Page 188 of Seven Oars
He had spent a lifetime smothering that glow, but in the end hadn’t been able to change himself; only hide it better.
Esseh came and stomped on Fincros’foot as hard as he could.
“Those eyes of yours are a freak show, Striker.”
Realizing his blunder, he filled with angry embarrassment.“A have-been Striker. You were a shitty pilot anyway.”
He aimed a punch at Fincros’stomach.
Fincros, having tracked Esseh’s rough position, blocked the blow, but it was clumsy.
Still, his resistance enraged Esseh. He darted to the side and slammed his fist into Finn’s face.
He stumbled and backed into Xorris. Xorris took him in a vicious chokehold and head-butted him. The crack from two Rix skulls colliding reverberated through the Habitat.
Fawn laughed drunkenly—Rosamma had almost forgotten the other women were here.
Phex stayed seated.“I wasn’t blinded, but you used to tie me up while you beat me, so we’ll call it even.”
“Deal,” Fincros ground out.“You didn’t make that chair either, but I’m gifting it to you. Enjoy.”
Esseh and Xorris slammed him to the floor. They made it a game, hitting him from angles he couldn’t anticipate. Nud jumped in. Then Galan, ignoring Anske’s scowl. Holy Guide or not, the fun was too tempting for him.
In the haze behind them, Thilza lit up another pipe, freshly stoned and indifferent.
To say the scene was an unwelcome deja vu wasn’t going to cover what Rosamma felt, watching the beating unfold.
When Fincros was reduced to a pulp and stopped struggling, the pirates let up. They wiped the blood from their faces, spat saliva and mucus, farted, and high-fived.
Then they turned their attention to Thilza and heckled him about his pipe and not joining them in the beating.
“You’re despicable,” Rosamma hissed at Phex. The rest weren’t worth arguing with.
“Oh, I’m just getting started.” Phex rose and came to stand looming over her.“Let’s see what’s in store for him,” he said in his accented Universal.“I was smashed in the face with a bucket three times. Pulled by arms and legs to dislocate them. Used as a trampoline. Ridden like a pack animal around the station with a rusty D-bit in my mouth and a fake tail up my ass. Had my teeth pulled, ribs broken, and skull cracked more than once.”
His eyes took on a frightening depth.
“Pity we don’t have any more spice charm. I would have loved to see him that debased. Then again… he’s been fucking you. That sort of counts.”
“Shame on you!” Rosamma spat.“You’re a Rix defender.”
Phex jabbed a finger at Fincros’motionless form.“So is he. A perfect example of how you can transcend the confines of your defender mindset if you apply yourself.” He smiled an evil smile.“Isn’t it what Anske’s Holy Guide teaches us? Free. Total mind liberation. I listened.”
“Um, does it, Anske?” Galan inquired with uncertainty.
Anske’s wide eyes darted from Fincros’mangled body to Phex and back.“Sure, Striker.”
“See?” Phex put his face close to Rosamma’s and whispered,“The Striker is always right.”
Then he straightened.
“Take that trash to the Cargo Hold.”
It was a damning echo of their arrival at Seven Oars. Only back then, it had been Phex who was the trash. It had been Fincros giving the order.
“Work your magic so he’s up and moving soon.” Phex upchucked her on the chin before turning away.“We need all the fun we can get out of him, Rosamma.”
His nail broke her skin. And he’d said her name wrong again.
