by J. M. Page
Strong drinks, beautiful women, and like-minded folks who’d praise his conquests before disparaging them. If he couldn’t find comfort and purpose again here, he’d be out of luck.
Torak picked his way through the ship carefully, aiming to avoid any crew members who might try to engage him in conversation or ask where he’d been. He didn’t want to face that right now. He was ashamed of the way he handled everything, but he still hadn’t made peace with it. Or himself. He was in no condition to put on a brave face.
Nearing the exit, he stopped in his tracks, spotting her from a distance: Mara.
For a brief moment, he considered saying nothing at all. He thought about pretending she didn’t exist and walking on by. But already, his heart beat double-time and his stomach rolled with unease.
How could he possibly be so annoyed with her and still crave her approval so badly? Why did he still care so strongly about her and her well-being?
Berating himself every step of the way, Torak approached her, clearing his throat. Mara looked up at him, a mixture of surprise and irritation flashing through her expression, but he ignored it. Instead, he turned to Delta, standing right next to her, and addressed the Chief Engineer instead.
“Mara is not to leave the ship, for her own safety,” he said, his voice scratchy and hoarse from neglect.
Out of the corner of his eye, Torak saw Mara’s face screw up in annoyance, turning red, her mouth opening on a retort. But no retort came.
“Please escort her back to her quarters and ensure she stays there,” he said, still only to Delta.
Delta’s brow lifted in thinly veiled offense. Maybe she was shocked by his decision, but she didn’t question him. It was clear to everyone involved that Delta’s loyalties lay with the Captain.
She sent an irritated look to Mara that Torak didn’t fully understand, and steered her around. “Come on,” she said, sounding defeated.
Satisfied that Mara would be safer onboard the ship than off it, Torak headed for the welcoming embrace of Haven City.
The moment he disembarked, the scents and sounds of the city invaded his senses. Alcohol, spices, and pungent smoke from a dozen different illegal substances permeated the air. Music, raucous laughter and impassioned discussions crowded in too. There was no mistaking that this was a city — a whole planet — dedicated to one’s basest desires.
He didn’t want to be around his crew, so Torak made his way to a forgotten hole in the wall — an establishment known for women of loose morals who could help him erase Mara from his memory. He hadn’t visited the place in years, but he doubted it had changed much.
True to his expectations, the Pulsing Quasar was exactly as Torak remembered it from his youth. Dimly lit, thick shadows cloaking every corner, dancers with shimmering bodies moving rhythmically to the sound of thumping music that vibrated his very bones.
It did look a little shabbier now, or maybe it always had and he was only just noticing. The seats were threadbare and ripped and repaired a hundred times over, the tables were scuffed and wobbly, even the paint on the walls was peeling, only barely concealed by gaudy mirrors in tacky frames.
Still, it should suit his purposes just fine. All he needed was help deleting Mara from his thoughts. Something to make him forget how she made him feel. To forget the hope she’d given him, however fleeting. That hope had been more intoxicating than any drink they could serve here, so he wasn’t optimistic that his plan would work.
But what other option did he have?
As he picked his way through the occupied seats, making his way to an empty corner, Torak noticed how others looked at him. He was used to receiving his fair share of odd looks, but normally they were fearful or apprehensive. Now, they were just appraising — as if the patrons were sizing him up. Wondering if they could take him in a fight for all his creds.
Torak didn’t appreciate the stares, but he’d spent a lifetime ignoring them and wasn’t going to start dwelling on it now.
He chose the steadiest seat he could find, the legs still creaking under his weight as he sat, and immediately ordered a round of drinks for himself, avoiding eye contact with any and everyone.
Before too long, a pretty girl with a rosy complexion and not much else approached his table.
“Hey there, lonely,” she said, her hips swaying in time to the music. “Mind if I dance here?” she said, coy and inviting.
Torak drained the first of his drinks. “Suit yourself.”
As the girl shimmied and twirled, Torak tried to watch her. He tried valiantly to look at her and appreciate her, but to no avail.
Every time he looked up from his drink, all he could remember was the incensed look Mara had given him when he told Delta she couldn’t leave. With every pulse of the bass, he thought about how she normally challenged him, protesting and rebuffing his every word, and how she just rolled over, accepting his decree this time.
It was suspicious. Dangerous even.
He drained another drink, forgetting about the dancer entirely.
Could he trust Delta to keep Mara locked up? Why did he even care so much? If she wanted to run headlong into danger, so be it. She clearly didn’t appreciate all he’d gone through to find her and rescue her, why should he be bothered to do it again?
Let her learn the horrors of the galaxy the hard way, he thought vindictively.
