Pathways - Jeri Taylor [164]
Then Neelix went to the Ogla, armed with tanks of water—including his own reserve supply. He offered to trade for cormaline, returning it to the Sara in return for a percentage of the mineral. After a few loops like this, he had built up a tidy supply of both water and cormaline ore.
He might have become reasonably well off from the Kazon if something completely unexpected hadn’t insinuated itself into his life. He had never counted on falling in love.
He saw her first on a typical visit to the Ogla. He had barrels of water from the Sara, which the Kazon miners needed desperately, as he hadn’t paid them a visit in several weeks. He landed his small vessel near their mining colony, a crude affair set not far from some crumbling ruins that had belonged to prior inhabitants of the planet.
Neelix entered the stone structure the Ogla had built to ward off the cruel desert sun, and immediately felt the temperature drop by twenty degrees. It was also blessedly dark inside, a relief from the unremitting glare outside. Odd bits of furniture dotted the room, homemade or cast off, and mismatched crates were stacked against the walls. In spite of its respite from the heat, it was a joyless place, and Neelix was glad he had to spend little time there.
He saw Jabin, the powerful and mean-spirited Maje of the mining faction, sprawled in a chair, sweating, every millimeter of his massive body covered with a fine white dust. His matted hair was dotted with what looked like chunks of debris; all the Kazon decorated their hair like this, but Neelix had never wanted to ask if it represented anything more than crude fashion. He tried not to wrinkle his nose at the odor Jabin exuded.
“Did you bring water?” the hulking man growled as soon as Neelix entered.
“Indeed, my good friend, I have seven barrels—cool and pure. It should slake your thirst handsomely.”
Jabin bellowed some unintelligible order at an aide, and Neelix felt, rather than saw, a flurry of activity in the dark room. Almost immediately, one of Neelix’s barrels was carried in and set next to Jabin, who called out yet something else.
There was a brief silence, and then someone emerged from the deep gloom of the chamber, moving quietly toward them. Neelix squinted, for this figure was one he’d not seen before, dainty and petite.
She was a young sprite, a nymph, a vision of ethereal loveliness. Pale wisps of hair curled, unkempt, on her head, framing a face that would cause any man to catch his breath. Large blue eyes, roughly the color of the sky on a spring morning, gazed sadly at nothing. In spite of her breathtaking beauty, she was forlorn, wreathed in melancholy. As she turned her head, Neelix saw delicate, wing-like ears, the mark of a species with which he was unfamiliar. They were unusual, but only added to her fragile beauty.
As she neared, Neelix also saw the unmistakable purpling of bruises on her ivory skin, and his heart constricted. She had been mistreated.
The waif seemed to know her duty: she took cups from a nearby table and, kneeling in front of the water barrel, drew several fingers of the precious liquid into each cup and presented them to Jabin and Neelix.
Neelix realized he was staring at her, but she kept her eyes lowered, deferential. Or—and he thought this was more likely the case—fearful, unwilling to provoke an outburst of wrath from Jabin for even the most imagined slight.
Jabin chuckled, a low, throaty growl that caught Neelix’s attention and made him jerk his head away from the girl and back to the hefty Kazon Maje. Jabin was eyeing him with sardonic amusement, and Neelix felt himself color in embarrassment.
“Quite a beauty, isn’t she? But that’s where her assets end. She’s all but worthless as a slave. Tires easily, wilts in the heat, no strength at all.”
A spark flicked in Neelix’s mind and he