Since my own adulthood, I have always sided with those who have strived to better the lot and lives of ishblane Pfahrn. After all, humans have skin color that varies widely from one to another, and can vary even within the same family, depending on their parents.
Perhaps that is our destiny, to share our love with a child unwanted by others.
First, I need to converse with Davies and admit to him how I feel. Before anything else can happen,thatmust occur. I believe he feels love for me in return. Everything he says and does speaks to that. I have witnessed no contradictions in his actions when compared to his words.
However, I suppose I shouldconfirmthat.
After dinner, I spend several hours attempting to write out my feelings in some flowery, emotional language that I think Davies might appreciate.
Nothing but frustration greets my efforts, because I do not feel they are…adequate.
All of which leads me to erasing what I have written and defaulting to simple honesty.
I love you, and I miss you. When you return, I wish to discuss our future relationship and where we go from here. I do not like being separated from you and desire a discussion about perhaps arranging a permanent long-term situation between us. Contract or not, I want to spend the rest of my life with you as mates.
I read and re-read it.
It is simple and short and clear. Unambiguous.
I do not know if it is perfect, but it is perfectly honest.
I send it.
Then I settle in my empty bed and think about my perfect mate, and how much I miss him right now.
* * * *
I do not hear anything from Davies over the next three days, which is not unexpected. Also, it could take longer for messages from me to reach him because of the positioning of hyper-com portal buoys and their batch-forwarding frequencies.
I am preparing to go on lunch break when my personal com alerts me to an incoming e-mail from Davies.
It takes every ounce of will I have not to open the message and read it right then. Somehow, I manage to wait until I am taking the lift down to my quarters. I wish to be alone when I read it.
That is when I realize there is more than one e-mail from him, several sent at different times, close together, but all queued in the same batch that I have just now received.
Including pictures and video.
I sort them by time sent, confused as I try to understand what is going on. As I read all of them, there are instincts within me that scream my slippery, cocky slut is in danger.
And here am I, stuck on this space station and unable to protect him or help him in any meaningful way.
Heisin danger, of this I am certain.
Once I am locked in my quarters, I study the messages. Sorted in the order they were sent, it is like Davies adds the warning about inbound messages to prevent me from sending a reply that could trigger suspicions from anyone.
I rewatch the video and zoom in, recognizing the captain…and the other Shalfin.
La’loorn.
I know for certain there was no outbound live cargo on that ship.
Notpermittedlive cargo. Because there are special permits thatmustbe filed before live cargo is loaded, special inspections that must occur. Because the ship must give me copies of those permits, as is required by law and by Maxim Colonies’ regulations.
I cannot access all the features of my control terminal remotely, but I can access cargo, passenger, and crew manifests. Skimming thePR’s manifest confirms my memory—they had no permitted live cargo. Not even any declared ship’s pets on board.
Strangling indecision grips me. By law, I should report this immediately. Except if there was some bribery involved to allow the crew to pass through Customs with undeclared live cargo, I could be risking not just Davies’ life, but my own.
Wait…
