Page 8 of Rescued

SIX

LAN’ARA

“Hoo-mans you say?” The Listherian Slaver blinked both sets of eyes owlishly as he looked down at them from his great height. Listherians had short, round bodies but their necks resembled those of the Earth animal called the “giraffe.” Luckily, Davrik was tall enough to speak to the slaver, Lan’ara thought. Or else they would never have gotten anywhere.

“Yes—humans! We’re looking for two human slaves sold to you by a slaver named Grieb’lick around three solar weeks ago!” Davrik bellowed impatiently.

The Listherian seemed to be slightly hard of hearing. Or maybe it was just the fact that his head was so much higher than theirs. But his stall was the place where the Saurian slaver, Grieb’lick, had sold his slaves—they had verified it by checking the records of sales for the past three weeks, which all incoming slavers were required to fill out. So he must know where Nate and Sonya were.

Lan’ara hoped, anyway. She looked around the crowded main area of the Bazaar. All around them were slavers shouting their wares. If they were to be believed—the most beautiful, the most muscular, the most talented, the most agile and the most intelligent individuals in all the galaxy—were located right here. And of course, all of them were for sale.

But Lan’ara only wanted one—she wanted the male she had never met in person, though she had seen him so often in her dreams. She wanted Nate—but could they find him?

“Ahhh, yes—Grieb’lick.” The Listherian nodded, his long neck bobbing. “Yes, he is one of my best suppliers.”

“Did he bring in a human woman who looked like this?” Davrik produced his holo coin again and showed the image of Sonya which he carried with him everywhere. Lan’ara wished that she had something similar to show the slaver what Nate looked like, but as yet, she had only seen the big human in her dreams.

The Listherian leaned even further down and Davrik held his palm up so that the holo image was right in front of both sets of the slaver’s eyes.

“Ah yes! Yes, I know this one!” he exclaimed.

Lan’ara felt the relief coming from the Kindred male in waves. She wasn’t usually able to feel the emotions of another without touching them—with Nate being the exception—but her traveling companion’s feelings for his lost mate were some of the strongest she had ever encountered.

“Where is she?” Davrik demanded. “Is she still here? Do you have her?”

“No. No, I’m afraid not.” The Listherian slaver shook his head, his long neck wagging ponderously from side to side. “Sold her to a brothel owner from Yonnie Six—he said he wanted her for his ‘House of a Thousand Flowers.’”

“A brothel owner?” Davrik’s big hands clenched into fists and once more Lan’ara could feel his emotions—waves of fury that his beloved had been sold to such a place and sharp fear for her safety.

“Yes—she was talented, that one,” the Listherian remarked, clearly not aware of how angry his statement had made the Kindred warrior. “A voice like a F’leurian songbird! He wanted her to sing for his customers in the ‘Flower Lounge’ he said.”

Davrik’s fists loosened a little and Lan’ara felt cautious relief coming from him. He was hopeful that maybe his mate hadn’t been abused after all, Lan’ara thought. She hoped so as well.

“Thank you—do you know the name of the male you sold her to? Do you have any record of the sale? I have plenty of cred chips—I’m willing to pay for the information,” he added.

The Listherian frowned and seemed to consider.

“I do believe he was a Sluggorn by the name of ‘Oozle,’” he said. “But let me check my records to be for sure.”

“While you’re looking in your records, could you please check to see if you sold a human male as well?” Lan’ara shouted up at him. “He’s very tall with long brown hair and blue eyes and he might have been very aggressive!” At least, that was what the dreams she’d shared with Nate seemed to indicate. He had been in a near constant state of fury by the time the Scourge finally captured him and being fed on by the AllFather had only increased his aggression.

“Aggressive, you say?” The Listherian frowned, the corners of his broad, lipless mouth turning down thoughtfully. “Ah yes—I think I know who you mean. That one is still here—at least, if the trash has not been jettisoned from the air lock yet.”

“Jettisoned from the air lock?” Lan’ara’s heart began to pound and her stomach was suddenly clenched tight. “What do you mean? Are you just going to throw him away? Wait—-never mind that—just tell me where he is!” she demanded, before the Listherian could start on some long, ponderous explanation.

“His stasis frame was moved to the back right airlock this morning.” The slaver pointed with one short, stubby arm in the general direction. “It is down the back hallway. If you want him, he is yours. He was too aggressive to sell. Every time we tried to thaw him, he attacked. At last, I gave up and decided to dispose of him. After all, what use is a slave which cannot be sold?”

But he was speaking to empty air. Lan’ara had taken off at a run, rushing down the crowded rows, past the many waist-high pedestals where the slaves were displayed and dodging prospective buyers and slavers alike. There was only one thought pounding in her brain—she had to get to Nate!

SEVEN

DAVRIK

Davrik ran after her, but she was fast. It seemed that panic had given Lan’ara’s feet wings. Not that he blamed her. He’d be running too if his mate was about to be blown out the airlock!

They reached the back door which read, No Admittance—Airlock Disposal—and pushed through it breathlessly. Down another corridor and they came to what they were looking for—there was a huge pile of trash and two short, squat Brothians with moist green skin were piling it into a chamber labeled Airlock One.

“Stop! Stop what you’re doing!” Lan’ara gasped, rushing up to them.

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