Bully shows up, and he looks furious.
“I was giving our guest a proper bath,” Prax says calmly. “Unlike you, I have a sensitive nose. That wipe you gave her wasn’t nearly enough for basic hygiene.”
“You’re being picky,” Bully snaps. “Smelling bad isn’t a disease, and it doesn’t put her in danger. Don’t get attached. She’s just merchandise.”
His words hit me hard. Every time he opens his mouth, he reminds me that I don’t have any rights here. That my life doesn’t belong to me anymore. Since I arrived, he’s done nothing but belittle me.
“Bully, that’s enough,” Prax says sharply. “You don’t have to treat her like that. She didn’t choose to be here. And right now, it costs nothing to show a little kindness. Who knows where she’ll end up after the sale?”
“She might as well get used to the idea now,” Bully growls. “What are you doing, trying to play hero? You think we’re some kind of Confed agents spreading peace and love across the galaxy?”
“Damn it, Bully,” Prax mutters. “I was just trying to make her day a little less miserable.”
The Penubian storms toward Prax, his glare intense. The sides of his head puff out like a cobra’s hood. I tense up. Bully’s never been gentle, but I’ve always felt relatively safe around him. That might be changing.
“Don’t even think about double-crossing me,” he hisses. “She’s already tried to guilt-trip me into letting her go. Now she’s working on you. Why do you think I was the one taking care of her? Because I’m a Penubian. Cold-blooded. Logical. Not ruled by feelings. She’s valuable—our only real asset. There’s no point in pampering her. She’ll just try to manipulate her next owner too. Unless you’ve got enough to pay Noviosk half her value—and the quarter that’s mine, which we both know you don’t—you’d better back off and leave her to me. I don’t want to see you near her again.”
“You must have me confused with someone who takes orders from you,” Prax fires back. “You’re not my boss. You’re my partner. And you’re on my ship. So take your orders somewhere else.”
The two of them are squared off now, both radiating fury. Bully’s a little shorter, but his icy stare and flared-out face make him look terrifying. Prax is just as tense. His claws are out, and his fingers have lengthened by several inches—razor-sharp now, like living blades.
They’re shouting so loudly that two guards rush over, weapons drawn.
“Is there a problem with the slave?” one of them asks, already holding the remote for my collar.
“Yes!” Bully barks.
“No!” Prax says at the same time.
“Take her back to her cell. Now,” the guard orders. “If she causes trouble, her price might drop.”
“Everything’s fine,” Bully says quickly. “She’s not involved. We were just arguing. No need to report anything to Noviosk.”
“Come on. I’ll take you back,” Prax says, his fur still bristling with anger.
A few minutes later, we’re back in front of my cell.
“I’m going to try to find a way out of this, Ileana,” he says. “And if Bully doesn’t like it, he can find another partner. Trading in living beings was never supposed to be part of the deal. I’m sorry. I should’ve said no when we found you. I wish I could promise more, but there’s not much I can do right now. Still… I promise I’ll try.”
Back in my cell, the weight of it all crashes down again. I’m still in deep trouble. And the way out feels very, very far away.
Chapter 19.
Pherebos.
I’ve been poring over the schematics SILMAR sent back ever since we entered Vagantu space. We’ve been trailing Rick and Nick’s ship, and for the past two days, we’ve been stuck waiting for access clearance.
Vagantu’s a dwarf planet—over 90% water. It reminds me of Asgarne, but darker. The scans show much deeper oceanic trenches than anything back home. The AI also picked up signs of life on the main island, but it can’t identify specifics. Odds are, the planet’s dark waters are teeming with creatures—just like most aquatic worlds. That question’s been gnawing at me for a while now. Until we know more, we can’t say whether what’s down there is curious… or car.
‘’Based on cross-referenced statistics from over two hundred significantly aquatic planets, the percentage of species potentially dangerous to humanoids is around 20%,’’ SILMAR states matter-of-factly.
‘’You’re thinking of swimming away from the main island?’’Wingo asks me, his voice echoing in my mind.
“Can you think of a better option?’’I shoot back.“That island’s crawling with life. If the auction’s happening anywhere, it’s there. We need to figure out how to get in.”
‘’You’re probably right,’’he concedes.
There are a few entry points, a few exits. But I need to know every inch of that site before we move. I hate going in blind. It’s reckless. And right now, I can’t afford to make a single mistake.
