by Ruby Dixon
“It is. There's something about you that's different. Changed.”
Huh. Funny how that shows outwardly. I feel changed, too. Rejuvenated. Like I have a new focus in life that doesn't just involve bloodying my knuckles. “Yeah. She's mine. I didn't think it'd happen so fast but…”
“I hear that's how it happens,” Sentorr says, flicking a hand over his screen and pulling up another map, then overlaying it on the current star chart. “Like a bolt of lightning.”
He's not wrong. I always thought that was a tall tale myself, but one look at Iris and something in me shifted. The hollow places got filled by the sight of her. I'm not even the slightest bit upset about it. Thought I'd fight it more when the time came, because I'm all jagged edges inside. But something about Iris just feels right. Feels good. Feels like she needs me as much as I need her. She's still got too many secrets, but that's all right. There's time enough for everything to come out. She'll share when she's ready.
Of course, that means everyone on the Fool is matched up except for Sentorr. I watch him as he works busily, his tail flicking in time to the movements he makes across screen after screen. Is he lonely? I didn't realize I was until I saw Iris. “Someday it'll happen for you, too, my friend.”
He just snorts.
8
IRIS
I feel vulnerable, left alone in Alvos’s room with a stranger. I can sense the woman nearby on the floor, humming a little tune to herself as she does something and makes fabric rustle.
“These don’t have human sizes, I’m afraid,” she says after a moment. “They’re mostly utilitarian jumpers, but they’re comfy enough. I grabbed a few that are standard fabric and one that’s plas. Like the towel you’re holding, it’ll modify itself to mold to your shape.”
Her tone is friendly and pleasant, but there’s something about it that’s familiar. “You’re the one on the ship, aren’t you? The one they brought in?” I heard someone screaming in terror. Screaming as she was put into one of the filthy cages that stank of rotting things, and the laughter of the aliens. I remember her whimpers of terror and then the harsh, angry notes she spoke into the air as she demanded that someone come get her.
Through all of that, I never spoke up. I couldn’t. Not if it meant that I might get punished again. Maybe I should have tried to comfort her, or let her know I was there, but my tongue was locked in my mouth and terror kept my lips sealed.
I hope she doesn’t hate me for it.
“That was me,” the woman says. “I'm Catrin, but everyone calls me Cat. And yeah, it was my stupid plan to get myself captured so I could infiltrate their ship like a badass, but it went a little bit awry.” Her voice is self-deprecating. “I screamed like a little bitch the entire time, but I also wasn't exactly expecting a slaughterhouse.” There's a pause and her voice gets tight. “Still makes me want to vomit thinking about it.”
I understand that feeling. In a way, I'm glad I couldn't see how bad it got. “I should have spoken up.”
“I didn't know you were there. I'd probably have screamed a hell of a lot more if I did. It's all good. Here, I brought you this. It's a ribbon.”
A ribbon? I put my hand out, curious. Is this one of those things where they think humans dress a certain way? I've never worn a ribbon in my life. “Thank you.”
“It's for your eyes. So you're not self-conscious over the scars.” Something slithery and soft drops into my hand and I feel her fingers brush against mine.
I smile faintly. I want to ask if the scars are that bad, but I can guess. It wounds my vanity, because once upon a time, I thought of myself as fairly pretty. Now the only word that comes to mind is “mangled,” and it's hard to think about facing all these new people in the crew of the Fool with my scars plainly on my face. Each sucked-in breath hurts my feelings even if I try to ignore it. “Good idea. How did you know?”
“I'm a girl, I know these things.” She gives a soft chuckle. “And it's not like we have armor like they do. We have to wear our armor on the inside.”
I'm surprised to hear her words, putting us together as if we're the same. I think back to the brush of her fingers against mine and realize she's not softly fuzzy like Alvos. “You're human?”
“Well, yeah.” Cat clears her throat. “I'm embarrassed to say I should have pointed that out sooner. Yes, I'm human. Fran is, too.”
