Page 3 of Tempting Cargo
The Archon—Issskar? Ithssar?—stilled, surveying Ellie with all the controlled grace of a predator. Harsh cell lighting glinted off his iridescent scales as his forked tongue began to flicker, and I shifted my weight over the balls of my feet, my fists tightening at my side.Just fucking try it, arsehole.
His sinuous head stretched forward for a heartbeat, then receded, his piercing gaze returning to neutral.
I let out a soft breath, a little of my tension going with it.
Ellie squared her shoulders, hands on her hips as if she hadn’t even noticed how big the gharian was. “My name is Ellie Draven of Ceres III Station, New Earth.” Her voice didn’t waver, and a smile almost curved my lips. “I’ll speak with you, Archon, but my friend needs medical attention, and everyone needs more food and water. We’ve been treated like criminals, and you’ve already said we aren’t, so what are you going to do about it?”
The diplomat’s sibilant voice exuded lazy command. “Please accept my apologies for this, Ellie Draven. Part of my role is to make all these things right. My assistant will see to it immediately. Come.” He gave an imperious wave as he strode out of the door, and Ellie trailed after him, keeping her distance from his powerful, spiked tail.
I rubbed the patch of cold skin behind my ear, the only side effect from the neural translators we all bore. The onlylastingside effect; the initial implantation was an agony I never wished to repeat.
“Bloody hell. They just keep getting bigger.” Roth jerked his head at the door. “You used to being average yet?”
I huffed out a laugh. “Not even close. I definitely preferred seeing the tops of everyone’s heads.”
I cast my eyes over our little group. People sat or stood in clusters, some talking, some with vacant stares. Things had to be about to improve, didn’t they?
A faint moan to my left snatched my attention. One of the girls was still slumped against the smooth metal of the cell wall, cradling her bad arm in the other. A lock of lank hair had fallen over her face, and I hooked it behind her ear, wincing at her clammy, too-pale skin. “Help’s coming, sweetheart. Hang on just a little longer.”
It wasn’t the Galactic Reserve’s fault she’d been caught in the crush of people on Tathar Refuge. But it was absolutely their fault she’d only had cursory medical attention since then, as we travelled as their prisoners to wherever it was we were now. Draim Station, the lizard guy had said—but that meant bugger all to humans who hadn’t been out of the Sol system until a few weeks ago.
Sharp claws clicked across the floor. The older gharian paused at the door, flicking his reptilian eyes back to his wrist-comm. “I will be back with a medic. And then food.”
He pushed past the guards, hissing as he went, but they remained motionless in their slate grey armour, eyes no doubt trained on us under their mirrored visors. Galactic Reserve jerks.
My too-tight trousers pinched places I’d rather they wouldn’t, but I didn’t move from the cool floor, stroking the injured woman’s hair, murmuring reassurance.
She was barely conscious when the shaa medic arrived, her head lolling as he picked her up in sinewy orange arms.
I sprang in front of him, eye level with the nubby grey horns nestled in his moulded plumage. “One of us goes with her,” I said. “You’re not taking her on her own.”
He regarded me with an indifferent sneer. “As you wish.”
“I’ll go.” Roth brushed past me and out of the door, ignoring the impassive guards.
I rocked on my heels, a sudden lightness in my chest. We were all exhausted, running on nervous energy, but I had to believe this was the beginning of something better. For the first time since we’d been taken, fragile hope began to chip away at the despondency which had burrowed into my bones.
Was our friend being looked after well enough for Roth to enjoy being out of the cell? I yearned for the same respite and pulled my T-shirt away from my sticky chest. We were too many people in too small a space, and the acrid stench of unwashed bodies filled my nose far more than it had on the Reserve ship.
My tongue rolled in my mouth, trying to find moisture. How many hours had it been since we’d had water?
“Never been happier to see an alien.” Someone gestured at the older reptilian, who set down two crates of assorted cartons and pouches.
“Food and drink. On behalf of the Alliance, we’re sorry for your treatment,” the gharian said. “You’re officially no longer under the jurisdiction of the Galactic Reserve.”
Amongst the sighs of relief, I pressed my lips into a line. The Reserve guards at the door still held their positions, their bulbous, deadly firearms angled down, ready to aim at trouble without hesitation.Arseholes.
When different soldiers came to relieve them, their blue cloth uniforms marking them as something other than the Galactic Reserve, I regarded them with the same narrowed eyes. Grey jailers with assault rifles or blue jailers with blasters—it didn’t make any difference.
I hung back until everyone had a water pouch and a carton of something I prayed was better than dry ration bars. The room stilled, apart from rustling, crunching, slurping, swallowing, and the hum of the station vents.
I squeezed the water into my mouth, wincing at the metallic taste, and glanced over at the diplomat. “So, what now?”
The big reptilian swivelled his emerald eyes towards me without moving his head. “The archon will handle it. You have to be patient a while longer.”
I allowed myself a slow lungful of stale air and counted to twelve on the exhale. All we’d been doing for two weeks was waiting.
When Ellie returned, her steps were slow, and her eyes weren’t quite in focus, but she gave us a tight smile. “We’re free. We’re moving to guest quarters as soon as they sort it out. Today.”
