Page 35 of Sawoots Story

I’ll always wonder what could have been.

“We will wait on the other side. We will take shifts to keep you safe.”

That’s a relief. I hate needing their protection, but I do. Steel walls aren’t going to do much against an Orb-Blade. Having my triad outside is going to be a better deterrent than walls.

My triad? Stop thinking of them like that!

The two Aurelians leave without a sound, and the door closes behind them. “AI, lock door,” I say, and there’s a satisfying thud of a bolt snapping into place. If a triad makes it through Garrick and his triad, at least the metal door will give Theme and I time to escape through the servants’ quarters.

Theme’s shaking. He stands, white as a ghost. “Hey hot stuff. Guess there’s only one bed…you want to snuggle?”

One of my hobbies on the long journeys in Wild Space is making Theme blush. Normally his face would go bright red at a comment like that, but this time his eyes are unfocused like they were before I slapped some sense into him during our initial escape.

Stop thinking about Aurelians and do you duty as first mate.

“Hey. Hey, you okay? Theme, look at me.” I snap my fingers, getting his attention as his eyes refocus.

He nods, but there’s tears in his eyes.

I set down the cup of boiling water and walk to him, opening my arms wide to give him a big hug.

He’s taller than me but he’s built like a twig, thin and delicate. Somehow, even though we eat the same rations on our long flights and the weight goes straight to my stomach, he stays rail-thin. He’s shaking like a leaf.

Poor guy.

I told Tasha he might not be cut out for the kinds of missions we run. She told me he was so damn good with computers she couldn’t pass him up.

“I’m…I’m scared, Sawoot.” His voice is a half-whisper, and it cracks as he speaks.

“You don’t have to be scared. I’m going to keep you safe. Tasha’s going to keep you safe. Together, we’re going to get you off this ship alive.”

He pulls himself from me, blinking slowly. “Do you really think that?” He’s got a suspicious look in his eyes, wanting to believe it, but unable to.

“I know it.”

He shudders, looking down. “Fuck. I thought I was dead. Chris had another knife and…and he jumped the guards when they brought us rations. He didn’t tell me the plan first. Those guys…those guys don’t include me in anything.”

I lick my lips, thinking it through. “You’re more loyal than any of them. Here, let’s have some tea.”

I grab the pot from the table and bring it to the replicator, then start opening cupboards at random.

There’s rows of dried foods. I find one that’s marked as tea. I rip open the package, and sneeze as the dust hits my nose. It’s powdered, but it’s no longer edible. It’s practically dust at this point.

“Gods, how old is this fucking ship?”

“Eight thousand, six hundred and twenty-four standard Earth years,” says Theme, rolling off the statistic from memory. I give him a long, considering look, and he looks away.

I’ve got a headache from a lack of caffeine, and I’m just going to have to try the replicator. Even if it’s almost ten thousand years old, tea’s been around since Old-Earth. It’s just a bunch of leaves and water and I hope the damn thing can do an acceptable job.

I put the teapot under the nozzle. “AI, make tea. Strong tea.”

The replicator blinks, then spurts out a dark liquid that looks more like coffee than tea. I sniff it. It’s bitter as hell. I grab a spoon and fish out a chunk of slimy liquid that didn’t replicate properly. I throw the disgusting spoon into the sink with a shudder. I might have stared down death a hundred times over without flinching, but failed biomatter grosses me out.

Theme is still standing by the doorway. He hasn’t moved since I hugged him. “Sit down,” I say, motioning to the table, and his legs move. He needs someone to lead him. He sits down, shaking, and I bring the teapot and sit in front of him.

He’s a wreck. I pour myself a full cup of tea, then give him a half-cup. He’s already anxious as hell and a full cup of caffeinated tea could give him a panic attack. He slumps down, and I analyze him as I sit in front of him. His hands shake as he takes the tea and blows on it, cooling it before taking a cautious sip. His face screws up at the taste.

If we’re going to get off this spaceship alive, he’s our weak spot. But he’s also a loyal crew member, unlike the disgusting mining crew who laughed at Tasha while she took their punishment.

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