Of course, even as he thought it, he knew it was a hollow sentiment. It would destroy him if something actually happened to her, and that was terrifying in and of itself.
The dancing girl stopped, hands on her sensuous hips, her pretty face pulled into a frown. “Hey, are you even paying any attention to me?” she asked with a pout.
Torak shrugged. “No.” He didn’t feel the need to spare her feelings.
“The show’s not free, you know,” she said, all the sweet cuteness of before replaced with shrewd entitlement.
“Guess it’s a good thing I’m not watching it, huh?” he said, reaching for his third drink.
The girl made an exasperated noise and stomped off, quickly finding a group of more receptive patrons to shower her with affection and money.
It wasn’t long before a group of rowdy young guys piled in through the door, picking Torak’s corner to set up in. They crowded around him, laughing and roughhousing like boys, shouting for drinks and girls, making lewd comments.
Torak already regretted coming here. There was nothing for him here. What was he thinking? He’d hoped coming to this place would help him forget Mara, but everything just made him think of her more.
It was disgusting really, the way he couldn’t get her out of his mind.
He drained his final glass and pushed back from the table, preparing to leave.
“Heeey!” one of the young guys said, his eyes shining with recognition. “Aren’t you the Captain of the Queen’s Affliction?” he asked, elbowing his nearby friends.
Torak paused, staying in his seat for a moment, narrowing his eyes at the dark-haired man. “Depends on who’s asking,” he said.
“Yeah!” another guy said, this one with one too many gold chains around his neck. “You are! You’re the ‘scourge from Basniel,’” he said with a laugh.
Dark hair let out a roar of laughter. “Not anymore! Haven’t you heard? He’s gone soft.”
A murmur rippled through the men, each one waiting for retaliation on their friend.
Torak clenched his jaw, trying to ignore the taunt.
“Helping stranded ships, leaving the GTC unscathed to terrorize the rest of us. He’s probably in the running for a medal from the Queen herself, these days.”
Torak heard the growl rumbling up his throat, his vision clouded by anger. The glass in his hand cracked under the force of his grip.
The raucous bunch laughed at his expense.
“I’d heard you’d allied with the Queen,” Gold Chains said. “Can’t say I’m surprised. Don’t know why they still let you port here though.”
That was it. T
hat was the barb that shattered his tenuously held self-control.
Torak sprang to his feet, grabbing the guy by his collar and hauling him up until his toes couldn’t brush the ground, ready to demolish his face.
Then he saw it. That familiar glint of fear and uncertainty. Normally that look vindicated him. Spurred him on and encouraged him. Normally, it made him feel powerful and strong.
This time, he just felt dirty and wrong, like he didn’t belong at all. He felt like an imposter.
The rest of the group stood as a unit, ready to jump to their friend’s defense. Torak appraised each one carefully, assessing the situation. He could probably take them on. His reputation would suffer even more if he backed down.
But then he thought of the disappointment in Mara’s gaze, the hollow look that said she’d lost faith in him, and he set the man back on his feet.
He wasted no time stalking from the bar, ignoring the vindictive comments lobbed at him as he did.
He’d never backed down from a fight. Never questioned himself or tried to check his temper. He’d also never felt so guilty for something he didn’t even do.
What had this woman done to him?
Chapter Twelve
Mara
“Delta, come on, this is ridiculous,” Mara said as Delta led her to her room.
Delta didn’t answer. She hadn’t said anything at all — they still weren’t speaking after Mara’s thoughtless comments about the Captain.
Delta placed her hand on the scanner by Mara’s door and typed in a secret code.
“It’s for your own good,” she said, a wall still hiding her true feelings.
“Look, I’m sorry for upsetting you. We both said dumb things. But you can’t keep me prisoner!”
Delta didn’t make eye contact as she nudged Mara inside.
“Don’t do anything stupid,” she said, letting the door slide closed.
Mara hurled herself against the door, pounding her fists until her hands throbbed and ached.
“You can’t do this!” she screamed, knowing there was no one to hear her.
She couldn’t believe that he’d be so petty as to lock her up. She still couldn’t believe he’d gone out of his way to talk to Delta instead of addressing her directly. Were they teenagers now?
Mara sighed, kicking the door again for good measure. She was so tired of other people running her life. First her father, now Torak. When was it going to be her turn to be in charge of herself?
She was tired of Torak’s attitude, too. He thought he was ruler of the Universe, infallible, expecting everyone to follow his every whim without question. Well not Mara.
She didn’t care if they did owe him money. That didn’t make her his slave. He couldn’t just lock her up and throw away the key.
Now, more than ever, Mara realized how foolish she’d been to trust him. To confide in him. She couldn’t count on him to help her find her home. Nova, she didn’t want to count on him. She didn’t want anything at all from him.
