Page 20 of Tamed By the Alien Warlord
It’s too clean, too quiet. Not the reverent kind of quiet like in libraries or temples—no, this place isvacuumquiet. Like sound itself was scrubbed out along with the bacteria. I paste on a sweet smile and trail behind my charmingly sociopathic host, pretending I’m not calculating escape routes and estimating how many seconds it would take to stab him in the eye with my stylus.
“It’s such a relief,” Nakamura is saying as we pass another set of sterile doors. “To have a Companion who appreciates real science. The last one thought my bonsai collection was a metaphor for infertility.”
“That’s… a very specific interpretation,” I say brightly, noting the location of the hidden wall panel he just keyed open.
“Companions are meant to be empathic, not imaginative,” he sniffs. “You, however, seem different.”
“Oh, I’mverydifferent.” I trail a finger along a silver countertop, careful to let my ringcam log the biometric locks he just used.
Inside, my stomach is a mess of nerves.
On the outside?
Grace. Glitter. Thinly veiled menace.
He shows me another damn bonsai tree—this one with frost-covered leaves in a humidifier bubble. I make the appropriate noises of interest while cataloging everything else: doors, access pads, camera mounts, weapon mounts.
It’s a damn fortress.
“I’ve always found controlled growth beautiful,” he murmurs, adjusting a mist level on the tree’s dome. “All that wild potential, trained into perfection.”
My smile tightens. “Sounds like a metaphor for… everything.”
His gaze cuts to me. “You understand me.”
“I’m beginning to.”
He moves on, and I follow. Each step down the corridor is a countdown. I need access. I need answers. I need Jasmine.
And I need to get the hell out before I get caught.
The worst part? I can feel Lanz watching.
Not literally—he’s cloaked in orbit with the Reapers, hopefully keeping a low profile. But his presence is in my blood. Every breath I take, I wonder what he’d say. What he’d do.
Would he tell me I’m brave?
Or reckless?
Or both?
He’d say I talk too much, probably.
And I’d tell him to bite me.
Still… I miss him.
“Doctor,” an aide rushes up ahead, tablet in hand. “You need to see this. Sensor ghosts in high orbit. Intermittent—cloaked ship?”
Nakamura frowns. “A merchant vessel shouldn’t be cloaked. Not this close to our tether range.”
He turns to me, all apology and tension. “Please excuse me, dear. I must consult with security.”
“Of course,” I purr, every inch the patient Companion. “I’ll stay here. Maybe admire the trees.”
He’s gone before I finish.
I movefast.
