Beauty and the Fleet (Intergalactic Fairy Tales Book 2) (12 page)

Again without any sort of signal, the two guards moved back to their seats, nodding as if in agreement, though there was nothing spoken.

"Creepy," said Beatrix, a chill running up her spine. While Woolly's open resentment unnerved her, it was the other guard's complete lack of personality that really bothered her and had ever since she'd been taken captive. One piece of the puzzle suddenly clicked into place when she caught herself staring at the scar that was above Woolly's left eye; it was a perfect match to Josh's. She knew that asking Josh about it would piss him off, so that would have to be her first question the next time they were alone.

Josh pulled out another key and opened the door, standing aside to let Beatrix in. She hesitated briefly, not so sure that her friends would want to see her. Would they see her in her nice dress, standing next to the beast, and assume she had gone over to the dark side? Would they even talk to her? She wasn't sure she could handle being snubbed by the only people she had left in her world.

Josh gestured with his arm for her to step inside and she pushed her fear down. As scared as Beatrix was, she needed to see that her friends were well, even if they didn't want anything to do with her.

As soon as she stepped in front of the second cell, occupied by Hands, he let out a whoop of joy so loud that it hurt her ears. He charged up to the bars and held out his hands, shouting to the rest of her friends. "It's Sting; she's back. She's alive!"

Beatrix glanced over at Josh before approaching and he nodded. She rushed over to Hands and he took her by the shoulders before pulling her into an awkward hug through the bars of his cell. Cries from Gadget, Torch, and Pickle confirmed that each of them was alive and well, just as Josh had promised.

No sooner had her embrace with Hands ended, Torch shouted, "Get your arse down here, Sting. That's an order."

Beatrix wiped her cheeks clean of tears that she didn't remember shedding and marched resolutely down to Torch's cell, reaching out a hand to clasp Gadget's outstretched one as she passed by.

Torch stood a few inches away from his bars, his back straight and his arms folded behind him. His face was a mask, free of emotion. "Situation report, soldier," he barked.

Beatrix glanced self-consciously down at the bandages around her wrists and her lip began to tremble. He was treating her like a soldier, not a friend. "I'm sorry, Captain, they had hurt Gadget and Hands and I—"

"Belay that nonsense, Lieutenant, I was just giving you shit. Get over here and give me a hug."

It took her a while to clear her blurry eyes well enough to see the huge grin on Torch's face. "You bastard," she said without much heart.

"That hug was a goddamned order, Lieutenant. Move!" Torch pressed up against the bars and pulled her into the tightest hug of her life. "Something is seriously, fucking weird here," he whispered next to her ear.

"I'm on it," she whispered back.

She moved from cell to cell at the whims of her friends and the things they thought to tell her. Mostly, they asked Beatrix about her time in the hospital and tried their best not to say anything direct about her suicide attempt. They all managed to get some sort of assurance out of her that she wouldn't try anything that stupid again. It strengthened her resolve in a way that she couldn't have imagined before. There was no way she was going to die out here without ever seeing her planet again. She made the same promise to herself for each and every one of her friends. They were all going to fly back to Nedra with a porcine wingman.

While listening to her friends talk had shown her they were in good health, she knew that was only half of the struggle. She would have to be really careful talking about how they were faring mentally with Josh just down the hall, but she had to know. Beatrix made another round, starting with Pickle.

"So, how are you doing down here, really?" asked Beatrix.

"I'm fine. Tired of staring at all of this damned grey." Pickle plucked at her ugly Colarian shirt. "I was starting to think I'd gone color blind until you came down here in your pretty blue dress."

Beatrix looked down at her dress and frowned. "I would give it to you, but it would swallow you whole."

"Don't worry about it. I've gotten used to being a little jealous of you and your two meter long legs." Pickle gave her a grin.

It sounded so much like a conversation they would have had back on Harbinger that Beatrix smiled too. "Well, I've always been jealous of your blonde hair, so that makes us just about even." She grabbed the hem of her dress and pulled as hard as she could. It gave way. She carefully tore a chunk of blue fabric loose and handed it to Pickle. She accepted it, her mouth agape. "That should balance it out."