I can barely breathe. There were humans on the last ship, too. “Are you…here against your will?” Oh god. What if I've been lied to? I've let my guard down already. Betrayal would be so very horrifying and disappointing—
Cat snorts. “Against my will? Hell no. They saved me from a situation like yours. Fran, too. We were both kidnapped humans and the crew saved us. I was given the choice to stay and become part of the crew, or I could leave and they'd take me somewhere safe. I decided to stay, because who's going to harass Tarekh if not me?” She chuckles again, and then I hear the rustle of fabric. A moment later, something soft is placed under my hand. “This is one of your basic tunics. It's made a lot like human clothing, but the fasteners are different. I can talk you through it, or I can help you dress, whichever you prefer.”
She's so chatty that it takes a moment for it to sink in for me. Cat's here because she's a human they rescued. Fran, too. And they're not the least bit afraid of the pirate crew. They chose to stay.
Wariness wars with hope. This could all be an elaborate lie. Cat could be deceiving me just like Alvos. But so far everyone's been…kind. It makes me feel like the universe isn't without hope after all. That my ordeal might be over. That I might truly be safe.
An ugly, rough sob catches in my throat.
“Do you need a moment?” Cat asks, her voice all sympathy. She reaches out and touches my hand, and I clasp her fingers in mine. Four fingers and a thumb. She's human. She's safe. They're all safe. I'm in a safe place. A good place.
I want to scream with joy and throw up at the same time, I'm so rattled and full of nerves. I hate that the thought of being safe makes me want to vomit, but fear and hunger have done a number on my stomach over the last few months. “I'm okay,” I manage to choke out to Cat. “Thank you.”
And this time when I thank someone, I really mean it.
Cat helps me finish brushing out my hair and we adjust the ribbon over my eyes. It's about two inches thick, and when I ask, she reassures me that my scars are almost completely covered. There's still a hint of a long slash under the corner of one eye that drags down to my cheek, but that's all right. I feel better with the pretty, delicate covering over my scars. Cat tells me that it's a bright, cheery red, and I picture it over my clean hair and feel almost pretty again. Not that being pretty matters, but clean and new clothes and fresh hair? It's good for the soul and I feel better. Like my old self.
I think that girl is gone forever, but it's nice to imagine some semblance of her still exists.
After I'm dressed, Cat and I sit on Alvos's bed for a while. She offers me snacks from the ship's “dispenser” and offers to take me to the mess hall on the ship to get real food. I decline, because I'm not sure I'm ready to interact with people yet. It's hard enough being around strangers I don't entirely trust. I can't imagine sitting around a bunch of them, unable to see them, forced to make conversation and eat alien food. So I nibble on the strange-tasting bars Cat gives me and drink water, and I'm happy. Even though Cat's not thrilled with it, it's still the best meal I've had in forever and ever. I eat every serving she gives me, though I can't bring myself to ask for more. The need to be unassuming and easygoing so they don't dump me somewhere or punish me isn't easy to ignore. Even though I'm still hungry, I smile and act as if nothing's amiss.
The door chimes. “Entry: Alyvos Nos Sturian.” There's a swish and then the air changes. I turn my head automatically toward the door, even though I can't see him come in.
“Hey there,” Cat says, and I can hear the rustle of her clothing as she stands up and dusts crumbs off her lap. “We were just having a snack. I th
ink I'll leave you two and go find my honey bun. If you want to hang out, Iris, just give me a shout. I'm always around and it's a small ship.” With a little chuckle, I hear her feet pad on the floor and she's gone.
The door swishes shut again, and it's utterly silent in the room. For a moment, panic grips me and I worry that Alvos has left me alone. Heat prickles my skin and I start to sweat at the thought of being trapped in this room without knowing how to get out the door. After all, rooms are squares, right? And squares are just like one big cage, and if I'm stuck here, forgotten—
I force myself to draw in a shuddering breath. “H-hello?”
“I'm here.” The smooth bass of Alvos's voice comforts me. I can feel myself relaxing, my shoulders easing. I reach out into the air and then hesitate. Maybe he doesn't like being touched or having a girl cling to him all the time. I need to be independent.
