Mutant Mine (Mutant Mates Book 1), page 12
But when I fetched some fresh coffee from the kitchen earlier, I stole a new knife to replace the old one. Feeling bad about it doesn’t mean I won’t do the same thing again, if I have to.
I head into the bathroom to wash my face, hoping it will help to wash these thoughts away. I stand at the mirror for a moment, just looking at myself, thinking. Then I notice the bathtub.
Showering last night was more of a compulsion than a pleasure. But afterwards, it did feel good to be properly clean for the first time in a long time. I want to feel that way again.
I lock the bathroom door, thinking about how Roth isn’t here right now to smash bad guys’ skulls together. He always locks the main door after him when he leaves, but what good did that do me yesterday? At least he’ll be back before too long. For now, adding a second locked door makes me feel better.
One touch of a button, and water begins filling the tub. I choose a bottle from the selection on the shelf, and add a swirl of pink creme. Piles of froth begin to form, and perfumed steam rises from the water. It smells like the Cavaliers’ rose garden in summer.
I slip out of my clothes and into the bath. It’s hot and silky and topped with rich foam, and I sink into it up to my chin.
Okay, wow. That’s good. That’s really good. I’m not sure I’ve ever felt so warm.
I close my eyes, too tired to think anymore, and drift…
…
…
Knock knock.
“Rory?”
“Huh?!” The knock at the door wakes me up with a start. Roth’s voice is slightly muffled through the door.
“My apologies. You have been in there for a while. I wanted to… Are you well?”
“Oh! Sorry, I— I didn’t hear you come in.” Jeez, I must have been really out of it. “I’m fine, thank you. I’m in the bath.”
“Excuse me for disturbing you. Please enjoy your bath.”
“I’ve never had a bath before,” I find myself saying. “Only showers.”
There is a pause, then Roth asks:
“Do you like it?”
“Hell yeah. I put this pink bubbly stuff in the water; it smells like flowers.”
“I can smell it,” says Roth. “And I can feel… heat.”
“You can feel that through the door?”
“Yes.”
“What else can you do?”
I wouldn’t have the courage to ask him that normally. But talking through the locked door makes me braver.
There is another, longer pause before Roth replies this time.
“I hear very well,” he says, slowly. “I am sensitive to touch — small movements in the air, vibrations, allow me to anticipate movements. I heal quickly. I will probably live for much longer than the average human. I have a higher body temperature, because I have a more efficient metabolism. I need fewer hours of sleep. I am strong, and have good stamina. I can sense… other things, sometimes, too.”
“Can you see in the dark?”
“No.”
“Bummer.”
“Yes. It would be quite useful.”
“Figures, though. I always wondered why you didn’t manage to catch me that first day.”
“There was too much happening, too many men running around… I could feel movement, but I could not tell which was you,” Roth says. “Rory, I—”
His tone sounds so unhappy, I just know that he’s going to apologize. What for though — scaring me in the dark? Grabbing me? Chasing me?
Whatever it is, I don’t want to hear it.
“You know,” I interrupt, “I’ve actually wanted to take a bath in here since the moment I first saw the tub.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah. But I never felt safe enough to make myself vulnerable like that.”
“…Ah.”
Now though… I don’t know whether Roth could be called a good person. There’s so much darkness in his past — and no denying that past, which is written all over his skin in vivid blue lines. But even so…
“Now I do,” I say primly.
Silence. After a moment, something thumps against the bathroom door. When Roth next speaks, his voice sounds closer to the floor. He must have slid down to sit with his back against the door.
“Rory,” he says, low and quiet, “I would kill any man on this ship to keep you safe.”
…Fuck. I blink fast, my heart pounding.
“Thank you,” I say faintly, so grateful that he can’t see my face. Desperate to lighten the tone, I add: “And if you ever need backing up in a fight, me and my steak knife are always here to help.”
Roth laughs roughly.
“Your little knife got the job done.”
“That’s true.”
We both fall quiet again. I think he may have left, when he asks:
“So, have you been in the bath all day?”
“No! I’ve been reading.”
“About plants?”
“Yes — but also Frankenstein.”
“You have?”
“Yep. Whenever my brain gets too full of facts, I try some fiction.”
“Do you like it?”
“So far, yeah. It’s pretty horrible…”
“Yes. To play with life in that way.”
“Right. But it’s a good story! I want to find out what happened to the poor creature after he was left on his own. Thank you for recommending it.”
“You are welcome. I am glad you are enjoying it.”
“When did you read it, anyway? I can’t imagine you sitting around reading stories.” I really can’t. It seems too… cozy for him. Would he have a blanket and a cup of hot cocoa, too?
“In prison,” Roth says. “I read a great deal there.”
“Oh... Well, I’m glad you got to do that. I don’t think they leave you much free time for reading on Chronus.”
“No. I should think not.”
There is an uncomfortable silence as we both think about what lies ahead of Roth if the ship is recaptured — the outcome that I’ve been rooting for all along.
“Okay, time for me to get out of here before I cook,” I say at last.
