Chapter 7
There weren’t good mistakes. Roys was pulling my chain, and I wouldn’t deny the intrigue. I always figured out the truth eventually. Everyone in the militia had one, that dirty secret that put them there in the first place, the one that was, more often than not, entirely their fault.
Arana was a gambler, and obviously a bad one. All her credits went to pay off debts unless she wanted to be decapitated and hung out of a mob bosses pub as a warning.
Ryker was born rich but had a rap sheet a click long, mostly for petty crimes. Those petty crimes were for one reason only; adrenaline. Ryker was his own kind of junkie, the one who got off from the thrill of a chase. His mom’s were tired of bailing him out, so he took the one exit available.
Iylene never cracked. I got their shit from Darmin’s office while digging for booze.
They didn’t deny it when I asked about the incident.
Iylene was an alcoholic for most of their life.
Hopped in their speeder and rammed into a dock that destroyed a lot of property, and surprisingly only ruined their life.
Lilea didn’t like her boring life on a farming planet, thought she was meant for bigger things.
Those bigger things ended up being the theft of a deep space ship that became a pirating vessel (albeit fairly unsuccessful) until she worked with a less than loyal crew who took on a job too big to handle.
Zavir worked a menial job in the upper-class circles, a server for the elites.
He had a fair wage, all things considered, but wanted more, and who better to steal from than those who didn’t remember all they had?
Created quite an effective trading network, but he pushed too far and lost all he ever made.
The militia collected broken things — a cupboard of unwanted curiosities.
They thrived on our wickedness, on our greed and desperation.
No one but the broken would give away thirty years of their life to be run ragged and thrown to the furthest ends of the universe to die gruesomely and alone.
We’d all seen our fair share of death, certainly dealt out plenty of it under the militia’s orders.
You had to be the kind of person who had a taste for it to survive here.
Roys had his story, tied to those marks on his arms. There were plenty of users in the militia, too many to count, though most rarely made it to the title of captain.
One would think in our line of work we wouldn’t have access to such paraphernalia, and yet, we all knew how.
Because, ultimately, the militia needed us to remain broken.
“What’s your mistake, then?” Roys brought me to the present, where he removed my very stretched shirt to hold under his arm. Even with the cool temperature, all our walking brought on a sweat, and perhaps the fabric irritated his wounds.
“Why would I share shit when you wouldn’t?”
“I gave you a hint. Give me one for yours.” He threw a smug smirk over his shoulder. “There are sure to be too many to remember, so I likely won’t guess.”
“Keep aggravating me, see what happens.”
“I’m terrified.” He feigned a shiver, then stopped. The scanner blinked, and he frowned.
I lowered a hand to my blaster. Shivers passed through me, each like a quake moments from sending me to my knees. “What now?”
“There are two more passages ahead of us.”
The cavern we found ourselves in wasn’t as large as the others.
A stream trickled through, disappearing under a rock ledge.
More worm creatures crawled on the walls, illuminating the cuts in the cave that must have been the potential exits.
Roys stood at the center of the room, where water dripped from the stalactites.
“The scanner shows the same oxygen level from each, so there are two possible exits,” he finished.
“Or two possible dead ends,” I said.
“Your pessimism is unnecessary.”
I fired finger guns at him and headed toward one tunnel. Using the flashlight on my visor, I moved in to check the area. Roys did the same for the other tunnel. On my end, there was nothing but more caverns, no sign of any change or exit. Based on Roys’ silence, his was no different.
We were going to die down there in the dark, where the light would never reach. We’d be lost, discovered by nothing save the flora that put us there. I fled the Colony to be forgotten elsewhere, more broken pieces for the cogs of the universe. Fate didn’t like letting anyone go.
My visor beeped, reading my erratic pulse. I put on the visor to take a breath of filtered air. I breathed so heavily I fogged up the screen. My hands shook. The world swayed. My visor kept blinking, warning, warning, warning.
We’d be buried. We’re dead. Buried like my parents, but not with Her. It was over.
“Fuck.” I dropped my visor to my belt and shoved out of the path, trying to focus on anything else. Staring at the worms on the ceiling and counting them one by one, my jumbled thoughts lessened, spread out, thinned, until I could breathe without my chest collapsing.
