“Oh… Hello,” she said, looking up as she finished tightening a panel on the wall. She flipped the switch, holding her breath, and air rattled through from vents on all sides, blowing in fresh, temperate air. She swiped the back of her hand across her forehead, and sweat beaded up again immediately. Before she’d fixed it, this hallway was sweltering, barely tolerable.
“Where have you been?”
Lina looked up again and saw Goblak was holding the translator cube. She gestured around her. “Fixing the ship. You?” She could tell he was angry, possibly that he’d even catch trouble for her little stunt of storming out, but directing her annoyance into flippancy came natural and she didn’t really feel guilty about it.
“Looking for you,” came the reply.
“Found me,” she said, standing slowly, her muscles aching from all the crouching and bending and crawling she’d been doing the last few hours. She was out of practice. The repairs on Mabnoa weren’t nearly so physically demanding. Her elbows popped as she stretched her arms up over her head.
“Getting kind of hungry though. Think you could show me back to my room?”
Goblak scowled. “The Captain is most displeased with you.”
Lina shrugged. “Have to say, I’m not totally thrilled either. Are mothers a thing with your race?”
His sideways eyes narrowed. “Yes, of course.”
“And would it be odd for a mother in your society to send her young out into space with no one to look after them?”
Goblak shifted from one foot to another, looking over his shoulder. “It has never occurred. The bond between mother and young is crucial.”
Lina sucked her teeth, grinning though there wasn’t a scrap of joy to be found in the gesture. “Bingo.”
Goblak blinked, unfamiliar with the phrase.
Lina sighed. “Look, the point is, whatever that woman says, she’s not my mother. She’s some crazy person that launched her baby into space. And to be perfectly honest with you, I don’t want to be anywhere near her.”
Goblak nodded. “It is clear that bringing Vessa into the discussion has done more harm than we anticipated.” He hesitated a moment longer before adding, “She was under the impression you’d come looking for her.”
Laughter erupted violently from Lina’s throat. “Looking for her? I’ve never cared about her. I was trying to get home to my real mother. Bain and I… We just want to get to Earth.”
Goblak nodded again, something strange crossing his features. “I will speak to the Captain on your behalf, but he is going to want some guarantee from the so-called prince.”
Lina sighed, slumping with exhaustion and defeat, the fight all but drained out of her. “Sure. I’ll see what I can do. But first, I need to get back to him.”
Goblak nodded and gestured her forward. “Come with me.”
The trip back to the dungeon, or brig, or whatever it was, took longer than it should have, mostly because Lina kept making Goblak stop so that she could fix something that ‘would only take a minute.’ Funny thing, those minutes added up, and by the time he was opening the door for her, Lina felt dead on her feet.
“You’re back!” Bain cried, leaping from the chair in the corner to greet her. “What’s wrong? What have they done to you?” He turned to Goblak, murder already in his eyes. “If you hurt her, I swear it will be the last thing—”
“Bain. Stop,” Lina groaned, collapsing onto the cot. “I’m fine.”
Goblak didn’t wait for any more outbursts. He left the two of them alone in the room, Bain watching his retreat like a hawk.
Eventually, he must have ventured out of sight, because Bain finally left the door and came to the bedside. “Lina my love, what happened?”
She sighed, her whole body feeling like it weighed a ton, her stomach far past the point of hunger, and her eyes so tired she could barely pry them open. “It’s a long story,” she managed. “I don’t suppose there’s any chance you’ve figured out the foodmaker?” The few steps to the table seemed an impossible distance to her.
Bain leapt to his feet. “As a matter of fact… There wasn’t much else to do but play with this while you were gone,” he said. “It’s not just a foodmaker.” He went over and pressed a couple of buttons and another projection came on, this one on the blank wall in front of the corner chair. Fibbuns filled the screen, all grunting at each other. It seemed like pandemonium, but Lina quickly realized this was some kind of entertainment, like the TVs on Earth. Of course, everything was made for aliens in a language she didn’t understand, so it wasn’t really all that exciting.
“There are games, too,” he said, changing the channel. A maze appeared with a tiny figure of a Fibbun in the corner. Bain began to navigate, collecting tiny blinking dots until something appeared from the wall and his sprite exploded.
“I haven’t quite gotten the hang of it yet,” he said sheepishly. “But there’s a lot more I bet I haven’t even found yet.”
Lina groaned, sliding back in the bed so that the pillows would keep her head propped up for her. Holding it up was too much effort. “That’s great… but, food?” She was beyond happy that Bain had been exploring the system. Even more so that he seemed to be starting to see what she’d been trying to tell him — this wasn’t how you treated prisoners. You didn’t give them all the food they wanted, a comfortable bed, and entertainment. Not when you were in a war as vicious as the one that was described. It just didn’t add up. At least she now knew why. The only hitch was convincing Bain of the truth, but at least he seemed to be tiptoeing over toward her side on his own.
“Right, right. Of course. I’m sorry. You must be starving. Did they not feed you all day?”
She groaned again. “Not exactly.”
“I took the liberty of trying the menu,” he said, bringing her a bowl of chunky stew. It looked like the same thing she’d had the day before. Or was that earlier today? How long had she even been on this ship at this point? It was all starting to blur together. She needed to get out of here. “This is the best dish, by far. Almost everything else is far too briny.”
Lina sat up with some help from Bain and shoveled the food in without really thinking about the taste. If she did think about it, it was pretty good, but focusing on anything took an inordinate amount of mental energy at the moment.
“How are you feeling?” she finally asked, remembering his weakened state. They’d been too busy fighting before for her to dwell on it too much, and now she felt guilty for forgetting he’d gotten shot for her.
He waved off her concerns. “I’m fine. Took a little while to really shake off those drugs and it’s still a little tender, but I don’t think that gun was designed to do any permanent damage,” he said, lifting up his shirt. His torso wasn’t even bandaged now, but it was covered in a yellow-ringed bruise, his skin mottled and damaged, but clearly on the mend.
“I’m glad,” she said, handing him the empty bowl as she fell back into the pillows again.
“I have a lot to tell you,” she said, pulling the blankets up to her chin. “But it’ll have to wait,” she added with a big yawn.
Bain frowned, looking like he might demand the information from her right now, but instead, he crawled into the bed with her, wrapped his arms around her, and pulled her close to him, kissing the top of her head. “Whatever it is, I don’t think we’re going anywhere. Tell me after you’ve slept.”
She nodded, yawning again, the last thought flitting through her mind was Vessa’s story of Yunna leaving her. Not believing her. Lina squeezed her eyes tight together, trying to push those thoughts away. “Don’t leave,” was all her sleep-deprived brain was able to make of her worries.
Bain shushed her, smoothing her hair as he held her close. “I’m right here,” he murmured. “Right here.”