Chapter 22
Ysathea
When Thatcher declared his love for me, it was both poetic, beautiful, and sad—because he said it like it weren’t good enough.
As if it were a tattered thing all smudged and dirty, barely worthy of being seen, heard, or felt.
It wasn’t though, it was a gift so priceless, I didn’t know how to cherish it enough.
I wanted to wrap him in my arms, my braid, my own love, and declare over and over that he was exactly what I needed.
On a ship of dangerous mercenaries, he was the one that had seen me, and seen the danger I was in. He was the one who kept me safe.
I was still reeling from what he’d revealed, how bravely he’d bared his soul to me, when all I’d asked for was a little distraction.
The truth was, I’d already made peace with the fact that Thatcher would probably never truly let me in, and then he did it anyway.
Not easily, with a voice as gruff and harsh as gravel, and his pain so badly masked it was no wonder he hated talking. I was honored.
Then he walked away. I knew it was because he’d gotten overwhelmed and needed to protect himself, deflecting toward the passion so easily ignited between us, then toward literal distance and space.
I gaped after him, shocked, confused, and a whole lot hot and bothered.
The last was most inappropriate, considering the crisis we were currently smack in the middle of.
“You can walk through a blazing force field?” I demanded after him, staring at his broad back and wondering if I’d somehow done something to the shield or if I was hallucinating.
He turned his head, and a hunk of black hair fell over his shoulder, partially shielding his face.
I saw the smirk that curled the corner of his mouth, though, saw the twinkle in his eye.
He was amused? Now? Of course he was, after pulling a stunt like that.
I was pretty sure not even the Sineater or his symbiont could walk through a force field as easily as Thatcher had.
“I can generate a field with my nanobots that seems to briefly counteract a force field,” he said.
Then he shrugged like it was no big deal.
His big hand slapped against the panel that should disable the force field blocking my cell, but it didn’t respond.
Clearly, the entity hadn’t just activated it; it had prevented me from tampering with it in any way.
I cast an uneasy look through the hole into the other cell but saw no sign of either the entity or the Shadow Unit soldier supposedly trapped in there.
“Can you tell me what to do from there?” he asked.
When I’d been distracted with the entity possibly still on the other side of the wall, he’d fetched my toolbox and taken up a position by the panel I’d indicated I needed.
I nodded, quickly explaining to him how to open it.
“I see the cables,” he said after a short moment.
I walked him through how to hook up his comm to it so he could amplify the signal and perhaps get through to the others.
As he worked, he kept a very careful eye on the cell next to the one I was trapped in.
“Turnabout is fair play,” he said. “Tell me how you ended up on a mercenary vessel when you’re a pacifist, Ysa. I can work and listen, too.”
I swallowed roughly, surprised by the request. Then I rose to my feet, multi-tool clutched in my hand like it was a good luck charm.
I didn’t like remembering the past anymore than he did, but I liked to think I had processed it a little better.
I’d had years to absorb the trauma, and friends to share it with, other Ulinial who had gone through the same.
My eyes stared at the tool in my hand, and not for the first time, I wondered why some things were unfixable.
“There’s something else I want to say first, Thatch,” I said.
If he could do it, then I could too. Thatcher shrugged, but I knew he was listening intently.
His big hands moved capably as he worked through the process I’d outlined for him, splicing cables and connecting them to his comm.
He cocked his head my way when I didn’t immediately say it, like he was urging me to keep talking without words.
“I love you, Thatcher,” I said. “You’re annoying, overbearing, and you’re exactly what I need.
I love you because you’re flawed but so protective, and I need that.
I love how you make me feel safe.” Once I told him my past, he would understand how well the two of us fit together.
Like broken halves of the same whole. Our scars complemented one another.
He snorted; that was his response, like he didn’t believe me.
I was going to ignore it, because I was determined to have plenty of time after this was over to convince him otherwise.
I had to have hope like that; I refused to give up.
Thatcher had struck that entity a good blow; it was still quiet, even if it had sprung a pretty big trap on us and was now flying the Varakartoom to stars-knew-where.
I paced in front of the force field as I began telling my story, as promised.
“Ulinial live on colony ships. Our world was destroyed by the wars Baltaz and Ultaz caused, and the survivors fled into space and swore never to commit violence again.” I didn’t go into depth about the mythical twin brothers who, according to our history, had torn our world asunder with their fury and greed.
It was, at this point, not even certain if we ever had a world or if these brothers existed; it was enough that most of my people believed it.
