Page 3 of Seven Oars (Rix Universe #3)

Their ascent went quickly, but Rosamma missed it.

She blacked out, overwhelmed by G-force, the shrieking grind of the ship, the women’s panicked cries, and the crushing realization that Ren wasn’t with her.

When she regained her mental abilities, they were in space, and Meeus was a rapidly shrinking bright sphere in the porthole.

It was done. She had left.

Alone.

Thoughts bounced around her skull with no meaning. Her stomach turned.

With effort, she brought the room into focus. It wavered.

Zero gravity might be cool, but not for everyone, and not all of a sudden.

“I can’t feel my feet! Lord, my feet!”

Anske’s anguished cries echoed through the ship.

She flailed in midair, performing an awkward backstroke while clinging to a strap on the wall.

“Guys, this is so cool! Check it out. I’m flying!”

Fawn floated by.

Alyesha’s long hair created a massive halo around her head as she clung to her dignity while trying to get acclimated.

Someone else was crying, and another was hiccuping loudly.

Rosamma hung suspended by a wall, limp like a flag in still air. Her cottony brain was shorting out in a sickening way, obsessed over the fact that Meeus was lost to her forever.

Then she threw up.

A torrent of rapid-fire Rix language erupted at the sounds of her barfing.

Despite the verbal abuse hurled her way, the evacuation jerked Rosamma’s system into place. She felt more grounded. So to speak.

Blinking fast, she tracked her stomach contents as they spread around in cheerful bits and bubbles, dividing into smaller portions, floating everywhere.

Alyesha’s forehead wrinkled beneath the halo of her hair.

“Why did you do that?”

“I’m sorry,”

Rosamma said meekly.

“Aris!”

someone barked.

Rosamma recognized the voice: the First One. Even in the throes of a massive fit of frustration, he sounded decisive and purposeful.

And she was a hapless mollusk.

The barf particles continued drifting. Would they dock somewhere? Along the walls?

Meanwhile, the shortest and seemingly youngest of the four Rix, Aris, swiftly unfolded a thin, flexible bag and waved it through the air, capturing the airborne barf like a butterfly catcher.

Fawn floated into the path. A small chunk of poorly digested fruit escaped Aris’ bag and bumped her forehead.

She gagged.

“Do not open your mouth,”

the threat came in the same decisive voice, in Universal.

Rosamma summoned enough courage to look the First One in the face. His expression was smooth, but his black eyes glinted brightly. He was livid.

The second Rix, referred to as Silo, joined Aris with another bag. Together, they quickly contained the mess and sealed the bags.

Fawn, rudderless, drifted sideways like a day-old helium balloon, her well-rounded derriere coming perilously close to the First One’s hawkish nose. He reached out with his large, six-fingered hand and yanked her by her leg, pinning her to the wall.

Fawn yelped. He growled.

“I am sorry!”

Rosamma said louder this time.

The First One was so strong. Was he also violent?

It was dawning on her that the women were completely at the Rix’s mercy.

“Please don’t hurt Fawn.”

A bit of silence followed, as if the First One searched for the right words.

“You’re mistaken, human. Rix defenders don’t abuse females. It takes away the honor.”

“Yes, of course. I’m sorry.”

She believed him, but still she felt like crying.

She was a mess and had no idea how to fix it. Her imperfect body was only reliable at failing her.

“What is happening to your eyes?” he asked.

“My eyes?”

“That liquid. Are you sick?”

Rosamma sniffed.

“No, I’m fine. It will pass.”

He floated closer, thrusting a finger tipped with a dark blue talon at her face.

“Stop it. Now.”

His rich tawny hair was pulled into a no-nonsense twist, but a few strands escaped. Those strands pulled away from his face like angry, silky spikes, pointing at the enemy.

She was the enemy.

Rosamma wiped her eyes and sucked the moisture back into her nose.

“Yes, sir.”

Mollified, he backed off.

“Come here. All of you.”

The women clustered before him as best they could.

