Planet Athion: The Complete Series by Angel Lawson
39
Mercy
Dinner is…tense.For me, at least. I feel like a child that’s been admonished. Cassidy ignores me. Amias is friendly but quiet—probably trying to stay in the good graces of his wife.
Wife.
What the hell is happening on this ship?
When we’re finished, I stand and say to the woman next to me, “Thank you for dinner. It was delicious. I’ll clean up.”
“No arguments here,” Cassidy says, pushing her chair back and sauntering out of the room.
Damon watches me closely but leaves his plate at the table, disappearing to his room. Amias heads up to the flight deck. I transfer all the dishes to the counter and turn on the faucet. The water gushes into the sink and I get so busy with my task, composting, scrubbing, rinsing, that when a figure shifts beside me I jump in surprise.
“Shit!” I shout, dropping a steel pot.
“Sorry,” Cassidy says with an eye roll. She holds up a square pan. “I didn’t mean to startle you. I’d forgotten there was a pan in the oven and came back to add it to the dishes.”
“Thank you. It would have been a mess to clean up if it stayed overnight.” I add it to the pile. I’m now very aware of the woman still in the room and just before she walks out, I say, “How can you be with him?”
“Excuse me?”
“I don’t understand it. He’s a Trad. You know what they did to our home—our people.”
“Amias didn’t do anything to anyone.” Her voice is rough, angry. “And he certainly hasn’t done anything to you.”
I turn to face her and the vitriol on her face is enough to make me take a step back. It doesn’t stop my mouth. “The Trads took everything from me. My home and my…my sister. They’re liars and manipulators. They don’t even show their real faces. It’s all a trick—a mindfuck—he’s using you just like they use all women.”
Cassidy stares at me then surprisingly, laughs. “You think he’s using me?”
“Of course.”
Something on the woman’s face shifts—I can’t place it, and the wet sponge in my hand is forgotten. “You think he wants me for my body? My womb? So he can lay an egg in me?”
“That’s what they do,” I whisper, trying not to think of my sister’s dead, lifeless body in the bathroom. Another lifeless body in her belly.
“A year ago, I was released from the transitional facility to go live in the capitol of Athion. I had a job working with an engineering group, learning advanced mechanics. I had an apartment. A roommate. I’d started flirting with the Athion male down the hall.” Her face grows dark. “Then one night on the way home from work I was grabbed off the streets. Snatched. One minute I was living my own life. The next I was in the bowels of that fucking auction ship.”
“You were on the ship? The one I was on?”
She nods. “I think they thought they had a high seller—not for my brain or skills, but for my body. I’m prime birthing age—at least ten years and ten babies' worth of time. But then they put me through the physical examination.” She stares in the distance. “My ovaries were a mess. I’d had one removed when I was a teenager. The other…wasn’t viable. I can’t carry a human baby or an alien one.”
I want to say something, but I’m speechless. My silence doesn’t stop her.
“Do you know what they do to women that can’t bear children?”
I think of what Simone and the other women told me in the cell. “They get sent to a brothel.”
“I spent six months in that hell-hole. Six months being violated and used by worthless Tradrychs. That is, until two men came in that brothel. One Trad. One human.” Her hand shakes as she wipes away her tears. “I didn’t know who they were at the time—just more men working for the Master. I didn’t know they were working from the inside—taking down his enterprises one by one, little by little. When shit hit the fan, I thought I was going to die. Sure of it, because if I didn’t die when the explosions went off, I was going to kill myself.”
Her admission shocked me—and hit disturbingly close to home.
“One person refused to let me die that day and then refused to let me harm myself. He nursed me back to health—to sanity. He taught me that my body was more than a vessel for breeding, more than just an object.” She lifts her chin. “And if you’d told me back then that I’d owe my life to a Trad, I’d tell you to go fuck yourself. So I get your anger and distrust, Mercy, but you haven’t lived my life and you don’t get to judge me and the male I love.”
Her admission hangs in the air and I feel like the universe's biggest dick.
“I’m sorry,” I say, clenching the sponge. “You’re right. I don’t get to judge and there’s obviously a lot about this world I don’t understand.”
“So fucking much.”
The shame I feel is overwhelming. “Thank you for risking your own lives to get me back to—well, to the people I care about. I knew it was dangerous, but I didn’t realize how much.”
She shrugs like it’s nothing. “It’s what we do. We’ve all been lost, Mercy. We’re all running from something—someone—and whether I like it or not, the second you stepped on this ship you became one of us.”
