beginning of her morning rounds, he had managed to one thousand and seventy-eight heartbeats.
He was close. Soon, he would break free.
He could not do it at the first mist at the beginning of the day because there were too many individuals around nearby who might interfere with his escape. Those who came to his cage to study him were always watching him far too keenly. It would have to be the second time, when the small female came to clean his cage and feed him.
It was fortunate that she never sedated him with an audience watching. He could almost appreciate that she spared his dignity, despite her complicity in defiling him. For that alone, and the small comfort she offered him, he would spare her life. He would steal her. He would torment her and let his displeasure be known and punish her for what she did and allowed to happen…
But at the end of it all, he would not kill her.
He would watch for the hour when all those who studied him—the offworld scientists—departed. Then she would come to him. She would attempt to sedate him with the mists, and he would pretend to succumb to them as he held his breath. Then the door would open, and he would rise when she approached, taking her by surprise.
It would be so easy. There would be no one to stop him. He would steal her and flee into the mountains several days west of the colony.
Rhyst’s tail lashed with a barely restrained eagerness despite the eyes of the scientists watching him at the other side of the barrier.
The dark-haired female glanced at the tall male at her side. He wore an air of authority like a king. He was clearly in charge. Rhyst wanted nothing more than to make him bleed for all the indignities he had suffered, no doubt under this male’s orders. After many days, he had listened enough to the talk of the offworlders to be able to decipher much of what they said, and everyone deferred to this Dr. Santo.
“Are you certain about this, Emile?” she asked hesitantly.
The male smirked, not even looking down at the female. His full attention was on Rhyst, eyes shining with an emotion that Rhyst did not recognize, but it made his fur prickle. Avarice perhaps? It was so difficult to discern expressions that did not include significant body language and lacked ears and a tail, and where scent would normally inform him of emotion, the barrier prevented that. He was certain however, that Dr. Santo had nothing good planned for him.
“Are you growing a conscience, Jenel?” Dr. Santo chuckled.
The female’s face tightened with numerous tiny muscles. “I cannot dismiss the fact that what we’re embarking on would be considered illegal among many allies of Earth Gov.”
Now the male looked down at her, his expression twisting with impatience. That expression Rhyst had discerned readily as it was one that the male frequently wore. More so when Rhyst intentionally refused to comply with anything that the doctor wished his cooperation for. He bared his teeth at the male, a growl vibrating deep in his throat. It started so low that the scientists had yet to hear it through the glass with their inferior hearing.
“How would any of them ever find out? We do not allow other species onto our colonies except in designated trade areas, and communications off Turongal are still closed planet-wide.”
Turongal. That was the name this offworlders had ascribed to Rhyst’s planet. His ears turned toward Dr. Santo with interest at the new information. These offworlders were not able to communicate with others away from Inara Tahli. They would not be able to summon aid to assist them. They were vulnerable.
“Jenel, we stand in the light of discovery. This can benefit our species in ways that will go down in history. I know we both want to be a part of something like that so that we’re remembered and honored centuries from now” Dr. Santo said as the female stared back at him.
Rhyst focused on the familiar use of each other’s informal names. He had heard them speak to each other this way before, but only when they were alone. He was coming to believe that perhaps they were a mated pair. He snorted in the female’s direction. If they were mated, she would not protest long before she gave over to the whim of her male. It was the nature of things.