“What?” She pauses in her pacing, hands on her hips.
“Tell me about your plan.”
“Oh, I see.” She runs her gaze over my body, as if evaluating me. I cross my arms and plant my feet wide, mimicking how Killan stands every single time we get into an argument. He exudes confidence, no matter what bullshit debate he’s in the middle of.
It does little to impress. Chloe purses her lips, the picture of a prisoner refusing to talk.
Changing tactics, I casually wave the panties, hoping to make them appear as enticing as possible. When she frowns, I realize I probably should’ve explained myself first.
“I’m proposing a trade.”
“Undies for info?”
“They’re clean,” I tempt. “Never been worn.”
Still, Chloe takes her time replying. I refuse to break the silence, leaving her to stew, pretending my heart isn’t racing a mile a minute.
Aside from a pile of blankets on the floor, which has got to be her bed, there’s no furniture. I think this room used to be Sorin’s or Roan’s before they grew up and moved out. But Smith stole all the spare furniture so that Killan and I would be forced to share a room.
The dickhead.
“The harvest starts tomorrow,” Chloe eventually says, holding her hand out for the panties.
“I know that.” But how does she know? I can’t imagine any of the others bothering to tell her. So shehasbeen skulking on the stairs, listening to private conversations.
“And then…” She makes acome ongesture, waving her outstretched hand through the air, like I’m supposed to be following her extremely vague line of thought.
“And then…what?”
“And then the transport Freighter arrives, packs up the algae, and ships it off-world to be sold.”
“Yes,” I agree. “That’s generally how an export business works.”
She widens her eyes, and her glasses seem to flash as the overhead light bounces off the frames. “The Freighter,” she repeats dramatically. “TheFreighter.”
“You’re going to hitch a ride? Does that mean you know where Earth is?” I ask the important question, tucking my hands under my arms to hide their shaking.
“No.” She shrugs dismissively. “But someone will.”
I stamp down on my disappointment, not wanting to show weakness in front of Chloe. “There’s no point leaving Ril II without Earth’s location,” I say, even though Chloe must know all of this. “You’ll end up on another random alien planet. And there’s no guarantee that planet will be any better than this one. For all we know, desert planets with gale-force winds are the norm in outer space.”
Trust me, I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about this. The Freighter would get us off Ril II, but where would it take us? Assuming, of course, they agreed to take us anywhere. Neither Chloe nor I have money. And I highly doubt I can trade my panties for a ride.
“It’s not worth the risk,” I conclude.
At least Sorin and Roan are nice people. And Killan’s greatest crimes are grumpiness and rudeness. He lent me his tablet when I asked to borrow it, and he lets me sleep in his bed because there’s nowhere else comfortable for me. I’ve got to give the man credit where credit is due. He couldn’t be a more reluctant host, and he hasn’t hidden his desire to see the back of me, but he also hasn’t done anything to harm me.
There’s no guarantee that by leaving Ril II, Chloe and I will find anyone more willing to help us than the brothers already are.
Chloe doesn’t say anything, merely snatches the panties from me and stuffs them into the pocket of her sundress before I can take them back.
“Who?” I demand. “Who’s going to know?”
Not Reality Investments.
Smith, maybe. But we don’t know where Smith is. He’s got the entire universe in which to hide. We wouldn’t find him if we hunted for a thousand years. “Smith” isn’t even his real name. He knew he was breaking intergalactic law by abducting three Humans, but he did it anyway because he wanted to up the ante of LOVE GALAXY. Then, when everything fell apart, he fled, shedding his “Mr. John Smith” persona and hiding behind the lies of Reality Investments.
“There’s the Guild,” Chloe says.
