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This dinner is actually quite an opportunity for me to assuage some of the many festering interpersonal wounds between Sullivan and me. It is the first time I have ever been able to confront her without the crew present. I have always had to play at least slightly nice with Sullivan. I suppose I have to now too, but we are free of the crew, and I don’t really care what the saurians think of me.
A fleeting moment of eye contact, and she turns her attention to the alpha, pretending she cares what he and Avel are talking about. They are talking about nothing of any interest. They’re literally discussing how to build a bridge, and frankly, it sounds like neither one of them has ever constructed anything. It’s a pure male conversation, in which both parties assume competence in something they have no experience in on account of them considering themselves generally pretty good at other things.
“How are you, Sullivan? You look well. Being kept really seems to suit you.”
I start with a comment that seems pleasant and is of course an insult. But the saurians won’t know that. They’ll mistake it for polite conversation.
Sullivan’s face contorts as she tries to work out a way to answer that question. If she says she’s well, she’s admitting that being a kept woman is working well for her, which will sting her pride too deeply. I, for one, am glad she is under someone’s lock and key. It would have been better to never bother to attempt a rescue on her at all, but the crew insisted. Never underestimate the misplaced loyalty of a group of people whose suffering is caused by a charismatic leader, and their ability to attach even more strongly to that leader.
“I am well,” she says, nearly choking on the words.
I smile, perhaps a little too smugly. “It’s wonderful to see you nice and safe, and knowing you’re confined here means everybody else is safer too.”
I’m pushing it with that last comment a little, but Avel and Thorn are discussing struts and I don’t think they hear a word that is being said between Sullivan and me.
A brief snort reminds me that we are not the only four sentient creatures in the room, however. There is a saurian standing off to the side behind Thorn’s chair, clearly a servant of some kind with a big spoon-shaped scoop coming off the back of his head. I note that he winces slightly every time Sullivan speaks. He does not like her, and he clearly picked up on the implication of my comments. I give him a brief smile, and he inclines his head in a small nod of acknowledgement. Seems Sullivan isn’t making friends on this planet either, unless you count the alpha, and I don’t. He’s fucking her, and that’s going to addle his judgement where he is concerned.
“God, Raine. You don’t have to be such a bitch!”
If I wasn’t sitting still and pretending to be shocked, I’d do a happy dance as Sullivan takes the bait. This is the problem with her all over. She’s impulsive to a fault. She can’t reason her way through anything. She feels the need to do something, and she just straight up does it.
“Suli!” Thorn admonishes her. He uses only part of her name, a diminutive, cutesy, inaccurate-sounding moniker. “Please do not curse at our guests.”
Sullivan stands up, pushing her chair back loudly. The chairs she and I have are made specially for us so we can sit up at the table. They have very long legs, but it means that the second she stands up, she pretty much disappears underneath the table. I can see a hint of her curls as she dives beneath the table and comes for me.
“Oh my gosh! Stop it! Oh my god!” I exclaim in faux-horror as Sullivan rushes at me. I didn’t think she’d actually try to fight me, but maybe there’s more going on here in the alpha’s house. Maybe I managed to say exactly the wrong thing to her at exactly the right time.
Sullivan is trying to drag me down off the chair. I cling to it, not because I don’t want the satisfaction of fighting with her, but because I want to keep up the appearance of being a helpless victim. It’s hard, given Sullivan is shorter than me and younger than me, and frankly, couldn’t hurt me if she wanted to.
Avel gives me an unexpectedly sharp look. A cool sensation rushes down my spine and sends tingles shooting to my extremities. I’m surprised by it. I can tell instantly he is not buying the charade I am trying to engage in. He must have been listening more closely than I imagined. Or maybe he just understands human nature and conversational jousting better than I thought. I know from his stare alone that I am in trouble, and that trouble is going to manifest in pain.
Goddammit. No matter what, Sullivan always seems to come out on top. Me, meanwhile? Fate has shown her contempt for me many times. I work hard. I do what needs to be done. I do things other people can’t, or won’t, do. And all it’s ever gotten me is a supporting role to a showboat captain, who it now turns out is one little programming session away from being a fucking drone.
There’s a chip in Sullivan’s head, put there by an organization that intended to turn her into a living meat robot. She escaped before that could happen, because of course she did. Even when bad things happen to her, they turn out well. By all rights, she should have run into enemy fire a hundred times now and be nothing but a collection of ashes. But instead, she’s been pulled out from under the table and is being snuggled by the biggest, baddest saurian on this planet.
The alpha is soothing her with rumbling words that she doesn’t deserve. “Calm yourself,” he is saying. “The lesser human will not be permitted to disrespect you in my home.”
Lesser human. Those two words are enough to make my temper flare. I do my best to keep control of it, because I don’t want to make matters worse, but I can’t seem to take my eyes off Sullivan and her alpha. I gave up my freedom for this woman who doesn’t even want to be rescued. That’s the fucked-up part. I risked everything coming here to save her at the crew’s insistence, and she’s sitting here looking as comfortable as anybody can be.
I feel myself being lifted out of my chair. No words, just a snatching motion that comes from the back of my dress and removes me from the situation in one big swooping movement. Avel lifts me up by the scruff of my attire the same way a mother cat carries a kitten out of a room.
“I told you to behave,” he lectures me in deep, snarling tones. “Don’t look at them. Look at me.” He snaps the words when my eyes drift back to Sullivan. I look back at him. My little attempt to gain some small conversational social vengeance on her has failed. Oh well. I guess the nice act hasn’t worked. It’s not surprising. It doesn’t come naturally to me, after all.
“Nobody is bleeding. Therefore, I am behaving.”
Avel’s eyes narrow at me.
“I expect politeness when we are in the presence of Alpha Thorn. It is a matter of respect. If you can’t hold your tongue, you will be deprived of it.”
“Are you threatening to cut my tongue out?” I bristle, thoroughly offended by the brutal threat, but at the same time, somewhat respecting it. It’s a move out of my playbook. I’ve told the cabin girls multiple times they’ll lose their tongues if they don’t stop gossiping. It’s a good threat. One that pales them into silence every time.
Avel looks surprised, perhaps even shocked. “No, human. I will gag you.”
“Oh. A gag. Why didn’t I think of that?”
“Because your mind seems to go first to the most violent possibility at all times. You need to be softened.”
“Good luck with that.”
