Total pages in book: 175
Estimated words: 166095 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 830(@200wpm)___ 664(@250wpm)___ 554(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 166095 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 830(@200wpm)___ 664(@250wpm)___ 554(@300wpm)
“I’m hoping to rendezvous with a friend of mine.” Her eyes gleam wickedly and she gives a toss of her horns. “We need to make it obvious so he can track us.”
“This is the friend you want to meet at Three Nebulas?”
“Mmm, different friend, actually.” Bethiah strokes one of her braids, a thoughtful expression moving over her face. “I have lots of friends.” She pauses. “Actually, I have a lot of acquaintances. Very few friends.” She puts a hand to her mouth in a mock-whisper. “Most people think I’m a bit much.”
That makes me sad. Is she a little quirky and prickly? Yes. But she’s also been kind to me in her way, and she’s letting me stay with her. She didn’t even get mad when I clung to her just a moment ago and cried all over the front of her jumpsuit.
“I’ll be your friend,” I tell her softly. If I’m her friend, she can be mine, too. It’s hard enough to be out here without a familiar face. I can’t imagine how lonely it must be to have no one to rely on.
Bethiah studies me for a moment. She reaches out and grabs my chin in her hand, squishing my face between her fingers. “Oh, fluffit. Remember what I said about being too soft?”
“I said I’ll be your friend,” I blurt, my lips contorted around her grip. “I didn’t ask. I told you how it was going to be.”
She brightens. “Why, you’re right. You’re learning already.” She gives my face another jiggle. “I like it, fluffit. Good job.”
For some stupid reason, her praise makes me want to squirm like a puppy with happiness. I beam at her back as she heads toward the bridge.
Now I just need to figure out what the heck a “fluffit” is.
Six
BETHIAH
I have to admit, I’m a little disappointed. It’s been three days since I got my ship back and there hasn’t been a single sniff of Jamef. No one hacking into my feeds, no one tagging my flight path, no nothing.
It’s almost like he doesn’t care that I’ve stolen his ship. And that hurts my feelings, just a little. A ship theft is practically a love note to another bounty hunter, at least I think so. It’s me telling someone I respect them enough to steal their gear. It’s me saying I’ve noticed you. Notice me back. It’s like pulling on the braids of someone you like on the playground. I’m giving him all the signals, so I’m not sure why he’s not chasing.
Then again, maybe he is and I’m just not being patient enough. Patience is not a strong suit of mine.
But Jamef and I have been playing this game for a while. I stole his ship. He hunted me down and captured me. We flirted. I got away. I stole the ship again and imprisoned him. He broke out, hunted me down and stole his ship back. Now I have it again and I’m waiting for his next move. If he’s not giving me any signs of wanting to play, I guess I need to focus on my little fluffit until he emerges from the shadows. So I toy with the course for Three Nebulas. I’ll circle wide around the abandoned grain station, just in case he hasn’t caught wind of our trail, and make it obvious where we’re heading.
Then if he wants to come play, he can.
I tinker around with the flight settings for a while, watching Dora on one of the vid cams as she moves around the ship. She cleans up the mess hall, despite the fact that there are bots to do that sort of thing. In fact, she almost seems offended by the bots. She swats one when it gets close and tries to wipe down the lone table in the dining area, and steals the towel out of its pincer. With a disgruntled look, she pushes it aside and does its work instead, scrubbing the table with the towel and then wiping down all the machines.
Strange fluffit.
Later that evening, she heads back to her room—the holding cell—and curls up in her bed. I just shake my head at that. I can’t make her into a fighter overnight, I suppose.
I wake up in the middle of the night to a touch on my leg.
Automatically, I reach for the blaster I keep at hand and press it to the face of my attacker without even rolling over. My mind is already going through the defenses on the ship, trying to mentally pinpoint vulnerabilities. “Don’t try it,” I say aloud. “Or your brains are going to end up on the wall.”
How did someone get in past the perimeter alarms? How—
There’s a choked sound. “Um…Bethiah?”
Kef. It’s my fluffit.
I let out a heavy sigh and roll over. Sure enough, Dora is there, her eyes wide. There’s a reddish mark on her pale forehead where I had my blaster muzzle pressed. “What do you want?” I ask. “It’s the middle of the night.”