by J. M. Page
Mara’s jaw dropped, her heart sank, and her pulse ticked into overdrive. “What? But how can you know that and not know—”
The bony finger came dangerously close to her nose. “I didn’t say I don’t know. I said I can’t help you. Now go,” the woman said, her voice quivering with age, but strong, resolute.
The now-familiar throb started in the back of Mara’s head and she tried her best to ignore it. To piece together whatever was happening here.
“Please, you don’t understand, I don’t know where else I’ll find—”
“Go,” she said again, lowering her hand and stepping away from the doorway. The hulking guard stepped in her place, blocking the door and cutting Mara off from the only person who seemed to have any idea about her.
“Wait, please!” Mara cried over the ringing in her ears, pain barreling through her temples. She couldn’t lose this lead; it was all she had.
Then the door slammed in her face.
Mara stared at the closed door for a long time, hoping against all rationality that it would open again and the woman would have had a change of heart.
It never happened.
The flier slipped from her fingers, fluttering to the ground, and Mara slumped against the building, her forehead pressed into the wall.
What now? Was she ever going to find any information? This woman clearly knew something, but said she couldn’t help her. What did that mean? What did any of it mean?
The secrets and lies were becoming exhausting. Mara only wanted the truth and it seemed she’d never find it at this rate.
She stumbled away from the nondescript building, her head throbbing in earnest now. Why did it feel like there were so many forces working against her? Why did it seem like she’d never get the truth she so longed for?
Mara took another step, her heel clicking on the cobblestones, her knee buckling as she put her weight forward. She caught herself on a wall, blinking, trying to clear her blurry vision. She needed to get back to the ship before anyone found her missing.
The directions all swam together, getting mixed up in her head. She was certain she knew how she’d gotten this far, but every turn left her more lost, more confused, and her head wasn’t clearing.
What would happen if everyone got back to the ship and she wasn’t there? Would they even notice she was gone? Or would they take off without her?
As much as she was annoyed with Torak and his crew for holding her prisoner, she didn’t know what she’d do if she wound up stranded on the smuggler planet. How would she take care of herself? How would she find a way home?
She stepped forward again, a buzzing in her ears, her vision going cloudy and white. This time, her leg did give way and Mara fell to the cobblestones, sharp eruptions of pain flaring up where her knees made contact. She couldn’t even focus on the pain through the haze in her head.
Then there was a hand encircling her upper arm. Lifting her to her feet. A soft voice asking if she was okay. She knew that voice.
Mara blinked rapidly, shutting her eyes tight to push back the tide of fog.
“Sande,” she exhaled, recognizing him.
“Are you alright?” he asked again, concern clear in his silvery eyes. “We should get you to a doctor.”
Mara leaned on him for support, the pain ebbing enough that she could see clearly again. She shook her head. “No, no, it’s okay,” she said. “I get these headaches sometimes… I have to take medicine a few times a year for it. I’ll be fine after I—”
She tightened her grip on his forearm, suddenly weak again. Mara realized for the first time that she didn’t have her medicine, that she had no real way of gaining access to it. She wasn’t even sure what it was, Dad always handled that. He’d never wanted to make a big deal out of it or make her feel fragile because of it.
And yet… He’d tried so very hard to keep her from coming on this trip. Was this the reason why? Or was it because he didn’t like the thought of her being more independent?
Sande frowned, his expression one of understanding. Like he was connecting dots that Mara herself still hadn’t located.
“How did you find me?” Mara asked, trying to forget about the uncertainties of her headaches. That was a worry for another day.
Sande offered an unimpressed look. “You triggered a silent alarm when you left your room. I suspect you disarmed the wrong wire,” he said, a lilt of amusement breaking through the concern. “Are you sure you wouldn’t like to see a healer?”
Mara nodded, still clutching his arm. “I just need to lay down. I wasn’t even supposed to be off the ship. You’re not going to tell Torak are you? Please don’t.”
She didn’t know why she cared. Maybe she just didn’t want to be lectured or locked up again. But also, somewhere deep down, she didn’t want to disappoint or worry him. She didn’t want to see the concern in Sande’s expression molded into Torak’s and that’s exactly what would happen if he knew about her little fainting spell.
It was better for all of them if it just stayed a secret.
“He is my Captain and my best friend,” Sande said, not really answering her at all.
“I think I’ve caused him enough problems. Perhaps we could just keep this one between us?” she tried again, going for a different tack.
Sande considered it as they walked through the city and finally gave a short nod. “Very well,” he said. It seemed to Mara that there was more he wanted to say, something on the tip of his tongue that he barely held back, but if there was, she never found out what it was.
