Page 15 of Seven Oars (Rix Universe #3)

Tutti-induced paralysis did a number on Rosamma’s body.

Gro and Eze had had to carry her back from the Command Center.

Even now, a day or so later, her arms and legs felt like foreign objects, refusing to obey her brain’s commands.

She couldn’t even cry.

She longed for peace or at least for oblivion. So weak and imperfect, it should have been she, not Sassa, being unceremoniously fed into the chute aperture for her final flight among the stars.

She wondered why the Striker hadn’t killed her too.

Alyesha climbed over the threshold. Her face was somber.

“The trash chute is something else… It’s over now.”

“Sassa?”

Fawn asked in a hoarse voice.

Alyesha nodded.

Fawn covered her face and cried.

By contrast, Rosamma sat primly on her pad with dry eyes. She was drowning in sorrow, but no tears came.

Nothing.

“Ucai sent me here for the time being,”

Alyesha said.

“They’re navigating out of some asteroid cluster. Tutti’s not doing what it’s supposed to.”

After the chaos of the near-encounter with the freighter, the station remained silent. If the pirates went to the Habitat, it wasn’t to party. The music didn’t play, the smoke didn’t choke them, and the sounds of fights were nonexistent.

Gro raised her head.

“I take it the freighter didn’t spot us?”

Alyesha shook her head.

“We’ve already moved away.”

Rosamma’s heart ached.

“Where’s the girl?”

Alyesha looked around, searching for Daphne.

“Hiding,”

Rosamma croaked.

“Probably in the meat locker.”

The commotion had spooked Daphne, and she had vanished.

Alyesha gave a delicate shudder.

“What a place to hide. It’s beyond disturbing.”

You have no idea, Rosamma thought.

She would have to go get her soon; she wouldn’t put that task on anyone else.

She thought of Phex.

As if reading her thoughts, Alyesha said, “They chained Phex to a wall in the Habitat.”

Rosamma shifted on her pad, uncomfortable and tired.

“I’m sorry it didn’t work out,”

she said to the room.

The women looked down. Some nodded in acknowledgment.

“Are they mad at us?”

Fawn asked.

Alyesha gave a one-shoulder shrug.

“Ucai isn’t. But the Striker’s pretty mad. I thought he’d kill Phex on the spot. Like… Sassa.”

All conversation ceased.

They spent time together, but by themselves. They needed it to process the events that had cost them Sassa. It was a hard loss to accept.

Only when Daphne’s absence became impossible to ignore did Rosamma and Gro shake off the clinging sorrow and go looking for her.

Fawn insisted on coming along.

Gro gave her a look.

“Why do I get the feeling you’re not just looking for Daphne?”

“Her, too,”

Fawn said, with a trace of a smile.

Gro rolled her eyes.

The three of them headed straight for the Meat Locker.

“Okay, brace yourselves,”

Rosamma said as her hand touched the chrome lever.

It was more a message to herself than to Fawn and Gro. She just hoped Daphne wouldn’t be… nibbling.

A blast of cold air hit them as the door swung open.

“That is so gross,”

Fawn whispered when the headless corpse came into view.

“Sweet hell, what in all the stars…”

Gro stumbled back.

Unfortunately—or maybe fortunately—Father Zha-Ikkel was there alone.

If not in the Meat Locker, Daphne could be anywhere.

They stood on the Bridge, deciding where to look next, when the mesh floor shuddered beneath the weight of many heavy footsteps.

Panicked, they flattened their backs against the wall, all breath suspended, just as Thilza rounded the corner. The Striker was right behind him, then Nud and Xorris, Massar and Keerym.

Time slowed.

Rosamma’s wide eyes locked onto their even, purposeful advance across the Bridge. They moved fast, yet every motion stood out, sharp and clear. The floor trembled under their combined steps.

Fawn came alive at the sight of Thilza, her face lighting up.

He didn’t acknowledge her. Rosamma didn’t think he even glanced her way. He looked tense, irritated. Not exactly frog-marched by the Striker, but it felt that way.

