Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 58483 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 292(@200wpm)___ 234(@250wpm)___ 195(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58483 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 292(@200wpm)___ 234(@250wpm)___ 195(@300wpm)
“First time on a ship?”
She nods. “Yes, Master.”
“You were born on Romon-3?”
“No…” She frowns. “I suppose I was transported there from the breeding facility. But it was in a cage. I never saw the ship.”
I know slaves are transported in cages, but hearing it—knowing this beautiful human spent her life treated like a beast—hits me like a blow to the gut.
“I’m sorry,” I say. And I am.
Chapter 7
Taisha
“What is your exact mission, Master? How can I help?”
Neither the captain nor his second in command answer me. It’s odd that the navigator has his eyes shut. He’s wearing a complicated headset with wires and something that flashes, and he’s working.
“Can he see? Can you see?” I direct the question to each in turn, but again, no reply.
I swivel as much as I can to look around the cabin. It’s sleek and well-formed, with slim panels and lights and digital displays. I’ve never seen such technology; the Ocretions keep us human slaves away from it as much as possible to maintain our ignorance and inability to weaponize ourselves. But even I can see that this is magnificently arrayed.
“Just tell me how I can help.” I raise my voice, “I’m eager to do what I can.”
I think my captain nods briefly, but his eyes are trained on his screen, and he’s reading something from his comm.
“It’s in a slave records building labeled B-33-X on this map.” He points.
His navigator agrees without even looking over once. “Yes, it’s land-locked and apparently slated for destruction. They’re moving all the records to the new storage site across the city.”
“Any on-site holo feed to assess local habits and clothing?”
“That’s going to be a problem. There are no Zandians on planet.”
They both chuckle, but seem tense.
My captain frowns. “Looks like the only beings allowed entry to that building are either Ocretions or humans.”
“Veck. Even with our disguises, it won’t be easy. We have those Ocretion masks, but they don’t conform perfectly. Plus, it’s a small area, and they all know each other. My best assessment is there is a sixty percent chance we’ll make it through without getting flagged as intruders.”
“Master Seke wants this to be a secret op. We need to do this in a way that does not raise any alarm. If they know we’ve taken the records, or even suspect it, it will set off a political problem with the Ocretions.”
There’s silence.
“Go at night with two of our guards on board for cover? Covert op?”
“Possible. But still risky.”
“Too bad we don’t have one of our human fighters on board to go in as a spy. Mirelle would do it. Or Cambry and her brother Tal. And I think they’re the only beings who could carry it out without being discovered.”
“Mirelle’s across the galaxy with her masters, two planet rotations away even with hyper. Not possible.”
“Veck.”
They ponder this, I assume, based on their quiet expressions.
“We really need to get more humans trained in espionage,” my captain says.
“Although that won’t help us now,” his navigator points out.
“I can help,” I offer before thinking it through.
They both turn to stare at me; at least, the captain stares. I assume his navigator is swiveling to catch my voice more clearly, because he faces me too.
“How could you help?” He sounds incredulous.
“It’s obvious.” I hold up my hands as far as they go with the cuffs.
When neither of them seem to get it, I add, “I’m human. You need a human. Bam.”
“What is bam?”
“Bam, I mean, I can do the espionage thing for you. I’ll go into that building and get what you need. It’s a great idea.”
It’s a truly hideous idea. If I get caught—which I probably will—I’m right back with the Ocretions, and they’ll either punish me there, or send me back to my master for trial, or both.
“Let me do this. It will prove to you that I’m loyal to you and Zandia. That I meant no harm with that, ah, injection.” I flinch when saying it, because the thought that I could have killed one of these beings now sickens me. Especially the captain. Thank Mother Earth the Zandians are mostly immune to it!
“There is no way,” the captain snaps. “You’re untrained. Untested. It’s too dangerous.”
“I was untrained back on Romon-3,” I point out. “Yet I managed to swim up a dangerous river, kill an Ocretion guard, hide, and sneak onto your ship. I think I’ve shown I’m pretty good at sneaky stuff.”
He scoffs. “Lucky.”
“No.” I lean forward. “Desperate and determined. Fierce.” I lock eyes with him. “I won’t let you down.”
And courage rises in my body, just as when I was back on Romon-3, running for my life. In the middle of it all, there was no time for fear, just for action. I’m getting into that zone again. “Tell me what to do, and I will do it for you without fail.”