That’s the last thing she says before she exits the kitchen. I return to the sink, finishing my job, fighting back my own tears at the horrors of her story and the courage of the men on this ship. I didn’t think I had anything in common with them when I arrived. Hell, I didn’t think I had anything in common with them an hour ago, but now I see more clearly. Like Cassidy said, we’re not so different at all.
* * *
After I finish cleaningthe kitchen I go to my quarters and take a long, hot shower. I need to scrub the day from my body. When I’m done, it’s not enough. Cassidy’s story lingers in my mind—the pain and defiance in her eyes. I know she’s not the only one I owe an apology to, so I dress and head across the ship to the main quarters.
The sound of music carries down the hall—familiar tunes from back home. I stand before the door that says “Captain,” and brace myself for another encounter with Damon. So far, none have ended well. I’m determined to change this.
I raise my fist and hear a grunt on the other side of the door, followed by rapid breathing. My feel my eyes widen and I tilt my ear. What’s he doing in there? I hear another grunt and one thing comes to mind. A very, dirty thing.
I turn quickly, feeling like I need to just get out of there, but I trip over my own two feet and crash into the narrow hall, falling on the ground.
The door swings open behind me and Damon stands over me, shirt off, tight exercise shorts low on his hips. My eyes go straight for his abs, absorbing the sharp V just above the waistband, the dark hair trailing just beneath his belly button. I shift upwards, traveling over the hard, defined muscles of his chest that taper outward to his shoulders, round and firm. He’s sweaty. Very sweaty.
“What the hell are you doing on the floor?”
“I fell.”
He offers me his hand and once he has a firm grasp, I’m pulled off the ground in a motion so swift that I stumble again—this time into his chest.
The impact is brief but memorable; the feeling of his rock-solid body against mine. He drops my hand quickly and walks back into the room. There are oversized weights on the floor. He’d been working out, which explains the grunts and sweat. He quickly tugs a shirt over his head and asks, “Can I help you with something?”
“I, uh.” My brain freezes when I see that the hem of his shirt didn’t make it all the way to the top of his shorts, leaving me with a distracting view. I look away and start over. “I came down to apologize.”
His eyes narrow. “For what?”
“My attitude about everything, really. Things are different here and I’m not used to it.”
“Anything in particular cause this abrupt change?”
I shrug. “I talked to Cassidy. I think I understand better now.”
His eyebrow arches. “Did she coerce this apology in some way?”
“What?” I frown. “Coerce?”
“Like did she threaten you or, I don’t know, try to stab you?”
“Stab me?” I repeat. “Wait…is that a possibility?”
He shakes his head and lifts both weights, one in each hand, and moves them to a cabinet. His biceps tense with the action. Get it together, Mercy.
“She didn’t threaten me,” I say. “We’re fine and I’m not going to say anything else about her and Amias.”
“Good idea, because the last thing I need around here is to keep the two of you from killing another.”
I watch him straighten his room for a minute longer and then say the other thing on my mind. “For the record, I’m not 'fucking' your friends.”
He glances at me. “Yet.”
It’s his tone that riles me up. The tone and the smug look on his handsome face. He can’t stop with the jabs and the little comments. I open my mouth to tell him off—again—when a crackle comes from the computer system.
“Hey, boss,” Amias’ voice comes through the speaker, “that outpost where you wanted to refuel is a few thousand kilometers ahead.”
Damon walks over and presses a button. “Okay. Let’s make a stop.”
“Got it.”
“We’re going to stop?” I ask, anxiety blooming in my chest. “Won’t that be dangerous?”
“Not if we’re quick.”
“What if someone sees you. Or Cassidy. Or me?”
“Well you and Cassidy are staying on the ship. Amias and I will take care of the fueling.” He notices my unease and places both hands on my shoulders. It’s oddly intimate. “Mercy, this is my job. I transport people and things all over space. Usually illegal things or things that will get me in a shit-ton of trouble if I’m caught.”
I spot the twinkle in his eye. “And you like that, don’t you? The possibility of getting caught?”
He smiles—more genuine than I’ve seen so far. “Everyone needs a little excitement in their lives. Now, I need to change and you’re more than welcome to stay and watch, but I feel like the boys back home may not appreciate you ogling another man.”
His words carry a bit of a sting—he’d noticed me looking at him. But I’d felt the way he’d touched me on that auction ship in front of Kane. That wasn’t just for show and if he was worried about the boys being upset about something, he may need to watch his back.
But then again, I think, exiting the room. My boys aren’t just open to sharing, they’re eager. Especially when it came to their unit.