Page 112 of Seven Oars
“I wonder how Galan’s doing,” Anske said to the room.“Did you happen to see him? On the Bridge?”
Rosamma shook her head.
“I hope he gets better soon,” Anske continued wistfully.“I thought about what he should start learning all night. I even made some bookmarks for him in the Guide. A lesson plan. Here, see? Out of the can labels. Only they won’t stay put.”
As if to prove it, one bookmark slipped out from the glossy pages and fell. Then another.
Hiking up her embroidered coat, Anske bent to retrieve them, muttering something about commandments.
Alyesha shot her a vaguely disgusted look that was tinged with pity.
The women settled into their spots.
Sassa’s covers were so painfully, conspicuously flat. No one had the heart to stow them away.
It was unbearable. This, their captive existence. Waiting for more pain to come. The chaos.
But most of all, inevitability.
A growing sound of an altercation caught her attention.
Here we go again, Rosamma thought with resignation.
The sound was distant, coming from the far side of the station, across the Bridge.She wondered idly who was fighting, since Phex was in the Habitat.
The other women also picked up on it.
“Right on schedule,” Eze muttered.“We haven’t had a fight all day!”
They listened, waiting for it to wind down.
Theoarof the engine labored underneath. The fan kept blowing air as usual, but it was warm now, balmy. Its warmth brought some relief to Rosamma’s poor, weakened body, but no peace of mind.
Instead of dying down, the thumping and stomping of feet moved closer. Cursing and indistinct arguments, more like growls and spats, reached the Cargo Hold.
This fight didn’t sound like the typical slapping around the pirates enjoyed. Rosamma heard no jokes, and no one laughed.
More cursing erupted.
Suddenly, her ears prickled at the voice, dry, low, with smooth, rounded vowels.
The Striker. Angry.
She stiffened, barely breathing—it was a visceral reaction.
Fawn rushed into the Cargo Hold, hopping over the threshold.
“Bro, it’s bad! It’s Thilza.”
“What about him? What’d he do?” the women asked at once.
Fawn threw a worried glance at the door.
“He lost his shit!”
“Why?” Alyesha asked, frowning.
They exchanged puzzled looks. Thilza?
