Page 3 of Bela's Bounty
CHAPTERTWO
Treto
Ican see the comm on my wrist flashing out of the corner of my eye, attached to the hand I’m currently using to prop my head up. On the screen in front of me, stars zip by in long streaks as the shuttle hurtles through space at light speed. I’ve latched onto the slavers’ signal, so there isn’t much for me to do until they drop out of hyper.
When the comm stops flashing, I count to three before the signal appears on my view screen, followed by text:
I KNOW YOU’RE READING THIS. PICK UP THE DAMN SIGNAL!
Rolling my eyes, I push myself up in my seat.
I’ve known Sone long enough to know he will not give me a moment’s peace until I respond. I’ve already put him off far longer than I expected to.
With a long sigh, I flick my finger across the panel, and Sone’s image appears before me.
“Give me your coordinates, Treto,” he demands the moment he knows I can see him.
Instead, I lean back in my chair, propping my chin on my hand once again.
Sone has managed to procure a shuttle, just like he promised. That’s not what I’m surprised about. It’s the fact it took him two whole rotations to do soandbreach the blocks I built against him.Again.
“You’re losing your touch,” I chuckle.
“This isn’t funny,” Sone snarls through the vid screen.
I can’t help chuckling again. He’s right, though, because this isn’t funny. It’s hilarious.
“Treto. The coordinates.”
Leaning forward, my finger inches toward the button that will disconnect him. Not for long, but long enough to give me a moment to think.
“Wait wait wait!” Sone shouts when he sees what I’m doing. Then he deflates, slouching into his seat. “Just wait. Hear me out.”
I pause without taking my hand from the control panel. I will listen, but nothing he says will sway me.
“I thought we were a team? I just want to know why you snuck off behind my back,” he asks, “and then blocked me.”
“I wasn’t sneaking.” My hand slides off the control panel and into my lap.
Sone raises a furry eyebrow.
Okay, I was sneaking. But only because I knew nothing I said would stop him from coming after me, and my gut keeps telling me he needs to stay as far away from me and where I’m going as possible. But I can’t say that to him, because it will only make him more determined to come after me. So instead I say, “This is something I need to do alone.”
“Treto,” he pleads, “why don’t you stop at the next station and wait for me? We can talk and—”
I flick the screen off, killing the transmission. I knew he wasn’t going to give up and would start begging me to bring him along. But I just can’t. I’d rather deal with Sone’s ire than whatever my gut is warning me about.
This strange churning is the same feeling I got when I saw the human woman being taken from her planet. Just like I know she is somehow important and I need to go after her, I know I need to keep Sone far away from me or something terrible will happen.
My fingers dart across the controls, and I pull up the trajectory for the Xar’Ads—a plague of a species responsible for much of the trafficking throughout the universe. I shouldn’t be surprised they’re heading straight for the neutral zone, one of the few places in the galaxy where the federation holds no power. That’s where all the slave auctions take place, and no doubt their destination.
Damnit! There is no way I’ll be able to intercept them like I’d hoped before they get into the zone. They have too far of a head start, and the shuttle isn’t equipped for boarding like theShadeis.
My hands clench into fists. I need to bide my time and wait for them to dock at one of the auctions. Then… maybe I’ll be able to steal her? Or bid on her. I’m going to have to wing that part of the plan when I get to it.
The comm on my wrist starts flashing again, and I unstrap it before tossing it across the shuttle. I wish there was a way to make Sone understand why I need him to stay back for once. Except I’m not entirely sure of that reason myself. Add the fact that speech has never been my strong suit. My race is largely telepathic, and it wasn’t until I decided to escape my home planet that I realized other races weren’t equipped to project their thoughts the way Eolla are.
My mind wanders back to the dark-haired female. The way her riotous curls danced around her peaceful face. The plumpness of her lips. The serene expression on her smooth features. The appealing curve to her limp body.
What is the matter with me?I wonder, bringing my hands up to cover my face.
I can’t think of any time when I’ve ever been this fixated on anything. Especially not a … a female. I’ve always known there would never be a female for me. My ancestors made sure of that when they tried to control our biology and increase our dwindling pairings while growing birth rates. Instead they poisoned our genes so there were no more pairings. No offspring. Mine was the last live birth of my kind.
So why the sudden interest in this one human female?
I hardly gave Rovos’ female more than a cursory glance, so I don’t think it’s anything to do with their species. So what is it about her?
Across the shuttle, my comm has gone dark, and the view screen has yet to announce another incoming message. It appears Sone has given up. For now. I know it won’t last for long.
Stretching my legs out in front of me, I reach over my head until the vertebrae snap and pop down the length of my spine. I really hope it won’t be much longer; the close confines of the shuttle are beginning to get to me.
