I continue, “I told her I’d already made peace with living on Dawnlin, especially after being denied the healing waters, because the dust is almost gone, anyway.”
Sig leans farther over the table, inching closer to him, but he’s still staring at me, trying to read me. “If we don’t send her now, Cap, it’ll be too late.” I’ve never heard Sig sound this desperate, not even when they spoke about this before.
“Send me where?” I ask, looking between them to prevent holding any eye contact that might give away that I already very much know where Sig wants me to go.
“This doesn’t change anything,” Weston says, finally breaking away from me and looking back at Sig.
“What are you talking about, Cap?” she says, her hushed voice cracking with her attempt to keep from yelling.
“It doesn’t, Signee.”
She slams her hands on the table, the bang ricocheting off the walls of the empty room. “Bullshit it doesn’t! We always thought we had a chance, that time would never run out. It’s running out, Cap. She’s our last chance. Whether that fits with all your other…” She pauses, and he tilts his head slightly, and I watch another one of their silent conversations happen before my eyes.
“Motives,” she says finally. “It’s all moot.”
“Enough, Signee,” he snaps. “I said it isn’t happening. That’s an order.”
“You can’t make that choice for the rest of us,” she says, her eyes turning to glass and her voice quivering. Sig is always strong, Weston’s second in command of everything, and while she sheds the responsibility when she’s relaxing with the rest of us, it’s back on in an instant if she’s needed. I’ve never seen her this vulnerable or upset, and I can’t help but wonder who is waiting for her back home.
But it is obvious she and Weston don’t see eye to eye.
“I’m the Captain. I have to make the best decision for everyone on this ship.Everyone, Sig.”
She sniffs slightly, then clears her throat. “I hope you know what you are doing.”
He stands, his chair scraping the wooden floor behind him, snatching his plate from the table and stepping away before stopping next to her. “I’m having hope.”
Without another word, he storms out of the mess, his plate clattering in the return before leaving Sig and me sitting in silence.
“I really thought he would listen to you,” she says finally, dropping her head into her hands.
“He never listens to me,” I say. “I’m not sure why this would be different.”
She gives a half-hearted chuckle, before leaning back in her chair and staring down at her untouched food. “I think he’s afraid.”
Weston doesn’t strike me as the kind of person that ever experiences fear. He’s too in control of everything, too demanding. Like he just said, he gives an order, and that is the way it will go. What’s there to be afraid of when you are the ultimate authority? Especially if you’re the ultimate authority with no emotional attachments or relationships to anyone else here?
“Afraid of what?” I ask.
She looks at me and rolls her lips into a tight line, as if she’s trying to decide if she should say what is clearly on the tip of her tongue. She gives in with a small shake of her head.
“He’s afraid that if we send you back to Dane to take the dust from him, you won’t come back.”
Why would Weston have any fears about me? What does it actually matter to him if I go back to the Voyagers, to Dane, or stay here? If he’s just trying to eventually have everyone on his side, then it makes sense that he would be afraid to lose one person.
But why do I feel like it only has to do with me?
Have I not been convincing enough, and he just doesn’t trust me yet?
“That was your plan?” I ask, looking for the confirmation so I can stop pretending I don’t know. “To send me back and take the pouch from Dane?”
She nods. “You’re the only person who can get close enough to him to do it.”
I pause for a moment. If I need to be more convincing, I have to start with Sig, and I need to mitigate the fears.
“I would come back,” I say, dropping my voice low and serious.
“You would?” Her eyes narrow and a single eyebrow raises.
