This story has been rewritten. Please see chapter 1 for details.

Chapter 7

The lid of the tabletop reactor squelched as it sealed shut. He thumped his fingers against the table. Things were getting out of hand. On top of the darkness, people were starting to doubt him, he had a vengeful Chula on the prowl, and if he didn't put a stop to Rose's insolence, she'd go and off herself in some other careless endeavor soon enough. And how long did it take for a human to sleep anyhow? It was nearly midday.

He walked to the console and tapped the comm. "Sikah, wake Rose. Escort her to the veranda for brunch at once, and keep out of 'Thet's way. I don't want any more unexpected duels." Without waiting for a reply, he headed for the doors.

Pale light filtered through ruffled clouds as he made his way down the stairs toward his private overlook. He paused at the sight of two ornate chairs nestled against a cast-metal table that had been painted white. Breakfast had already been set. A vase topped the vignette, filled with exotic flowers that smelled from feet away.

How'd they do that so fast? And where had his usual table gone?

Wait—everyone was under the impression he had a consort. This must be someone's premeditated idea of a romantic setting. He slid his hands down the sides of his face. Wonderful. How long would he have to keep up this ridiculous illusion?

"I see you finally moved the ship," someone said from behind him.

He turned.

Rose walked toward him in a plain, silk blue nightgown, no limp in sight.

Behind her, Sikah bowed but did not move from beyond the foot of the stone staircase. Instead, he swiveled to give them some semblance of privacy, folded his arms behind him, and waited to be commanded.

Rose let out a long yawn, half over before she stifled it. "Do you know what it's like to be woken up by two disembodied eyes? Yanking me out of bed and giving me the scare of my life …. Hope you don't mind me au naturel."

"You look entirely presentable." He pulled out a chair for himself. "I see you've made a full recovery. And anyway, I've given you ample time to rest. You've slept away the entire morning."

"Pfft," she said as she collapsed into his seat. "'Morning' is a relative term on a ship like this and you ruddy well know it, you impatient Time Lord."

He aimed a tread-lightly expression her direction as he sat across from her, but Rose armed herself with her most distracting smile—tongue between her teeth, brows angled downward like some sly minx. He pressed his lips together to keep the edge of his mouth from turning up, but failed.

She drank to her small victory, draining her glass, and then let out a puff of air. "I think you just couldn't wait through the night to see me again."

"Well that's just—That's not …" His cheeks flushed.

"Oh, would you look at that? King of the castle, turning all red."

"Don't," he said with a point. "I can summon anyone whenever I very well please. It's hardly inferential."

"You know what I think? I think under that stern exterior, you're nothing but a great, big softie." She leaned in and poked him in the chest.

He brushed her hand away. "Please."

"No, really. What you did last night, letting Ayaliah go, that was very big of you. And you were so worried about me. It was kinda sweet."

"Sweet? Rose, you've got it all wrong."

"Oh, I do, do I?"

"Yes," he muttered into his glass. "Don't know how half of those mad ideas end up in that head of yours."

She twisted her mouth to the side and he could almost hear the unspoken insults—all of them of the 'Time Lord ego' variety. "Fine then," she said after a moment. "Let's hear your version of it."

He set his wine on the table. "No. I didn't summon you here to discuss such nonsense."

"Yep," she said with a pop of the 'p'. "That cinches it. Great, big softie. Too afraid to admit that he's not an emotionless robot after all."

He sighed. Was it mad to try to reign her in? Did he even want to? Rose was so intriguing because of her uninhibited nature. And as often as he wanted to strangle her, she also made him laugh.

Rose propped herself up on her elbows, her fists tucked under her chin. Even without makeup her face glowed with that ever-present enthusiasm. "Well, go on then. Whatcha wake me up for?"

"I …" Was he ready to extinguish that spark? Everything that made her so very Rose?

No. Not yet.

He sat up in his chair. "First off, you're to steer clear of Chan Coi 'Thet. To his species, there could be no greater dishonor than being bested by a female human."

She swirled her spoon in her bowl with a less-than-amused expression.

"This isn't a game, Rose. It is not beyond him to attack you against my wishes and I don't want that to happen."

