by Ruby Dixon
I clench my jaw as Tarekh gives me a frustrated look. I hate that she’s so complacent about all of this. She should be fighting mad. I could understand that. I could understand fear. Instead she’s just…placid.
“I’ll give you a salve to reduce the scarring and another one for your thigh. Rub it in twice a day until you’re out and I’ll add you to the ship’s bio-logs so we can monitor you and make sure you’re not hiding any other health issues. But you’ve got no parasites or pathogens, so that’s a plus. Love, will you hand me one of those plas-gowns behind you?” He glances over at Cat.
“She can have my blanket,” Cat says, and unwraps it from her shoulders, offering it to her mate. “I’m not cold.”
I turn back to Iris, frowning. Is she cold? But as Tarekh gently drapes the blanket over Iris’s thin shoulders, I realize he’s covering her near-nudity. Then I’m mad at myself that I didn’t think of such a thing. I should have realized she might be uncomfortable.
“You can sleep here,” Tarekh begins.
“No,” I interject quickly. The med-bay is a small room and usually cluttered with Tarekh’s junk. It’s not comfortable and I want her to have a nice bed and pleasant places to sit and relax. I want her to be able to stretch out and get comfortable. “She can have my room. I’ll sleep somewhere else.”
“All right,” Tarekh says easily. Then he switches to our native language. “You know that’s how it started between me and Cat, right?”
I scowl at him. Cat just smirks in my direction and gives me a sly wink. “I’ve got some extra clothes that’ll fit you,” the human female says. “What did you say your name was again?”
“Iris.”
“Like the flower. Pretty.” Cat hops to her feet and heads out of med-bay. “I’ll be back in a bit.”
Tarekh’s tail flicks a little slower and he turns away from Iris. He puts away some of his tools and digs out new ones. “Let’s go ahead and get that leg wound cleaned and stitched up.” He moves to the machine and starts punching something into the interface. As he does, I study her. Her name means “flower”? It suits her and is as lovely as she is.
She turns her face toward my direction, seeking something. “Are you still here, Alvos?”
“I’m here.” She gives a little nod and chews on her lip, as if she wants to say something but is afraid. “What is it?” I ask. “Are you in pain?”
Iris swallows hard. “Are you…going to stay?” Her face pales. “You don’t have to, of course. I’m sure you’re busy. I was just curious…”
“Of course,” I tell her, and take a few steps closer. “Do you want to hold my hand while he works on you?”
She immediately sticks her hand out, and I see that it’s trembling. Of course she’s nervous. I imagine anyone cutting into her after what she’s been through is terrifying. I put my hand in hers and give it a squeeze to let her know that I’m here. Iris immediately clasps both hands around mine, and to my surprise, she uses the fingers of her other hand to trace my knuckles. “You only have four fingers,” she murmurs. “I thought your hand felt different.”
Tarekh looks rather busy across the room, digging through a box of supplies. I rub my thumb over Iris’s skin, not caring that she’s filthy. “My people have three fingers and a thumb, yes. Same with our feet.”
“Your feet have three fingers and a thumb?” That teasing smile curves her mouth again and then immediately disappears once more. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I—”
I chuckle, though the sound is forced. I don’t like the terror that comes across her face, as if she’s just made a grave error by making a joke. I need her to know I’m not upset, though. “My feet are ugly, but not quite that bad.”
“No, they’re pretty bad,” Tarekh adds, returning to her side. He pulls down a pointed-looking attachment from the wall and guides it toward her. “All right, Iris. I’m going to have to open the wound so we can get rid of the infection before it spreads to your bloodstream. I’m going to sterilize the area first, then numb it. Okay?”
“Okay,” she breathes, and her hands tighten on mine, though outwardly she’s as placid as ever.
I give her a squeeze back to let her know that I’m here.
“You’re going to feel something wet across your thigh first,” Tarekh says. “Then I’ll numb it with a small, painless injection.”
