Ariel's first flight as a pilot was smooth and quiet like a pleasure cruise. As if the boy were bringing Nelsa luck, not merely a cup of coffee to the cockpit. He made coffee like an angel of the Lord. "Lad, aren't you a godsend," she'd wanted to say once but held her tongue. The thought of a slave trader being a God's tool was a blasphemy.
It took her about three weeks to admit she liked Ariel. Long ago, she'd hated boys that age, those pimped arrogant youths who suffered from bad cases of sperm poisoning and masked their unease with rudeness and swagger. But her second pilot had none of that. He had strength and integrity, he took life seriously and felt responsibility for everything he said and did. He respected Nelsa deeply, sincerely, but didn't lick her boots. Only that ineradicable 'mistress' now and then was a reminder of his past. Nelsa let it slide, since he'd never failed to call her Captain in public.
Ariel was not only helpful around the ship, but also skilled and eager to apply his skills. So Nelsa suddenly found herself in a possession of a huge load of free time. Before, she could have hardly afforded to stare into the starlit darkness out of the cockpit window, to spend some time with a book in her cabin or to discuss poetry with anyone. For the last ten years people around her hadn't been caring overmuch about art and literature. Unless it was an alien artifact worth a whole load of money to some collector.
Nelsa herself had always been able to enjoy written word and admire objets d'art, even without any proper education. She'd learned only bits and pieces: courtly lyrics, romance stories, best-selling books of Bizarre, a touch of classics, a bit of philosophy, history and fine arts, small vocabulary of sayings in ancient languages. All those were standard tools of her previous trade. Having turned into a smuggler, she had managed to keep feeding something to her brain now and then. She would read a modern book or an ancient one from the rich legacy of The Cradle. Still, she was no match for Ariel. The boy seemed to have devoured everything worth reading in the universe. He was equally good in admiring fine arts and reading the layouts of a hyper-drive engine.
Once or twice she caught herself envying him. Refined intellectuals for parents, who had an aristocratic background and worshipped education and other spiritual things. Good Lord, he didn't even know how to swear! And blushed fervently every time Nelsa used strong language; at first, anyway.
YOU ARE READING
My Angel of the Dawn (WomanxBoy, ManxBoy, Sci-Fi + Romance)
Ciencia Ficción[FINISHED]The space pilot and smuggler Nelsa Thorn suddenly comes into possession of a young slave. It seems there is no possibility of true love and happy ending. But everything is possible if you have the courage to embrace whatever fate has in st...
