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It’s strange to see them. Almost as strange as it is good to see them.
“Hey, ladies,” I say, trying to find a cool way to sit in my cage and failing. “To what do I owe the honor of this visit?”
Raine takes the conversational lead. She has a rough, rather low voice, and an attitude that gives me the distinct feeling she’s not happy to be here. When you’re a pirate, you get used to awkward reunions. Usually with people you’ve crossed before. Not typically so much with your own crew.
“We’re here to rescue you. There’s a decoy ship at your crash site, to draw the aliens toward it. The actual ship is cloaked above us. We don’t have long. Zara, can you open that cage?”
Zara pulls a digital pick set out of her hair and steps toward the locking mechanism. I have no doubt she’ll have this lock open in…
Plink!
That was even quicker than I thought. She must have been practicing.
“Good job, Zara!” I praise.
She smiles and slides the pick set back into her hair. She has an abundance of red waves which hide an absolute plethora of sins. My suit held a lot of tricks in it, but Zara’s hair is even more densely packed with the sorts of unexpectedly dangerous and disastrous tools that make people wish they’d thought once, twice, three times before crossing her.
“It’s good to see you again, captain,” she says, swinging the door open for me.
I hesitate before stepping out. Here’s the thing. I’m not stupid. And I know that they didn’t come back here out of the goodness of their hearts. They want something from me.
“Why are you here?”
“I just told you. We’re rescuing you.”
They’re all wearing black versions of the suit I was wearing when I came here. It makes me ache to see their attire. I miss having a garment that makes me more than I am, more than helpless, caged human flesh waiting for her ravager to return. Those suits hug every curve, emphasize every asset, and turn a woman into a warrior.
As if reading my mind, Raine steps over to Mouse, and opens a pack she’s wearing on her back. From that pack, she pulls out my suit. I don’t know how they found it, but if anybody can trawl through an entire house and find a single thing they’re looking for, it’s my crew. “Here,” she says, throwing it at me. “Put this on and let’s get out of here.”
I catch the suit and scramble into it. It feels like putting my skin back on, like some intrinsic part of me had been flayed away and has now miraculously been returned. I stretch my arms above my head and feel the interior portions of the garment snug into place.
She tosses me my boots too. Putting them on feels even better. There’s something powerful about shoes, I think. Something women have always known and men seem to rarely catch onto. Or maybe they do. Maybe that’s why Thorn has kept me barefoot. Hm. That’s an angle I hadn’t even begun to consider in all of this.
Once clothed, I can think a little straighter. I can ask a simple, maybe even obvious question.
“What do you want, Raine?”
“We came to find you,” she says, giving me a blank, bold response that she knows damn well doesn’t answer the question I am really asking.
“Why?”
“Because after we mutinied and let you go, we found ourselves both pursued by the law and with few suitable targets to attack. You are a terrible captain, but you are an excellent pirate.”
“So you want me back, but not as captain? You want me to return to my ship and watch you run it? Why would you think I’d ever take that offer?”
“Because we just found you naked in a cage, for starters,” she says. “We don’t have time to argue. You need to get out of here. We need to get out of here. Let’s go.”
“You might have found me in a cage, but that’s not why you came. Why are you here?”
“There was a vote,” she admits with a sigh. “Everybody agreed to come and get you after the shuttle registered the crash. We felt sorry for you.”
That answer hits me right in the gut. It’s the worst possible thing she could have said. I’d rather people thought I was a nasty, terrible, psychopathic pirate than consider me to be weak for even a single second.
“I don’t need your pity, Raine.”
“Well, you’ve got it. You’ve always had it, actually. Now come on, before we all get caught and end up in a humiliating cage like you.”
“This cage is probably the least humiliating thing that’s happened so far,” I say, reaching for the door to close it again. Am I being petty? Probably. But I’m feeling particularly petty. Whatever is happening now is not for me. These people rejected me en masse not all that long ago, and I don’t want their mercy rescue.