I’m pleased that Tarekh’s taking the time to explain what he’s doing before he touches her. He’s a good guy, my friend. I’m buying him a round at the drink bubbler at the next cantina, that’s for sure. I rub my thumb over Iris’s soft, strange-colored skin again. “If he hurts you, it’s okay to get angry at him,” I tell her, hoping for a reaction. Laughter. A smile. Something. Anger, even.
But she just remains perfectly still, waiting.
5
IRIS
I don’t know if I can trust Alvos, but I desperately need to hold on to someone. I clutch at his strange hand, because it feels comforting and strong, even though I’ve barely met him. He seems kind enough. I’m aware it might all be an act. That this might be another ploy by my captors to break me in new, fresh ways. To let me think I’m being rescued all so my guard will go down and my reaction will be that much stronger when I’m betrayed again.
I’m aware of this, and still I cling to Alvos, because the thought of being hurt again terrifies me.
I try to remain unmoving, to be calm, but the moment the newcomer, Tarekh, touches my leg, I jump. Memories flash through haunted corners of my mind, of pain and blood and bad things that I’m trying to forget. “Sorry,” I yelp out.
“I need you to be still,” he says. “This is just the sterilizing pads.” Something wet swipes across my leg, brusque and businesslike as he rubs over the wound. Even though it’s scabbed over, it hurts when he does that, and I jerk again. He lets out the smallest of sighs at my actions. “You might need to hold her, Alyvos.”
I suck in a breath, because the thought terrifies me. Being held down while someone hurts me? It’s like my worst nightmares come back to life. I try not to let it show, though, because I’ve learned that my feelings no longer matter.
The hand I’m holding tenses in mine, as if he can sense my fear. “No,” he says, and his tone is firm. “No one’s holding her against her will ever again. If Iris doesn’t want you to touch her leg, she can say no.”
I want to sob with relief at that.
Tarekh sighs heavily this time. “You’re being a stubborn fool, Alyvos. Shouldn’t you be helping Kivian on the other ship?”
“Iris needs me here,” he says simply, and his thumb rubs against my skin. That small touch reassures me. It reminds me that he’s promised not to hurt me. Even though it might destroy me to get betrayed again, I believe him. I have to believe in something.
“I’ll try to be still,” I whisper, and I tighten my grip on Alvos’s hand. I know that’s not his name. Not all of it anyhow. There’s a little twist in the middle of his name that’s fascinating and unique. I could probably emulate it reasonably well, but…I haven’t. It’s a small test to see how he reacts to my mangling of his name, so I know what to expect. Each time I say it wrong to him, I tense, waiting to see if he’ll slap me or correct me or his quiet confidence will turn sour.
He hasn’t said a thing, though.
“You’re fine, Iris,” the alien holding my hand tells me. He puts his other hand over our joined ones and now his two hands are warmly clasping mine. It’s reassuring, and I only jerk a little when Tarekh drags the abrasive, burning pad over my leg wound again.
I endure the cleaning and then gasp when something hot pierces my leg.
“I need you to be really still for this part,” Tarekh says, though he sounds less impatient now. “It’ll hurt less that way, I promise.”
Well, that’s definitely the right thing to say. I do my best to be still even though I’m sweating from terror and bad memories are making me quake. I’m glad in a sick way that I can’t see what he’s doi
ng because that would be ten times worse. I concentrate instead of Alvos’s hands on mine and how they feel. He’s got calluses, I notice, and for all that he’s only got three fingers and a thumb on each hand, they feel big and warm and comforting. His skin is incredibly soft and I think of suede again. I concentrate on it, wondering if it’s just my imagination or if all of him feels like a fuzzy bunny. It’s oddly relaxing to picture my rescuer as a masculine-sounding bunny.
I pet his hand, imagining him with floppy ears, a pink, twitching nose, and the warmest, friendliest eyes. I like the thought, and it’s comforting enough that I don’t realize that Tarekh’s done until something cool and wet is smeared over my leg.
“That should seal it for now,” the medic says. His hands leave my leg and I realize the pain is gone, too. I relax a little at that. Tarekh continues to speak. “We’ll check it again in the morning and I’ll put you on a round of human-safe antibiotics. For now, though, you’re free to go after I give you a couple of shots.”
