Page 187 of Seven Oars
“He’ll know.”
“Is it about that Metalworks man he blew up on Sir-Sar?”
Thilza looked surprised.“He told you about that?”
“Yes. The two of you had a fallout because of it. I think he regrets… that it ended like this.”
“Did he also tell you Aercer was my father?”
Rosamma covered her face with both hands. Their tangled, violent histories would never stop crushing her.
“I’m sorry. Can you ever forgive him?” she whispered.
Thilza smiled faintly, only the corners of his mouth lifting.“Nothing to forgive. He did what I never could.’s all.”
*****
They gave him two more days to recover.
Then the lever to the Meat Locker clanged ominously, and Esseh stepped inside.
“Resting, motherfucker? Time to be alive.”
He hauled the unresisting Fincros to his feet and dragged him out, with Nud on hand to assist.
Rosamma scuttled after them like a mouse.
The Habitat was primed, long overdue for entertainment. The drug smoke was sharp and the music grating, if not particularly loud.
Esseh let go of Fincros.
He swayed on his feet but managed to stay upright. His loose hair covered the burn scars, but his indigo tattoos were on full display without a shirt to hide them.
The few pirates surrounding him—weak, semi-naked, and blind—rebelled against their former chief, yet were still in awe of him. It was there in their tense bodies and alert, hostile faces.
Phex was perched on the edge of the Striker’s chair. He got his defender shirt back, but it didn’t elevate him to his former role. Rosamma wondered if he would ever regain his self-worth.
Phex’s strength, his formerly steady golden glow, flared in hot, uneven bursts of restless energy.
He is a broken man,Rosamma thought with some sadness.
She would never forgive him for Finn’s eyes, but deep down, she still wished it had ended differently for Phex. He didn’t deserve the humiliation and losses he’d suffered.
He sneered at Fincros, a predator on the loose.“You know why you’re here?”
Finn moved his head to adjust for the direction of his voice. The indigo tattoos marking his full defender lineage stood out sharply.
Without trying, he was reminding Phex who he was.
“Yes, Striker,” Finn said quietly.“For you to take revenge on me.”
There was an awkward hush in the room, caused by him addressing Phex as Striker and by the absolute sincerity behind his words.
“Well,” Phex said, visibly uncomfortable.“You’re wrong. I already took my revenge on you. You’re here for our entertainment.”
Fincros stood still.Blindness stripped away those thick, protective layers of emotional armor he’d built over the years, leaving behind the bare essence of the man.
He glowed—not with Phex’s golden light, but his own. Lacking the burning intensity of a sun, his was pale and pure, a reliable moonlight in the darkest of nights. Simple but constant, a guide in the storm.
