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She clears her throat.
“You seem a very sweet girl,” she says, instead of answering. “What star are you from?”
“One very, very far away,” I say. “But you’re avoiding the question.”
“Oh? You are not from our galaxy then? How strange, please, tell me more of how you came to be on Tajss.”
I chew on my lip. It’s clear she’s avoiding my actual question, but the idea of her stopping all conversations and leaving me to sit in the dark alone has its own terrors. Do I push her to answer the question, or keep her talking?
That gnawing of fear is enough to push me towards keeping her talking. Sooner or later things will come out and what harm is there in sharing with her?
Unless this is part of the Maulavi plan. To get me to admit to something that they can then use against me?
Now that is one diabolical plan isn’t it? I can hardly believe I even thought of it. It’s devious with a bit of genius to it. Okay, well if that’s the case and she is a plant, then I’ll do what I’ve been doing all along. Tell enough of the truth to avoid the lie of why I’m really here.
“We were on what we called a generation ship,” I say.
“Generation ship?” she asks.
“Yeah, it’s?—”
I delve into trying to explain the history of how humans came to Tajss. Time slips past as I talk and for that, at least, I’m grateful. The certainty that came out of nowhere remains. I know that Dilacs is coming for me. Which means all I have to do is stay alive until he can.
If she is a plant and milking me for information, then I am doing the one thing I need to do. Buying time. And so, I go into great and minute detail about life on the ship. I am going to buy Dilacs as much time as I possibly can.
27
DILACS
“Itold you it wouldn’t be pleasant,” Muda says, pointing at the dark tunnel that is barriered by bars of iron.
“Or easy,” I mutter.
He walks over to it, turns sideways, and slips through a set of the bars. A task that there is no way Khiara and I will be able to do. There is not nearly enough space for us to squeeze through that tight space.
“We’ll need a saw,” Khiara says, going up to the bars.
I glare at them, anger building in my head until it feels as if a firestorm has ignited in my blood. Every inhale burns hotter, adding fuel to fire.
“We don’t have time,” I say, a low growl slipping out. “She is… could be…”
I can’t finish the thoughts. Saying them aloud makes them more real. Khiara grasps my shoulder tightly and lowers his head until we’re resting together. I grip his arms, breathing heavily, struggling to control the rage.
“We will save her,” Khiara says speaking softly.
“We must,” I say.
“For Tajss, for our people,” Khiara answers. “She is hope.”
Hope. A singular word, simple, yet he is right. She is everything I, no we, had lost. We were so lost in the depths of despair that we didn’t even see how bad everything was. Before her.
The fire in my chest explodes, becoming an inferno. I tighten my grip on Khiara then pull him into a hug.
“I love you, brother,” I whisper in his ear, then let him go and stride past towards the bars.
Intention and purpose coalesce in my head. The bars of iron are each as thick as my forearm, but nothing will stand between me and her. I will not allow it.
I take a grip on two of the bars. I adjust my hands until they feel right then I pull. I groan and strain, pulling with all that I have. My muscles bulge, swelling, straining, then they begin to quiver reaching the point of failure.