He probably meant for them to form a line, but it was what it was. Anske turned sideways, still finding her “footing.”

“Have you ever flown across the Universe?”

Most shook their heads.

“I did,”

Eze revealed.

“What? You never said a word!”

Fawn twisted toward her, further breaking ranks.

“Quiet!”

The First One thundered.

“Have you had space travel training?”

“Yeah, some,”

Gro offered in Universal.

“We had basic meetings. Covered food stuff and the cruiser’s layout. Lyle told us what to expect. He was supposed to be our pilot.”

That last bit came out a bit antagonistic, but overall, Gro’s summary was on point, and it outlined as inadequate a preparation as it had been.

Rosamma hadn’t even attended those few meetings. Ren hadn’t wanted her exposed to other people. He’d worried she might overexert herself and get sick. And why would she need to know anything? He planned to travel with her. He was her caretaker. Always and forever.

The First One blew a resigned breath through his triple-slitted nostrils, making them flutter.

Two of his helpers, Silo and Aris, hovered nearby.

”We’ll be in space for the next three hundred and thirty-one Universal space leagues,”

the First One announced.

“How long is that?”

Alyesha asked.

“Three hundred and thirty-one,”

he repeated, nonplussed.

“We would like to know the measure of time, Commander,”

Rosamma said quietly, using the form of address she’d heard.

Again, his expression didn’t change, but Rosamma felt a prickle. She knew he was looking at her.

His attention wasn’t flattering.

“Do not call me Commander. That is not my rank.”

“I’m sorry.”

She’d be saying that a lot.

“What should we call you?”

“My rank is Lieutenant. I can’t use it here, in a stolen cruiser.”

His lip curled.

“My name is Phex. You can call me that.”

The women murmured, acknowledging the introductions.

“My name is Alyesha,”

Alyesha said, touching her chest.

“And I’m Fawn!”

Fawn wiggled with a grin.

Phex raised a hand. The slick shirt he wore emphasized the smooth girth of his bicep. Taut and resilient, it lacked the sculpted bulwark of human men, all solid, poured strength.

“What you are called is of no importance to me.”

The women fell silent.

“Only one of you will communicate with one of us.”

His black eyes glittered like two polished obsidian mirrors.

Suddenly, Rosamma saw herself reflected in them.

“You.”

He had glided closer.

“You speak languages. What’s your name?”

He was so close she forgot how to breathe.

“Rosamma.”

He cocked his head, studying her.

“Are you a Tana-Tana?”

“By half.”

One of the other Rix, Silo, snickered behind Phex.

“Tana-Tanas will breed with anything,”

he murmured in his language.

Phex didn’t acknowledge his remark, and Rosamma pretended not to understand. It was what it was.

Phex pushed off and hovered front and center. Pulling a small device from his leg strap, he consulted the screen.

“Three hundred and thirty-one Universal space leagues equal five weeks of your time,” he said.

Rosamma’s heart sank.

Five weeks!

She and Ren hadn’t been apart for more than three. Ren, the stronger of the two, should easily last that long without exchanging energy. But what about her?

Rosamma didn’t want to die.

More urgently, she didn’t want to die and condemn Ren.

Shutting down the rising panic, she let go of the braid her fingers had been kneading in the absence of the shawl she’d lost during boarding and touched her alloy bracelets. The bracelets helped contain her energy. Their effect was so paltry as to be negligible, but every little bit counted.

Five weeks. She could do it. She must.

Phex spoke in his clipped, commanding tone.

“There’s one lavatory.”

He pointed.

“Aris will show you how to dispose of body waste. No medic on board. If you get sick, you take care of yourself.”

The women exchanged looks but said nothing.

“Our food is stored near the deck. Don’t touch it. Yours is in the back room. You are responsible for rationing it. And don’t consume anything that can be broken into… very small pieces.”

“Crumbs?”

Rosamma supplied. She’d already gathered that Phex’s Universal wasn’t too advanced.

“Yes, no crumbs. Understood?”

Only Anske had an issue with it.

