Page 12 of Seven Oars
“Do not call me Commander. That is not my rank.”
“I’m sorry.” She’d be saying that a lot.“What should we call you?”
“My rank is Lieutenant. I can’t use it here, in a stolen cruiser.” His lip curled.“My name is Phex. You can call me that.”
The women murmured, acknowledging the introductions.
“My name is Alyesha,” Alyesha said, touching her chest.
“And I’m Fawn!” Fawn wiggled with a grin.
Phex raised a hand. The slick shirt he wore emphasized the smooth girth of his bicep. Taut and resilient, it lacked the sculpted bulwark of human men, all solid, poured strength.
“What you are called is of no importance to me.”
The women fell silent.
“Only one of you will communicate with one of us.” His black eyes glittered like two polished obsidian mirrors.
Suddenly, Rosamma saw herself reflected in them.
“You.” He had glided closer.“You speak languages. What’s your name?”
He was so close she forgot how to breathe.
“Rosamma.”
He cocked his head, studying her.“Are you a Tana-Tana?”
“By half.”
One of the other Rix, Silo, snickered behind Phex.“Tana-Tanas will breed with anything,” he murmured in his language.
Phex didn’t acknowledge his remark, and Rosamma pretended not to understand. It was what it was.
Phex pushed off and hovered front and center. Pulling a small device from his leg strap, he consulted the screen.
“Three hundred and thirty-one Universal space leagues equal five weeks of your time,” he said.
Rosamma’s heart sank.
Five weeks!
She and Ren hadn’t been apart for more than three. Ren, the stronger of the two, should easily last that long without exchanging energy. But what about her?
Rosamma didn’t want to die.
More urgently, she didn’t want to die and condemn Ren.
Shutting down the rising panic, she let go of the braid her fingers had been kneading in the absence of the shawl she’d lost during boarding and touched her alloy bracelets. The bracelets helped contain her energy. Their effect was so paltry as to be negligible, but every little bit counted.
Five weeks. She could do it. She must.
Phex spoke in his clipped, commanding tone.“There’s one lavatory.” He pointed.“Aris will show you how to dispose of body waste. No medic on board. If you get sick, you take care of yourself.”
The women exchanged looks but said nothing.
“Our food is stored near the deck. Don’t touch it. Yours is in the back room. You are responsible for rationing it. And don’t consume anything that can be broken into… very small pieces.”
