Page 50 of Mutant Mine

“So,” I ask in my brightest voice, as if nothing weird just happened. “What did you do withyourday?”

“I saw some friends of yours,” Roth says, startling me completely.

“You did?”

“Yes. Tommy and Ellis. They send you their well wishes. And Ellis says… Hey.”

My throat tightens with sudden, unexpected tears.

“Are they okay?”

“Yes. They are safe, and being fed often enough. I brought them medical supplies.” He smiles to himself. “Tommy was quite fierce. He made me swear that I have not harmed you.”

“Tommydid? But he’s terrified of you!”

“Yes. He is very courageous, in his own way.”

“Yeah, he’s great.” I smile too, picturing it: my friend Tommy, locked up in a cell meant for dangerous criminals, and raising his voice to Roth.

“Thank you,” I say. “For making sure they’re okay. I really appreciate it.”

He nods solemnly, then goes back to his reading.

These days, it seems that all I say to Roth is ‘thank you’. I feel a rush of fondness towards him… But it’s sostrangeto feel like that. Everything about him turns my heart upside down and inside out.

Roth is keeping my friends in a cell. He’s keeping my friends alive.

I like him. I don’t like the things I’ve heard about him.

I’m afraid the authorities will recapture him, and workhim to death on Chronus. I’m afraid they won’t, and he’ll set this ship full of maniacs loose on the galaxy.

He’s so different from the other prisoners — but he is one of them, not one of us.

I want him. I don’t want to want him.

I have no idea how to feel. And I don’t know how much longer I can stand it.

25

Roth

SHE ISfilling my head like this steam fills the room — clouding my vision, blinding me with warmth, softness, pink. All I can think of is that brief flash I saw of her, fresh from the bath. Water was shining on her bare skin. I wanted to drink from her. If the towel had fallen…

It did not. There is no need to think of it.

“Are you hungry?” I ask her now.

“Sure,” Rory replies, oblivious to the tumbling of my mind. “I didn’t eat lunch today.”

So we go to the kitchen and choose our meals. While I heat them, Rory lays the table for dinner. It is a long time since I have had a home, but there is a feeling of home in this.

Rory comes back in and begins rummaging through the kitchen cabinets. She emerges holding a dark bottle.

“Have you ever tasted wine?”

“Yes,” I say.

“Good wine?”

---