"That it, then?" She sniffed the murky liquid and wrinkled her nose.

"Not entirely, no. The colosseum rules have changed."

"What? Why?"

"Well, I can't have servants fighting for each other's freedom, can I?" He tested his own soup. Earthy flavors overpowered his tongue. "The place would be c—" he coughed and cleared his throat "—chaos."

"Why not? They just want to go home and see their families and loved ones again."

"But I've given them everything they could ever need. The best medical care, the best clothes, food, and entertainment. The best technology and education. They would never have such luxuries in their respective times."

"You think they would rather have all of that than their loved ones? Seriously?" Her spoon plopped into her bowl. She pressed her fingertips together and leaned toward him. "Have you ever been around someone who makes your heart race and your palms sweaty? Someone you can't stop thinking about even if you try? And you find that all you want is to be in that person's company?"

He froze in mid-sip. Without warning, his stomach pitched backward. Perhaps it was the food. Yes, must be. He lowered his glass and dabbed his mouth with a napkin.

"And then imagine," she continued, "imagine that person you care for is ripped from you, and you'll never see that person again. Imagine the pain."

Memories of the night before flooded back—the anxiety of losing her, the ache in his chest when he thought she'd died. Suddenly he understood their puzzling reluctance to serve aboard his palace.

Did that mean he … cared?

"Have you ever been in love, Victor?"

He jerked his head up.

Rose twisted a lock of hair around her finger. In the distance, Sikah angled his bald, grey head to the side a centimeter.

He swallowed the lingering spice lodged in his throat. "No."

"Oh, just forget it then." She fell back against her chair and let out a drawn-out sigh.

He glanced at her untouched bowl. "Something the matter with the soup?"

"Calling it soup implies the stuff is edible."

His mouth tightened, but he allowed himself a slight closed-lip smile. "Well, it is an acquired taste."

Rose rested her face in her palm. "Can I ask you something?"

His attention drifted to the mesmerizing way she nibbled the edge of her pinky nail as she spoke. "Hm?"

"Do you ever think about just getting out there and seeing the stars just for fun? No conquering or anything? Just quietly walk among everyday people, get a bite to eat kind of thing?"

"Why would I want to? I've got everything I could possibly want right here."

"Seriously? You've got a time machine and you've never just gone sight-seeing?" She dropped her arm to the table. "You don't know what you're missing. You haven't lived until you've had chips from a 20th century London street vendor, wrapped in newspaper and all greasy. They're totally bad for you and yet so good."

He looked at his own bowl. Bits of unidentified spice floated along the top of his broth. "Alright, then. I could do with a bit of sightseeing." He tossed his napkin onto the table. "Let's go."

Her eyes brightened. "Really?"

"Why not? I'd like to see how these chips hold up to your fanfare."

"You won't be disappointed." She sprang from her seat, paused for a moment, and then thrust her arm in front of his face. Silver gleamed at her wrist. "Almost forgot. Can't leave the ship without being vaporized, right?"

What if she tried to escape? Would she dare?

"Oh, come off it," Rose said as though reading his mind. "I'm not gonna leave you. On my honor." She crossed her hand over her breast.

This better not backfire on him. He dug out his laser and ran the red light along the metal band. It clicked open into his hand.

Behind her, Sikah no longer stood at-the-ready, but gawked. He caught himself and resumed his polite look-at-something-else stare toward the horizon.

Just what he needed—another reason for his servants to doubt him. But what did it matter what Sikah thought? After Ayaliah's close brush with death, he knew not to go blabbering about things he shouldn't.

Rose didn't notice. Instead, she stared down her front. "Hold on, can I change? I won't exactly fit in like this."

His gaze followed the path of her hands as she ran them down to her hips and back up. "Hm? Yes, fine. I'll have Sikah return your old clothes." He snapped his fingers. Sikah bowed low, his dark tunic bunching at the belt, then he glided up the stairs. He better not do anything foolish.

"And," Rose said with a tone of voice that verged on presumptuous, "you could stand to put a perception filter on your ship. If you wanna be incognito you can't fly around in a floating fortress, now can you?"

He scratched at the back of his neck. "Well, what do you suggest?"

She was all teeth and tongue.