Page 7 of Baited

“No.”

He reaches for the weapon, but he’s too slow, and the thing is in my hand before he can move his, and it’s a hand which now lies twitching on the floor.

There are screams.

There are psi-whips.

But I have a blaster and I aim it directly at the procurator.

“Don’t touch,” I say as he lifts his hands and a few tentacles.

“No one will touch you, Blayn,” he says, his eyes darting from side to side, the remainder of his tentacles squirming beneath him. “Just hand over the weapon and we’ll say no more about this.”

There are sobs, there is dust in the air I don’t remember happening.

“You let them touch,” I rasp at the procurator.

“Put the blaster down, and we can talk about this, maybe reinstate your pass for Tatatunga?” the procurator simpers. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

He forgets, I don’t like anything.

“No more parades.”

At my words, his mouth sets into a thin line. “Don’t push it, Blayn. You are mine to do with as I please.”

Something stings on my neck. I whip around and fire off the blaster, but already my vision is going. The weapon falls from my hand as I drop to my knees and bindings are applied to my hands and wings.

“Take him out of my sight.” The procurator is standing over me, his skin flushed green with anger. He and the captain gaze down. “And make sure he doesn’t do this again, or it’ll be your hide I come for.”

IZZY

The pretty dress is a memory, given I agreed with Madame I’d continue cleaning until I had my first customer, and I don’t get to go into the main rooms in order to attract one until I’m done.

Instead I’ve finished cleaning the bathing area in cubicle 5-YV1 and I’m attempting to clean up the wide, plush corridor which runs to a number of the better cubicles before the evening begins in earnest. I’m beginning to think my nerves about becoming a pleasure worker are unfounded. It’s probably in Madame’s best interests to have me continue being the house skivvy until she can find an unfortunate replacement.

“Get out of my way.” Yelii barges through the area I’ve just cleaned.

She’s wearing one of her best outfits, a dress which drags on the floor, and now the edge is wet. She stops, inspects, and turns on me.

“You’ve ruined it,” she snarls.

“Hardly. You should have watched where you were walking.”

“Dirty little skivvy,” Yelii retorts. “I’ve just been given the best customer this gak-hole has ever had, and you’re trying to gak it up for me.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I reply. “And I don’t care about your customer.”

Yelii folds her arms, her tail twitching, a smug smile on her face.

“You will. I’ve got a Gryn gladiator. Do you have any idea how much they pay?”

I don’t. I’m not even sure what a Gryn gladiator is, but Yelii seems pleased with herself anyway.

“Why are you not in your assigned cubicle, Yelii?” Madame marches around the corner like a galleon in full sail. “They’ll be here with him in a nova-minute, and I don’t want the dome staff kept waiting.”

She looks Yelii up and down. Yelii preens.

“Is this what you’re wearing?” Madame says.

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