“No, thanks.”

I was all tired and proper weary; my arms did not respond when I attempted to move them and my legs had some odd trembling that never went away. Even my lungs were tired. In fact, I was so exhausted that I had the strangest feeling that I would become forever narcoleptic; an eternal sleeper doomed to lose consciousness at any moment. All the while there was that unnatural moisture in my throat and chest– an odd lubricant– and I felt like I was going to choke. So I went and I made myself cough a little, but it did nothing to stop the feeling and I resolved to ignore it in hopes that it would fade away.

Now as for my rejection of my wretched guest who has, so far, done so much to bother me and so little to help-- at some point even enfeebling my mind so far that I had even thought ‘her’ to be nothing but death-- you can say that I found her a little unforgivable in nature. Additionally, I had no certainty nor promise that she would take me to any place that I would want to go; ‘helping’ could’ve meant a trip straight to the engine room and into a vat of some absurd, boiling solution of radioactive chemicals. And, if I were to disregard that obvious problem with accepting her proposal, there were still other issues.

I'll admit that there was some aid in ‘her’ actions just now– but that didn’t particularly impress me at all nor quell my still very negative impressions And even without those impressions– if our relationship was a clean slate which is very generous in this little analysis– I still wouldn’t have been moved. That is, am I supposed to be impressed that, likely as an apology for demanding so much of my mental energy that this capital ship even snuck up on me in the first place, ‘she’ went and– now I hate this word– ‘saved’ me from my grand old friend Azimuth? Even with my blood pulling into something you can call a small pond, I was clear headed enough to avoid any unreasonable attachment to this guest due to that minor stunt.

I was a 'criminal' to The Army and an 'outlaw' to everyone else, and I met a variety of men– and women– who were dangerous, occasionally some with a fool’s heart who insisted on attending to me for even the most minor things. Should I’ve been moved every time they aided me? Killed for me?

No. And they were human. And I somewhat knew that they were on my side because-- and I had not previously thought this as a requirement for trust-- they never instilled existential dread into me. Dread like realizing that there was an uninvited guest on my ship who had probably been there for far longer without me even knowing. Dread that, even as I rant now, is compounded by some insanity in the corner of my mind that still keeps telling me and telling me that I am in the presence of death; some odd small of rot at my nose and a never-ending ticking form the clicking of legs of centipede– although I give into the delusions again. Without saying anymore, it is clear that her ability to ‘impress’ me is forever soiled. Never to change. I really do not like this guest who insists on following me to what seems like the end of the universe.

After my response, there was something that I believe was a sigh– although I’m not sure– and then ‘she’ spoke again. “Companion– companion, are you serious about this? No– no, no you must not be. I am sure that I have misheard you, companion, please repeat yourself–”

“Do not call me ‘companion,’ guest,” I interrupted. “Leave me here– even in the dark, if you will– and go elsewhere– anywhere. I have no intention of being your plaything nor of being subjected to your absurd presence any longer.” I attempted to mask my dread with a kind of blunt anger.

Then there was a period of silence before my guest spoke again, still somewhat close to my ear yet with the rest of ‘her’ body somewhere that I did not know.

“Companion, you’ve picked an odd time to call me ‘guest.’ Your ship is gone. If anything, you should’ve gone and called me ‘guest’ on your ship and ‘creature’-- a title you bestowed upon me after very oddly eating my first message to you– now that your vessel is gone.” I wouldn’t say that there was anger, but there was a certain swiftness to this guest’s voice that may have been the approximation of anger this guest’s species has. Before I could respond proper to further dissuade ‘her’ more from the very annoying title of ‘companion,’ this guest spoke again.

“I do not know why you are so cross with me, companion, but I have to admit that I was only offering the illusion of free choice just now, in reality. I was not at all expecting a rejection to my offer to help, and since you do not seem to be of sound mind, I must rejection your rejection, you can say. Thinking about it now, I really only 'offered' out of politeness. So, companion, do you mind not resisting too much? There are a lot of activities that need to be done now that you and I are now on a ship of a hundred– this capital ship."