Reluctantly, I get to my feet and clamber out of the bath. I wish I could just stay in my warm pink pond forever, like a swamp creature.
I grab a towel and dry off, then start getting dressed. My underclothes are kinda stale — they’re the ones I wore to bed last night. I consider putting them back on anyway, but then think…
“Um, Roth? Are you still there?”
“Yes.”
“I forgot to bring a fresh t-shirt and shorts in here with me. Could you maybe pass me some from the closet?”
“Of course.”
After a minute, he knocks at the door.
I wrap the towel tightly above my breasts, holding it to make doubly sure that it won’t fall, then open the door. It’s so hot in here that a cloud of steam puffs out into the bedroom. Roth stands at the door, closer than he thought he’d be. I have to tilt my neck back to look him in the eye.
He’s staring down at me. I must look crazy: naked, wet, and flushed from the heat — to say nothing of my very fashionable towel dress.
Suddenly feeling self-conscious, I stick my hand out for the clothes.
“Could you…?” I ask.
Roth eyes are a darker blue than I’ve ever seen them. Under his focused gaze, my blush turns hotter. Finally, he presses the folds of cotton into my hand without saying anything. Somewhere in the fabric, our fingertips brush together.
Then I step back and slam the door right in his face.
Jesus, Rory, why?! I hiss to myself, my head in my hands.
When I emerge from the bathroom again, fully dressed, Roth is sat at the table. He’s reading on the tablet, but looks up when I come in.
“So,” I ask in my brightest voice, as if nothing weird just happened. “What did you do with your day?”
“I saw some friends of yours,” Roth says, startling me completely.
“You did?”
“Yes. Tommy and Ellis. They send you their well wishes. And Ellis says… Hey.”
My throat tightens with sudden, unexpected tears.
“Are they okay?”
“Yes. They are safe, and being fed often enough. I brought them medical supplies.” He smiles to himself. “Tommy was quite fierce. He made me swear that I have not harmed you.”
“Tommy did? But he’s terrified of you!”
“Yes. He is very courageous, in his own way.”
“Yeah, he’s great.” I smile too, picturing it: my friend Tommy, locked up in a cell meant for dangerous criminals, and raising his voice to Roth.
“Thank you,” I say. “For making sure they’re okay. I really appreciate it.”
He nods solemnly, then goes back to his reading.
These days, it seems that all I say to Roth is ‘thank you’. I feel a rush of fondness towards him… But it’s so strange to feel like that. Everything about him turns my heart upside down and inside out.
Roth is keeping my friends in a cell. He’s keeping my friends alive.
I like him. I don’t like the things I’ve heard about him.
I’m afraid the authorities will recapture him, and work him to death on Chronus. I’m afraid they won’t, and he’ll set this ship full of maniacs loose on the galaxy.
He’s so different from the other prisoners — but he is one of them, not one of us.
I want him. I don’t want to want him.
I have no idea how to feel. And I don’t know how much longer I can stand it.
25
Roth
SHE IS filling my head like this steam fills the room — clouding my vision, blinding me with warmth, softness, pink. All I can think of is that brief flash I saw of her, fresh from the bath. Water was shining on her bare skin. I wanted to drink from her. If the towel had fallen…
It did not. There is no need to think of it.
“Are you hungry?” I ask her now.
“Sure,” Rory replies, oblivious to the tumbling of my mind. “I didn’t eat lunch today.”
So we go to the kitchen and choose our meals. While I heat them, Rory lays the table for dinner. It is a long time since I have had a home, but there is a feeling of home in this.
Rory comes back in and begins rummaging through the kitchen cabinets. She emerges holding a dark bottle.
“Have you ever tasted wine?”
“Yes,” I say.
“Good wine?”
I smile. “No. Have you?”
“I don’t know… We made our own blackberry wine one fall. It was strong, but I don’t know if it was good. We drank it in the garden, and my friend threw up in the wishing well.”
“Perhaps it would be best if you did not open the wine.”
Rory laughs. She takes down two long-stemmed glasses.
We sit at the table and eat our food. The wine is good — to me, at least.
While we eat, we look out at the stars. There are a great many of them. We do not talk much, but that is natural. We have talked a lot today.
Rory sits back in her chair and rests her hands on her stomach. She is glowing from the wine, and perhaps still from the bath.
“Mm,” she says. “I’m stuffed.”
It is a simple thing, sharing a meal with her, and witnessing her contentment at being warm and fed. But simple joys are the ones you miss the most when they are gone — and the hardest to find your way back to.
“Rory,” I say. She looks up at me expectantly.
Perhaps the wine has loosened my tongue. I suddenly want her to understand how I see her — not just who I would kill for her. But now that I have started speaking, I do not know what I mean to say.
“Out there, in front of the men, I must be strong and harsh,” I continue haltingly. “But coming back here, to you… Little bird. For me, these evenings are like your days in the garden.”
Something real, and beautiful.
Rory is looking at me with wide eyes.
