Total pages in book: 112
Estimated words: 105936 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 530(@200wpm)___ 424(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105936 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 530(@200wpm)___ 424(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
I didn’t need to hear any more to know I was in big trouble. Scrambling to my feet, I rushed through the gold and green archway and down the hallway. The voices of the portraits followed me in a rising cacophony, all trying to tell their stories, as I ran as fast as I could through the darkened space towards the foyer.
But then I remembered the guard—would he try to stab me with his spear for “defiling their House of Business?”
Taking a risk, I took a turn at the end of the hallway and found myself heading to what I hoped was the back of the house. Behind me I heard a lot of commotion but I couldn’t tell if it was Turk and the Salashions or still just the portraits shouting.
At last, after another series of turns, I found myself in front of a plain blue door. I opened it and was relieved to see that it led out of the house and into a dim back street.
My relief was short-lived, however, because I heard Turk calling my name.
“Jessina? Jessina! Where are you?”
I knew I couldn’t let him catch me—he would be so mad! I had ruined his Clan’s business deal!
Turning, I ran down the narrow side street, clutching my bleeding arm with one hand as I raced as fast as my legs would allow. I had to get away. I would go to the spaceport and apologize later, I told myself. But for now, I just couldn’t face him. I couldn’t.
The side street seemed to be some kind of alleyway that led between a lot of grand houses. I could see the backs of them flitting by as I raced down the narrow road. There were several twists and turns and I took every one I could, trying to get away from both Turk and the Salashions, who were also presumably chasing me.
At last I couldn’t run anymore. I stopped, bending over to hold the stitch in my side and catch my breath as I panted as quietly as I could.
After I straightened up, I took stock of the situation. I couldn’t hear anyone coming for me anymore, so I guessed I had lost them all. Which meant I was safe, right?
Well…
I looked around, finally taking better stock of my surroundings. The grand houses that had flashed by on either side were long gone. Now all I saw were ragged, dusty dwellings that didn’t look very prosperous at all. Most of them were set far back from the road, which was bordered by a long fence missing slats on one side and a brick wall on the other.
The other thing that worried me was the fact that I was still bleeding. The Salashion’s knife had cut deep and then he’d gone digging around to get out the implant. I needed to disinfect the wound but for now all I could do was rip up the sleeve of my uniform shirt and tie it around the cut.
Then I had to admit to myself that I had no idea where I was or how to get back to the spaceport. I had run too far and too fast and I hadn’t been paying attention to anything but getting away.
I was alone and bleeding on a strange planet in what looked like the bad part of town with no way to get back to the ship.
What was I going to do?
40
JESSINA
Istarted walking. What else could I do? I picked what I thought was the general direction the spaceport might be in and headed that way.
Luckily, Turk had given all the men—myself included—a shot of translation virus to enable us to understand and read the local languages. Eventually I saw a sign that said,
“Spaceport, 14 clonocks” with an arrow pointing in the direction I wanted to go.
I had no idea what a “clonock” was or how long it might be, so I had no choice but to keep trudging. I occasionally got stares from the Salashions who were driving or walking along the same road, but they didn’t seem to be a very friendly or nosy race. None of them spoke to me or bothered me, much to my relief. They just went on along with their business. In fact, no one said a word to me in the two hours I spent walking back to the ship until I came into a more populated part of the city.
At least, I assumed it was more populated. I was passing by a building that had a glowing neon 3-D sign hanging above it. In the reddish light from the sun, which was beginning to go down, the words were lurid.
“Girls, girls, girls!” the 3-D letter proclaimed in neon pink and lime green. “Try the famous Salashion double-cunny! Yes, our girls have TWO!”
But it wasn’t just the sign that got my attention. Chained up out front of the establishment, which was obviously a whorehouse, was one of the spikers. This beast was even bigger than the one I’d seen at the spaceport and it looked mad. Its gray spikes were tipped with red and orange and they were rattling together, making a menacing sound like a thousand angry rattlesnakes. Its eyes were flaring orange and gold and its lips were curled back to show long, curving fangs.