I believed very much that I was in my right state of mind, and I still had no intention of going with this guest who had only delivered to me misfortune and a certain amount of persistent dread like what I feel for something like a mountain or cliff far off in distance, threatening me with an unsolvable climb. Therefore, I formed a plan.

It was still impossible to see, and my enemy had abilities that I did not fully understand; I had not, even, gotten to see how exactly those army men were killed. They just cut off. So I did not know how to avoid that, whatever that attack was. But I did know that– for some odd reason– this guest wanted me alive, so that meant I had some leeway which those men did not. Of course this frightened me because I had no doubts that this persona of care and friendlessness was only to make this process easier, and, from my encounters with The Army, I knew that an enemy who wants you alive is often times worse than one who does not. Especially when they resolve to capture you forcefully whilst they are angry– which I was now believing that this guest was steadily becoming.

My arms could not move but my legs could albeit poorly. My core was mobile as well. So I decided that I would roll over from my stomach to my back where I was then going to listen and react to any move this guest made in the darkness. It would be something like a stalemate. ‘She’ would get close and I would push her away with a kick that should be easy enough to guess despite the darkness and all the while I would be steadily moving on my back to the breach door I knew was behind me where I would then let the vacuum of space in and– well the rest would be figured out from there, I supposed. Flawless plan.

So I attempted to roll over. I was subsequently pushed hard into the cold, concrete ground and immediately rendered immobile.

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

“This is what I am saying to you, companion. You are not all here right now. Your mind is in a place that I do not know, and that I think you do not know either. I saw you scratching at things-- like insects-- which did not exist on your ship– even before your shoddy attempt at stitching which failed so it had been going on for a while. So you are not alright, companion. Just now you attempted to– to ‘escape’ while having already forgotten that I am right behind you, my maw very near to your ear– do you not feel the overwhelming moisture, the feeling of an amount of phantom water that you cannot for the life of you cough out? You felt all of that and yet irrationally resolved to ‘escape?’ Companion, I am trying to help you.

“This last stand does not need to end with your death, although I think that you secretly believe it does. I was only kidding when I said that I believed you crashed into the Eustacia to be with me; it is very clear that you crashed in an attempt to die, companion. So I think that your right to make your own decisions needs to be somewhat– how can this be put? Ah– temporarily done away with.”

The warm and flowing appendage that had pressed into my spine moved down to just above my tailbone; it wrapped around it somewhat tightly. I would’ve taken the opportunity to move but two other impossibly strong– or rather was I that weak– appendages went and were already wrapped around my two shoulders. With my lower and upper axis under the control of this guest, there were only my legs.

So I started kicking and I imagine that I looked something like a toddler throwing a tantrum to this guest who, of course, had some kind of night vision to be able to be so coordinated in such oppressive darkness. Darkness which left me in a very high state of dread since I could not tell when and where I would be touched– constricted– next.

“Companion, your name is Fare, right? Now I don’t want you to think of me as cruel even now when your mind is so backwards, so I want to listen to your earlier request since, even for me, it is getting a little odd to continue referring to you by a title rather than a name or even an alias.”

Without so much as altering her– and I have gone and fully convinced myself that this guest must be a the female variety of whatever kind of organism she is– tone, another appendage– this makes four– wrapped around both of my legs and tied them together almost like a rope. I was unable to physically protest any further without risking something like a cramp.

Now I do not know what I was feeling exactly because everything was becoming all airy and far away. The fear had gone away at some point as it usually does for me at least in a shootout, so there wasn’t really anything else beside an exceedingly dreary feeling, and the water in my lungs. It felt like I could never breathe air again, and yet I was, I was breathing while she was talking to me and I could speak– but felt like I was miles underwater. And there this odd pressure that was beginning to rise now that I was being physically touched by this horrid guest. And I supposed that death could be called a guest since she only visits and never lingers.