He escorted her back to her room and Mara sank into the cot, her entire body feeling heavy and exhausted. Sande looked down on her, contemplative.
“What?” she finally asked, his lingering look making her uncomfortable for reasons she couldn’t pinpoint.
Sande’s expression remained placid, but his voice grew tight. “I’ve begun to wonder if perhaps you aren’t suited for such rigorous travel,” he said diplomatically.
Mara’s heart sank. She’d been wondering the same thing, too afraid to voice it out loud. She didn’t know what was going on with her lately, but being on this ship seemed to have taken its toll on her.
“I know. I mean, I don’t know, but I know what you’re saying. I feel like I don’t belong here,” she said, the words coming easier than she expected. Sande’s presence always seemed to have a calming effect. She wondered if that was just his personality or if that was a gift his race possessed.
“I don’t belong anywhere, truthfully,” she said, familiar despair choking her words. “I thought that… Well, I have no place on a ship with a bunch of ruthless pirates. I’ll never be able to reconcile destroying people or leaving them to die, regardless of what they’ve done. It makes me no better than a monster myself.”
Sande didn’t get upset with her like Delta had. He didn’t even rebut any of her grievances. He pulled the blanket up towards her with a sad look in his eyes and nodded.
“I’m sorry that’s how you feel. I think the Captain — and the rest of the crew — have tried their best to make you feel welcome, but some chasms are too wide to bridge.”
Mara frowned, toying with his words, trying to find something else to say. Somehow, she felt guilty for speaking her mind, for voicing her misgivings. Somehow, he’d made her feel like even more of a horrible person.
But that was ridiculous. She wasn’t the one terrorizing old men or blasting other ships out of the sky. She shouldn’t feel guilty at all.
“You should get some rest. I won’t mention your excursion to anyone,” he said, his voice still soft, tight, and closed off like she’d wounded him with her words.
Sande left, and Mara stared at the door, her heart heavier than ever.
Chapter Thirteen
Torak
After the comforts of Haven failed to rouse him out of his melancholy, Torak headed back to the ship. If there was no comfort to be found in women, drinks, or debauchery, he might as well be back doing work.
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br /> The thought turned his mood sour. How could this one woman turn him inside out so easily? How could she make him so useless, so unlike himself? It was disgusting.
Still, as he boarded the ship, he couldn’t stop thinking of going to visit her. He should apologize for being so callous. Yes, she needed to stay on the ship for her safety, but he didn’t need to be such a jerk about it. Even he could recognize that.
And he wanted to tell her that her father was free. He wanted to try to patch things up. To mend the rift he’d caused between them.
Potent bravery from the drink still coursed through his veins and Torak found himself heading up to her quarters, ready to lay himself bare for her forgiveness. He couldn’t stand this not talking to her. Not seeing her. Not hearing that wonderfully musical laughter.
It was driving him insane and tearing him apart.
He had to fix this.
As Torak neared her room, he gave himself a pep talk, reminding himself that he’d done many harrowing and frightening things, much more dangerous than apologizing to a girl he admired.
None of those reassurances quenched the anxious fire in his blood.
Just outside her door, he heard voices. Voices, plural. Mara was talking to someone.
It was difficult to hear through the door, which muffled words and dampened the volume, but he could tune into Mara’s voice, focusing on that.
“I don’t belong here,” she said and Torak’s heart seized, his breath freezing painfully in his lungs.
Those four words sent him into a spiral of uncertainty, his pulse throbbing in his ears. He forgot to listen closely, the entirety of his plans crashing down around him, making him feel more foolish than ever.
He heard enough, though. “Ruthless pirates,” “monster,” they weren’t kind things she was saying and he didn’t want to stick around to hear any more of it.
Just as he always thought: no one would ever be able to look past his heritage. No one could see a Son of Basniel and see a good person at the same time.
Not even the woman he made himself vulnerable to, shared his darkest secrets and insecurities with. If she couldn’t see past the exterior, past the reputation, who ever would?
He stalked back to the flight deck before he heard any more of the hushed conversation. All along, he’d known better than to hope. He’d known better than to think he could ever have more than just fear and intimidation.
He’d known better than to think that someone could possibly love him. Not him. He was a monster. A beast. Not even considered to be on the same level as others — certainly not human, but also devoid of those emotions that so many races shared. Compassion, empathy, loyalty. They weren’t traits that existed on Basniel. He’d been foolish to ever think he could learn them, or convince anyone else that he had.
He’d been foolish to ever try.
He slumped into the Captain’s chair, fiddling with the panels absently, trying to distract himself. He still remembered his flight instructor the day Torak asked about evasive maneuvers.