“The Ulinial travel through space on their colony ships, hiding from those who would harm us or seek to enslave us. I learned how to repair things at a very young age; a lot of us do, because there is always something that needs fixing on ships that ancient.” Some of those memories were very fond: sitting at my father’s knee as he cleaned air scrubbers and explained the task; taking apart all kinds of appliances and machines with my mom, the parts spread out on our table and music filling the air.
“Sometimes a ship gets so crowded we would pool together all our funds to buy a ship for a group of young couples to split off. That happened twice while I was a kid, and it was an amazing celebration. And sometimes, we’d get news that a colony ship had been lost, taken by slavers, or destroyed.
” I had been shielded from that kind of news, but I’d sensed it anyway, and learned to place it when I got older.
As passive as most of my people were, we were considered ideal household slaves by the less morally inclined of the quadrant.
It was very common for the majority of slaves in a household to be of my kind.
Thatcher swore, as if he already knew exactly where my story was headed.
“Am I doing this right?” he demanded gruffly, pointing at the wires dangling from the open panel.
I went up to the force field that blocked me from doing this myself.
Squinting, I could just make out the various colors of the thin cables I’d asked him to cut, strip, and attach to his comm.
I nodded, and then I gave him a thumbs-up, but that only made him glare.
Such a grump, or maybe he just saw straight through the false cheer.
Straight to the little girl I’d been when my world had come tumbling down around me.
“Krektar slavers took the colony ship when I was twelve. I escaped detection by hiding in a maintenance shaft for three days, then got into Yengar Space Station via an airlock I had override codes for. I’ve worked on spaceships ever since.
” That was the truth. I hadn’t been one of those lucky enough to be found and adopted by another Ulinial ship, but I’d been scrappy enough to stay safe and work for my food and bed.
“It felt like being on the run, like being a wanted criminal. I didn’t stop running until I found myself hired by the Varakartoom.
Asmoded was quite impressed that I managed to fix their shuttle.
” I did not mention that I’d fixed that shuttle to try to escape, and Aramon and Solear had caught me.
The Varakartoom’s crew had boarded the pirate vessel I had been unlucky enough to be working on to retrieve the stolen cargo they’d been hired to find.
Five years wasn’t long to some, but it had felt like I’d caught up on a lifetime of safety while living on this ship.
Untouchable, able to sleep deeply each night, and valued for my skills.
“I’d do anything for the Varakartoom,” I sighed, overwhelmed with the intensity of that sentiment.
Then I eyed the hole leading into the cell next to mine.
Enough was enough; it was done tricking us.
Today was the day I was going to put an end to that thing.
Behind me, Thatcher whispered, “Me too,” almost too soft to hear, but I definitely heard it when he swore he’d do anything for me, too.
“Come here. Enough of this force field. Let me scan you when you do that trick, and I can perhaps mimic it with my portable shield.” Thatcher came immediately, sticking out his hand and jamming it into the force field before I was even ready with my scanner.
I didn’t realize it hurt him until after I was done, when he yanked his arm back and shook it like it tingled.
“Thatch! I’m so sorry, I didn’t…” He shot me a glare that made me snap my mouth shut.
It even tempted me to snap back at him, overriding the compassion from moments ago. “You could have said it hurts.”
“If that mattered to me, I would have. Now work your magic.” He pointed at the shield generator on my belt.
It was tiny, portable, and my own design.
If I could make it smaller and lower its power requirements, that would be my next adaptation to all the armor suits the crew of the Varakartoom wore.
Perhaps I’d have Flack test it first, as payment for getting me a family book according to Ulinial tradition.
Obeying Thatcher’s demand, I worked on my little generator to make it output the exact same frequencies Thatcher’s skin had generated on its own.
It took a moment, and it definitely felt like walking into resistance when I got it to work, but it worked.
Suddenly, I was standing in the main area of the brig, where a table and chair stood in case a guard had to be stationed.
I could move freely, and now I could also see into the cell the entity had disappeared into.
I froze, staring in shock at the collapsed body of the human male.
He lay like a pile of tangled limbs, his head nearly crushed beneath his own awkwardly fallen torso.
There was absolutely no sign of the entity itself—unless you looked closer and saw hints of black curl beneath the human’s skin, particularly along the back of his exposed neck, near the spine where all those sensitive nerves ran.
At least a portion of the entity had gone into the human, but was it all of it? I intended to find out.
“You finish the comm situation,” I said to Thatcher, turning away from the sight. “I will free the crew and deal with that thing,” I added, pointing at the collapsed human. He was still behind a force field, trapped in the cell, but if Thatcher could get out, perhaps so could he.
Thatcher shot me a grin, and his hand found my braid at the base of my neck. “I like it when you get bossy, Ysa.” Then he kissed me.