"Thank you," said Pickle, already looking around for a prominent spot to display it. "It'll be so nice to have some color down here to look at."

"You're welcome."

Torch stood and came to the bars when Beatrix stepped in front of his cell. Beatrix knew he was probably in worse shape than the rest. His usually bright eyes were dim and his shoulders slumped. "Hey," he said.

"Hey yourself, Cap. How you holdin' up?"

Torch leaned his head against the bars. "As well as can be expected."

"You can't blame yourself for all of this," said Beatrix. "You're our captain, not a miracle worker."

"But here I am, stuck in this cell. And there you are."

"I'm only out here because I'm a weak little kitten. If you would have pulled the same idiotic move, they would have patched you up and dumped you back in your cell; strong virile man that you are."

Torch burst into laughter at that and Beatrix cast a wary glance at Josh who was slumped against the wall and appeared not to be paying any attention. Torch caught her meaning and his laughter died off. He looked thoughtful before he spoke. "You still owe me a rematch."

It was Beatrix's turn to laugh. The joyful feeling of it caught her off guard. He was referring to the one time they'd ever come to blows. Beatrix couldn't even remember what it had been about, but she knew copious amounts of alcohol had been involved. The next morning the halls were abuzz with chatter about her kicking Torch's ass. "Don't be a sore loser, Cap. I won fair and square. Maybe one day I'll even remember how."

Torch smiled, the light back in his eyes. "Go check on the rest of my pilots. I'm fine."

Beatrix nodded and moved over to Gadget's cell. He was leaning against the wall that separated his cell from Torch's, probably listening to everything they said. When he turned to face her, Beatrix couldn't stop her eyes from moving up to look at the two dark circles on his forehead. The wounds had healed, but the scars would probably be there the rest of his life. Beatrix rubbed her own forehead and gave him a meaningful look. "You doing all right, Gadget?"

"Yeah, despite those bastards trying to suck my brain out through my forehead. It was awful. They stuck one of those things on me, but I kicked its ass with nothing more than my own willpower."

Beatrix winced at the direct mention of the symbiont. That was exactly what she had been trying to avoid. If Josh heard, he showed no signs of caring, his focus totally absorbed in chewing on one of his claws. The sound made her skin crawl.

"Bullshit, Gadget. You told us you don't remember a damn thing after you got hauled off," called Hands from the cell next door.

"Well, I'm sure that's what happened, anyway," said Gadget, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. He knelt and fidgeted with a small grey object at his feet.

"What's that?" asked Beatrix, squinting to see the oblong shape in the dim light.

"It's a model of Harbinger," Gadget replied.

Intrigued, Beatrix squatted and pressed her face against the bars. It really was a decent replica of the ship that had been their home. It was made out of bits of the plastic silverware. "That's amazing. What did you use to hold it together?"

"That grey goop they give us with every meal. It makes a pretty good adhesive."

"Why doesn't anybody believe me about how good that stuff is?" asked Torch.

Beatrix laughed and moved on. If Gadget was building things, he had to be doing fine. "Keep up the good work, Gadget. I'll stop back by before I leave."

"Fancy meeting you here," said Hands, leaning against his bars. The marks on his head were still scabbed over.

"I won't be distracted by your charms, Hands. How have things been?" She didn't bother pointing to her forehead or his. He'd know what she meant.

"They get better every day. The memories aren't nearly as sharp any more."

"And what about your own? You said something about being erased." Even saying the word made Beatrix shudder.

Hands grinned and tapped the side of his head. "No worries. I got everything back. I still know I'm a better pilot than you are."

"Well, I guess that means that you're still delusional too, so you really are running at a hundred percent." Beatrix let out a sigh of relief through her grin.

Now that she had made sure everyone was well, her mission was accomplished. She knew she wouldn't be allowed to stay much longer, so it was time for one last trip past the cells.

The goodbyes were tearful, with lots of promises from Beatrix to visit every single day. If any of them were jealous of her ability to roam the house, none of them showed it.

