Page 39 of Seven Oars
“What is Sir-Sar?”
Esseh didn’t seem pleased that she was asking questions.Nevertheless, he answered,“The planet where we are from. Where the Shadow Flyer was from. It was a great, free world. No rules, no defenders obsessed with order. They’ve weakened our race, enslaved by their own rules. Scum.” Esseh spat a wad of thick saliva on the floor, and it slid slowly between the mesh slits.
Uneasy, Rosamma’s attention returned to the Striker, and she found him studying her. She wasn’t sure how she knew. He could’ve been looking anywhere. But she felt his attention in her bones.
She braced for more questions about Lyle, but instead, he changed the topic.
“We’re all that’s left of the free world that was Sir-Sar,” he said.“You can thank your lucky stars that you ended up here, not on some filthy defender ship.”
Rosamma got a distinct feeling he was mocking her, although his tone was dead serious.
“You and your women will room at the Cargo Hold. Consider yourselves cargo.”
His words rang with finality.
She dropped her gaze to hide her distress, her fingers gripping the end of her braid.
The Striker gave a casual kick to a can of food near his chair.“Go tell your humans to clean up this mess. Store the food in the Cargo Hold. It’s yours to live on, but that’s all you’ll get. Understood?”
Rosamma nodded.
“Get it done before the next shift change, or I’ll punish…” He paused. “…the defender.”
Still caught in the chill of his scrutiny, all Rosamma felt was pure dread. He was utterly, glaringly inhuman. Finding common ground with a creature like this would be like trying to relate to a dinosaur. Both smelled bad, too.
“The defender’s name is Phex,” she heard herself say into his scarred face with sudden, reckless defiance.
It galled too badly that Phex was entirely at the mercy of this… dinosaur.
“I’ll remember that next time I break his ribs.”
She stumbled out of the Habitat.
*****
“When’s the next shift change?” Gro asked.
“I don’t know. I didn’t ask.” Rosamma crawled around the empty Striker’s chair, picking up items that had rolled behind it. Every little thing counted.
The women busily scurried back and forth between the Habitat and the Cargo Hold, carrying their mangled supplies.
Fawn tsk-tsk’d.“You were right here with them. You could’ve asked so many questions. Like, what are they gonna do with us?”
“We weren’t having a dialogue, exactly.”
“Pfft. I would’ve made them listen to me.”
Anske shoved a handful of stuff at Fawn.“Don’t be a dolt.”
Rosamma kept crawling around the platform, careful not to touch the tattooed chair.
The pirates were, thankfully, nowhere to be seen, but the robot hummed in a corner, supervising the proceedings.
Alyesha zeroed in on the bot.
“When is the next shift change?” she asked in Universal.
“You are classified as a prisoner, human. Prisoners cannot receive this information.”
