Page 138 of Seven Oars
The thought alone filled Rosamma with a sinking despair. And that was considering she’d never expected to live very long in the first place.
Restless in the stagnant air of the Cargo Hold, she finally ventured out. She wasn’t sure what she wanted to do. There was no plan, but the golden panel with the transmitter inside drew her toward the Command Center.
When she reached her destination and peeked inside, she found it manned. And not by Tutti.
By Massar.
Rosamma slunk back down the passageway as fast as her legs could carry her.
Well, that was a non-starter.
But she’d try again. Every day, if she had to. Ten times a day. A hundred. She had nothing to lose and everything to gain.
Holding that thought, she pulled aside the louvered door to her not-so-secret little room and slipped inside.
“Hello, my stars,” she whispered, pulling the shades up.“How are you doing today? Still so bright and shiny, like new. I wish I could say the same.”
She smiled with self-deprecation, lowering herself to the floor and folding her legs underneath her. She rested her forehead against the glass. Weakness, her eternal companion, was chipping away at her resolve. Chip, chip…
She shed crumbs of her health everywhere she went.
No sound reached into her stuffy little room, but suddenly, the air changed, as if it had been sucked out.
He came in and lowered himself beside her, graceful. His shoulder-length hair was unbound, framing his heavily scarred alien face in choppy hunks. He faced the windows, letting his big, black eyes catch the reflection of the stars in their full multitude.
A starry-eyed monster.
They watched each other.His gaze was heavy on her, but not his silence.
“Who are you hiding from?” he finally asked her.
“No one. I’m not hiding.”
“Why do you come to the Dome and sit here in the dark, alone?”
The Dome.A fitting name for this quiet place with its marvelous view.
Rosamma tore her eyes from his and turned to the window.
“I like being alone. And the stars—have you seen anything more beautiful?”
He must be long used to this view, but Rosamma couldn’t imagine ever getting tired of it.
She felt his attention shift from her to the world outside.
“All I see are tiny white dots in the dark void,” he said. ”What do you see?”
“Oh, so much more than that,” she breathed.“I see a canvas made of darkness, so vast it’s endless, painted with shimmering stardust. The galaxies swirl like magical, vibrant whirlpools. The nebulae bloom and glow like exotic flowers. The planets drift in silence, each filled with its own mystery. The stars, even the rocky asteroids. It’s the very fabric of creation. It’s mesmerizing, Fincros. Our Universe transcends time.”
“Nothing transcends time,” he said flatly.
“Well, you’re technically right.” She touched the cold windowpane.“But when you look at it unfolding, doesn’t it make you want to fly into this eternal wonder?”
“Fly into this wonder?” He sounded puzzled.“There’s nothing I want more than for my feet to touch firm ground.”
Rosamma turned to him.“I thought you liked flying.”
“It’s what I do.” There was no passion in his words.
