Chapter 3 - Sweet Gaia #3
She nods, a small frown coasting across her lips.
It’s gone within seconds, no trace of anything beyond disinterest on her face.
I don’t know what to think about the possibility that Dominik named his AI after my namesake.
He was never into literature—neither one of us were.
But my mother was, and she liked the controversial possibility that Christopher Marlowe could be the real talent behind Shakespeare.
All those years of listening to her have left me with a lot of useless knowledge but a great vocabulary.
I focus on the—very, very real—doubt I saw on Tanisira’s face.
Can it be that she’s starting to believe me?
Maybe Dominik did it to piss me off, maybe it wasn’t intentional at all.
Either way, it works in my favour. Hope springs within me and I have to stifle it before it bursts out through my chest like a root.
Maybe I’ll get to see Vee sooner than I thought. I’ll just keep chipping at Tanisira.
My head has been on a swivel the whole time, but we don’t come across a single soul, let alone my son.
“Are we just going to walk the halls?”
“That would be pointless, wouldn’t it?”
She doesn’t say it unkindly but it kind of feels like a challenge anyway. “I’m surprised you’re even allowing me to walk around like this, out in the open, with no restraints.”
“You seem to think I’m some kind of jailor.” Tanisira turns to face me as she says this, and a little furrow appears between her brows. “I’m keeping you confined for the safety of my crew and my passengers.”
I blink. “You think I’m dangerous? Me?”
As if to prove my point, I stumble in the borrowed boots. I catch myself in time to see Tanisira’s outstretched hand fall back to her side. Putting some distance between us, I focus my attention ahead, perennially grateful that my skin is too dark to show my embarrassment.
I still see her shaking her head, minutely, in my peripheral—but we seem to have arrived at our destination, and she doesn’t comment. The door slides open, and she ushers me through it. I’m not prepared for what awaits me.
The doorway opens into a literal haven. I gasp, head falling back to take in the sight before me.
The room must stretch the full height of the ship and takes up half as much space in width.
It’s covered, wall to wall, in greenery.
Trees that soar above, branches thick with vibrant leaves and blooming flowers completely cover the overhead.
I don’t know enough about botany, but I recognise a few weeping willows dotted around, creating lush nooks behind their curtains.
Somehow, grass grows beneath my feet, interspersed with daisies and dandelions, other colourful flowers I can’t name but I’m dying to smell.
The humidity is high, and I’m instantly sticky, but it’s so worth the intense wave of pleasure that rolls through me.
The sweet scent of blossoms brings a smile to my face, and I don’t even care that I must look like a lunatic.
“Sweet Gaia,” I whisper in awe.
It takes me a moment to catch Tanisira looking at me. Her expression is... thoughtful?
“What?” I ask defensively.
“Didn’t figure you for a Gaianist.”
“Oh, absolutely not. It’s just one of those things I picked up and can’t seem to drop.”
“Hmm,” she looks away. “You had such a visceral reaction, I believed it for a moment.”
I respect Gaianism and the reverence it places on nature, especially with the massive role genetic modification plays in our society. I just can’t seem to stop taking the name in vain. It’s one of those things I started saying ironically and then one day, not even that.
“Are you religious?” I ask.
If I remember correctly, they have all the same doctrines on Suryavana.
Tanisira shakes her head as she heads away from me and towards the middle of the greenhouse. “No. It didn’t factor into my childhood, and it has no place in my life now.”
Well. It’s like she’s trying to pique my interest. I know she’s not, because she seems naturally reticent, but that only encourages me; my innate curiosity is made worse by my need for distraction.
“You sound like you regret that.”
Tanisira gives me an indecipherable look but doesn’t answer. I can’t say it surprises me. Has no one ever taught her how to hold a conversation? It’s not a Suryavan thing, it just seems to be a Tanisira thing.
I can’t tell where it’s coming from but there is so much light around us, filtering through gaps in the trees and through the milky petals of small flowers.
It’s ethereal, totally artificial, and entirely lovely.
I pause, kick the boots off with some difficulty and toe my socks off.
The grass is soft beneath my feet and, God help me, but I almost squeal like a little girl.
The captain turns to face me and takes in my barefoot glee with the first flash of amusement I’ve seen from her. It slips through her mask like a ray of light and softens that full mouth. I can’t help but grin up at her.
“Vee would love this place. He’s the kind of kid that collects bugs.”
Maybe I’m imagining things, but I swear her mouth opens briefly before snapping shut, all traces of laughter wiped away.
I scoop up the boots in one hand and follow as she moves off, thinking she’d probably be unhappy if I wandered off.
I don’t want her to revoke this privilege, jailor or not; spending prolonged periods cooped up alone is the fast track to crazy town.
I do not want Tanisira to think she can’t bring me back here.
Plus, proving she can trust me will only help my cause.
The trickle of water draws my attention.
Tucked between two trees is the tiniest waterfall I’ve ever seen.
I lose my head a little. After such a stressful 24 hours, the opportunity is too good to pass up.
It’s almost poetic considering the scene that was reflected on the canopy this morning.
So, faster than Tanisira probably thought possible, I wade through the water.
It only comes up to my knees, and when I sit, my waist, but it’s lovely and cool.
I know, without even checking, that my curls have frizzed up.
I sink backwards and let the water wash over me.
I lie there for maybe half a minute before I come back up.
Crouched at the makeshift bank before the base of the waterfall, the captain looks slightly alarmed.
Her eyebrows, which might just be the most expressive part of her face, are arched over that smooth forehead of hers.
Wiping water out of my eyes, I smile. “You’re telling me that you’ve never done this?”
She shrugs. “My people don’t have the same fascination with playing around in water that Tellurians do.”
“Well, that makes sense, I suppose. But don’t you ever get sticky when you’re in here?
You’ve never thought about cooling down under the fall?
” And to punctuate my point, I lean my head back and drench my curls again.
It’s stupid, especially because washing my hair is so hard to do right now but I let myself forget about practicalities like shampooing, conditioning and detangling. I just enjoy the feeling.
Her head is tilted, and she inspects me from head to waist, where my body disappears below the water line. “I have to admit that I never have.”
No surprise there. Tanisira seems to be the kind of person who doesn’t relax very often.
She holds herself rather rigidly, as though she never clocks off.
If she was in the military, as her posture suggests, I don’t think she ever left it behind.
It’s a shame because she’s beautiful, but her stern expressions are kind of terrifying.
It makes me wonder how she acts around Vee, if she interacts with him at all on the ship.
Maybe as the captain, she’s only obligated to get passengers from point A to point B, and the niceties are left to someone else.
I look around, noting that we’re still the only two here. If I worked on the Midas, you’d never find me anywhere else. “Where is everyone else?”
I watch as Tanisira stretches her long legs out ahead of her and dips a hand into the water.
I’ll give her this: she does a good impression of someone off guard.
She brings a handful of water up to her neck and wipes a hand down her nape and around to her collarbone.
I watch as the neckline of her t-shirt darkens.
“No one will bother us.”
“Not what I asked.”
“And yet that’s my answer,” she says softly.
My gaze catches on her eyes, the amber that seems to soak up the improbable light around us.
I don’t want to think of this woman as trustworthy—this captain who is arguably implicit in my child’s kidnapping.
I wish she would snarl at me or say something telling and cruel.
Instead, she protects my son, gives me her bed and lets me frolic in greenhouse when, by all rights, she doesn’t even have to let me leave the cabin.
I don’t want to trust that we’re safe with her.
And yet, my skin prickles and I realise with surprise, that I do.