Classified Planet - S.J. Sanders Page 0,65

to find that, unlike the sharp, predatory angles of Rhyst’s face, their audience had delicate, almost human-looking faces and bi-pedal humanoid bodies despite their long tails, feline noses and large eyes. They also lacked any visible tech implants. They were almost ethereal in appearance compared to her captor’s heavy musculature and strength.

They also stood out also because, unlike Rhyst, they wore clothing. Some wore open robes with pants, leaving their chests bare, while others wore full robes over pants with decorative threadwork and jewelry gracing their ears, arms, and wrists, and even ornate bands on their thick tails.

With their feline features, finely sculpted bone structure and musculature, long, pointed ears, and silky white and pale gray fur, they would have been truly beautiful if not for the stark hostility with which they regarded her. She instinctively shrank back against Rhyst and stared back at them.

Charlie wanted to shout that it wasn’t her fault. At least they gave the a’sankh a wide berth. When they looked at him, it was with a distant reverence that was at complete odds with the dismissive way they disregarded his kind, from all that he had told her.

“Rhyst?” Charlie whispered at his back as she shrank away from the glares being directed at her.

Her face, however, seemed disconnected from her common sense as her frustration got the better of her. All this because Earth Gov forced me to come to this fucking planet. She felt her lips thin with displeasure. More than one of the Tak’sinii flattened their ears in reaction, which made her both shake and scowl at them in a confusing mixture of signals.

Let them be confused. They could scare the piss out of her, but she wasn’t going to prostrate herself for whipping.

She would face the crimes of those who came before, and even the role she played due to her ignorance. That was reasonable. She recognized the need to atone, even if carrying the weight on behalf of the assholes who did the deed made bile rise in her throat.

It wasn’t fair. But life as a non-gratas wasn’t fair either.

“Be calm, Cha’lii. They will do nothing to you without permission from the king. The king acts with care on behalf of the people. We do not settle personal vendettas.”

The last was said loud enough to be overheard by those Tak’sinii who were near them. The crowd seemed to press forward for a moment before they parted as a smoke gray Tak’sin wearing a long purple robe pushed through. The robe was belted around its waist with a silver chain studded with jewels.

The Tak’sin’s hands went to its hips as it glared at Rhyst with familiar pale green eyes.

“Rhyst Emat’teln, it is about time you return!” a feminine voice shot out irritably. “You were due back weeks ago. You better not even consider allowing Elnahl to talk you into leaving on an early rotation. You will stay so that you can have your two full lunar cycles of rest, even if I must speak to the decrepit a’sankh myself.”

Charlie’s eyebrows shot up.

“Ag’hana, I was delayed…”

The Tak’sin finally noticed Charlie on Rhyst’s back, and her green eyes widened.

“Rhyst, what is that thing on your back? You have brought one of the ugly at’sahl offworlders here among us?”

This at’sahl business was starting to sound more and more like a serious insult. She was going to have to ask him about it as soon as they had a moment alone. And “ugly” too? Her trembling hand covered over her f’anril, taking small comfort out of the tiny body curled against her.

Charlie aimed a brittle smile at the female, showing more teeth than what would have been polite. It was probably closer to a snarl than a smile, but it got her point across as she spat back her retort.

“I may be ugly, you little creampuff bitch, but I…”

She was interrupted by Rhyst’s hard hand squeezing her thigh.

What the hell? Was he shushing her? He had some nerve. It wasn’t like the female could understand her, anyway. She had read during the hellishly long trip to Turongal that auto-translators had to learn the language individually, which meant she was shit out of luck. Would bitch even translate between their languages? Charlie cocked her head as she considered the matter.

Ag’hana gasped as she recoiled. “It understands me and it speaks?” Her fur stood on end as the full meaning of the insult hit her, answering Charlie’s question. Bitch must be universally applicable. “Did she just call me

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