I found myself in an unfamiliar room, but I knew where I was.

  I knew I was on a planet, I knew I had found a man called Mark, who had assisted me in getting out my escape pod, and getting me inside this room. I noticed the soft feeling of bandages around my stomach when I moved my hands. I noticed the cold air turning to faint clouds as I exhaled. My bandages became damp as I traced it to the left side, informing me of where I had been wounded. I wasn’t sure exactly what the wound was from, but I could assume the bandages were meant to stay on for a while.

  The room was dark, I couldn’t pick out any of the details of my surroundings other than the cot I found myself laying in. It was just large enough for my body to fit in, a rough, thin blanket laid on top of me. It was probably to insulate the heat, but it wasn’t doing a very good job of it, I was shivering underneath it. I could deal with cold; but I couldn’t deal with being completely unfamiliar with my surroundings, so I swung my legs around and sat myself up. My bare feet touched the floor, recoiling slightly from the cold stone, before settling on top of it. Noticing I had bare feet, I looked down at my attire. It was disgusting. The bandages around my waist covered more skin than the tight black material that clung to me like tattoo ink, it wasn’t meant to clothe me, it was meant to advertise. Chosen by a separate party to exaggerate features they wished I had. I shuddered; I would find a replacement as soon as I could, I wouldn’t wear anything like it again, I wouldn’t have to anymore.

  Which did bring me to confront the fact I was now free of that cursed Ship. I was thankful, but I was also cautious. Cerim had, rather foolishly, clung to the first person who gave her attention. By some miracle, it hadn’t gotten us killed, or worse, and he seemed to be either biding his time, or was too stupid to press the advantage he had. It seemed my warnings for caution hadn’t been heeded, but if he hadn’t killed us yet, he might still serve a use.

  I looked to my right, seeing the back of an armchair. He was sleeping on it; his snoring was annoyingly audible. I don’t know why he had decided to turn the chair around, maybe because he wanted to provide me a small amount more comfort by not appearing like he was watching me sleep. It did make things easier for me, if I was quiet, and I usually was, I could move around freely without fear of stirring him. The room was small, but larger than the cramped crew quarters of the Ship. The bed I had woken from was set into the wall, there was a small table pushed against the wall two arms lengths in front of me, a small kitchenette stood in the corner beyond the occupied armchair. To my left, rather than seeing something, I heard something. It was a rapid sound, like the crackle of debris hitting the window, but distant somehow. It was chased by a distant rumbling like that of a weapon battery, but while the air vibrated, the ground didn’t, I felt ashamed to find it mildly unnerving. To my left was also a window, I could look outside to see what was causing the noise, but despite my urge to get a hold over my surroundings, some invisible force stopped me. Was it fear? Or was it the knowledge that seeing something other than the void of space through glass would overwhelm me? Was it both? I shook my head and tried to focus on something else.

  Mark.

  He was helping us, for some reason that he hadn’t shared. For as long as I have lived people have only helped to serve their own interests, which I can live with, but I can’t live with them hiding those interests. Most people who keep their motivations to themselves usually need some encouragement to share them, so I eyed the room, settling them on a knife block on the counter in the kitchenette.

  Without too much care for noise anymore, I strode over to them, and withdrew the largest looking one I could find, it wasn’t as manoeuvrable as the shorter blades, but it looked more intimidating which was more the point. I looked behind me at the man on the armchair, he was still asleep, I returned behind him, and held the blade against his throat, careful not to touch him with it. I wanted him to see it was just a threat, not a promised action.

  To wake him, I grasped his hair and pulled it up, enough to hurt and to give me control, not enough to have him panic too much and accidently cut his throat on his own knife.

  “Gah- wha? Oh no. Oh no no no.” I could hear him notice the knife as he repeated himself.

  If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

  “Quiet,” I whispered quietly and calmly, “I have some questions.”

  “Wait… Cerim? Thank God, I thought-“

  “Did you, or did you not, understand me?”

  He hesitated a moment, gulped, then nodded. Most folk would say they understood, without realising what ‘Quiet’ actually meant. Good start.

  “What’s your game here? Why help a vulnerable and alone young girl? What do you gain from this?” I asked him slowly, my voice low but above a whisper.

  “Nothing, it’s just the right thing to do.” He replied quickly, confidently.

