Chapter 14 - Tomorrow #2
I approach the group and stop at Beau’s shoulder, actively trying to soften my expression.
When I was a soldier, my unforgiving demeanour was beneficial; as a civilian, it creates barriers.
I can’t help what my face does. There are times I wish I were more expressive, like Marlowe—a living art installation.
The Suryavan raises his eyebrows, the other man narrows his eyes at me, and the woman looks curious.
“We’re glad to have you onboard,” I say gently, “and we’ll get you to a set of rooms so you can clean up. What are your names?”
The taller of the two men is Maximus, and his eyes are a startling and unnatural gold.
The Tellurian is Julian, and the woman is Liz, their pilot.
They don’t exactly rear away from me, but if Beau hadn’t approached first, I think they’d have been leerier.
Up close, there are several visible wounds peppered between them.
Maximus has split nails, Julian and Liz have bruised knuckles, and all three of them have clothing bearing signs of a knife fight.
It’s not hard evidence but I’m more certain that they’re victims, and I feel better about letting them onto the ship with Vee and Marlowe onboard.
If I didn’t think Marlowe would tear into me for it, I’d interrogate the trio right here on the spot.
Beau shows them to cabins, and they’re given clean clothes to change into.
They’re tired, but I have them brought to the galley a little later so they can eat whilst I question them.
Devyaan is the only one I keep in the room.
I’m hoping to understand what led the trio here and I don’t want my crew to overwhelm them.
Even in his borrowed and ill-fitting outfit, Maximus moves with a kind of refined grace one would envy in any other circumstance.
Julian makes heavy but infrequent eye contact and looks wary as he does it, shoulders tense, still quiet.
Liz, who attacked the food ravenously, talks fast and gestures wildly with her cutlery.
“It was pirates,” she tells us. “Bastards. Cut my comms and boarded the ship in seconds. We were trumped by at least five to one, and that’s being generous. This one—” She points at Maximus. “Probably couldn’t fight his way out of a pillow.”
“I resent that,” Maximus says without any of the bitterness I’d expect. His voice is as genteel as his manner and as rich as the ebony in his hair. “You don’t know what I’m capable of.”
Liz snorts. “Look at those hands.”
They are smooth and unblemished, despite damaged nails, but I know better; that doesn’t mean he can’t defend himself if needed. From the sound of it, they were too outnumbered for it to matter.
Maximus turns to me. “They were surprisingly nice for pirates. They even gave us a choice once they’d subdued us: crowd into that tiny death box or get spaced. We picked the worst of the two, obviously.”
Devyaan, leaning against the counter, laughs, and it startles Maximus. Devyaan raises a hand in apology. “Karo.”
“Kevir nahai,” Maximus replies. No problem. His enunciation and formal address confirm that he’s of the upper class. Suryavana doesn’t view class like Tellurians do, but the differences in wealth are still obvious. He doesn’t seem like the kind of person who would keep company with the other two.
“What were you doing on the ship?” I ask.
“Procuring.”
My silence must speak volumes because Maximus continues, looking a little more serious. “I’m an art buyer. I had just acquired a piece for a client.” He winces.
I frown. “No security detail?”
He gestures at his companion. “My brother is all I travel with. Pirates are strategists, and they expect fancy ships with high security to have loot worth raiding. I travel light and fast, and the ships I choose don’t warrant a second glance.”
“Usually,” Julian mutters into his plate, face like thunder.
I’m still picking apart the fact that he called Julian his brother.
I look from one to the other, trying to identify a resemblance, but Julian is desperately Tellurian.
Except, now that I’m scrutinising him, I can see that he wears a Vahrin—and it matches the one that Maximus wears. It surprises me into stillness.
In our culture, we wear one treasured item of maritium, regardless of class or means.
It’s seen as a slight to our heritage to wear other items of cosmetic jewellery.
Watches and medical bracelets don’t count, likewise any other forms of jewellery that serve a practical purpose.
Vahrin has no decent translation but roughly encompasses a sacred adornment, divorced from any one religion.
Julian wears a simple ring on his pinkie finger, and the lighting plays across it in deep shades of red and purple.
It’s maritium, like my earrings; my sister, Kiran, wears the same pair.
Maximus, sitting opposite Julian, wears the same Vahrin on the same hand and finger.
