Page 168 of Seven Oars
“Maybe sitting here with us would do you some good,” Gro told her snidely.“That cooch of yours will get blisters from overuse.”
Fawn chuckled.“Nah, it’s all good. They love me. I get my toes sucked, how‘bout that?”
“That sounds pretty gross,” Gro replied.
Fawn pushed up on an elbow.“Now that Phex got a sleeping node, I wonder if I can get him to invite me over.”
“Good luck with that.” Gro sounded done with Fawn.
Eze pitched in and bickered with Fawn, but Rosamma tuned them out.
Phex had gotten a sleeping node.
She hadn’t known that.
First, the shift duties. Now, the sleeping node.
Because of Fincros, Rosamma had stopped pestering Phex about the distress signal, and now she had no idea what he was doing. Thoughts of escaping never left her mind, but the anguish Fincros stirred made her shy away from dwelling on their plans.
Her eyes shifted to the provisions shelf. It wasn’t self-replenishing. And the shrinking amount of potable water was becoming a concern.
Eze had assured them that they could drink what was in the filtration system if they ran out, but Rosamma had her doubts.Despite their cultural likeness, Eze had a Sakka body. She might be able to drink that slush and survive, whereas a human body’s response to this much contamination wouldn’t be pretty.
They’d need more than one bucket.
*****
No matter how hard Rosamma pretended to be all right, she was weakening. Weariness ate at her, blunting her wits and dulling awareness. She’d drift off against her will, sucked into a long, sticky slumber, only to wake up suddenly, with hours lost to her.
The last time it happened, she missed going to the Dome.
When she stirred awake, groggy and blinking at the lights in the Cargo Hold, a large figure loomed over her mat. His arms were crossed, and his scarred face unreadable.
The moment she met his gaze, he turned on his heels and left without a word.
“What was that?” Gro asked, staring at the door through which Fincros had just passed.
“The Striker.” Rosamma’s voice sounded drugged, like she was waking from anesthesia.
“I know who he is. What I don’t know is why he was here.”
“He was checking on us.”
He was checking on her.
“He stared at you while you slept. It was creepy. I hope he isn’t turning into another deviant like Massar, with a mutilation fetish.”
Rosamma’s face must’ve registered distress, because Gro quickly amended,“No, I don’t think he’s like Massar. He just made me uncomfortable.”
“Did he say anything?”
“Nothing. That’s what’s scary. What can he want?”
Eze studied Rosamma but said nothing.
Rosamma let her head fall back down.“I have to go to the Meat Locker.”
“Oh, poor thing. Do you have to?” Gro rubbed her forearm in short, comforting strokes.
