Page 38 of Mutant Mine

“So that was what I heard.” My face darkens, and my hand drops down to grip her shoulder.

“You heard that?”

“Yes. I was on the flight deck. I heard a bang against the door, and someone trying the handle. I thought perhaps you were exploring — but when I came through to check, you were no longer in the bedroom. And then I heard voices inthe corridor.”

Raised voices. Rory’s strangled cry. I ran.

Now, her eyes are shining, as if the gravity of what has occurred is just now sinking in.

“Thank you,” she says. “If you hadn’t showed up right then…”

“You did well to hold out against them for as long as you did.”

“Hardly. I freaked out — I let go of the knife.” She shakes her head angrily at herself.

“It was two against one.” I manage to keep my voice level as I say this. “It was not fair. You did astonishingly well, given the circumstances. And it was wise of you to have the knife in the first place.”

“Thank you.” A furrow appears on her brow. “Wait, how do you know the knife was mine?”

Ah. “I was aware that you had taken it from the kitchen.”

“Aware when?”

“…When you first took it.”

“You mean you’ve known all week that I had a knife in my pocket, and you just… let me keep it?”

“Yes.”

Rory’s face flickers between expressions. She seems to be torn between scowling at me and raising her eyebrows in disbelief.

“It’s kind of insulting that you don’t consider me more of a threat,” she huffs. “I could have knifed you in your sleep!”

“Mm. Well. Thank you for not doing that.”

To my great surprise, Rory laughs. It starts with the faintest crack of a smile, then blooms into real laughter, bright and lovely. I have never seen her laugh before. I cannot help but smile too — although, I do fear that they may just have hit her head too hard.

“You said you were bruised,” I say, after a moment. “Bruised where?”

“My arms, mostly, from where they grabbed me.”

Without thinking, I reach out to pull away one arm of her jumpsuit. Rory pushes my hand away — but gently.

“It’s okay, honestly. I’m okay.” She pauses, quavering. “It could have been so much worse.”

Her eyes glaze over as she looks into space, getting lost in her thoughts.

“Do not waste time thinking about what could have been, little bird,” I say, talking to myself as much as to her. “You are safe. You survived.Thatis what happened.”

“I know,” she says. “It’s just… I’ve had so many near-death experiences in this past week, I think my body has used up a lifetime’s supply of adrenaline.” She tries to smile again. “I feel shaken, that’s all.”

My hand has been resting on her shoulder for a while now. I suspect she has not noticed it there. When I stroke her slowly with my thumb, she does not object.

“Killing someone doesn’t feel good,” she says after a while, very quietly.

“No,” I say. “It does not.”

“I’m a… a murderer. I’m no better than half the prisoners on this ship now.”

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