They’re brothers, not just in the sense of close friends or comrades—they’re family.
“We got unlucky with the Craven, but at least we’re alive,” Maximus says.
Liz huffs and crams a forkful of potato into her mouth as if to stop herself from commenting.
“You don’t agree?” He tilts his head. “We spent three days crammed into that thing you called an escape pod, feeling the oxygen level drop and the food packets dwindle, being battered from all angles. As it is, I don’t think my spine will ever be the same. But we’re here, alive.”
Liz pushes her plate away, almond shaped eyes slamming shut.
After some food, her skin now looks healthier, and creamy rather than ashen.
“It’s not that simple. I’ve had that ship for over a decade.
I put my blood, sweat, and tears into it.
Now it’s gone. Those fucking leeches will scrap it for parts, and my insurance is for shit. But yeah, we’re alive,” she sneers.
I intercede before they can turn it into a full-blown argument. “We should talk about the next step.”
Julian finally looks my way. “Next step?”
“We’re headed for Novus Junction and should be there within two days.
You can disembark there. Until then, you’re more than welcome to join the crew for meals and use our facilities.
We only have two passengers, so there aren’t many places that are off limits.
My medical officer, Khrys, volunteered to show you around. She can also tend to any wounds.”
“Captain.” Devyaan bends and murmurs into my ear. “We’re not taking them to Red Horizon?”
“No. We’ll have—”
“That’s okay, thank you. We would be better served at Novus anyway. I’m in no hurry to reach Suryavana and tell my client I lost his purchase.”
Maximus stands and gently bows his head to me and Devyaan. “If you don’t mind, I think we could do with some sleep in an actual bed. Thank you for your hospitality, Captain Sekmith. It is greatly appreciated.”
Liz and Julian don’t bother to protest, following suit with red eyes and big yawns. Devyaan offers to show them back to their cabins. Right now, Beau is trying to corroborate the trio’s story, so I prefer them chaperoned.
I watch them go.
I’ve never been one to sleep in, even when I need to.
Whilst everyone is still in bed, I set up in the gym.
An hour later, after working myself into a heavy sweat using a circuit of deadlifts and the punching bag, I change into a swimsuit and head for the pool.
Technically, the spa centre is strictly for passengers, but in the absence of any besides a ten-year-old and his stowaway mother, I’m waiving the rules.
But I’m not the only one. When I emerge from the changing rooms, I find Liz floating in the pool. She’s completely naked, eyes closed. With her features smooth and calm, she looks so young, though she’s at least a few years older than me.
Liz doesn’t hear me approach, and when I slip into the deep end and disrupt the water, she capsizes.
Spluttering and swearing, she rights herself, glaring at me.
She doesn’t seem embarrassed about her lack of clothes, and Suryavans aren’t prudish about the human body, so it doesn’t bother me either.
“Good morning,” I say.
She adopts a haughty look. “Kit said it was okay to use the pool.”
“It is, but you might want to swim in something next time. There’s a child on the loose.”
She bands a protective hand around her breasts. “Okay. Thanks.”
I start my laps. It’s the only cardio I bother to do, and when I’m planetside, I make a habit of swimming daily.
There’s something soothing about being surrounded by all that water, and it helps me work through thoughts and all my unnameable feelings.
Right now, though, all I can think about is what Liz said about her ship.
It’s one of my greatest regrets that I didn’t invest in my own ship straight out of the IAF.
I had the money. I had the time. But—and I can admit it now—I didn’t have the confidence.
Instead, I captained other people’s vessels.
Then everything changed, and the idea of being responsible for a ship of my own became terrifying.
I manage three laps before I become distracted by Liz.
She’s just relaxing on her back, but now I’m burning with questions.
I try to refocus. By the fifth lap, I decide to call it a day.
Pulling myself out of the pool, I sit parallel to where she floats, noting the lean lines of her body, bruised here and there. She cracks open one eye to watch me.
“May I ask you some questions about your ship?”
“The Craven? Sure,” she says, closing the eye.
“I always wanted my own, so feel free to tell me to shut up when you’ve had enough.”
Liz chuckles, and it’s light and kind, in stark contrast to the heavy glares and snappy tone. “I used to be you. Plus, I’m hardly gonna say no to the woman who rescued me, am I? Fire away, Captain.”