All she wanted was to find her home and forget all of this crazy trip. And if she wanted to find information, what better place than the smuggler planet? Surely they’d be able to help her, they’d have some clue about where she should go, she just had to find the right person and the right clue.
But first, she needed to get out of this room.
Mara glared at the door, as if the heat of her anger could scorch a hole right through it. Failing that, she stood and paced around the room, thinking.
The scanner was on the other side of the wall, but that meant it had to have an access panel somewhere. Maybe behind her wall.
It was worth a shot.
Rummaging around her room, Mara found enough to forge some semblance of an impromptu tool box and set to work opening the wall carefully, one screw at a time. It wouldn’t surprise her at all if there was some sort of alarm in place.
Then again, she doubted Torak frequently held crew members prisoner.
With no small effort, she got the wall panel off and reached through to the wires behind the scanner. She debated which to pull, not wanting to lock herself in with a defunct scanner.
Finally, she held her breath and pulled on the green wire and… Nothing.
She gritted her teeth together, sticking her whole head in through the hole in the wall for a better look.
Grasping the red wire firmly, she sucked in a deep breath, said a silent prayer, and yanked. At first, nothing happened and Mara cursed under her breath. A slow hiss followed her curse and she looked to her right, seeing the door had opened.
“Take that,” she muttered victoriously. She refused to be anyone’s prisoner.
Mara looked both directions down the hall before scampering off, careful not to be spotted. She didn’t know if Torak’s orders were common knowledge and didn’t care to find out the hard way.
It wasn’t long before she was off the ship.
Immediately, a warm breeze found her, carrying with it exotic scents and sounds. The city rose around her, towering building scratching the sky, little shacks squeezed into every nook and cranny, no space left unused.
Alleys were full of carts and stalls with wares for sale, open doors beckoned her into drinking halls where lively games and music made for rowdy crowds, and signs plastered on every surface advertised everything from love and fame, to disappearing for good. Mara could almost see the appeal in disappearing, starting a new life, and never looking back.
Almost.
She’d spent too much time and effort trying to figure out who she was to just let that person disappear forever without the answers she wanted.
Mara worked her way through the winding streets and maze-like alleys of the city, the shiny colorful atmosphere growing darker and shadier the further she ventured. She wrapped her arms around herself, hugging tightly against the odd looks sent her way. She was on the hunt for something particular.
Then she saw it: an advertisement half-covered by a flier advertising ‘we buy junk ships.’ She lifted the junk ad and found what had caught her eye originally.
Have questions you need answered? Seeking information you can’t find anywhere else?
Agatha knows all.
Beneath the enticing headline there was an address and Mara snatched the ad down, her heart racing. This was exactly what she was looking for! It seemed oddly serendipitous, but she wasn’t going to start questioning the first bit of good fortune she’d found.
She asked a nearby man for directions — and had to slip him a few creds for his trouble — and headed on her way, a lightness in her step.
It wasn’t all sunshine and hope, though. There was still apprehension. What if this Agatha didn’t have answers for her? She may ‘know all,’ but what if she didn’t? And what if they were answers Mara didn’t like?
She shook those worries free from her mind, deciding to focus on the positives — she had a lead.
Once she’d arrived at the address, Mara looked around, skeptical that this was right. The building didn’t have a number, but those on either side of it did. It didn’t have windows or signs, the door was unmarked and foreboding. The whole place made Mara’s hairs stand on end, but she hadn’t come this far for nothing.
She lifted her hand and knocked, barely making a sound against the solid metal door. She pulled her hand back and looked at her sore red knuckles with a frown, not noticing the door swinging open as she did.
“Appointment?” a huge wall of a man asked, blocking the inside.
“I’m sorry?” Mara stammered, still shocked by his sudden appearance.
“Do you have an appointment?” he asked again, this time sounding annoyed.
Mara shook her head and held up the flier. “No, I just… I had questions?”
The wall gave her a long-suffering look and started to close the door, but Mara heard scuffling behind him and then a raspy voice saying, “Shoo, shoo.”
The wall of a man stepped aside, revealing a tiny wisp of a woman with unsettli
ng pupiless eyes. The old woman frowned, hands on her hips, and gave Mara an appraising once-over with her unseeing eyes.
“You,” she said, lifting a wrinkled knobby finger to point at Mara. “You’re seeking answers about your home, yes?”
Mara took a step back, clutching the flier to her chest. “Y-yes, how did you know that?”
The old woman ignored the question, instead narrowing her cloudy eyes, wrinkles creasing her forehead. “You’ll not find answers here. I can’t help you.”
