Into the Black Hole

Chapter 12: Lament

I'm an idiot. Why did I reveal Timour's name? While the rational part of my brain reminds me that the pirates have access to a universal face database, I'm still upset that I forgot to keep it together. And what did Felix mean by "save" me? Are we more than just prisoners? Hostages? Is my previous ridiculous guess involving cannibalism still a prospect?

After Felix leaves, I'm once again interrogated—I mean, "interviewed"—by Detective Nupan, and she asks some of the same questions interwoven with new ones. I answer any that don't incriminate my country, then she and Doctor River escort me back to the ICU. They allow me to use the bathroom, which is incredibly difficult with bound wrists, and when I come out, Detective Nupan's gone. Doctor River washes my face and brushes out my hair while I sit on my hospital bed like a demoralized baby.

She moves to place the hospital bed shackles around my wrists in place of the handcuffs, and I grab her arm with both hands. "Please, I'm not going anywhere." I turn to look at the man on the cot next to mine, and her gaze follows.

"Fine. Don't mess around with those though," Doctor River acquiesces and nods to my handcuffs. "They'll inject you with tranquilizers. Also, don't ask me to remove his." Timour is still chained to his cot. "You can walk around the room, stretch, but we have cameras on you at all times, so don't do anything that will make me take your privileges away."

"Okay," I say in a small voice.

After she leaves the room, I hop off my bed and begin pacing around the ICU. There are six cots total with various machines and monitors surrounding each. Timour's is the only cot currently occupied. I pass the door closely a few times, but as I expect, it doesn't open for me like it does for the pirates.

I try to distract myself with the horror flick currently playing on the big screen, but it's not as terrifying as my current predicament. I can't help but dwell on the mistakes I made back on Mars. I should've been quicker, stronger, smarter. I should've told my father the mission was a bust from the get go. We didn't have enough time. And now that he thinks I'm dead, will he mourn for me?

No. But he'll mourn for the Eye. For the failed mission.

Hours pass. I'm on my 248th self-inflicted derogatory remark when someone groans. I instantly perk up and look at the only other person in the room. His eyes blink against the bright lights. "Timour?" I tentatively ask and walk toward his cot.

His hands lift to touch his head, but the shackles inhibit his movement. "Wha—Ailee?"

I relax. He remembers my name. "How do you feel?"

He sits up and leans forward to place a hand on his left temple. He groans again. "My head hurts... I feel... weird." As his eyes become more clear, he stares at me in confusion. "Ailee?"

"Yeah, it's me." I nod, my throat closing slightly. Does he not recognize me? With him sitting up and me standing, we stare at each other eye-to-eye. I wrap my hands around the handlebar on his left and contemplate calling Doctor River to come check on his state.

"Are you alright?" he questions.

It's my turn to be confused. "I'm fine." For the most part. "Why?"

"You're crying."

I touch my cheek, and when I pull back, my fingers are wet. "Sorry, that always happens. I'm always crying over something."

"Don't apologize, I just—" His hand reaches for my face, but the shackles stop it. Timour's awake enough to notice what's impeding his actions. "Why am I chained to the bed?" He spots the handcuffs around my wrists. "Hold on." He examines the room. "This is a Martian ship." He turns back to me. "We've been captured?"