Page 36 of Saved By the Servali

“Two years.”

Beside her, Talos stiffened.

“What?”

“About two years ago is when the Queen Fever quarantine lifted and intergalactic trade was allowed to resume in a limited fashion. And around two years ago is when Jade and eleven other women were sent to Lynx-Nineteen.”

“You can check my personnel records. I never left in the middle of a shift—but if he can erase the footage and make the schedules, I’m willing to bet he can change my records and show that I left all the time,” Nessa spat.

“Wait, are you saying this Merton Barry person is actually in league with the traffickers?” Mr. Manxwell asked, hunching forward in his chair as if he could spring through the screen.

“Abigail’s story about the banking records sure makes it look that way! I guess we’ll know in a minute. Where’s this inspector?” Nessa sat down again, her hands clamped on the edge of the desk. She wiped her sweating palms on the legs of her restored uniform, digging her fingers into the loose fabric at the knees.

I want to tear this off. Burn it. Has Merton been using me? Did I send other victims across the galaxy somehow? Did he think he could use me, pin this on me if he had to, because I’m a newer inspector who would make mistakes?

“Nessa, is that him?” Kamau whispered, kneeling beside her, his strong arm bracing her back.

An older, skinny man with a sour, pouchy face strolled across the platform now. He walked briskly to each shuttle, stuck his head inside, pulled it back out, and tapped his tablet.

“Th-that’s illegal! That’s not how inspections work! He didn’t even enter the craft!” Nessa hollered at the screen.

“That’s Merton Barry?” Mr. Manxwell clarified.

“Actually... No. No, it isn’t.” Nessa looked into the Leopardine’s eyes. “That’s Joe—and he’s not even an inspector. He’s up in the launch command. Merton lied to you. He lied to all of us.”

Chapter Twelve

Ifeel like someone chewed me up and spat me out.

Nessa collapsed on her bed, glad it was so big. She sprawled like a starfish, wishing the weight in her chest would evaporate.

She peeled off her uniform—literally. She scraped it and tore it from her skin. She’d been proud to work at the MWIP—not knowing someone she trusted could manipulate her records to make it look like she was, at best, irresponsible or at worst, helping kidnappers.

Today’s calls and conferences had made yesterday’s look easy. Now that they had a suspect, she and Abigail had been asked to provide information over and over, together and separately, speaking to officials who regulated the MWIP, police on Sapien-Three, and law enforcement for different galaxy-wide and intergalactic agencies. The same things had to be said to each representative, and each time it felt worse. Heavier.

What was worse? She couldn’t say anything to clear her name. Not yet. Talking to Merton again or telling her family and friends that she knew the truth about Merton could tip him off. She had to stay “fired” for now, although the governing authorities promised her she could have her old job back—in time.

And what will that look like? All of Merton’s cronies hating on me? Or hailing me as a hero? Did Joe get a bribe for covering for me? A bottle of booze, or a day off? Or credits? He’sreallygoing to hate my guts now if I’ve taken away his chance for easy perks.

And my dad! My dad knows... Some of the time. Jesus Christ on a comet. If he tells the wrong person what I said about being kidnapped... Merton must know I’d tell my dad.

The thoughts were getting worse.

The beeping of the intercom at her door was actually a relief, even if it made her jump and flail like a snapped piece of rubber. “Hello?”

“I have something for troubled minds, to help you sleep.”

Kamau. Of course. He’d left to cook meals, but he returned to her “interrogation” room (Talos’ office today) each time to silently stand, kneel, or sit beside her.

Truly like the knights in fairy tales, devoted to his Queen.

Yes. Damn it, yes, I do want to be his Queen, and I don’t want to give that up.

“Come in!”

Crap. Too late, she recalled that she had mauled her own clothes off and probably looked like something caught in a shuttle reentry flame.

“Nessa, my brave warrior. My Queen. You were so steadfast and brave, never showing you were overwhelmed with the endless barrage of questions! It was as if you were on trial and—” Kamau entered, talking a lightyear a minute, holding a fancy tray with a strange-looking jug on it. When he placed it on her table and turned to catch sight of her torn and disheveled appearance, he let out a startled yowl and his fur stood on end. “Oh! My love, who did this to you? Oh, Nessa, no! Did you accidentally hit the ‘fur trim’ setting in the bathroom?” he whispered, rushing to her side.

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