The Striker’s attention brushed against Rosamma as he drew even with her, less than a touch, more than a whisper. The whoosh of his breath grazed her cheek.

Her eyes followed him.

Light caught the fine chainmail stretched across his shoulders, the prized defender shirt shimmering: a sly, constant reminder of who was in charge.

He strode past with long, sure steps. A soul in steel. If there was a soul inside all that steel.

Nud snorted as he passed by.

Abruptly, Xorris broke ranks and rushed Fawn.

She screamed, but he only scooped her up, laughing.

Her scream turned into giggles as he bounced her a few times, then dropped her roughly.

“A one for fun, are you?”

he said and clicked his tongue suggestively, making her blush.

Time resumed.

The pirates’ procession moved on, a loaded freight train rumbling past, disappearing around the bend.

Rosamma dropped her eyes as Massar passed. He looked at her, she could feel it, but she refused to look back.

Keerym’s ears twitched at the women.

“Get the girl gone,”

he threw over his shoulder.

“She’s in the Habitat.”

Then they were gone. Only the fading tremors of the mesh floor remained, an echo of their force.

Rosamma let out a breath she’d been holding.

For a moment, as they marched by, an odd vision had come to her of what they might have been if they’d had the right purpose.

What a waste, she thought, with a trace of sadness.

“Let’s not hang around any longer than we have to,”

Gro said, already pulling them toward the Habitat.

*****

The first thing they saw when they got there was Daphne, climbing into the Striker’s chair.

“Holy cow, that girl,”

Gro muttered.

She reached Daphne first, but her rough tugging didn’t go over well.

Daphne resisted, wailed and kicked. Then she clamped onto the chair’s armrests and held on for dear life, as Rosamma, Fawn, and Gro pried her away by her thin legs.

The disturbing chair moved and squeaked, its leather twitching like the hide of a living animal.

The whole thing was absurd and exhausting.

Phex, chained like a dog to one of the old wall mounts, watched the pitiful scene unfold with his oblique Rix eyes.

“Are all your young like that?”

he asked with a faint trace of scorn.

“No,”

Gro snapped.

“But we take care of them, no matter how they turn out.”

Eze arrived, drawn by the noise. Together with Gro, they led the struggling Daphne away.

Rosamma sank to the floor beside Phex, feeling low and physically drained. The energy deficit wore her down more and more each day. Stress worsened her condition, but that was rather a moot point, all things considered.

At least she wasn’t cold anymore. The change in the station’s temperature was a welcome upgrade.

“I’m so sorry, Phex,”

she said, referring to their failed attempt at sending a distress signal.

“We’ll try again. We’ll plan better.”

He jerked at his chains.

“You can’t plan anything in this place. It’s impossible. They do it on purpose.”

“Do what on purpose?”

she asked.

“Keep it chaotic. It’s not random. It’s a strategy.”

Rosamma wasn’t convinced. There was no deeper meaning to life on this space station. The pirates were just that: chaotic.

But this principled, disciplined defender struggled to understand how someone could live without boundaries.

She turned to him, sensing she’d uncovered his weakness. At the same time, she took stock of his new injuries.

He had a few, though none looked serious. Still, she tentatively reached for his hand.

“I can share some energy with you, if you need it.”

It was a generous offer on her part. She couldn’t spare much, but she didn’t like seeing Phex so lost. A boost might cheer him up a little.

He turned his hand palm-up to give her access to his wrist.

“I can get used to this,”

he murmured, closing his eyes.

She sent a small burst and withdrew her hand.

His eyes opened.

“That’s all?”

She blinked.

“Well, I have to ration it,”

she said, feeling the need to explain.

“My reserves are low right now, and I’d rather save them for when you truly need me.”

She smiled at him, self-conscious.

He was frowning slightly.

“Where have they all gone to?”

Fawn cut in, sliding down to sit beside them.

At first, Phex didn’t look like he’d reply.

“I don’t know,”

he finally said.

“They don’t exactly keep me informed, you see.”