For her part, Beatrix tried not to stare at the scars on Gadget's and Hands' foreheads. She asked them all one more time if they were okay, and they assured her they were. The visit ended when the guards came in with their next meals. "I better go. That mess doesn't get any better when it's cold," she said, pointing at a tray of food. "Besides, I'm starting to get a little weak. I should probably go get some rest."

The bit about her getting weak was carefully planned to stop their protests, and it worked beautifully. There was a bit of truth to it, but she knew she would have to have an excuse to stop her visiting time, or she would never leave. And while that sounded appealing, it wouldn't help her keep her promise to get them all out of there. Now all she had to do was get some sort of clue as to how to do that. At least now she had hope, and books, which were basically the same thing.

CHAPTER TWENTY

The rest of the house was much cozier than the cavernous rooms she'd seen that morning. Not to say they were small. Nothing in the house was small. The rest of the spaces were more comfortable; there were soft cushions and richer colors. The house was decidedly low-tech inside compared to its amazing exterior. There was barely a screen to be seen. Instead, all of the furniture was positioned in a vaguely circular layout which would be conducive to conversation, rather than passively watching images on a screen.

Josh showed her to each room with little comment, an inscrutable look on his face. It wasn't until they made their way to the kitchen that his mood changed. He smiled openly, but still seemed somber. It was probably the look in his vertically-slitted, yellow eyes. They didn't focus on the things in front of him; they just looked through them.

"This is a large house to live in alone," said Beatrix, an idle observation as she looked over the well appointed kitchen.

"We are Anthrak. We are never alone," Josh said, as if by rote. His tone conveyed just the opposite sentiment.

"That doesn't even make sense," replied Beatrix, eyeing a piece of equipment in the back of a cupboard. "That, I believe, is a waffle iron!"

"She loved waffles," said Josh, barely audible over the clatter of the pans Beatrix had to move to get to the waffle iron.

"She who?" asked Beatrix, as casually as she could manage. Pumping Josh for information was complicated. If she pushed too hard, or asked the wrong question, there was no telling what he would do.

"M—Our wife," said Josh, walking over and taking the waffle iron from Beatrix. He set it down on the counter and positioned it just so, and then caressed it as if it were a long-lost lover. "She made the best waffles. We found it so strange when we found that your planet had them as well. Such a weird thing to have in common. She would have said that it wasn't strange at all. That waffles are the perfect food and thus it makes sense for them to exist on every planet."

"Way better than pancakes," said Beatrix.

"What's a pancake?" asked Josh.

"A breakfast food that is inferior to waffles in every way."

Josh only grunted in response.

"Where is your wife?" asked Beatrix, fully aware that if she were being polite, she wouldn't ask. If she was polite, she would never get the answers she needed.

"She wasn't blessed with the gift of the Anthrak. Nor were our children." His vision clouded and he stared into the distance.

"What does that mean?" asked Beatrix, her thoughts turning to the scars on Hands' and Gadget's foreheads. She was certain she knew. Getting him to say it felt important.

"They didn't survive the blessing. It's better that they passed into the beyond than to be forced to live without a Partner to share their hearts and minds. It is a life not worth living." His voice turned cold and his words were very precise.

Now he's going to have to go do something very important,
thought Beatrix.
I've gotten him to talk about his life before the symbiont too much.
She frowned. When had she started believing his stories? And why? It felt impossible that he could have had a different life before his symbiont, but she couldn't figure out why he would lie about it. If it really were true, the implications were mind-boggling.

"We should be going. Urgent matters need to be attended to with the Quorum. As we said previously, you have the run of the house, with one exception. Stay out of the west wing. That is our space and ours alone. Do not test us on this. You will lose."

Ah, yes, and the requisite threat. Maybe he wasn't that complex after all.
"Understood," she said simply, vowing to investigate it the first chance she got.

With that said, Josh exited the kitchen from the other side of the room. He headed through the only door they hadn't explored. It had to lead to the west wing. "I never was very good at directions. I should be able to feign ignorance at least once."