So I was so drained; I couldn’t respond to her words.

“You… you are alright, aren’t you? I know that I may be delivering an odd sort of sensation to you, but it should not be impairing you at all. It should not be– it should not be harming you in any way, I’m very sure of that.”

Now throughout she had been alternating between being near to my ear to a bit further maybe to idly look around, she was now up at about my eye. That is, she had moved past simply whispering into my ear and had gotten right past it and up to beside my face. Which I had been resting on the floor, my chin on the floor, because I could not even lift my head up anymore.

But, of course, this positioning had allowed more contact since what I had to assume was her core body, something like a torso but most likely very differently constructed; it was all humid and like a river, and it pressed up against my back as she was over me now; she was neither cold nor hot, she was room temperature. Like the condensation of a glass of water; no longer cold yet yielding a strangely fleeting feeling not unlike it but so far away.

Oh– I was getting poetic now, and it was only because it was becoming impossible to form thoughts all orderly and logical and I felt a tingling rise from my feet and to my ankles while the tiredness became an unbearable pain.

“What could– oh–” then an approximation of a laugh, “it’s because you're bleeding, Fare– if I can, well, call you that since you have still not answered. But, well, this is much better than what else I thought could’ve been happening. This can be remedied. I would just need, well--”

And the tiredness was up to my knees.

“Fare– and I am beginning to enjoy calling you this– you do not need to worry. I think– to me you seem very prone to that, aren’t you? When you went through the super fortress after the second of your accomplices was defeated by the neighboring planet’s offensive systems, is when I boarded your ship. It had its name in a pretty white color like the star that had brought you to this nebula. It was– oh what was it…the Kestrel. So the point is that I have known you longer than you have known me. But-- oh that might worry you more wouldn't it?

"So let's talk about a hearty ship named the Kestrel, instead. So hearty that it was capable of going even without electricity, fuel– since you had removed that if I am correct, Fare– and even with a large chunk of itself missing. You wouldn’t know since you couldn’t see the exterior very well, but your ship looked almost as if it had been severed in two along the vertical axis. Oh, what a wonderful legend that should create once this is over, right, Fare?”

Up to my waist.

“Oh, you seem very sorry right now. But I'll tell you again not to worry so much-- and to let this tiredness overcome you gently. I have, of course, not simply sat here talking– I have… repurposed a portion of your clothing for medicinal purposes, and I hope you won’t mind that, it’s somewhat necessary here, I think. But, while I am doing all of that, and this hum of the engine is vibrating the floor gently with a warm little noise, I think I should go and lull you off to sleep. Sleep that I think your mind needs to sort of reboot like the mainframe of some grand old ship like that which we are on.

So why don’t I just go ahead and tell you what I am? I am sure that you have already gotten some wild ideas, but I wouldn’t know about them since I had to leave you shortly after I announced my existence to you with that little note. I had to keep the Eustacia from firing at your little Kestrel, of course. So I suppose I will not know what you think I am, and that little game of guessing will never happen.

“‘What am I?’

“‘You’re an old fae from a water-wrought planet’

“‘No, try again.’

“And so on– I hope you liked my imitation of your voice, Fare, but, yeah, that sort of idle talk probably can't happen after this, but I think that you'd like to know as soon as possible.”

To my chest.

“But your breathing is become almost indistinguishable from a sleeping man’s, so I should cut all this rot from my talk and tell this all to you swiftly. Now, firstly–”

To my neck.

“I do not necessarily have what you would call a name, although I suppose I have what you would call a title. That super fortress that you used to confuse your pursuers– ‘The Army’ I’ve heard you call them during one of your many dialogues with yourself– was my home for some time. I was squatting there, you can say. I don’t need air, you see, so it didn’t matter that it was all flooded with space– and that was how I was able to get onto your ship and this one. And—”