His voice carried a sharp note of sarcasm.

Fawn plowed on, leaning over.

“But you must’ve heard something? What’s your guess?”

Phex’s mouth thinned.

“They’re either at the Service Block or the Engine Room. The station’s overheating.”

Fawn blanched.

“Bro, what? So this warm weather isn’t just… because?”

“Yes, because,”

he said curtly, almost curling his lip.

Fawn had always annoyed him the most. Her bubbly, open nature was the opposite of his, rubbing his proper self the wrong way every time she moved.

“Well, I won’t complain if they don’t fix it,”

Fawn said, stretching.

“We about turned into icicles.”

Rosamma wasn’t as dismissive, despite also enjoying the warmth.

“Do you think it’s serious?”

she asked Phex.

“I guess. Tutti didn’t catch it in time, and now they’re having trouble managing Tutti. Thilza was supposed to check on the heat earlier, but he didn’t.”

Phex paused meaningfully, and Rosamma gathered he was looking at Fawn, Thilza’s distraction.

Rosamma pulled her legs up.

“Are they fixing it now?”

she asked.

That procession on the Bridge sure looked serious.

Phex shrugged.

“Who knows what they’re doing?”

*****

The Cargo Hold was quiet when Rosamma returned alone.

“What happened to Fawn?”

Gro asked.

“Nothing. She wanted to stay in the Habitat.”

“With Phex?”

Gro was incredulous.

Rosamma smiled a little.

“It’s not what you think. She’s just talking to him.”

Fawn only hung around the Habitat waiting for Thilza to come back. Or Xorris. The “fun” ones.

Regardless, she was eager for the company of men, much preferring it to the “boring”

women in the Cargo Hold. Phex would do for now, as a sort of time filler.

Chained, he had no choice but to listen to her prattle.

He hadn’t asked Rosamma to stay, but she knew he didn’t relish being stuck alone with Fawn.

On her part, Rosamma had nothing left to say to him. So she’d left.

Their conversations always revolved around their escape plans, and she couldn’t think about those at the moment. Not so soon after… well.

She forced herself to drink some water. She always forgot.

“I wonder how Galan’s doing,”

Anske said to the room.

“Did you happen to see him? On the Bridge?”

Rosamma shook her head.

“I hope he gets better soon,”

Anske continued wistfully.

“I thought about what he should start learning all night. I even made some bookmarks for him in the Guide. A lesson plan. Here, see? Out of the can labels. Only they won’t stay put.”

As if to prove it, one bookmark slipped out from the glossy pages and fell. Then another.

Hiking up her embroidered coat, Anske bent to retrieve them, muttering something about commandments.

Alyesha shot her a vaguely disgusted look that was tinged with pity.

The women settled into their spots.

Sassa’s covers were so painfully, conspicuously flat. No one had the heart to stow them away.

It was unbearable. This, their captive existence. Waiting for more pain to come. The chaos.

But most of all, inevitability.

A growing sound of an altercation caught her attention.

Here we go again, Rosamma thought with resignation.

The sound was distant, coming from the far side of the station, across the Bridge. She wondered idly who was fighting, since Phex was in the Habitat.

The other women also picked up on it.

“Right on schedule,”

Eze muttered.

“We haven’t had a fight all day!”

They listened, waiting for it to wind down.

The oar of the engine labored underneath. The fan kept blowing air as usual, but it was warm now, balmy. Its warmth brought some relief to Rosamma’s poor, weakened body, but no peace of mind.

Instead of dying down, the thumping and stomping of feet moved closer. Cursing and indistinct arguments, more like growls and spats, reached the Cargo Hold.

This fight didn’t sound like the typical slapping around the pirates enjoyed. Rosamma heard no jokes, and no one laughed.

More cursing erupted.

Suddenly, her ears prickled at the voice, dry, low, with smooth, rounded vowels.

The Striker. Angry.

She stiffened, barely breathing—it was a visceral reaction.

Fawn rushed into the Cargo Hold, hopping over the threshold.

“Bro, it’s bad! It’s Thilza.”