“What about crackers for a snack?”

Eze rolled her eyes heavenward as Phex leveled the full force of his impatience at Anske.

“Not if you don’t want to breathe your crackers. Crumbs can also clog the instruments,”

he added.

“The cruiser will break, and we’ll all die.”

Anske shrank back.

Daphne began crying.

Dark-blue inner lids, matching the color of Phex’s nails, slid out to cover his shiny eyes right before he briefly closed them in utter vexation.

“You will rest behind the closed hatch in the back. There are straps.”

He pointed to a small room, the only other compartment of the ship.

“The hatch must stay unlocked—we need access to the lavatory. When awake, you can stay here, but the deck is off-limits. If I catch you around the controls, I’ll shackle you for the rest of the flight. Any questions?”

No one had any.

Phex seemed satisfied.

“If you have concerns, send them through Rosamma.”

She got a small kick out of hearing him say her name. Ri-sa-na. He didn’t quite pronounce it right, but still.

Phex moved to the deck, his soldiers following.

The women sagged as much as it was possible to sag in zero gravity.

“What a jerk,”

Fawn muttered.

“All of them.”

Mara patted the distraught Daphne on the head.

“Really, did he have to be so mean? Here, baby, here.”

“Soulless animals,”

Anske concluded.

“My work is cut out for me.”

Sassa looked at the hatch closing off the cramped “back”

room.

“At least, we’ll have some privacy.”

“Must sleep here, must eat that. Don’t care what your names are.”

Alyesha mimicked Phex’s inflection and gathered her hair into a bun. She glanced at Rosamma.

“Your brother sold us down the river.”

Rosamma lifted her chin.

“He didn’t! This is all so unexpected.”

“How do you know?”

“He wouldn’t have left without me unless something drastic happened.”

“What happened?”

“I don’t know!”

“You never know anything,”

Alyesha shot at her with disgust.

Rosamma flushed.

“I’m not my brother.”

“I take it our pilots aren’t going to be our friends,”

Gro chimed in.

Sassa worried her lip.

“What if these aliens kidnap us?”

Fawn’s forehead wrinkled.

“What for?”

“You know what for. They’re men. Men always think one way.”

Alyesha laughed.

“I think we’re safe from that. Did you see how they look at us? We’re creatures to them. Organisms.”

Daphne stopped crying.

“Like worms?”

Alyesha let her arms drop, and they floated midair.

“It’s going to be a long five weeks.”

*****

Everything, on every level and down to the smallest detail, was new and different. The packaged food. The microgravity. The alien pilots. The very fact of flying through space.

At times, Rosamma wondered if she’d dreamed this whole thing.

She liked to press her face to one of the small portholes and look out. No more Meeus in sight, but the stars blinked with cold, unwelcoming light against the blackness.

She imagined how silent it must be out there. Sound couldn’t travel through a vacuum. Neither could a living being survive out there. Still, she wished she could step outside and float among the stars. Even for a minute.

I am in a spaceship, flying through space.

Despite worries about her health and Ren’s, despite the uncertainty of her future and the presence of strict, unfriendly Rix, she found it… marvelous.

Her eyes drifted from the porthole and settled on Phex’s alien form that fascinated her even more than open space.

He was resting.

“Sleep”

didn't quite capture what the Rix did to regenerate. It was more like a complete shutdown, a suspension of not just consciousness, but basic bodily functions like breathing. They looked dead when they did it, and it freaked the women out to no end.

For Rosamma, Phex’s stasis periods were the best moments. She could look her fill without worrying he might catch her looking.

With his brilliant eyes closed, his face wasn’t forbidding, just strange and beautiful, otherworldly and mysterious, like stars and planets scattered against the black swath beyond the porthole.

She tried to imagine what it would feel like to have him look back at her—and immediately dismissed any such thoughts. If he ever did, she would see disgust in his eyes. Or worse, pity. It would break the fragile illusion that had somehow taken root in her mind.