“Roth…”
But I do not get to find out what she was going to say next. The voice of the computer interrupts:
“CAPTAIN, PLEASE REPORT TO THE FLIGHT DECK,” it says. “CAPTAIN, TO THE FLIGHT DECK.”
“Does it mean you?!” asks Rory.
I rise from the table and stride towards the door, Rory close behind me.
“Is something wrong?” She sounds alarmed. I wish I could reassure her and share my hopes, but…
“It could be. I will have to check the instruments.”
“Crap. Maybe we shouldn’t have drunk anything.”
We step through onto the flight deck.
“Woah,” says Rory.
I forgot that she has not been in here before. The door has always been available to her, but she has never ventured through. She was probably too afraid of me to follow me.
The flight deck is a semi-circular chamber made of metal and glass. Hundreds of small lights blink on the equipment that lines the walls. At the front of the room is a long, curved window — the largest on the whole ship. Arcing in front of it is the instrument panel, with controls glowing on its glass surface. The window is overlaid with displays, projecting the ship’s maintenance statistics, star charts, object detection, incoming messages, weapons status, and so on.
A glance at one of the displays tells me that there is not yet any sign of my brothers. They are not the reason for this alert. I will have to keep waiting.
Rory is gazing around her in awe. I remember my own first time on a starship flight deck. To the untrained eye, it is an incomprehensible wall of technology. Government flight decks in particular are rarely seen by civilians; much of this equipment is still highly classified.
One of the displays is flashing red. I head over to it and study the data.
“Do not worry,” I say to Rory. “It is alerting me that there is a small asteroid belt in our path, some distance away. I will make a minor adjustment to our course.”
I sit down at the navigation panel and begin setting the new course. The Hades may be a little different to the starships that I was trained on, but the fundamentals remain the same. My fingers move confidently over the controls. The calculations flash up on the screen above me in luminous green text.
I am so focused on my task that I do not notice Rory drawing closer and peering over my shoulder.
“Wow, you really know what you’re doing, don’t you?” she asks.
I finish punching in the new course, then turn to face her.
“Would you like to know what anything here does?”
Rory cranes her neck to see all the displays. Then she turns back to me. She looks overwhelmed.
“What I want to know is where you learned to do whatever the hell you just did.” Her voice is tight. Why is her voice so tight?
“What?”
“I know that government starships have tech way beyond anything civilian ships have, and I know that the space pilot program is insanely selective. The authorities would never let a political extremist in.
“I also know that you’re not a monster. You’re just not, Roth. I’ve seen you kill people, but never without a good reason. In fact, it turns out I really, really like you.”
I can only stare at her. But she is not done.
“So make it all add up for me, Roth. How did you learn to fly this thing? How can you be a good person, and a trained government pilot, and a terrorist? Who are you?”
Is she… crying? Not quite, but tears are gathering in her eyes, swiped briskly away as if she has no time for them.
I feel frozen. I have no idea what to say. My heart has never beaten so fast. It is like panic, like falling. Always falling, since the day I met her. But I have never told anyone…
“You said to me once that I shouldn’t trust the government — that they lied about you,” Rory says. “What did you mean?”
“I should not have told you that.”
“Well, you did.”
I rise to my feet and step towards her. She does not back away, but looks up at me, unwavering. I know that she will not let me leave without answering her question.
There is still so much that I cannot tell her. Without being certain that we will escape, that she will not be interrogated by the authorities, it is not yet safe for her to know.
But I cannot do her the dishonor of lying to her. Not now. I must give her some piece of the truth.
I speak slowly, measuring my words:
“They were hurting people,” I say. “At Watergap.”
“Who were?”
“The government. I know you believe that it was simply an administrative office, which we targeted for an unprovoked terrorist attack. That is what they said, afterwards. But it was not. The offices were the tip of the iceberg. The real Watergap was underground.”
“Underground?”
“Yes. It was a vast subterranean facility, where prisoners were held. They were hurting people there. Torturing them.”
Rory makes a small sound.
“We just wanted to get them out. No civilians were killed — that is another lie. The only people killed that day were soldiers with guns. They knew that people were suffering inside the facility, but they did not care. They were following orders, without ever asking: is it right to do what I am being told to do?”
“That’s a tough question to ask, I guess,” says Rory. “If you really are innocent, then I did something evil by helping to keep you in that cell.”
I nod. “Yes. But you would not follow blindly when your commanding officer wanted you to starve me. You questioned your orders. You spoke up. You are not the same.”
She smiles at me briefly. “It’s okay. You don’t have to say that. But— um. I hope this isn’t rude to ask, but how did you… What happened to your body?”
Rory has never asked about it before. She has not shown much awareness of my physical differences at all; never stared at the growths on my head or the marks on my skin. I appreciated that about her. But her curiosity was inevitable.
I close my eyes as I answer.
“It was an experiment. An unethical one. We were meddling with forces we did not understand — trying to make ourselves stronger, so that we could fight for peace and justice. We were young, idealists… idiots. We did not know what it really means, to play god.”