“Why would you want to know about that?” his instructor had said, a deep frown furrowing his brow. “We don’t run, we fight. We destroy. We crush those Imperial ships like the insects they are. You don’t need to learn to be a coward.”
Was he being a coward now? Too afraid to talk to the woman he cared about because he already knew she was going to reject him?
No, he was just being prudent. No need to have a conversation he already knew the outcome to.
“Captain, didn’t expect to find you here,” Sande said from the doorway.
Torak swiveled in his chair, raising a questioning brow. “Likewise,” he said. “Were the delicacies of Haven not to your liking?”
Sande gave no indication of an answer in his expression. “I had some business to attend to here, sir. Have you...slaked your thirst?”
A ghost of a smile twisted Torak’s lips at Sande’s careful wording. It quickly went away when he recalled the disaster at the Pulsing Quasar. “I found the offerings unsatisfactory,” he said, still thinking about Mara, though he knew he should just let it go. Let her go.
Sande nodded and sighed as he slipped into his own designated seat next to Torak. “I’d feared as much. What will you do now?”
“I…” Torak faltered, not knowing what to say next. “I guess I have no choice but to resume business as usual. I can’t allow her to set up camp in my mind and prevent me from taking care of this crew.” It was the first time he’d really acknowledged out loud that Mara was the root of his problems.
Sande didn’t seem surprised at all. Likely no one on the ship was. He’d never be able to hide his emotions from the crew, especially not when he was sulking about like a heart-broken teen.
“Have you considered making amends?” Sande offered casually.
Torak couldn’t even face him. The dark scowl that suggestion brought forth would be a dead giveaway. “I don’t have any confidence it would help matters,” he said, remembering how she called him a monster, no better than the rest of his kind. “I’m afraid her opinion of me is cemented.”
He didn’t have to look at Sande to know that his First Mate was giving him a dubious look. “Very well, I won’t belabor the point.”
“I appreciate it,” Torak said, his voice softening. If there was anyone on this whole ship that understood him, it was Sande.
He stood from his seat and stretched. “There’s still thirty hours of port leave,” he said. “I’m going to get some sleep before we start preparing for launch.”
Sande gave him a silent nod, his expression still conflicted, torn as if he wanted to say something but couldn’t bring himself to. “I’ll alert you if anything changes,” Sande said.
Torak gave him a stiff, formal nod before retreating to his own quarters, finally exhausted enough to sleep despite the thoughts of Mara that plagued him. Despite the memories of her hurt expression that haunted him like waking nightmares.
Her hurtful words still rang clear in his ears, but they had another effect on him. Those words steeled his resolve, convinced him that it was time to move on and forget this troublesome girl.
And that was just enough closure to let him get some much-needed rest.
Chapter Fourteen
Mara
She woke up countless hours later with a fierce growling in her stomach. Mara woke slowly to the gnawing hunger, wondering how long she’d been sleeping. She listened for the telltale hum of the ship’s engines, focused to feel the vibrations, and when neither of those were present, decided they were still in port.
Finally, she convinced herself to swing her legs over the side of the cot, her joints stiff and creaky from hours and hours of being ignored. Her muscles protested when she tried to stand and it took her three attempts to get fully upright.
She made her way down to the dining hall, wondering when the last meal she had was. Was it yesterday? Or the day before? So much had happened in such a short time that it was impossible to keep track anymore.
All Mara knew was that she was starving.
To her surprise, the dining hall was bustling with activity. It seemed that nearly everyone was back from port leave which meant they must be leaving soon.
She got her food and held her tray in front of her, scanning the room for a place to sit. It was just like her first day all over again. Nowhere to sit, no one making eye contact, and Mara left feeling isolated and alone all over again.
Someone nudged her shoulder from behind and Mara was about to whirl on them, a quick insult sharp on her tongue, but then she saw Delta looking guilty.
“Why don’t you come sit with us?” she said, sounding unsure of herself.
Mara looked from Delta, down to her tray and back up. “Are you sure?”
Delta’s shoulders slumped and she let out a big sigh. “Yeah. Truce? I miss having you around.”
Mara smiled in spite of herself and nodded. “Truce. I missed you too.”
Delta looked like she wa
nted to hug her, but they both had their hands full with food, so they just laughed and awkwardly bumped shoulders as a sign of affection.
Mara took her regular seat at the engineering table and was greeted by all the usual suspects. Everyone seemed to ignore whatever tension was going on between Mara and the Captain and that suited Mara just fine. She didn’t really want to delve into the depths of her conflicting feelings about him at that moment.
They carried some conversation or another around her, but Mara could only focus on the food in front of her, inhaling it as fast as possible. It was only once her belly was full and her mind free to wander that she interrupted them.