And that was all she had, her illusion. Once they reached Priss, Phex would leave, and she would never see him again.

“Who’s next for the bathroom?”

Fawn’s shrill voice pulled Rosamma out of her daydream.

At the deck, Aris winced and muttered something.

Aris never interacted with the women. Their mannerisms, what they ate, their language and laughter—he despised all of it. Such a stuck-up man. Striving zealously to imitate his Lieutenant, he ended up being more strict, more abrupt, and more unbending than Phex, as if that were even possible.

“It’s me. I’m next.”

Rosamma floated through the open hatch and squeezed into the narrow bathroom stall. Using sanitary napkins, she cleaned herself and rubbed dry shampoo into her long hair.

She’d thought about cutting it short for convenience. Her hair was not as thick and lustrous as Alyesha’s dark mane or as wild as Fawn’s wheat-colored curls, but her long braid was the color of moonlight, so pale a blond it shimmered in the sun.

It was unusual, like many of her features, but in a good way. She clung to her braid as a symbol of conventional womanhood.

When Rosamma emerged, Fawn and Mara had already prepared their food packs. Their entire dinner affair was strange and floating, but they found comfort in recreating familiar rituals.

“Close the hatch,”

Alyesha instructed Rosamma after she helped fetch water pouches.

Rosamma complied.

The women’s food intake perplexed the Rix. The quantities they consumed were astonishingly large by the aliens’ standards. The rationed amounts of freeze-dried poultry livers and tubes of tomato soup, barely enough to fill up the smallest of the women, elicited a stupefied reaction from their alien carers. They didn’t laugh and point fingers, but it sure felt like they wanted to.

In reality, the massive Rix males required only a fraction of what a human would need to survive.

Another glaring distinction between their bodily functions was the fact that Rix didn’t drink. Whether that trait made them superior was debatable, but since Rix consumed their liquids through food, their bodies processed it differently. So, the physicality of the women needing to use the bathroom had the aliens’ heads spinning. Because they themselves didn’t pee.

Rosamma had known that, from sharing her house with Lyle and his human mate, Cricket. So she wasn’t quite as unsettled by the fact. Still, she felt the Rix’s veiled disgust as keenly as the others.

Alyesha, in particular, hated it. She made a rule that they eat behind closed doors. Ditto for the bathroom use. Discreetly.

“They have their rules, and we’ll have ours,” she said.

Mara struggled to understand Alyesha’s strategy.

“Why do we have to hide something that’s completely normal?”

“Not hide. Just avoid highlighting our differences.”

“No, we’re hiding,”

Mara insisted.

“We’re lizard people to them,”

Gro chirped, not particularly concerned about the situation or the aliens’ opinion of them.

“Speak for yourself, human,”

Eze shot back.

The two of them laughed.

Fawn eyed the label on a soup container with distaste before twisting the lid open.

“I say, they are the lizard people. Have you seen their male parts?”

“Fawn!”

Anske gasped.

“What wickedness.”

“But have you?”

“Of course not. God forbid.”

“Me neither. I don’t think they even have them.”

Sassa frowned.

“Please tell us you didn’t try to look in their pants.”

Fawn chortled.

“Like they would let me! Their crotches are smooth like a girl’s. You think they might be eunuchs?”

“Eunuchs?”

Daphne repeated, eyes wide. Mara threw Fawn a censoring look, which Fawn ignored.

“They are not eunuchs,”

Rosamma said quietly.

“They are Rix.”

Everyone turned to her.

“What do you know about it?”

Alyesha inquired.

The freeze-dried proteins suddenly stuck in Rosamma’s throat.

“It’s just that…”

Everybody was listening.

“Their members are internal when not in use. What, you didn’t know?”

She had to take a sip of water.

“Yo! Seriously?”

Fawn’s eyes went wide.

Gro squinted at Rosamma.

“How do you know?”

“I read about it,”

she said lamely, thinking, How else?

Except for her brother when they were very young, Rosamma hadn’t seen a naked male body in the flesh. Much less a male alien body.

