I can vaguely remember its wings being shaped like semicircles. The entrance had been at the back, accessed by a retractable ramp from the ground into the ship’s storage bay.
Smith’s ship had been similar in design—with the entrance at the back. Inside, there’d been a central corridor leading to the front of the ship and the cockpit, like an Earth plane.
Unlike a plane, there hadn’t been rows of seats on either side of the corridor. Rather, there were rooms, accessed via sliding doors. Some of those doors had opened automatically whenever they sensed movement. But others had remained locked to everyone but Smith, controlled by some sort of advanced biological technology that he’d bragged about being impossible to break.
I can’t assume all spaceships are the same, but considering I’ve only ever seen two (and only seen inside one of those two) that’s all the information I’ve got to work with. It will have to be enough.
There isn’t an alternative.
Killan and I can’t fail.
“What if we sabotaged the ship’s landing gear?” I ask, once again thinking of a spaceship like an Earth plane. I don’t know a lot about planes, but I’ve got the impression that they can’t take off without landing gear. We could slash a few tires—or whatever spaceships use in place of tires. “That would get the crews’ attention, and they’d have to come outside to investigate the damage.”
“We would risk destroying the entire ship. Without working brakes, it would have no defense against the wind.”
“The wind’s strong enough to crash a stationary spaceship?” No wonder it wreaks havoc with my asthma. What are Human lungs compared to spaceships? “We’re already risking Atakis taking off. He could leave any second. What if he suddenly decides four captives is enough and fucks off?” I don’t linger on the possibility that Roan and Sorin could be dead. It doesn’t bear thinking about. “If that happens…” I swallow but make myself speak the truth. “If that happens, we’ll never see them again.”
Grabbing a chair, I straighten it so I can sit down. One of the legs must be broken, though, because it tips alarmingly to oneside, threatening to slip me onto the floor. I let it, my ass hitting the flagstones with a softthump.
Absurdly, I’m still damp between my thighs from when Killan had me spreadeagled over the drying table. The contrast of that memory with what’s happening is chalk and cheese.
I take hold of Killan’s ankle, which is the easiest part of him I can reach.
The moment I was first abducted from Earth, I should’ve realized another abduction could be equally possible. “I still don’t understand the obsession with Humans. I get that Smith wanted three Humans on his show for the shock factor, but what does Atakis want with us?”
“I can speak only for myself, and my obsession is for one particular Human female, not all of your species.” Killan crouches, and I have to release his ankle to make room for his knees. He brushes a strand of hair away from my cheek, his fingers so gentle I might have missed feeling his touch had my eyes been closed. “When he saw Briar and Harlee, he said something—” Killan frowns in concentration. “Something about seeing Humans on a broadcast.”
“LOVE GALAXY.”
But Killan shakes his head. “I do not think so. It did not strike me that way.”
“That can’t be right. It was mentioned multiple times in different articles and interviews that LOVE GALAXY would be the first show Humans would appear on. Remember, they were telling everyone to get the English download for their translators?”
“You are sure?” Another frown.
“Yeah. Eight days of listening to that robotic computer voice reading search results is kind of hard to forget.” I straighten. “Why?”
“I will be back.” Standing, Killan disappears down the passageway that leads to Roan’s cottage. He’s only gone a minute—two tops. But it gives me the creeps,thinking about how Atakis might return at any second. Without Killan, I’ll be virtually defenseless against the crocodile man.
Standing on legs that wish they didn’t have to deal with this drama after hours spent hiking through caves, I rummage among the contents of Killan’s kitchen cupboards scattered over the floor, searching for something I can use as a weapon. A heavy rolling pin would be perfect, but of course there aren’t any baking implements-cum-clubbing-batons. Even his knives aren’t that impressive, since the robotic arm (RIP) did most of the food prep for him.
Killan returns as I’m debating between two different pieces of broken crockery, trying to work out which one has a sharper cutting edge.
“What’d you think?” I ask, putting the selected crockery pieces on the seat of my abandoned chair rather than holding them up for Killan to inspect. My hands are shaking so much now that he can’t possibly fail to notice, so I clench them into fists and stuff them under my arms. Out of sight is out of mind. I hope.
Killan doesn’t look up. He’s holding Roan’s tablet, the cracked screen angled in such a way that the overhead light reflects off it when I try to see what’s captured his attention.
“Your call is important to us. Please hold, for the first available?—"
“Fek off,” he swears, switching the volume to mute.
“What?” I tug his arm down, squinting at the screen. It’s a little difficult to make out what I’m looking at, but it’s not the Guild’s contact info. Rather, it appears to be a recording of some sort, showing…a room? No, it’s a stadium.
Killan releases the tablet into my keeping, and I bow my head for a closer examination. The picture quality isn’t great, and there are thin black lines running down the center, as if the file hasn’t downloaded properly.
“This was on InGal?”
“From, akh, the—” He says a word which my translator seems to think about for a second before supplying “dark web” as the English.
