Page 6 of Rebel Fates

Hindsight. I shouldn’t have taken the job. But the money was too good to be true. So many perks. I should have looked into the return rate of their employees.Anyemployee.

I should have realized itwasactually too good to be true. That’s where desperation gets me.

I realize there’s no point in fretting over my poor decisions now. I wanted to escape Earth. Mission accomplished.

Ironically, I’ve once again landed in another abusive situation I need to escape. Whatever these monstrous aliens are going to do to me, I’m pretty certain that it will not be a good time—not for me, anyway.

As an alien approaches the cage door, Lynn whimpers.

The alien motions his hand for me to come closer to the bars. I shake my head in refusal. My collar zaps me, but I stay put, refusing to move.

Why should I make this easy for him?

“Gemma!” Lynn snaps, sounding irritated at me and not our captors.

But I’m not going to just give in. I’m naked and vulnerable to whatever assault he may want to inflict.

Furball shouts something in whatever language it speaks.

He unlocks our cage door and charges at me. He’s got some sort of gun in his hand. Then he points it at my head and pulls the trigger.

Well, fuck.

But instead of a bullet going through my brain, I feel a sharp needle pierce my skull.

I cry out.

Furball sneers at me. “Is it working?” he asks.

My eyes widen in surprise. How can I understand him when, before all I heard, were angry grunts?

“Yes?” he snaps at me.

“Yes.”

They have embedded a freaking translator in my head!

Furball shoves me aside and does the translator implantation on Lynn. Then, he slams the cage door shut and leaves.

“Why would they do that?” Lynn asks.

“Easier to give us orders?” I guess.

“Why now?”

“They probably wanted to see if we would survive the initial capture.” I don’t know if that is why, but it seems like something slavers would do, conserving resources.

A few hours later, we feel the ship land on a hard surface.

“Where do you think we are?” Lynn asks.

“Does it matter? Wherever we are, it isn’t good.” I glance around for an impromptu weapon. No luck. I’m sure these guys have dealt with rebellious slaves before.

In the distance, I hear a pneumonic airlock open and the two furballs walking on a ramp. I catch a few words, “…buyers… humans… big money…”

I curse and know things are about to get far worse. So far, it has sucked, but they haven’t seriously hurt me other than their terrible food selection, a couple of electric shocks, and the translator implantation stung like a bitch.

But a buyer might have horrible things in mind for me. I know the terrible things human men can do to women. I don’t imagine aliens will be any better.

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