“Yes,” I said. “I’ll be your... mate.”
He stood up and took my hand, squeezing. “You will submit to me and be my concubine for life? Then, bow your head.”
“I will,” I said. “But we must keep searching for the pilot. I need to make sure the crew is safe.”
I bowed, and he breathed in deeply, calm and heavy. He turned toward the exit, back to where the stairs to the main corridors were. It was a surprise that Cade hadn’t come looking for us. Talis and I were reckless beyond belief.
I tried to ease the tension with quiet conversation. “Tell me more about your species. About your planet, too,” I said while dressing.
He shrugged before taking my body into his arms and lifting me into the large vents above. “In here. It’s safer than wandering around.”
I pushed myself into the vents, sliding forward. They were big enough for me to crouch. “You didn’t answer the question.”
Gliding in behind me, he had his face practically inside my ass. “Doesn’t matter. My people didn’t want me, anyway,” he said.
“Don’t say such stupid things. They were your people. You must have loved them,” I said.
I looked back, and he glared at me. His eyelids creased with anger. “You don’t know my family,” he muttered.
“What’s wrong with them?” I asked.
He went off without answering the question. “To me, time means nothing and everything, all at once. It cannot be measured. It is infinite and pure, and bows to no one.”
“And what do you think of yourself?” I asked.
“I believe we all deserve a little better, but I’ve been a negative force for too long. I’m getting tired of it,” he said.
“My people were the same,” I admitted. “Everyone wanted one thing from me, so I did the opposite. I left.”
“It doesn’t matter. I shouldn’t have survived my planet’s decimation. I am a criminal. I’ve always felt above it all, and that’s why I left. I left because I saw an opportunity. A way out. I tried to help them, but they wouldn’t fucking listen. I have you now.”
I tried to picture their culture and their world, but it was too difficult to understand. All I knew was that he lost so much, and I had lost so much. Together, we could take our losses to the bank.
“You did all you could. In some cultures, that would make you a hero,” I said.
“That doesn’t make me a hero, little fawn. It makes me a fucking coward. And cowards deserve to live a life of shame.”
It was silent for a while after. There was a lot I didn’t know and wouldn’t ever be able to understand. It seemed like he wasn’t clear with me on purpose, but I felt the pain he shared. I knew it because it sat at the bottom of my heart, too. I tried to erase that hurt, but memories can only be utilized and perhaps transformed.
We reached the end of the shaft, where he had taken me from earlier. There were bruises that littered my body, but they didn’t mean shit to me. He was right. We had to stick together.
I glanced down at the control center. The space seemed deserted, so I carefully extended my neck to see. After scanning the place for any sign of Cade or Juliana, I dropped down and carefully held my eye up to the retinae scanner. We were logged in for the day. “Starship T1-95 Pandorum. All systems go,” I whispered, smiling when the green light appeared.
Talis stood behind me, so tall that his shadow loomed over the whole station. He placed his hand around my chest and brought his lips to the top of my head. “It’s hard losing a home,” he said.
“I used to stay up every night watching digital home movies. Kinda childish, I know. But it made me feel at peace. For a while, I thought I could bring them all back,” I said.
“Everything comes to an end, but that doesn’t mean we die,” he said.
I turned to follow him to the large window overlooking the starry world we inhabited. Life was a mystery, but he was probably right. Still, it didn’t make the pain seem any more pointless.
I thought about Gregory and all he went through. He was my first love, and I watched him perish. It reminded me how fragile everything was.
Talis seemed to sense my sadness. He comforted me by holding me. I absorbed his warmth and kept watching the mapping systems. We were much closer than I thought.
There was only the present now. If we got the engines to start, we could get to our destination in less than a day. “What’s your ship like?” I asked.
“It’s a junker. But it’s better than yours,” he said.