Ruin (Series)

Chapter 9: Payday

It was another few days journey back to the ship. After combatting cannibals, being stuck in a deafeningly loud saloon, and again, fighting for his life, Jim retreated to the bowels of their ship. Despite his newfound friendships, he'd had enough of people for a while.

It had always been a struggle - travelling the vast deserts of Ruin alone. He'd learned to avoid contact as much as possible. His was a dangerous life. In his visits to Rock Bottom and other trading cities, he would often lay on his deck, listening to the world of man, wishing he knew how to fit in.

Though he would only ever admit it to himself, he both loved and hated people. When he was away from civilization, he longed to be part of it. When he was at port, he'd be reminded of the foolishness of such desires. Like a next day hangover, he would promise himself not to make the same mistakes, only to give in, return, and make all new ones.

People betray. People steal. People hurt. And yet, the loneliness was still the worst thing about his life of solitude. No matter how he tried to reason his way out of it, the pull toward humanity was always there, nagging at him.

Why the hell did I go back to that place? Ahh right. Because a beautiful woman asked me to.

Jim smiled at the thought. He wasn't too excited to return to a ship of relative strangers but, seeing Alia would help to dull the anxiety...a bit.

A prolonged creak at the back of the hold announced Sasha's entry. The young man crossed the low ceiling behind Jim and slumped down against a bag of fire grain. The two of them had gotten away with offering only half of what Captain Rychist was willing to part with. Jim suspected the foreman, "Joe", was more desperate for spices than he originally let on.

Sasha squirmed for a minute, struggling to form the bag into a more comfortable shape. Finally, sighing with contentment, he inquired, "So, Jim. I've been wondering, what's your story?"

Jim pulled himself from his introspection, doing his best to feign annoyance. Less than enthusiastically, he replied, "My story?"

If Sasha could see Jim didn't want to talk, he didn't show it. Leaning forward, he continued, "Yes. We hardly know anything about you. Who are your parents? What led you to the life of a wanderer? Did you ever suspect you possessed awakened potential? Things like that."

"Is there a reason you'd like to know these things?

"Just curiosity. Everyone has a story after all."

Jim crossed the cramped space to the liquor cabinet and poured himself an uncomfortably warm glass of mead. Taking a few sips and pacing, he thought about how to answer. He usually volunteered as little information as possible.

He'd always felt that sharing any part of himself was the equivalent of exposing a weak spot in his armor.

Finally, he returned to the dilapidated wooden chair and table, set his drink down, and began.The ship creaked with the steady evening winds. Beams of moonlight shone through the port holes and danced upon the floor with every subtle movement.

Jim tried once more to dissuade Sasha, "Most of it is just quiet days and nights travelling the dunes and wastes." The boy crossed his arms and stared Jim down. Finally, he surrendered, "I'll skip that part and paraphrase."

Jim stared into his drink. Where to start? "I was born somewhere outside Dyelita. My father was a noble and my mother, an 'Iizalatan." He paused for a moment to study Sasha's reaction. 'lizalatan were considered the lowest class citizens in the Alliance. Their situations weren't much better elsewhere.

The only true natives of Ruin, the 'lizaltan were conquered over a thousand years before Jim's time by the early form of The Alliance and had since suffered as second class citizens.