Unfortunately, the same is true of me. I’ve never had to deal with such a magnetic pull before, and I’m at a loss on what I should do. Part of me wants to jump him, but I figure that wouldn’t be the polite thing to do.
“I think so, yeah,” I reply. Instead of coming out with the perfect feminine cadence, my words come out as a frog-like croak. I clear my throat, warm blood rushing to my cheeks, and only then do I regain my normal voice. “She has a lot on her mind, you know? What happened in the medbay… she feels responsible for that woman.”
“I see.” Nodding slightly, he keeps looking at me as if he expected me to keep talking. Apparently, conversation isn’t his strong suit. I bite on the corner of my bottom lip nervously, wondering what I should say to keep the conversation going, when he suddenly decides to continue. “What about you? How are you holding up?”
His question feels like a gut punch.
I’m always so preoccupied with Varia, doing whatever little things I can to ease her burden, that I’ve never stopped to think about how I was holding up. In a way, I gave Varia all of my focus just so I didn’t have to look inward and face the monsters hiding in the corners of my mind.
“Lamira?” he asks once more. “Are you alright?”
I open my mouth to say something but just end up just closing it again. I have no idea how to answer his question. It’s a simple one, but I’ve never stopped to think of an answer to it. Pinching the bridge of my nose, I close my eyes and breath in deeply.
“I… I don’t know,” I finally manage to say, looking down at my feet as I push the words out.
I used to be a simple, normal girl with a simple, normal life. I wasn’t a hero, but I wasn’t a villain either. I went to high school and then college and got a degree in Ancient Earth Literature from the years 1500 to 2000 AD.
I paid my taxes and always got to my job on time. It may have been a silly job, editing a magazine, but I loved it.
I always took care of my friends, went out on Friday nights with the girls, and occasionally ventured out on Saturday if someone asked me out. No serious boyfriends on Titanus Vox, but basically because I was enjoying being single.
When my aunt asked me to help her, I even left my cozy life on Titanus Vox and moved across the IHC.
Now, somehow, I’m a wanted criminal throughout the galaxy, wandering through the quadrant in a smuggler’s ship. I’m stuck in the middle of nowhere, cut off from all humanity and everyone I love, and I can’t really see a light at the end of the tunnel.
But I can’t tell him that. Can I? Pursing my lips together, I use whatever strength I have left and put it all behind a lie. “I’m fine. Really.”
“It doesn’t look like it.”
“Why not?”
“Because you’re crying.”
Oh, shit—he’s right. I really am crying.
Chapter Four
Grantian
In the Hael Hounds, we had standard operating procedures for everything. Sure, nobody really gave a flying fuck about what the manual said, but it was comforting to know that some military nerd had thought of a solution for every situation a soldier could face. Now, as I rummage through whatever I remember of those operating procedures, I realize nobody ever taught me how to handle a crying woman.
I shift my weight from one leg to the other, watching as Lamira tosses the blankets aside and buries her face in her hands. A violent sob shakes her entire body, and she turns around to sit on one of the bunks. The sound of her low crying makes me feel as nervous as if I were about to breach a Coalition’s warship. What the fuck am I supposed to do here?
Gritting my teeth, I walk toward her and pat the top of her head gently.
“There, there,” I whisper, feeling like a complete idiot. “It’s fine.”
Straightening her back, she looks up at me with her wide and curious eyes, the gray in them beckoning me. Tears keep rolling down her face and, reacting on pure instinct, I grab my shirt and rip off a strip of the fabric. Kneeling down, I press it into her hands.
“You’re not very good at this. Are you?” She releases a slight little laugh, wiping the tears off her face. I watch her do it, her closeness calming me down. I might not be great at this “crying woman” business, but I think I’ve managed to stop her tears from coming. A small victory, but a victory, nonetheless. “Thank you.”
“There’s no need to thank me.” Sitting beside her, I slap her back amicably. She almost falls out of the bunk after I do it, and I have to hold her by the arm to stop her from tumbling. “Sorry. I keep forgetting women aren’t as strongly built as we are.”
“I’ve noticed.” Her face lights up as she smiles. I’ve seen some crazy shit all over the galaxy, but nothing that compares to this. I’d already noticed the way her dark chocolate hair frames her face’s delicate features and the way her wide eyes always burn with deep-seated curiosity, but I wasn’t ready for a smile like this. It floods me with feelings I barely want to acknowledge yet can’t seem to bury deeply enough.
“I know you’re in a tough position with the IHC looking for you, but you’re safe on the Ancestral Queen.” I don’t know if reassurance is what she needs, but I don’t mind giving it to her. After all, it’s the truth. As long as these women remain aboard our ship, whoever wants to lay their hands on them will have to cut a path through more than a hundred fifty angry Kilgari. Even a Hael Hound squad would think twice about doing such a thing. “I’ll look after you. I mean, we’ll look after you.”
I’ve never been good at making small talk, but my awful performance is off the charts today. I must look like a blubbering idiot. Suddenly feeling the urge to bolt out of the room once more, I’m about to push myself off the bed when Lamira lays her hand on top of mine.
“Thank you.” Turning to me, she gives me a slight nod. “Truly.”
“You don’t have to thank me,” I tell her. “Not now, not ever.”
I manage a little smile and she finally seems to relax. Even though it’s a good thing, I can’t help but worry. No matter what I just told her, their situation is concerning. Whoever’s behind this entire mess wasn’t planning anything good. The thing is, without knowing who’s to blame for their capture and transport, we can only do so much.
“Do you think we’ll ever find out who’s behind this?” she asks me, almost as if she’s reading my thoughts.
“Whoever it was, it is clear they have no honor.”
“Do you think it’s related to the war?”
I pause. It is a valid question.
“This war is tearing apart the galaxy,” I say grimly. “Things I had thought I’d never hear about several years ago are now commonplace.”
“You’ve seen a lot of the war?”
“The Hael Hounds were contracted on both sides for one-off missions. I’ve seen too much of the war. I’ve seen too many innocents die because of the religious zealotry of the Ataxians.”
The way she’s looking at me tells me she wants some reassurance, or maybe even some answers, but I don’t know if I can give her any of that. After all, the galaxy is full of unsavory characters—men and women capable of unspeakable atrocities.