Free to go. Go where? I’m in outer space, now on a pirate ship if what they’re telling me is correct. I’m still at the mercy of the people around me. But I bite back the stab of resentment and nod, keeping my expression calm and bland. “Thank you very much.”
There’s a long pause, and then Tarekh clears his throat. “I’ll, uh, just see what’s taking Cat so long with those clothes.” There’s a hiss of sound that I realize is a door, and then it gets quiet again.
Alvos’s hand is still in mine. “Are you all right now? If it hurts, tell me and I’ll get Tarekh back in here.”
“I’m fine,” I tell him, because even if everything hurt, I don’t want to be a burden. If these truly are my saviors, the last thing I want to do is become a problem that has to be dumped off on someone else…and I’m already blind. I’m already going to need more help until I get acclimated. I know a lot of people back on Earth get by just fine without their sight, but this is new to me, and until I get used to it, I’m going to struggle.
He grunts, as if he doesn’t quite believe me.
Alvos has been the nicest out of the group so far. I wonder if I can ask him questions without him getting upset. Or are bunny-people foul-tempered? He was strong, I remember that from him lifting me and carrying me. But so far he’s been patient, even kind. If I ask something and he gets offended, though, I might lose a finger…or worse.
It might be worse not to know, though. “Alvos…are we in here alone?”
“Of course.”
I weigh this response and decide that even if he’s not telling the truth, it doesn’t matter. “What do you plan to do with me?” I ask him.
He considers for a moment, and then his clothing rustles. A shrug, perhaps? “I don’t know yet.”
At least he’s honest, but his answer still fills me with dread. He did say they were pirates, and I know what these aliens all seem to think of humans. That we’re little more than playthings for them, things without brains or feelings. The fact that he doesn’t know what they plan to do with me means that I might have to earn my keep.
If I have to do it on my back, I will. I just never want to be in a cage again. “I won’t fight you if you want to touch me,” I offer. “I’ll be good.”
The alien makes a disgusted sound and his hand slips out of mine. “That’s not what I meant.”
He sounds angry, and fear makes me tremble. I can’t afford to have him upset at me. He’s been my champion so far and I need to stay on his good side. “I’m sorry.”
Alvos makes another upset sound. “Iris, quit keffing apologizing. I’m not going to hit you.”
Hitting me? I’d be lucky if that was the only punishment for an unreasonable slave. I don’t know what response he wants, though, so I remain silent.
I hear the sound of steps and the air moves slightly, as if he’s pacing back and forth in front of me. “I need you to trust me when I promise that no one’s going to hurt you here. No one’s going to use you for that, either. You’re safe. When I say I don’t know what’s going to happen with you, it’s because I can’t make choices for the rest of the crew. We all have a say in who stays on the ship. If it’s up to me, you can stay. Worst comes to worst, we’ll take you somewhere safe where they’ll take care of you.”
I remain silent. It sounds nice, but I’ve learned not to trust anyone or anything. The only thing I can control is the way I present myself. Pleasant. Harmless. Unassuming. So I smile at him as if that’s a terrific answer that has solved all of my questions. “Thank you.”
He sounds disgruntled at my response, and I worry I didn’t sound enthusiastic enough.
6
ALYVOS
Iris infuriates me. I’ve only known her for an afternoon and yet I feel like she’s changed my life…which is why it’s all the more frustrating that she won’t let me in. Since I’m watching her so intently, I can see when she closes off. I can see there are many different answers underneath the bland responses she gives me. But I can’t pry yet. She doesn’t know me or trust me.
It’s frustrating, but I’m not going to give up. I’m never going to give up on her.
She sits on the table with the blanket hanging off her shoulders, and I notice that her hands have gone back to that tight clasp in her lap. It’s the same pose she had when I found her in the cage, and it makes me uneasy to see it. In my mind, that’s her waiting-to-die pose.
