a mesakkah male if I didn't worry about my mate—but I know she can take care of herself. I just want to hover over her while she does. Protectively. But she survived for years on her own without me. She'll get through this, too. Shaalyn won't want to kill her. The moment Jade crawled out of that wall (taking all my hopes with her) I could practically see credits flashing in Shaalyn's eyes.
There's nothing that Shaalyn likes more than easy credits.
Right now, I'm guessing they've found the pods in the cargo bay and are trying to figure out the best way to extract them. I blew the door controls open, so it's not like they can't get in there. Getting in there isn't the problem at all. It's getting them out of the Star and back to civilized shipping lanes. Shaalyn's little cruiser is speedy, but it's not built to haul large cargo. She's more of a cut-and-run sort, a rob-them-and-leave-no-one-alive type. But the Buoyant Star is going to scream of credits—stripping that big ship would ensure a small fortune all on its own—and the ship and the cargo?
Shaalyn's going to want it all.
Which is a good thing for me. It means I've got some time to figure out how to get out of this hold, reunite with my female, and save the day. It's not going to be easy. I have no weapon. No plan. No allies. Jade's been separated from me. I'm outnumbered at least seven to one.
I've had worse odds, though.
I can figure something out, though. I just need an opportunity. As long as I don't give up (and I won't), something will present itself. Luck's great and all, but a lot of the time, it's less about luck and more about leaving yourself open to whatever falls into your lap. And when luck fails you, you make your own keffing luck.
I've been trying to make my own for the last few hours. There's no food or water down here. The plas-film is the type that won't tear no matter how much I fuss with it, so I can't turn it into a rope or a garrote. I could always fling shit—literal shit from the lavatory—onto my jailers in the hope that they'd come into my cell and pick a fight, but with my luck, they'd just gas me.
Or beat the stuffing out of me again. I rub the lump on the back of my head, wincing. I'm kind of glad Jade can't see me right now. She'd panic, because one of my eyes is swollen shut and my lip feels as big and inflated as Mathiras's ego. My knuckles are bloody and bruised and I'm pretty sure one of my fingers is broken, but at least I gave Shaalyn's crew a little work before they overpowered me.
I shouldn't be surprised that she's surrounded herself with young greenhorns. She always did love males who couldn't say no to her. It's a tick in the advantage box for me, though. They might be ruthless and amoral, but Shaalyn wants me alive…at least until she can torture me to death on her own. That means they'll do what she wants, so I need to use that. Add in the fact that her crew looks like they're all too young to have served in the Threshian Wars—and the fact that they hit about as hard as a drunken ooli—and it shouldn't be hard to take them down.
Just waiting on that advantage, and then I can get to work.
I get up and pace my cell again. There's no guards down here, which means they're utterly confident that I can't get out. Never a good sign. I'm not deterred, though. I tell myself they're just avoiding the smell and anyone creative enough can get free. I saunter over to the door and run a hand over the smooth metal walls, looking for a crack in the molding. When I find one, I wedge my fingernails in and try to pry it up. If I'm lucky, there'll be a few wires on this side and I might be able to splice something together.
Two broken fingernails and a removed panel later, I have to conclude that I'm not that lucky. I should have known the control wiring wouldn't be accessible from this side, but it was worth a shot. I pry at other panels, just to see what I can find, because I've got nothing to do but sit here and worry. Worry that