But she read a lot. She liked to know things.

She had frantically researched Rix when she met Lyle, looking to learn about the Rix physical makeup to see if she could heal him. He had been so, so sick. She hadn’t found much useful information, but some tidbits stuck in her memory.

“Some books you read!”

the women ribbed her.

“Does your brother know what material gets into your head?”

At the mention of Ren, Rosamma deflated. Where was he now? Their energy deficit would hit soon.

“I… no. Ren doesn't like to read.”

“So, tell us about yourself, sick face,”

Eze prompted.

“Is Ren really your brother?”

Rosamma looked up in surprise.

“Of course.”

Then she scanned their faces and read their doubts.

“What did you think?”

“Maybe an adopted one or something,”

Alyesha confessed.

Genuinely amused, Rosamma laughed.

“We’re twins.”

“No way!”

Eze exclaimed.

“But he’s human and you’re… what are you, anyway?”

Fawn leaned in.

Of course, they would wonder. She was used to this reaction. They weren’t rude about it, just curious. Her peculiar appearance, a mix of delicate human features and Tana-Tana slanted eyes, flat cheekbones, and a small, uniquely patterned nose that was both girlish and animal-like, had earned her plenty of the same Eww attitude on Meeus.

“Our father was a Tana-Tana alien,”

Rosamma explained.

Eze’s bushy, straight eyebrows, a typical Sakka feature, formed an inverted V.

“What was he doing on Meeus?”

Rosamma looked at her hands.

“Mom met him on Earth. That’s where she was from.”

The women exchanged looks.

Earth. Once the jewel crown of humanity. Now, only a dark shadow of its former glorious self. The humans that remained on Earth were rough and poor, and aliens dwelled among them, fighting for resources.

Humans had migrated to Meeus over centuries, and the women around Rosamma were generations removed from their Earth ancestors. Meeus was their home.

It was her home too.

What am I doing in space, flying away from my beautiful Meeus?

“I’ve never met my father,”

Rosamma continued, leaving the troubling question hanging.

“He left Mom before Ren and I were born.”

Rosamma didn’t even know her birth father’s name. She’d never asked, too afraid to learn the true story. She wasn’t sure there had been any sort of a relationship between her mother and him beyond the single act that had resulted in her and Ren’s conception. She clung to the hope it had been consensual.

What she knew for certain was that the relationship, whatever it had been, and the shame of bearing half-breed children, were the cause of the drink and drug-addicted ruin her beautiful, hapless mother would become.

“Mom got cast off by her family on Earth. She found a way to come to Meeus, where she eventually met and married Zaron, the owner of the club, Atticus.”

“We know him! Ren called him Uncle Zaron.”

Rosamma nodded.

“That’s what Ren and I call him. Our mother died when we were thirteen, and Uncle Zaron took care of us.”

In reality, their mother had stopped mothering them long before that tragic event, leaving Zaron to raise them as best he could.

He had never complained. He loved them, and he loved their mother. But all of Zaron’s devotion couldn’t heal her broken spirit. She died outside, in a ditch where she’d fallen. Too impaired to get out, she had drowned in a foot of stale rainwater.

Ren never forgave her for her drug use. He carried a lot of anger inside. He thought she was an embarrassment. Weak.

But Rosamma had forgiven her. Mom had loved them. She just hadn’t loved herself. Yes, she had been weak, but weakness—that was something Rosamma understood better than Ren.

“I bet you’re glad to go to Priss with your brother,”

Fawn nodded, having come to the conclusion that Rosamma was as eager as they to leave Meeus behind.

Well.

Everyone else looked forward to going, and Rosamma chose not to stand out by telling the truth.

Mostly, she was afraid that saying the words out loud would make the mistake of leaving real.

She smiled and said, “Yes.”

*****

They had a quiet few days, floating around and doing little. There was not much to do. They slept, ate, cleaned up, and talked.

Especially Mara.

