Total pages in book: 149
Estimated words: 135784 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 679(@200wpm)___ 543(@250wpm)___ 453(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 135784 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 679(@200wpm)___ 543(@250wpm)___ 453(@300wpm)
Zoey sits next to me, picking up a book, but she doesn't glance at it. "I don't know how you can sleep at a time like this."
"It's easy," Cat mumbles. "You stay up all night having wild monkey sex knowing you're gonna be spending downtime in this closet the next day." She waves a hand at our surroundings.
It is a bit like a closet. It's well lit, if a touch warm, and there's plenty of seating, at least. I pick through the stack of books as Sleipnir drops himself onto the bench next to me and thumps his head in my lap. A gaudy purple cover catches my eye, and I pull out a romance novel.
Warrior's Woman by Johanna Lindsey.
"That's a good one," Fran whispers as she walks past me, setting down her daughter in the crib.
I haven't read it. And I tell myself I can't possibly read a book at a time like this, like Zoey. That I'm just going to sit and be anxious and worry. But Sleipnir rubs his jaw against my thigh, and the paperback is just big enough to hold in one hand, so I crack it open and start to read.
74
JERROK
"She's dented," Kivian cries out in disgust, making some of the V'tarrians look over at us with frowns. "Who dented her?"
Alyvos shifts nervously at my side, and Sentorr frowns. I sincerely hope that Kivian isn't picking a fight. Now that we're on the ground with the port authorities, I can't help but notice there are a lot of armed V'tarrians crawling all over this station. They're easy to make out, with their crested yellow plumes and feathered skin, and they walk with a strange gait, their knees bent backward. It's clear that the V'tarr are descended from avians, but they also seem a little…predatory. I remember the old histories of Sakh Empire wars with the Slatran Consortium, and even though those times are long gone, the hard feelings remain. We get several ugly looks from the V'tarrians, and Kivian's flamboyant act isn't helping things.
The V'tarrian with a data pad in front of us makes a noise that sounds like a cross between a cough and a squawk. "An asteroid hit her and set off proximity alarms. That was how she was discovered, abandoned." The V'tarrian makes a sign with his hand, twitching.
Kivian puts his hands on his hips, shaking his head. "She looks dreadful. Who's going to clean this mess up?"
"Are you the owner, then?"
"I could be." Kivian grins broadly, his expression growing flirty.
The avian isn't impressed. "It is a simple yes or no answer."
Sentorr clears his throat, and Kivian changes tactics. "I am not the owner, but I am very, very good friends with him." He toys with one of his rings, and I sure hope the bribery angle works, because I'm not sure we can take on an entire station full of V'tarrians. I start counting heads, just in case. