Chapter 3 #2
“Okay, fair,” he replied, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “Just haven’t heard anyone call a datapad an ‘interface’. Other than my dad. And even then, only when he was trying to sound old-school.”
She chuckled and pulled the interface — or more accurately, datapad — into her grasp, and spent a few moments navigating the foreign display before her.
Eventually, she found a terminal that accepted gestures, and she wrote out her name.
Her given name. Not the name of her clade, Sentu.
Nor the banner of the Sovereign Fleet she was pledged to, Almenes. Just Leucifia.
“Lucy … Fee-uh?” he attempted again. It was much better this time. “You’ll have to forgive me. I’m a monosyllabic kind of guy.” He gestured to himself as he continued. “I’m Davik, by the way. So, let’s try something that’s a bit less syllabic. Lucy?”
She grimaced at the suggestion. Even her tendrils recoiled at the sound. A slight gesture of her finger over the screen swiped out half the name, leaving just the tail end of it. Fia.
“Okay, Fia? I can work with that. Got any allergies? You’re probably going to want to eat something, and I really don’t want to find out the hard way that Icthians can’t eat yams.”
She shook her head, and he gave the table a decisive smack before he rose to make his way back to the side room. It must be a kitchen of sorts, as there were more noises of some rummaging, beeping, and clanging before he emerged with a bowl of something delightful in his hands.
He slid it over to her, and a wave of steam carried the scent of spice and savory warmth to her senses. She didn’t wait for him to explain what it was. With hungry enthusiasm, she skewered a tangle of noodles on an offered fork and took a hefty bite.
Her eyes fluttered closed, and she sank back in her chair with a happy trill. Maybe it was the stasis sickness talking, but the depth of flavor was unlike anything she had tasted before.
“Damn,” Davik said with a surprised laugh as he leaned back in his chair. “Did they not feed you where you came from, or something?”
She clutched the already half-empty bowl with greed.
“Not like this. Fleet food,” she paused, searching for the right words. “Fleet food is efficient.”
“Fleet food?” he asked, squinting a little at her. “Did you work for a cruise starliner or something before you were, uh, you know. On ice?”
She echoed his squinting confusion. There was a misunderstanding here, something beyond just a language barrier.
She was sorely overdue for a shower to breathe some hydration back into her scales.
A shower, and actual sleep — not the biological suspension of cryo.
The water and food had steeled her, but she was upright only by the grace of the emergency stimulants still coursing through her veins. And they would not last forever.
“Okay,” he murmured as he furrowed his brow.
“So, not a cruise starliner. Uh, maintenance fleet, or something? I’m not good at charades, but I’ll drop it if you’re trying to keep your past obscure and mysterious.
Not that I mind. Half-frozen mysterious woman, rescued from prison, in my mess hall, giving me the runaround so I have to decipher her dubious origin by plying her with leftovers?
That’s a story I’ll be able to whip out at parties for years. ”
“Parties?” she asked with an incredulous tilt of the head.
“Cruel!” He made a noise of mock agony and clutched his chest. “You wound me, madame.”
“And … prison?” she asked, doing her best to keep her tone from showing her rising anxiety. Clearly, this was not a vessel or an operative from the Fleet, but things were crystallizing in a concerning way.
“Well, yeah. That’s where we sprung you out of.
Accidentally, mind you. Meant to fish my brother out.
No pun intended. You don’t remember getting locked up?
Or are you messing with me, and this is part of the mystery act?
” He pointed at her and made a finger-wiggling gesture.
“Maybe you sprang fully formed from the void into that cryopod? That’d explain your, uh—” He patted the back of his neck. “You know, no bind.”
With newfound terror trembling in her hands, she touched the back of her own neck. Nothing there. No vile Pactbind. A sigh of relief escaped from her as she slumped back in the chair.
“It’s no problem, I’m not judging,” he said, holding his hands out in a gesture of peace. “Just, you know, please don’t go feral and paint the walls of my ship with my entrails. My day’s already going pretty rough, and it’ll be terrible for the resale value.”
The way he picked up on her discomfort was soothing in and of itself. Icthians were always in tune with each other. It was impossible not to be. But this felt different. He was actually paying attention to her reactions and parrying her anxiety with gentle, playful ease.
Not only that, but he was feeding her. He had offered help before he even knew her name. He was a strange, warm, striking creature. She had the sudden urge to tell him that she found his strange, warm, striking self a welcome reprieve in this foreign place she found herself.
Is “striking” the right word? There is a better way to say that, but trying to parse it in English is so limiting. Teelish has eight different words for what I mean, but English? Nothing. Useless language.
She finished another bite of her leftovers, setting down the now-empty container and looking at him with a cocked brow-ridge that mimicked his playful expression from earlier.
“Nonviolence can be agreed to in exchange for access to a shower,” she said, steepling her fingers in a comically over-formal gesture of negotiation.
“Fair request. I can bring this demand to my commander, and we will begin negotiations.”
Her entire body stiffened. She was too weak to do anything but posture, and her throat tightened with fear.
This was not a Fleet ship, but this man had a commander.
The odds were not favorable that this was a friendly vessel.
Her voice was strained, but she managed to eke out her reply despite the panic rising in her chest.
“Commander?”
“Ah, no, I’m not— sorry, that’s just a turn of phrase.
I never served, past or present. I was just referring to my pilot.
My sister-in-law, Carissa,” he said, his eyes soft and apologetic.
“Well. Okay, to confound the point more, she used to serve in the Sol Forces. Past-tense, though. Damn near everyone in Tau Ceti has, at least for one stint.”
Fia’s shoulders relaxed back down, and she watched him do the same. Hers did not droop in calm, though, but in cold realization.
So I was not redeployed. I am in Tau Ceti. And The Federation is here. I need to process that later. I’m in no shape to fight or flee, and I may lose fingertips if I don’t get proper circulation and sleep soon.
“Alright, I’ll save my laundry list of questions for after you get cleaned up and get some shuteye. How does that sound?”
The adrenaline supplementation was waning, and the general full-body ache was crashing into her. Hard. The world was suddenly as dizzying, bright, and loud as it had been when she first awoke.
She managed a nod, too lost in the wave of disorientation to find words.
“Here, I’ll show you to the locker room.”
Davik reached a hand out and hoisted her to her feet yet again. The way he ghosted his hands near enough to her waist without touching her was an endearing gesture. He was doing his best to give her support while also being respectful.
Unfortunately, while endearing, she was rapidly losing the ability to walk as her legs went numb.
She grabbed his hovering hand and placed it firmly on her hip, and heard her polite chauffeur make a slightly choked noise of surprise.
She made a note to inform him of the importance of fall protection another time. For now: showering, water, heat.
The water pressure was minimal, the temperature tepid, and the tiles on the floor were perilously slippery.
And the relief was so exquisite it nearly made her weep.
She could feel her delicate membranous skin soaking up the water and singing in appreciation.
The thick tendrils that flowed from her crown tingled, and she could finally feel the world around her pull back into focus.
Every muscle in her body was screaming in protest at being forced upright, but this was a rejuvenation of the soul she would endure the pain for.
The gentle crackle of static she felt while stroking her tendrils clean was a welcome noise.
There wasn’t nearly enough energy in her body to focus that towards anything productive, but knowing the thrum of electric vibrancy was returning to her grasp was reassuring.
She hadn’t been able to tap into any of the systems here yet. Everything was too hazy for that, and she didn’t need to risk raising any alarms before she had her feet under her. Not before she had her bearings.
Twelve years. I expected twelve years.