Every thought or concern, everything that went through her head, got vocalized. She didn’t need an audience; it was a comforting personal habit, like Rosamma’s tendency to touch her shawl or finger the end of her hair.

Mara’s daughter Daphne, on the other hand, spoke little. She was an odd one, Daphne. They all knew the girl had challenges, but it was her habit of staring that unsettled them. More than once, Rosamma found herself the object of Daphne’s intense, unblinking scrutiny, her eyes wide-open, her face slack and unemotional.

Mara assured them Daphne would eventually snap out of it, and she did, sidling closer to her mother like the small child she was inside. Still, it was disconcerting.

Anske prayed a lot. She tried to gather them for sermons, but her efforts never drew much of a crowd. Mara, Daphne, and Sassa listened. Rosamma did too, out of politeness more than genuine interest.

Gro and Eze effectively excluded themselves by cracking jokes that made Anske bristle.

“You, Gro, would benefit greatly from cleansing thoughts. Those tattoos on your arms—they are jail tattoos.”

“They’re prison tattoos,”

Gro corrected blithely.

Anske’s nose went up.

“Freedom of Life helps lost souls like you. If you pray hard, you’ll liberate your thoughts and become truly free and good in spirit.”

Anske’s words amused Gro.

“I’ve paid my debt to society, so I’m already free. And I’ve never been a lost soul in my life.”

Alyesha, another one who didn’t care about being a “lost soul,”

skipped prayer time in favor of working out and a strict beauty regimen.

Fawn wasn’t interested in anything except larking around and trying to attract male attention. She found Anske’s sermons and Alyesha’s exercise equally boring.

“You’ll be a glob of useless flesh by the time we land,”

Gro told Fawn.

Gro also exercised. Everybody did, except for Fawn.

“You won’t be able to walk out on your own two legs.”

“I’ll plead with one of the handsome Rix to carry me. Riel, I’m thinking. He likes me.”

Fawn smiled cheekily at Gro.

“In your dreams.”

“You’re such a killjoy! He finds me quite attractive.”

“Like a rash.”

Fawn stuck her tongue out.

She made no secret of appreciating Riel’s massive size and that cocky way he canted his head when he listened. Fawn always thrust her chest forward when he was near so that the alien could take full advantage of the view. And it was quite the view, ample in size and round in shape, conveniently buoyed by zero gravity.

Riel never showed any interest, but sometimes his lips would twitch at Fawn’s antics, and he’d make a lighthearted joke about her not being good at following the rules.

Gro shook her head at Fawn, giving up on the exercise argument.

Sidling closer to a vent, she lit a cigarette.

“Where’d you get that?”

Fawn rushed over.

“From a vending machine,”

Gro replied, deadpan.

Fawn’s head swiveled right and left, searching. “Where?”

“The Rix hide it behind the deck. Cigarettes, gum, candy. Condoms.”

“Really? What did you use to pay?”

“Gave Riel a blow job.”

Eze snickered nearby.

Fawn’s face fell.

“Do you have to always make fun of me?”

“You’re so easy,”

Gro replied benignly.

“Can I have a puff?”

Gro allowed Fawn to take a drag. The two of them hung out together, content.

Rosamma hovered helplessly nearby. Vent or no vent, Phex would soon catch a whiff.

Sure enough, once the first particles of smoke reached the deck, Phex, their esteemed leader, a man of few words and the embodiment of law and order in this rickety outfit, descended on them like the wrath of God.

“What are you doing?”

Tight-lipped with anger, he broke his own protocol by addressing Gro and Fawn directly.

Fawn, too busy thrusting her chest at Phex, missed how absolutely furious he was.

“We’re having a smoke.”

“What is this?”

“A thing you inhale smoke from. And blow it out. For fun. Like this.”

Fawn blew a delicate stream of smoke into his face.

He snatched the cigarette from Fawn’s hand so fast she yelped, then brushed past them to properly dispose of it.

“Is it not allowed here? No one told us,”

Fawn called to his back.

“There are no signs.”

She had a point, but Phex was not in the mood for a debate.

