Carrion Crew

19

Everything moved too fast for Ash to take in the important details. Strong arms pushed her forward turning her this way and that. She was being taken on such a winding path, she was sure she'd never get out again. Bright lights illuminated ugly walls. The floors were clean and so were the faces, although she hardly got a good enough look at anyone to say for sure. Then she was shoved through a thin doorway into a small room. A pair of heavy steps followed her in, and the door clanged shut.

She didn't dare turn to look at the owner of those steps and strong hands, afraid her imagination might have drawn an accurate description. Instead Ash looked at the new face in front of her. A small man sat behind a desk and fidgeted, looking as if he weren't entirely sure what to do with her. Ash sympathized. She didn't know what to do with herself either. An apology didn't seem out of place, considering the situation.

“Sorry,” she said, but voice was too loud for the confined space, making her sound more insolent than apologetic.

“Sorry for what?” the man behind the desk asked, tapping his fingers on the top of the desk as he did.

“I don't know,” Ash said, disturbed by the excessive tapping. She was also disturbed by the proximity of the person behind her and took a tiny step forward. “Are you ok?” She added

“Yes. Excuse me.” The man pulled his hand back.

Ash stared at him, fear giving way to hesitant curiosity. Then the person behind her moved suddenly, causing a loud bang that made Ash jump.

“Have a seat,” a deep voice ordered.

Ash looked down. A small seat attached to the wall by a hinge had been folded down. She sat on its edge and cautiously looked up at the figure standing beside her.

He wasn't as tall as her imagination had conjured, but his arms were about as thick as she thought they'd be. Kind of like Hobo's, but cleaner. The man considered her with a condescending expression -- something between bemusement and contempt. He had the kind of eyes that looked like they had somewhere better to be directed than at Ash. Like they wouldn't bother to look at her at all if it wasn't necessary. 

“I though,” said the man beside her, “this might be a solution to your predicament. Consider also the report from earlier today.

“Hm, perhaps.” The man behind the desk looked wary as he eyed Ash and said, “I have some questions for you.”

Ash was relieved that he had stopped tapping so much, although now that he had, she found his gaze to be uncomfortably intense. She glanced back up at the standing man, undecided on who made her more uneasy. 

“I'm concerned as to why you're here,” the man behind the desk said.

“It's--” Ash said, “I don't... know.”

“You don't know why your here?” the small man asked, raising his eyebrows dramatically.

“No, I mean...” Ash couldn't think of a way to explain what she meant. “I wanted to know what was going on?”

“Hmmm,” said the small man, squinting his eyes at her. “I think what you want to know is why someone has taken your machines of war.”

“Yes,” Ash admitted. “That's most of it, I guess.”

“We're going to repair our ship,” said the small man, “then we are going to leave. Does that answer satisfy you?”

Ash shook her head.

The man's mouth bent into a superior smirk. “Of course it doesn't. You want to know who we are.”

Ash leaned away from that expression. It was ugly and threatening, and she had never seen it on anyone that had been any good. That was the look of someone willing and capable of anything, anxious to exercise their power.