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“Hey, hey Gable --” Crew Member #43 said, almost on his toes to try to get their attention. “Listen, this is important -- it’s about the supplies. The potatoes --”
“ Later ,” Gable said, effortlessly pushing past him. “Please, try to remember that Travis is the quartermaster now.”
“But --” Crew Member #43 said, from behind them, and then said something under his breath to Crew Member #15, who sighed.
Gable pushed the two out of their mind and continued to stride rapidly towards their quarters, projecting their best don’t talk to me I’m on an important mission aura. Given that this was Gable interacting with the crew of the Uhuru, their best don’t talk to me I’m on an important mission aura was pretty damn good.
Gable was, in fact, not on an important mission. They had just had an extremely long day, both in terms of problems aboard the ship and things they didn’t quite understand happening inside their own head. And they were tired, and they needed a break from thinking and from being responsible for anyone else’s problems.
They went into their room, shutting the door behind them, and knelt down gracefully next to the bed. From underneath they pulled a little cloth bag; inside were several coils of thin-but-not-too-thin rope with the ends whipped elaborately with red thread. Gable had done the whipping themself some years ago; it was a good skill to have picked up.
After all, every skyjack did have to be pretty good with knots.
They spent a moment just looking at the ropes, getting a feel of them in their hands again. Then they stood up and sat on the bed, slowly uncoiling the first of the ropes. The rope was fairly short; they folded it in two and then draped the bight over their left hand, tying it with skill into a looped Prusik knot and leaving it in a loose loop on the bed. They did the same with another shorter coil of rope; finally, they tied the free ends of both ropes tightly to the head of their bed.
Gable took their time unwinding a longer coil of rope, and then gently began to wind it around their ankles, making sure that they were snugly held together but not too tight. Once they’d finished it and tucked the end under, they attached their ankles to the baseboard of the bed with another rope.
They took a moment to pull their feet back a little to make sure they were secure. With the feeling of tension, of restriction , a deep sense of relaxation began to build in them. They’d missed this.
Somehow, Gable had always felt their most free when restrained.
Assured that their feet were appropriately secured, Gable leaned back and fit their wrists into the loops they’d created earlier. One arm at a time, they tightened the loops an appropriate amount; they’d left enough slack in the rope for their right arm so that they could reach their left wrist. Unfortunate, but necessary. They did need to be able to extricate themself -- Gable didn’t know anyone they trusted who would be able to do this for them.
Yet , whispered a small voice in the back of Gable’s mind, and I could try asking someone -- but Gable wouldn’t let themself continue that train of thought. This was their time, and they let their mind go blank as they gently tugged their arms against the restraints.
Being tied up was like flying; they didn’t have to focus on anything anymore, didn’t have to worry . They allowed themself to sink into the illusion that someone else had put them here and gone away and left them without an escape. There was nothing Gable could do to change anything about their situation right now, so they might as well enjoy it. The eternal prickling pain in their back almost faded into the background.
Gable let their mind drift between vague retellings of things which had happened to them recently and old faded nostalgia-tinged memories from however many decades or centuries ago. Occasionally they were brought back to the present by how goddamn good it felt to have hemp tight around their wrists again, to be forced to be still and alone, to be restrained and held back from the world.
They didn’t keep track of how long they’d been lying there, occasionally moving their arms and legs just to feel the ropes pull back at them, but eventually they decided it had been long enough and brought themself back to full consciousness enough to remove the loop from their left wrist, then their right, and then sit up and unwind the ropes around their feet. Once all the ropes were loose from their body, Gable examined the red indentations left on their limbs; all was well. Slowly, methodically, they worked out the knots and coiled each rope back up, and then put them back into the bag and put the bag under their bed.
Then Gable pulled their shirtsleeves down a little to cover the marks on their wrists, opened the door, and went to check on Dref and Orimar. They’d had enough of a break, all alone in their room; it was time to get back to work.