Page 19 of The Last Hope
“A mug is aface,” he defines.
“What do you drink out of then?” I snap back.
His lip quirks in a semi-smile. “A mug.”
Gods.“I loathe your slang.”
“I find yours charming.”
I frown, wondering if he heard me saymayday. “You’re a Fast-Tracker?” I wonder when he’ll die. He doesn’t look any older than twenty years of age.
He turns a corner into another identical corridor. “I’m well-educated in Saltarian culture, especially language.”
I hate how he didn’t really answer me.
We all walk in silence now, and our muscles shriek at the first lengthy movement in days. I peruse our surroundings, most of which were a blur when we were first brought into the brig. Since we were dragged and half-conscious.
TheRomulusstarcraft is similar to theSagawith metallic walls, dizzying hallways, and lit corridors. Bigger, more cavernous, it would’ve been harder to pass the StarDust starcraft exam if we were tested with this vessel.
Court scans each passing door. “Are other prisoners held here?”
I’ve forgotten our morbid theory. That Zimmer, Padgett, Gem, and Kinden were thrown in a brig too.
Bludrader keeps the same pace. “No one is here you’d want to see.”
Court clarifies, “The people we arrived with, do you know where they are?”
Leather strips of his skirt flap as he rounds a corner, and we follow step-for-step. Foot-for-foot. “The four Saltarians who stole a ship from Saltare-3,” Bludrader says, sounding indifferent. “Yeah, I’ve heard of them and their fate.”
Court jails his breath.
I sense Mykal, the coil of his muscles as they tighten.
We all nearly stop in place, but Bludrader adds, “TheRomuluscommander let them go the same day that you were put in the brig.”
“Let them go,” Court repeats, blinking slowly.
I picture Zimmer sighing a breath of relief, safely back on theSagawithout us. Laughing at the beauty of the stars.
It’s a better way to die than being stuck here.
Yet sadness creeps up, clouding my eyes. I don’t think this emotion belongs to me.
Court drops his head while we walk.
“They have no use for Saltarian traitors,” Bludrader explains. “TheRomuluscrew didn’t trust them enough to let them stay on their ship, so they let them go. They’re probably sunbathing on a far-away tropical planet by now.”
Mykal growls a curse, mumbling, “They left us to rot.”
I feel Court pushing against hurt. Attempting to thwart emotion from compounding.
Should I be briny? Should I want to scream? But all I think… “They owed us nothing,” I mutter.
Court says beneath his breath, “He’s my brother.”
I don’t know what that means. Sure, I’ve seen siblings before, but brothers and sisters aren’t obligated to aid one another just because of their parentage. One of my Fast-Tracker friends had an Influential brother, a fancy engineer, and he didn’t give his sister a single bill for food or clothing.
She resorted to thievery.
