Chapter 5 - Berserk #3
Tanisira pauses, and I embarrass myself by mewling in protest. She continues kneading my sore leg. When I don’t say more, she prompts me. “Who is she?”
“A dead woman,” I mutter to myself. I’m only half joking.
“She dropped Vee off with barely a word and disappeared. I’d been given a brief directive, so I showed him to his cabin and made my way to the bridge.”
“And now that you know?” I demand.
She ducks her head a little, and I don’t know if she’s doing it to avoid eye contact or because she’s found a particularly tight knot in my muscle.
I’m probably staring holes in the top of her head, but I need to know if Tanisira is like Opal: if she’ll put her career before her morals.
That’s assuming she even agrees that Dominik is a kidnapping sewer rat.
“And now that you know?”
Her words rasp over my skin. “I’ll help you get home safely.”
The oxygen whooshes out of my lungs in one fell swoop.
I will tears back into my eye ducts and hate that they don’t work that way.
Sniffling, I reach for Tanisira, take hold of her chin and tip her head up.
I wish I could read her. She searches my face—acknowledging my tears, yes, but also looking for something.
I’m not offering her softness; I want her vow.
“How do I know that you’re being honest?
You don’t know us. I snuck onto your ship.
I set a galley on fire. I smashed up thousands of creds worth of furniture.
You could just as easily say that to keep me compliant and hand me over to the authorities at Red Horizon.
You’d complete your first journey as the ship’s captain and look good in Dominik’s eyes. ”
Whatever had been open and searching in her face shuts down. She pulls away, rising to her full height in one smooth movement. Her eyes have hardened, which would be terrifying if the heat from her fingers wasn’t still sinking into my skin.
“Helping you is the right thing to do.” Tanisira’s voice is back to that distant timbre, the warmth of her body gone. “I’m not thinking about job security. After this, I’m done with Gryphon. I’ll get a job on another ship back to Telluria.”
“So you’ll drop us off somewhere? How will you get us home?
” I ask, increasingly frustrated. It’s not Tanisira’s fault but I demand more anyway.
I’ve been let down so many times, I can’t seem to stop the words from coming.
“I don’t want empty promises. I’ve had enough of those to last me a lifetime. ”
“The course was always straight to Red Horizon, and the Midas is barely stocked for that. Even if we weren’t expected by the seventh, I wouldn’t be able to ‘drop you off’ somewhere—we’re in the middle of space.”
Even with the change in her demeanour, Tanisira manages to keep her tone respectful. It kind of pisses me off, and it’s probably just me dying for an argument, but I wish she’d snap at me.
I think about her words instead. Today is the third, and I guess any delay in the ship’s arrival would set off alarm bells.
That wouldn’t affect me, of course, but I—unfortunately—don’t want to get Tanisira in trouble.
Curling my hands over the seat, I press my nails into the material so that I don’t scream.
“What’s on the seventh?”
“I don’t know.”
“You’re telling me that I have to deliver my son right into his hands?”
“I’m telling you that I’ll help you get home without endangering the jobs of the crew. I’ll figure it out.”
I deflate. Of course. It might not affect me, but Dominik would absolutely fire the crew for failing to follow his orders.
And whilst I can hold the captain of the ship responsible for this shitshow, I can’t wish that on a bunch of strangers.
I don’t even want to talk anymore; I’m so wracked with warring emotions.
I can’t remember the last time my hands weren’t shaking.
Tanisira glances at them and visibly forces herself to relax. It almost makes me laugh. Almost.
“Let me help you next door,” she says.
I accept her offer, and she lets me lean on her because I overdid it, pulled what seems to be every single muscle in my body, and can barely take a deep breath without whimpering.
As I go to lower myself onto the bed in my cabin, Tanisira keeps hold of one of my arms and helps me.
The urge to pull away from her is strong, because I hate feeling incapable, but I really do need the assistance.
I let myself watch her instead, grounding myself in the efficient, methodical way she moves around the room.
She gives me a hand with the clunky boots, head bowed, the smooth skin of her nape exposed.
Deft fingers make quick work of the tight knots and even though Tanisira’s movements are jerky, like she’s still trying to hold back anger from earlier in the galley, the hand that curls around my calf is gentle.
I both do and don’t hate that I trust her.
I’ve been alone in this for so long—in asserting what I want, in fighting for the things that matter to me—that her willingness to help me is too much.
I don’t know, maybe I would feel better if she hesitated a little more.
That’s insane, yes, but from a young age, I learned that I was on my own.
I hope I don’t end up regretting this.
Tanisira dims the lighting, and shadows glide across the bones of her face. “I’ll check on you in a few hours.”
Once the door closes behind her, I lie back gingerly and, despite how wretched I feel, slip into a deep sleep.