Page 58 of Under His Heel

“We’ll have the calamari, and for our main dishes, the specials, please, and whatever wine you recommend paired with that.”

The waitress marked it all down and left, all before Alex had had a chance to voice a complaint.

“What if I didn’t want the special?” Alex complained. “And what’s cala-whatever?”

“You are, as ever, charming.” Tracht didn’t sound particularly mad though. “Calamari was, from what I understand, originally an Earth dish made from some sort of sea creature. It’s been adapted to be made with local sea life. Local being, of course, from Pylos.”

Tracht obviously expected Alex not to know where Pylos was. Alex looked out the window and tried to spot the planet, but the station must have been oriented away from it. “Is that where you grew up?”

“No. My family has always been on Cadmus. I say ‘always,’ but presumably my ancestors emigrated from somewhere. I did attend the merchant marine academy on Pylos. My first few jobs were contracted to the Argos Enterprise, shipping between Cadmus and Herakles station, until my sister married Vasilis and he set me up with Lysander Corp. A much more lucrative deal. That was also when I bought my ship.”

Normally Alex didn’t care about people’s histories—if he didn’t ask about theirs, they wouldn’t ask about his—but since Tracht already knew so much about his own, it seemed only fair. “Isn’t that cheating? Like, other people aren’t that lucky.”

Tracht snorted and sipped some water. “It is, indeed, nepotism at its finest. If Anna hadn’t married Vasilis, I would likely not have been able to afford my own ship for another decade.” He curled his lip in distaste. “I do hate working under other people’s orders.”

Alex could totally see that. “And now you just go back and forth between those two stations? Doesn’t it get really boring?”

“Well, Alex, that’s why I have you, isn’t it?”

The waitress came by with their appetizer and drinks before Alex could think of a good response. He was happy to have the wine to sip and realized that he hadn’t had anything alcoholic at all since the start of his trip. The last drink he’d had was the evening before he’d gone and signed up for the debt contract, just beers with Nick while they were planning his eventual escape.

He’d rather have a beer. The wine was kind of sour to Alex’s taste buds, and his nose reflexively scrunched up. If this was the expensive stuff, Alex would take the cheap drink instead. He quickly popped one of the ‘calamari’ in his mouth to drown out the wine flavor.

“Now that I’ve answered your questions,” Tracht said after a few apparently enjoyable sips of his wine, “I have a question for you.”

Alex looked at him warily. “Like what?”

“The scar on your face. I had originally considered offering you cosmetic surgery to smooth it over, but I’ve grown fond of it. How did you acquire it?”

Reflexively, Alex reached up to cover the scar. “Got it on, uh, Winnipeg station. Nick scammed a couple of thousand credits out of some dude, and then he figured us out and came after us. Nothing I couldn’t take, except he had a knife and nearly got me a lot worse than this. We quickly got off station after that.”

“And it never occurred to you to stop?” Tracht shook his head. “No, perhaps I should ask: it never occurred to your brother to stop, despite the very real damage to your body. Am I right that your nose happened in a similar manner?”

Alex ate another one of the calamari—some rubbery deep fried thing that was actually really good—and nodded. “Here, actually. Last one of our stops before Cadmus.” From Cadmus, on to Cassiopeia, and from there to any ship that would hop to another system.

The calamari went quickly, and as soon as they were done with it, the waitress came around with their main dishes. Some kind of fatty sea creature from Pylos covered in a white sauce that exploded with flavor on Alex’s tongue. “Ss good,” Alex said after nominal chewing.

“I don’t know why I thought you’d have manners,” Tracht commented. He ate more slowly. “If we weren’t at such a fine establishment, I’d tell you to get on your knees, because eating from my fingers would surely be more civilized than what you’re doing.”

“Whatever. You wanted to bring me,” Alex said, and for good measure he opened wide to show off the half-chewed food.

“The first and last time, it seems.” Tracht pointedly rolled his eyes. “I’ll remind you that I am perfectly capable of punishing you for your transgressions once we are back on the ship. I still have some ginger, and we haven’t even played with the whip or the crop.”

Alex swallowed quickly. “That’s not funny,” he said, careful not to open his mouth too wide.

“Your manners certainly aren’t, but your reaction amuses me fairly well.”

Dinner wasn’t as fun anymore. Alex ate while shooting occasional glares at Tracht, but naturally Tracht just smirked back at him. At least the food was good. He tried to copy Tracht’s mannerisms, cutting his meal into smaller pieces and chewing slowly. Tracht didn’t even seem to care that Alex wasn’t talking at all.

Dessert followed soon after, a froofy coffee for Tracht and a fluffy cake thing that Tracht insisted on spoon-feeding Alex. Alex could have sworn everybody in the restaurant was staring at him, and he could feel himself blushing with each bite. On the other hand, he wasn’t going to turn down an expensive dessert even in the face of humiliation.

“I do think your tears are my favorite,” Tracht murmured, “but shame looks good on you too.”

“For like, five minutes I thought you weren’t a dick,” Alex countered.

Tracht laughed, and instead of feeding Alex the next spoonful he ate it himself. And he took the rest of the dessert for himself too. “Surely you must know better by now. And I’ll remind you how I feel about foul language when we’re back on board.”

“No! That doesn’t count! It wasn’t real cussing!” Alex tried to reach for the dessert, but Tracht swatted his hand away with the spoon.

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