand for me to utilize the very thing that alienated my mate from me to gain her trust?

Pulling the data block from the inside pocket of my vest, I set it on the console and stare in silent contemplation. For something so small and innocuous, it is far more poignant than I ever realized it could be.

Leaning forward, I pop the tech lead release from under the comm console with the tips of my fingers before shrugging off my vest, exposing the ports hidden amongst the dorsal spines below my wing slits. Activating my phasing function, I watch my left hand sink into the comm console and send a command to the tech leads. In unison, they lift off the floor, slipping around me sinuously like the tail end of a Jega, seamlessly sliding into the ports in my back. Snarling at the unfamiliar sensation, I tremble as the leads create an interface connection with the shuttle’s mainframe.

My mind becomes one with the shuttle, and I am everywhere at once. Every being is known to me, every function on the shuttle is mine to command. It is intoxicating to finally use my body for what it was designed to do.

I am the perfect bridge between an organic and non-organic being. The best of both worlds…allegedly.

Refocusing on the task at hand, I grab the data block with both hands and, without fully thinking it through, allow my fingers to phase into it, instantly absorbing countless lines of code. The transfer takes mere tics, and my brain struggles to process the sheer volume of information I just shoved inside it.

Blood freely flows from both nostrils as it runs down my face— absorbing an entire world’s information at once may have been foolish.

Lights flash at the edges of my vision before everything begins to go dark.

If my brothers find out about this, I am never going to hear the end of it.

CHAPTER 9

BAMBI

The itching feeling that something’s wrong has been bothering me for the last hour, and being unable to fall asleep is pushing me from annoyed to mad the longer I lie here. I’m not hungry, thirsty, or overly anxious, but something is justoff.Huffing in frustration, I fling the covers off and slip out of bed before pulling on the clothes I left lying out.

Maybe a glass of something warm from the dining hall will help?

Quietly exiting my room, I try to remember where Heather said the communal areas are. Hoping I’m going the right way, I tiptoe down the hall. Oddly though, the sense of disquiet gets worse the farther I go. By the time I reach the door at the end of the corridor, my heart is pounding in my chest, and something is telling me to hurry. That there isn’t much time left.

Time left for what, though?

Without conscious thought, I swipe my hand across the access panel to the helm room… and the unconscious body of Bikar slumped in the pilot’s seat.

My first instinct is to turn around and run right back out the door, but this weird feeling in my chest holds me immobile despite my fear of men… and Bikar in particular. I’m in no wayequipped to deal with this, but that sense of wrongness propels me slowly into the room towards him. Taking a few hesitant steps closer, the door slides shut behind me with a definitive click, making me flinch. Squinting, I realize that dark blood is steadily flowing out of both Bikar’s nostrils, ears, and eyes. I’m not a doctor, but even I know bleeding like that is bad.

Bikar is unconscious, which, given his current condition, is probably a blessing.