I need to shake her out of it…without touching her of course. Even though she held on to my hand sweetly while Tarekh worked on her leg, I don’t think the trust is there yet for me to grab her, not when she can’t see me. So I cross my arms over my chest and lob questions at her. “Are you tired? Hungry? Thirsty? Need to use the bathroom? Shower?”
Her head tilts with interest, her lips parting. “Shower? You have a shower?”
“That’s the human word for it, isn’t it? A water spray that cleans you?”
“Yes!” Iris fingers one filthy lock of hair. “I…I’d love to get clean. Will it be all right with my leg?”
“Why wouldn’t it?” I’m curious.
“Because Tarekh just bandaged it?”
Ah. “You mean the plas he spread over the wound? It’ll repel water and remain in place until you peel it off. It’s fine. You can shower for as long as you like.”
She sucks in a breath. “Really?” Her voice is faint with disbelief.
“Really. The water’s filtered and recycled, so it’s not like you can waste it.”
A slow smile spreads across her cheeks. It’s beautiful, which is what makes the cruel red marks on her eyelids so heart-rending. I swallow hard. If Kivian hasn’t destroyed those szzt yet, nothing’s going to stop me from putting my hands around their repulsive throats.
“Can we go shower now?” Iris asks, her voice shy. “It’s been forever since I’ve been clean.”
My cock reacts to her words. Can we go shower. But I know she doesn’t mean it like that. She can’t. Even if she did, it’s not her choice, she’s just telling me what she thinks I want to hear. “Of course. It’s in my quarters. Come on.”
There’s the slightest hint of hesitation, but she pins a smile on her face. “Okay.”
I’m starting to hate every time she says “okay” because I suspect she’d love to say something else instead. I imagine myself in her shoes, and I suspect she’s uneasy at the thought of going to my quarters.
“They’ll be your quarters while you’re with us,” I tell her. “I’ll sleep outside the door to make sure you’re not bothered. Not that anyone would bother you. I’m just saying if it’ll make you feel better.” Great, now I’m second-guessing everything that comes out of my mouth. “Come on, I’ll take you there.”
I brush my fingers over the back of one wrist to let her know where I’m at. She grips my hand tightly, putting both of hers on mine as if I’m the only thing she can trust. It’s humbling, and I vow never to break that trust.
I guide her down one of the halls of the Fool and notice t
hat no one else is around. Normally the ship seems cramped—especially now that we have two humans and four mesakkah when it’s supposed to be a four-crew vessel. But today everyone’s vanished. Either Fran's still helping Kivian with the other ship and Tarekh's finding Cat, or everyone's deliberately avoiding Iris to give her space. Either way, I'll take it. As we walk, I notice she leans closer and closer to me, her arm pressed against mine. Her steps are shuffling and weak, though at least she can walk now. It's proof that the shots Tarekh gave her were good for her.
We don't make it halfway down the hall before she needs to stop and take a break, though, and I'm reminded that it's been a while since she's stood, much less walked. I'm a keffing idiot. I scoop her up into my arms, half expecting her to protest. She doesn't, of course. She's utterly silent but clasps her hands tight in her lap, and I know it bothers her.
I give the verbal command for the door to my chambers to open, since I don't have a free hand to use the bio-scanner. It chimes politely and then the door slides back, and I make a mental note that I'll have to give Iris access so she doesn't lock herself out of my room when I'm not there. As if I'm going to leave her side for long. Already I imagine she's going to get sick of me long before I get sick of her.
When we enter my room, the door slides quietly shut behind us and I know Iris can't see anything, so I try to describe it. I'm not good with flowery words, though. The best I've got for her is mentioning the furniture and that some of it is located along the wall. I'm trying, though. I carry her into the water closet—what the humans call a bathroom—and set her down gently.
I'm not sure how familiar she is with our technology, so I take her hand and show her panels, explaining how to turn the water in the sink off and on, how to get soap, and how to make the toilet work. I lead her to the glassed-in box of my shower and show it to her, and my heart aches when a shy smile curves her mouth at the touch of water on her fingertips.