Page 25 of Mutant Mine

LAST NIGHTwent better than I expected, given the circumstances. When I returned to the rooms, I was glad to find Finch exploring. She even helped herself to some food. She also did not try to murder me in my sleep, which was a pleasant surprise.

I believe she has taken one of the knives from the kitchen. That is what I would have done, if I were her — and her gait was awkward, as it might be if there were something sharp in her pocket.

Not that I am concerned about her little knife. In fact, I am glad for her to have it, if it helps her to feel that she is in control.

Nor do I mind sleeping on the floor. The carpet in these rooms is softer than many of the prison bunks I have slept on in recent years. Warmer and quieter, too. I slept easily — especially knowing that the little bird was warm and fed, and in her bed mere feet away. Absurd though it may be, it does ease the constant pressure in my chest somewhat, knowing that she is there.

It is peculiar… More than thoughts, I have sensations: tightness over my heart, shivers of awareness when she is nearby, and an ache when she is not. I am convinced that what is happening to me is physiological. It must be of my body, not of my soul.

Perhaps, when my brothers come, they will be able to explain it. Perhaps they will even be able to make itstop. But for now, indulging the instinct seems to be less distracting than trying to ignore it. At least while I know that she is safe and close, I can focus on what I need to accomplish.

When Finch first lay down and turned off the lights, I could hear her breaths, still shallow and panicked. But by the time I awoke this morning, she was deeply asleep. She did not stir, even as I readied myself for the day and left the rooms. I tried my best to be silent.

As I walk into the canteen that has become the heart of the ship, I see that most of the men are already awake. Many are eating. I will break my fast with them.

I join the queue for rations. Not all the men are creatures of chaos; they have impressed me with the level of order that they have maintained so far. It is true that the worst among them are hogging the crew bunks and forcing lesser men to fetch their food — and do whatever else they wish. Many others, however, seem to have grasped our collective responsibility to keep the ship functioning. They have stepped up to the task.

My optimistic assessment is interrupted by a hard clap on the shoulder.

“Roth!” calls a voice behind me. “So good to see you!”

Turning, I recognize the man. A brute. British. His name is Blacklock, and he claimed a whole four-bed bunk room just for himself on the first night. He is here now to play cards and have his fun, not because he is one of the men who are forced to sleep on the floor of the canteen.

“Blacklock,” I nod, and turn to face the queue again.

“Ever since you got your new chew toy, you’ve been locked away with him. Hasn’t the poor boy’s squeak worn out by now?”

He grins at his own joke. It is an unpleasant sight.

I see that I am not going to be able to ignore him.

“I have been on the flight deck,” I reply. This is not a lie. I did stop there to check the instruments on my way here.

“Oh, you have?” Blacklock says, his tone friendly. “Excellent. Then you’ll have no problem giving us a bit more info. You see, the lads and I…” He gestures around him, and I realize that a number of men are watching our conversation carefully. “We were wondering: where the fuck are you taking us?”

“I have charted a course to the nearest region of—”

“—inhabited space. Yes, we know,” says Blacklock. “But where exactlyis that?”

Cursing, interrupting me, mocking… This man would like very much to undermine my authority.

Has a rebellion brewed so quickly? It is less than twenty-four hours since they saw me leaving to go to the little bird. I have missed only one meal. Apparently, that show of desire was enough to render me human in their eyes — and if I am just another man, then I can be challenged.

“What, have you forgotten?” he asks. “Too distracted? Of course, we all know you’re a bit of an animal. Literally, heh. Unable to resist thosebase urges, are you?”

Blacklock’s smile has stretched into a sneer, daring me to react. Behind him, the men shift in their seats, adjusting their positions. They are ready to pounce. They just need me to give them a reason.

My eyes move over the group. There are fourteen of them. That is probably what has given Blacklock the courage to stage this mutiny. Men may obey me out of fear, but no one on this ship would call himself my friend, or fight to the death by my side. I am alone. And he knows it.

“Your cock probably took over your higher brain function —if you even have a brain under those hideous horns.”

Time slows as I consider my options. These men have seen a tiny crack — my visible interest in Finch, damn it — and are seeking to pry it wide open. They are the worst kind of men: greedy hedonists who would eat every scrap of food, wring every pleasure they could out of the weaker men, and lead us all into doom.

Their rebellion cannot be permitted to grow. Which means they cannot be permitted to disrespect me and live. This spark of ambition must be snuffed out. There is no other choice.

I lunge across the room and seize Blacklock by the throat.

All of the men fight well. I can see why they believed that they stood a decent chance against me. One is armed with a stun-gun; another with a fragment of metal, broken from some piece of furnishing and filed to a sharp point. Others are handy with their fists.

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