  “Now forgive me for thinking you are full of shit, but that’s not good enough. I have yet to meet someone who helps because it is ‘right’, and if they existed outside my world, they would’ve freed me from it years ago. So, I am going to ask you again. Why are you helping me?” I knew Cerim had told him where we had come from, I was hoping reminding him of what I had survived would make him reconsider his far too simple answer.

  “I-“ He gulped again, his raspy voice sounding even drier than I thought possible, “I am a man of faith, of an ancient religion, I live by its core tenants, one of those is to help those in need.”

  Great.

  I had my fair share of experiences with various religions, few of them were positive, most of them were born out of desperation for survival or a desire for power. The best ones offered both.

  “And I am in need?” I sighed, knowing how Cerim acts it probably appeared that way, “Which religion might yours be?” I swear if it’s another Follower of the Light I might just kill him now.

  “Catholic, I’m Catholic.” He admitted through shaky breaths.

  I frowned curiously, “Never heard of it.”

  “We’ve seen better days.” He said in a tone that implied a joke.

  “Am I going to have to take your word for this belief, or can you prove it with anything?”

  “Can I move my hands?”

  “Slowly.”

  Slowly enough that I would’ve been annoyed if I wasn’t trying to be cautious, he reached toward his neck, inside his shirt, and pulled out the bottom of a necklace. It was made up of wooden beads, some larger some smaller. The strand at the bottom that fell towards his chest was decorated with a simple wooden shape, A perpendicular cross. It was devoid of any decoration but the grain in the wood, I found myself briefly appreciating it’s simple beauty, but it was hardly enough on its own as evidence.

  “Anything else?” I asked firmly, “A necklace hardly proves anything.”

  He nodded silently to the arm of the chair, on it laid a thick book. Its black cover blank, aside from a shape identical to the one around his neck inlaid in gold.

  A symbol around his neck and a book to read from, sounds enough like religion to me.

  I removed the knife from his neck, getting a sigh of relief in response. I didn’t let go of the weapon though, just in case. I then picked up one of the chairs that was pushed up to the table I had seen before, and placed it in front of Mark’s armchair. He looked, a little shaken, mostly shocked, but remarkably calm all things considered. Either he was crazy, or made of tougher stuff than I originally thought.

  “Can I ask a question?” He wondered politely.

  “I suppose it’s only fair.” I admitted.

  “You were so… different. Earlier I mean. Why bring out a knife on me? I didn’t think you were the type.”

  “Maybe you just aren’t the best judge of character.” I was purposefully trying to avoid the inevitable question I would be asked to answer, hopefully it wasn’t obvious.

  He frowned, “I think it is one of the things I’m best at.”

  I think that was an invitation to elaborate, I didn’t take it.

  “So…” He tried again, “What changed? You even talk and sound different.”

  “People change.” I answered simply, he nodded like he got the hint not to pry any more. He would inevitably try to answer it in his own head, but that wasn’t my problem.

  “Anything else?” I asked half-heartedly.

  “What do you plan to do next?”

  “What do you mean?” I raised an eyebrow.

  “Now that you are planetside, what do you want to do? Where do you plan to go?”

  Annoyingly, I didn’t have an answer on hand for that, which shocked me. Usually knowing what to do next came easily to me, but in an environment as safe as this one appeared, I had no idea what to do in the short term, which only left me with deciding a long-term goal. I was terrible at choosing those, the only thing that came to mind was something disappointingly simple.

  “I just want to be left alone.”

  “…Huh.” Mark eventually exhaled.

  “What?” I asked, annoyed.

  “I didn’t expect something so… simple”

  I scoffed; did I really need a grand plan?

  “And?” I added.

  “And nothing,” He replied with a smile, it wasn’t lost on me that he looked genuinely supportive of my goal when I had held a knife to his throat only a minute ago, I hated that, he was still hiding something, I would find out what later. “It still won’t be a walk in the park,” I involuntarily looked confused at the statement, but he quickly waved me off, “Figure of speech, don’t worry about it. But that is doable, and I can help! I only need to-“

  He was cut off again by a loud banging, knocking on the metal door to our room. I’m ashamed to admit it made me jump, the thud against the metal echoed throughout the room like we were adjacent to an engine room.

  “Planetary Enforcement Agency! Open up!”