I couldn’t be silent, couldn’t let my mind wander otherwise I wouldn’t return.
“Do you think that’s why the flora didn’t attack us when we were unconscious?
” I asked, hearing Roys hum. His presence was annoyingly helpful.
“We haven’t come across flora here. There’s no sunlight.
Their root systems are in the soil, but not in a cave.
They wouldn’t do well here, so the flora may only react to stimuli above ground where the energy is. ”
I met Roys in the center of the cavern. There, he smiled a little crooked, dare I say, impressed.
Without the shirt on, my eyes struggled with where to focus.
I shifted my attention back and forth, trying not to admire how the sweat rolled over his firm stomach.
He wasn’t the type of muscle head obsessed with the form, but strength that could easily hold me down.
I actually really wanted him to, to be entirely encased by him, like that would somehow shield me from the rest of the world.
“I wish you used that big brain of yours more often,” he said, causing me to roll my eyes.
“It’s a theory. Doesn’t mean I’m right.”
He knocked his knuckles against my temple. “It’s a good theory, and you’d have more of them if you gave yourself the time to think.”
“In short, I will never share a theory with you again to avoid situations like this entirely.”
“Are you allergic to praise or is it praise specifically from me?”
“You aren’t that special.”
My eyes, however, thought he was quite special as they had given up their attempts to remain discreet.
I preferred his distraction over seeing one path after the other that led to the same dilemma.
I admired his biceps, wondering what it’d feel like to hold them, what it’d taste like to run my tongue over that brawny chest, lower and lower.
What noises would he make if I got on my knees, what sounds would I make for him.
“Stop the staring,” Roys said, one thick brow cocked.
I shrugged. “There isn’t much more to stare at.”
And not much else to think about that didn’t involve maggots making homes in our eye sockets. The slow decay of an unforgiving universe that would forget us as it had everyone else.
Dead, dead, dead.
“And here I thought you hated me.”
“I do, but hate fucking is always an option. We’re going to die down here, and I’d rather get one more good lay in before that.”
“So you think I would be a good lay? I’m flattered.” He walked toward the tunnel I inspected. It was annoying how passive he remained. Rude. I thought I could be fairly charming.
“Let’s go this way.” He moved on, and I absolutely stared at his ass. The best thing about our exoskins was how snug they were. A good view before I died, and entertainment.
“You know, the troop and I have a saying about you,” I continued, focused on his form stubbornly searching for an exit.
Worthless. We wouldn’t find anything. No one would find us.
“That you’re made out of muscle, spite, and a pinch of dick. Arana argues the pinch is a lie.” I caught the glance he tossed toward me. “I think it’s true, though.”
Roys slowed when the scanner took a moment to map out the tunnel. “You may be the biggest enigma of my life. One second you’re telling me off and the next you’re practically asking me to drop my pants.”
“For a bet. I’ll lose credits if I’m wrong.”
“Tempting, but no.”
I kept my eyes on his back, focused so intensely that the world blurred around him. “What? I’m not your type?”
“I prefer partners that wouldn’t leave me to die in a cave.”
“Who said anything about partners? I’m talking entirely about fucking.”
“This conversation took an odd turn.”
While we went through another cavern, his expression soured, and I wasn’t entirely sure it was pointed toward me. Realization crept into his mind, too. We were in our tomb, and nothing would change that.
“I’m greatly enjoying myself,” I said, not bothering to hide a forceful grin.
“I can tell.”
My head knocked against the ceiling. I held out an arm, and my fingers brushed the cave walls. The cool stone made my breath shudder. I hated it. Didn’t want to think about it, so I kept pushing, “You’re evading the question, which means, yes, I am your type. Fuckability wise.”
“If I answer, will you change the subject?”
“No, because if you say no, then you’re lying, and if you say yes, then I’ll have hopes for something to happen.”
He stopped to face me, his gaze less than impressed. “You really are incredibly bored, aren’t you?”
I kicked a pebble. The sound of it hitting rocks echoed through the cavern. A cavern that went on and on, leading to the same inevitable destination. The visor lit up on my belt, not quite a warning yet, but getting there fast.
“Not anymore,” I said.
“Find another way to entertain yourself.”
“You know I’m shit at following orders.”