“What about him? What’d he do?”

the women asked at once.

Fawn threw a worried glance at the door.

“He lost his shit!”

“Why?”

Alyesha asked, frowning.

They exchanged puzzled looks. Thilza?

“Not sure,”

Fawn said.

“I think the Striker found his smokes and took them away. His whole stash’s gone.”

Gro’s brow smoothed out.

“That answers it. If true, no wonder he flipped out.”

“Are they at the Habitat now?”

Alyesha asked.

“They are,”

Fawn said.

“I figured I didn’t want to stick around for that. No, thank you. Not with the Striker going nuclear on Thilza. He’s really scary, that one. A living terror.”

She shook her head emphatically.

Her words echoed Rosamma’s feelings.

A terror.

Anske looked at Fawn, hopeful.

“Is Galan with them?”

“I didn’t…”

A loud crash echoed in the distance, cutting Fawn off.

Daphne started crying.

Unease gripped them. This wasn’t the usual letting off steam; it was serious.

They stopped all activity and listened, like people listen to a bad storm raging outside, safe within the walls of their homes.

But they shouldn’t think of the Cargo Hold as safe. Or, heavens forbid, a home.

And they knew better, of course.

Yet there was no denying an uncomfortable familiarity that had slowly grown between them and this closed-off world of Seven Oars. This place, with its perpetually grating, coughing machines and wobbly mesh floor, was turning into a quagmire that slowly sucked them in.

Rosamma, too, was “adjusting”

by growing numb to the horrors, by gradually losing her acute fear of getting hurt, of dying. She was getting used to the constant presence of hulking, filthy aliens around her.

Regular beatings had become the norm.

“Why would the Striker take Thilza’s drugs away?”

Alyesha wondered out loud.

“Maybe he started chasing rabbits in the Crew Quarters,”

Eze said.

“Or called his ex at three in the morning.”

Fawn giggled.

“He’d never.”

“How well do you know Thilza, Fawn?”

Eze turned on her.

“From what I’ve seen, he’s as useful as a wet sock with a melted brain. Maybe the Striker had had enough of that.”

“That’s Nud you’ve described,”

Gro muttered.

“Only angrier.”

Alyesha sliced through the air with her hand.

“Stop overanalyzing. That’s all of them.”

Anske shot her a droll look.

“Even Ucai?”

“Even Galan.”

Alyesha smiled sweetly.

Raised male voices and dull thuds rolled through the air. Then—another crash. A muffled scuffle. Something breaking.

“Thilza’s big,”

Fawn remarked.

“Even bigger than the Striker. Have you seen him standing? A real bear.”

There was an affectionate note in her voice.

The women seized on it and pounced on Fawn, making her sputter and curse.

But Rosamma wondered…

Thilza wasn’t quite bigger than the Striker, but definitely his equal.

Then there was Ucai, always ready to undercut him, and Massar with his knife…

The Striker could lose a fight. Nothing was a given.

And she couldn’t decide if she wanted him to.

Gradually, the distant fighting slowed, then stopped altogether. But the silence that fell didn’t bring relief to their senses. Instead, it felt ominous.

“I wonder what happened,”

Rosamma said.

Eze scratched her head and shrugged.

“Someone lost a scuffle. We’ll find out who. Eventually.”

“I wish they weren’t so rough all the time,”

Fawn complained.

“They always hurt each other. It’s terrible.”

“They fight because their minds are closed,”

Anske supplied readily.

“They need liberation.”

Alyesha rubbed her face.

“I just can’t. I’m the one who needs liberation from this pious drivel.”

“Oh, you’re the one who needs it most.”

Anske kept her cool, but her face reddened.

“And it’s not drivel! It’s a tried-and-true philosophy.”

But Alyesha wasn’t up to arguing.

“Tell that to Galan,”

she snapped.

“I’m going out to see where things stand. See you later.”

She swept out of the Cargo Hold.

Anske blinked at the door.

“Where’s she going?”

“To the devil,”

Gro said, shaking her head.