I don't want to be, but I also don't want him getting tired of me. I'm at the mercy of everyone on this ship, no matter how nice they are. So I pin a smile to my face. “Everything seems to fit.”
“You look lovely.” There's a husky, pleasant note in his voice that makes me shiver.
I reach up and touch the ribbon covering my scars. “I guess this helps hide some of the worst.”
He grunts, and I feel a stab of hurt.
9
ALYVOS
I don't know what to say. I want to tell her that the ribbon doesn't matter. That I love her scars because they show how strong she is and what she's survived. That she couldn't be any lovelier to me no matter what she did or wore, because it doesn't change anything for me. But that'll just scare her, so I grunt.
And her face falls with disappointment. Damn it. I keffed that up. “How are you feeling?”
Her lips part, and then she breaks into a jaw-cracking yawn. A second later, she gives a little grimace of embarrassment that's adorable to see. “I guess I'm tired. I'm sorry. What time is it?”
“Early afternoon.”
She bites her lip. “I think my schedule's messed up. Or maybe because it's always dark…” She lets her words trail off and touches the edge of the ribbon.
“You can sleep—”
“Oh no, that's all right.” She clasps her hands in her lap and gives me a bright smile. “I'll go to sleep when everyone else does.”
“There's no need to wait. No one's going to bother you. I'll show you how to work the basic controls here in the room and get you set up with an identification so you can come and go as you please.”
She hesitates. Then, “Thank you.”
I grit my teeth as she thanks me again. So much thanking, so much hiding her thoughts. It makes me crazy. I want her to yell at me. I want her to demand more. To tell me that she's hungry or thirsty or that I shouldn't push her to bed because she can do what she wants. But she just smiles and clasps her hands and looks so exhausted that it's pitiful. Her shoulders are slumped and her posture is that of a wilting flower. It's been a long, hard day for her—hell, a long, hard month—and I'm betting that she's emotionally spent, if not physically. Somehow I think if I told her she needed to stay awake until midnight, she'd simply clasp her hands in her lap and sit there with a smile on her face, determined to do just that because she'd want to please me.
I can't wait for the day she realizes that the way she can please me best is to tell me to kef off.
Today's not that day, though. I move forward and take her hand in mine and she jumps a little, startled at the touch. Damn it. “That's my fault,” I tell her. “I should have told you I was moving closer.”
“Oh, I knew you were moving toward me.” Iris tilts her head up at the sound of my voice. “I was just…distracted.” Her cheeks are flushed slightly.
“Distracted by what?”
“Nothing important,” she says swiftly. “I can sleep on the floor, you know. It won't be a bother. Or anywhere there's a quiet out-of-the-way spot. I don't want to be a burd—”
I growl before she can finish that statement. “If you tell me you're a burden, so help me, I'm going to lose my mind.”
Her becoming flush disappears and her face bleaches of color. She leans back, and terror is clear in her body. Kef. I've said the wrong thing again. Her entire body trembles and she holds herself very still. “I'm sorry—”
“Iris,” I state calmly. I want to cup her face in my hands, but that'll probably terrify her, so I simply squeeze her hand. “Stop it. Calm down. I'm not going to hurt you if you disagree with me. All right?”
“All right.”
I make a frustrated noise. “Are you just telling me that because it's what I want to hear?”
“Yes?”
I can't help but huff a laugh at that.
“I just…this is all very new for me,” she whispers. “It's hard for me to remember that I'm not back in the cage. That everything can't change at a moment's notice…again.”
“I understand. I just hate seeing you so afraid.”
“Then don't look,” she retorts, and then goes pale again. “I'm sorry—”
“Don't you dare apologize for that. I loved it.” I rub my thumb over the back of her hand. “Now, you're sleeping in my room tonight and I don't want you to tell me that the floor is fine or any other random corner you pick out. You've been through a rough time in the last while. You're barely holding together. You're going to sleep in my bed tonight and that's all there is to it.”
