Page 78 of Star-Born Anomaly
Swallowing, she scanned the cargo hold. Behind the crates, a slender staircase led to the next level above, like the one where Sawyer had disappeared. Wynn cast one last glance at where she’d hung, then headed up, her hand tight on the smooth railing.
She stepped into a sitting room that stretched long one way and turned into a kitchen in the other. Plush carpet squished beneath her feet. By the stars, the ruling class lived well. If this was how Administrator Jannex traveled, what was his home like?
He might live in luxury, but she also knew he wasn’t immune to tragedy. Months before Foster’s death, a different news story had gripped the system by the throat. A Tellusian attack on a medical station resulted in the disappearance of a ruling class member—Administrator Jannex’s only daughter.
Wynn hoped the woman was dead, a mercy compared to the hundred scenarios she could imagine for women taken captive by Tellusians. Wynn’s parents had received a gift by dying during the attack on their transport instead of being forced into servitude.
Swallowing around the sudden lump in her throat, she walked through the sitting room to the kitchen. The carpet changed to shiny black decking, and her feet protested again.
The door to the next room opened as she neared. She stepped into a corridor lined with doors. Sleeping quarters, if she had to guess. Wynn passed them by to the next set of double doors. These opened up into a stateroom with an oversized bed at its center. The luxury of it all hit her again.
Everything felt wrong on this ship. The air tasted wrong. The color of the deck was wrong. The hum of the vessel sounded wrong.
But she needed something to wear, and drying blood covered her arms.
The thought spurred her forward. She opened the first wall compartment, then the next, looking for clothing. She found feminine garb in the third one, most of the clothes too lavish for someone like her, but there were some more casual outfits too.
Get clean first.She didn’t want her blood to transfer onto anything.
Wynn moved to the slender door on the right, and it opened into a washroom with the biggest steam shower she had ever seen. It probably could have fit ten people.
She stripped down to nothing, then stared at the bundle of clothing in her hands. It had blood on it too, but there’d been a reclamation unit in the stateroom. She hurried back out and shoved the bundle inside, hitting the destroy and jettison button again. All the while she glanced over her shoulder, thinking Sawyer would walk in on her naked.
He didn’t, and the light turned green.
Dashing back into the washroom, she indulged in a quick steam, scrubbing the blood from her body until her skin turned rosy, then made sure every last drop of red washed down the drain.
Clean and dry, she approached the clothing compartment again. Whoever these belonged to, probably the administrator’s wife, they were made for someone taller than her. The underwear would fit, though.
She dressed quickly, half expecting Sawyer to come find her, to threaten her again or tell her to stop what she was doing, but he didn’t. She rolled up the pant legs and sleeves of the basic beige outfit, exercise wear. Socks and shoes were next, but the black flats were too big, and she ended up just putting on the socks.
Staring at the door to the kitchen, Wynn took a deep breath to settle herself. It didn’t work. Should she stay here? Just wait until something else happened that was beyond her control?
She shook her head. She wouldn’t hide from what happened next. Sawyer said he was taking her to General Cazin, and she needed to figure out why, even if he didn’t know either. And from what he’d asked her, she could only assume he didn’t.
Her empty hands clenched and unclenched as she walked through the exit and paused in the kitchen. Even though she’d dressed, she felt naked and vulnerable after what he’d done to her in the cargo hold.
Adrenaline pumping hard, she crossed to the first cupboard and opened it, finding bowls. She opened the drawer underneath it and found cutlery. She moved to the next drawer and found knives.
Snatching up the biggest one, she shut it, then continued her route to the front of the ship. The handle felt heavy in her hand as she approached the cockpit door. It opened at her approach, revealing a curved area with four seats, everything designed with luxury in mind.
Sawyer sat in the pilot’s seat, his back to her, and his helmet disengaged. Wynn remained in the doorway, waiting for him to say something, to tell her to fuck off or worse. When he didn’t, she gripped the knife tighter, and stepped inside.
The urge to slam the knife into his skull overwhelmed her for a split second, chased away by common sense. She’d seen him in action, knew she wouldn’t get away with it despite his back being turned, and retaliation might be worse than what he’d already done.
With the knife held firmly in front of her, she walked forward and slid into the co-pilot’s seat, keeping her eyes on him the entire time.
“Feeling better?” he asked without looking at her.
“Fuck you,” she spat, her fingers flexing around the knife.
He scoffed in response, then glanced at what she held. “The first thing you need to learn about weapons is that anything you bring to a fight can be used against you.”
Her breath caught in her throat. Was that a threat or a warning? When he faced forward again, she decided it didn’t matter as long as she got to keep the knife.
The stars stretched before them on the viewer, endless and vast.
A ration tube obscured her view and made her jump. She turned her head.
