It’s customary to help my passengers unload, to assist with heavy items and practice the usual customer service. That kind of thing goes a long way toward securing a good tip, my boss insists. And if his employees are tipped well, we’re less likely to complain – or worse, ask for a raise.
But I feel a bit nauseous and unfocused, like I’m getting a migraine. And even though I can be a little high strung, my gut has never steered me wrong. My gut is telling me to get off this backwater planet and find the nearest spaceport with a seedy bar and cheap shots. Irena can grab her shit and go, all on her own.
‘Midonia.’
I jump nearly out of my seat. Spinning, I come face to face with Irena. ‘Jesus,’ I gasp, pressing a hand to my chest. ‘Sorry. You scared me.’
She smiles faintly. ‘I didn’t mean to.’
‘What do you need? Is the baggage door stuck? Youhave to really put your back into it. Sometimes they get wedged …’ I trail off, disconcerted by the intensity of her stare.
Irena speaks with all the warmth and expectation of a mother well-versed in the art of bestowing guilt. ‘Aren’t you coming?’
‘Coming?’ I shake my head apologetically. ‘I told you –’
She holds out a hand, palm up. ‘Join us for the night, that’s all.’
‘Irena …’
‘You’ll have your own bed, your own room. Even a fireplace. And you’ve been cooped up here with me for days. You deserve a rest. Arealrest. I sense that you are weary, exhausted to the bone. Some time on solid ground will do you good. Just one night.’
Do I really look that bad? ‘I don’t know …’
‘And a meal. A hot meal to fill your belly. I want nothing from you, Midonia. I am aware of how difficult I can be to travel with. I know you’re unaccustomed to those who believe. I don’t wish to make you uncomfortable; only to express my thanks.’
I wilt. Refusing her offer would make me feel like such an asshole. And it’s not like I have another job lined up; my boss was clear about that. But that’s not what pushes me over the edge. It’s the thought of a hot meal and a warm bed, all my own. The anticipation ofa long sleep ahead of me. I bite my lip, gnawing softly. ‘Do you have … beer?’
Sister Irena smiles as if we were sharing a joke. ‘Better. Our own wine, made from fruit we grow right here on the planet.’
That doesn’t exactly sound better to me, but I’m already sold. ‘Twist my arm.’ I can’t help smiling in the face of Irena’s grin. Her eyes shine like twin stars, and she clasps my hand.
‘We’ll take very good care of you, Midonia.’
***
I exit my ship and enter the falling dusk, where Irena stands waiting. The air is so cold and crisp it feels like a knife in my throat.
A bell rings, discordant, an unearthly clang that reverberates off the cliff. My gaze follows the sound to a bell tower tucked against the cliffside. I hadn’t seen it there, its black stone blending in perfectly with the cliff. It juts well above the rest of the buildings here, a single tower, its apex pointed toward the heavens. I see no religious symbolism on its surface, and no cross at the tower’s highest point. These women don’t worship any God from Earth’s core religions. They pray to something else entirely, this Anguish who keeps his women safe and isolated from the world.
A door at the base of the bell tower swings open, anda woman in white drifts out. She makes her way toward the town square, and though she’s not near enough to make out her features, I canfeela prickle against my skin. She’s looking right at me.
I take a thoughtless step back.
Irena presses a hand to my shoulder. ‘She welcomes us with a message to Anguish, letting him know his daughter has returned home. That I am safe. And that we have a guest.’
‘All of that was communicated by the bell?’ I ask.
She only smiles, a fragile thing against this dark-stone village. I notice doors opening throughout the settlement, faces turned toward the square. Some women, also dressed in white, have gathered in clusters and seem to be speaking in low voices. I feel distinctly embarrassed to be here. I don’t belong; I’m not one of these pristine white-clad believers, I’m a haggard pilot with no faith to call my own. But it’s too late now. I’ve already accepted Irena’s invitation.
When the woman from the bell tower is close enough to see that she’s blonde, hair half-hidden under a voluminous hood, the bone structure of her face striking and angular, she speaks. ‘Welcome home, Sister Irena. I hope your journey was uneventful.’ Her bright blue gaze slides to me again.
Irena murmurs in assent. ‘Easy as space travel ever is.’
Even as Irena speaks, the blonde woman watches me.She does not acknowledge the sisters who drift closer to the ship, or their quiet whispers as their gazes flit over me with bright curiosity. Her eyes pierce my sweat-rimed skin, never properly washed while on that cramped little transport, and I wonder what she sees before her. Some bedraggled creature, my too-long brown hair tucked into the collar of an enormous leather jacket, my beat-up boots kicking marks into the soil where my ship churned it up, so different from these bright-eyed and devoted women in white. Does she see a sore on the pure flesh of this colony? Does she see an interloper, a stranger? I feel like something that washed ashore in a storm, unwanted and unexpected and thoroughly fucked up.
But her eyes, icy as they appear, soften as they appraise me. Her lips curve in a slow smile. ‘Midonia. You’ll be joining us for the night?’
I can only begin to guess how she knows my name, let alone how she knows that I’ll be staying. An educated assumption, maybe. I lean into Sister Irena, who remains at my side. ‘How does she know that?’
