Fathom (Mermaids of Montana #3) - Elsa Jade Page 0,74
to me?”
While the taller Cretarni shuttled between the comm panel on the wall and a freestanding, mobile station that looked like a heavy-duty laptop except with a high-tech heads-up holographic display, one of the other gray-suited Cretarni answered into the tense silence. “That flow there? Marks the recirculation and purification of the water keeping the ship alive. We rerouted a portion of the circuitry to handle the much lower volume of your blood flow.”
Lana eyed the gauges. Though her universal translator gave her the technical meaning of the gauge labels she had no idea what it actually meant. Except she didn’t need any sort of advanced degree to know that the rush of water through the ship was millions of times greater than her short self. “How do I know you’re not just going to drain all my blood to power your weapon?”
The tall Cretarni swiveled, showing those seven sharp teeth. “We could,” she hoot-hissed. “Unfortunately the spumers, when they stole our tech, broke down the elements to embed them within biogenetic components—like within your body. We’ve lost the precious and rare resources to rebuild from scratch, so we’ll have to comb your blood for what we need.” The stiff short feathers around her face and ruff flared wide, pupils pinning aggressively. “The Tritonesse accused us of war crimes when they were the ones who infected their own people with weaponized tech, making them walking weapons.”
“Swimming and diving weapons, actually,” piped up the smaller gray-coated Cretarni. “Allegedly, their Abyssa demanded that weapons of mass destruction should be embedded within the deepest hearts of their warriors, so that no weapon would be used without a true awareness for the cost of such warring.”
The tall Cretarni clicked her teeth. “The Abyssa is a myth that the vicious ruling matriarchs used to keep their gullible populace in line. And none of those spumers have wit or conscience.”
“And their hearts are as dark and shrunken as the tiny grotesqueries that lurk in their trenches.” Cinek loomed over Lana. “Now lie down, and the doctor will purge the monster from your blood.”
Still she hesitated. There was no more time for Sting to save her.
Did she even want him to?
The smaller Cretarni held up one seven-fingered hand in front of her, and she flinched away to avoid it touching her. “It will be over soon,” the Cretarni whispered. “And it shouldn’t hurt—much. You’ll feel a little sleepy, maybe lightheaded, as the purification process separates the switch components from your system. If you want a sedative—”
“No.” Lana shuddered at the thought. Not that she could stop them, probably, if they tried.
Unless she used the zaps she’d told herself she wanted to be rid of. She’d always felt abandoned, on her own, but was she this time betraying herself?
She’d waited too long to claim her power. Before she could make some other choice—although what it might’ve been, she wasn’t sure, besides premeditated violence—the doctor latched a manacle around her upper arm and in the very next motion set a second band around her neck. Simultaneously, needles bit deep, and she gritted her teeth against an inadvertent cry.
Although what was the point of being strong now? The hot rush of adrenaline made her skin itch, but in the next moment, a cool flush ran through her, leaving the tang of saltwater on the back of her tongue.
Oh god, were they actually circulating the Atlantyri waters through her veins? Her vision dimmed and wavered, so she had to partly close her eyes or feel like she was sliding off the crates. Maybe they were just draining her like a sinkful of dirty dishes.
Through the prison bars of her lashes, she watched Cinek staring down at her. “How long will this take?”
The doctor sucked at her egg tooth with a sharp-pointed tongue. “How should I know when we’ve never done this before?”
“We’ve never defeated the Tritonans either, but that doesn’t stop the high dominion from demanding status reports.”
With a hiss-hoot that sounded like a curse, the doctor clamped another band around Lana’s other arm. “Half the time now.”
Cinek paced a circle around the crate-table. “Don’t kill the switch. This truly is our last chance against the scumming spumers.”
Over by the laptop display, the smaller Cretarni waved one hand. “It’s working! The switch components are titrating, little by little. We just need time.”
“Don’t have much of that either,” Cinek said. “Closed-world security has obviously been lax on this planet, but if they catch the aftermath of our run on the house, they’ll