Rosamma’s fingers twisted the end of her braid. Despite his obvious annoyance with the women, she had nothing but admiration for this alien. To her, he embodied masculine strength.

“Girl, you’re drooling,”

Gro said into her ear.

Rosamma’s face burned as she tore her eyes away.

“He’s mad at us,”

she whispered to Gro.

“Let him stay mad.”

Gro shrugged.

“I’m tired of walking on eggshells around him and his bionic sidekicks. They treat us like prisoners, and I’m running out of ways to be alright with it.”

On the deck, Phex spoke briefly with the other Rix. Then, trailed by Aris and Silo, he approached Rosamma.

“Call all your Meeus females up here,”

Phex ordered her.

She didn’t have to. The women had already gathered behind Gro and Fawn, the offenders. In such tight quarters, there was no chance of missing this debacle.

Phex surveyed them with disdain that was palpable.

“Bring all your belongings forward. We will search them. Translate.”

Rosamma did.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,”

Gro exclaimed.

“Let him take my cigarettes. Let him choke on them. There’s no need to search other people’s bags.”

Rosamma translated Gro’s words to Phex, smoothing over the emotion.

Phex made a cutting motion with his scarred and veined six-fingered hand.

“You’ll do as you’re told. We want to know what other drugs you brought onboard.”

“There are no drugs,”

Rosamma protested.

He was unconvinced.

“Translate what I said.”

Miserable, she turned to the women.

“We got it,”

Alyesha said curtly.

Aris and Silo quickly searched each bag. Where Silo worked with indifferent efficiency, the subtle glint in Aris’ alien eyes betrayed glee.

Gro’s cigarettes and an overlooked canister of pepper spray were discovered and confiscated, along with some sharp tools from Alyesha’s cosmetic pouch.

“There will be new rules,”

Phex announced.

“First, that door stays open at all times.”

He pointed at the hatch that had granted the women their bare minimum of privacy.

Rosamma’s shoulders slumped in defeat.

“Next, you will stay in, because you can’t follow orders. And if you so much as breathe the wrong way, I’ll tie you up. I am tempted to do it now. Understand?”

He finished with, “It’s for everyone’s safety.”

Yeah. Safety.

“It’s all because of you,”

Sassa hissed at Gro.

Others said nothing, but the looks they gave Gro were hostile.

Afterward, the women went to their room and stayed there, with the door left open. Once inside, they just… hung there like droopy leaves caught in a draught.

The Rix took turns watching them.

It was demoralizing to find themselves trapped in this kind of fishbowl.

“Surely, they’ll release us in a day or two,”

Mara said, hopeful.

They didn’t.

The mood among the women soured.

Daphne alternated between crying and staring, making it hard for Mara to keep her occupied.

Anske prayed.

All attempts at humor fell flat.

“Why are they treating us this way?”

Fawn complained.

“We’re their passengers!”

“They don’t care. They don’t see us as equals,”

Mara said bitterly.

“Hey, Misters Pilots!”

Fawn called through the open hatch.

“I’m sorry we disobeyed you! It won’t happen again.”

“No, it won’t,”

Aris muttered in response.

He didn’t mean they’d be released.

Dead end.

“What if we could help you? There are tasks we can do.”

Aris chuckled.

“There’s nothing you can help us with.”

Fawn’s lips pursed.

“But you made no effort to know us.”

“Why would we?”

Phex said something sharp to Aris and ended the argument.

“Pigheaded dumb males,”

Fawn fussed.

“They think they’re so smart, teaching us a lesson.”

“That’s okay,”

Mara said, placing a comforting hand on Fawn’s shoulder.

“We’ll manage. Not long now.”

“Not long? Three more weeks like this! I’ll die.”

Fawn threw her head back dramatically.

Rosamma looked out of the porthole.

The Universe beyond the thick glass was dark and silent. They seemed to be standing still, but their cruiser was hurtling toward new beginnings.

Three more weeks till they reached Priss.

Three more weeks to a new life.