Iris looks as if she wants to protest, but she eventually nods. “I'm…a little scared to go to sleep.” She licks her lips and her breathing speeds up. “If you leave, I just worry I'm going to wake up and think I'm back there in the cage. I can't stand the thought of that.” She caresses my hand and then holds it to her breastbone. “Will you stay and sleep with me tonight so I'm not scared? It doesn't have to be sexual. I just want the company.” She pauses for a moment. “Unless you want it to—”
“Stop,” I tell her before she tries to give me something she shouldn't. “Your body is yours. I'll sleep in the room if you want company tonight. It doesn't have to be in the bed. I can sleep on the floor.”
“Thank you,” she says in a small voice and squeezes my hand. “It's stupid, I know—”
“It's not stupid. You're talking to an ex-soldier that wore body armor for three years straight.” Her little smile is heartbreaking, and I want to squeeze her against my chest again. I shouldn't, though. I'm already touching her far too much. “If you're tired, lie down. I'll set you up in the systems in the morning.” I can send a note to the others via my wrist-comm that I'm going to be spending time tonight with Iris until she's comfortable. The noble part of me thinks I should sneak out and leave after she's asleep, but if she wakes up, I don't want her to think she's alone.
So I'll stay.
I set the room lights to dim and then change the settings to sleep mode. Soft noise pipes into the room, a peaceful, numbing sort of sound blanket that helps me relax.
She smiles to hear it. “Is that the ocean?”
“Yeah. I can't sleep when it's too quiet. Does it bother you?”
“Not at all. I like it. Makes me think of home. Maybe if I hear that I won't wake up and think I'm in a cage.” She lies back on the blankets, her body small and delicate in my large bed.
“You want a pillow? The other humans use them, but I don't have any.”
“I'm fine.”
I sigh heavily, because even if she wanted one, she wouldn't say anything. I'm learning that about her. “What if I folded up a blanket and you used it as a pillow?”
“If you like.”
I decide to do it anyhow, and get my softest blanket from storage. I fold it into a neat square and then move to the side of the bed and set it down next to her cheek. “Here it is.”
She sits up and tucks it under her head. “Thank you, Alvos.”
I think about the way she mispronounces my name. The other humans don't have trouble with it. Perhaps her tongue works differently than theirs. Humans have great var
iations in their appearances, so it would stand to reason that they might have different tongues as well. Either way, I don't mind it. I kind of like it. Mine is the only name I've heard her speak so far, and I hope mine is the only one she makes unique. Perhaps that's selfish of me. “Of course. Comfortable?”
“Yes.”
“Would you tell me if you weren't?”
“No?” Her voice is small.
I snort and settle in on the floor. It's not the most comfortable, but I've slept in worse. As the room grows quiet, I silently tap out a message to the others to let them know I'll be unavailable because Iris is afraid to sleep alone. I expect Cat and Fran to reply with some quick comment about how they need to protect Iris from me, but no one does. Maybe Sentorr told them she was mine, and because of that, I'd never harm her. Or maybe they figured it out on their own. The thought makes me feel oddly proud. I lean back against the wall and feel the curves of my horns press against the hard surface. Not comfortable. But that doesn't matter. I listen to the steady rhythm of Iris's breathing and feel a strange sense of contentment, one I haven't felt in a really, really long time.
On the bed, Iris gasps and jerks awake. She starts to struggle under the blankets, and I immediately surge forward, touching her shoulder. I half expect her to shriek with surprise, but she goes totally still, her entire body trembling. It's almost like she's waiting for something.
“I'm here,” I murmur. “You're safe, Iris.”
Her body sags back against the blankets. “Alvos.”
“Right here.”
“I didn’t know where I was.” Her nostrils flare and her hand grips my wrist tightly. I notice that her silky hair is messy and the ribbon she’d carefully tied over her eyes has come loose and revealed her scars. “I thought I was back there…” She sucks in a deep breath. Another. Another, as if she’s trying to calm herself with lungful after lungful. “But the air smells different. You smell different.”
“That's right,” I reassure her. “You're not there. You're here with me.”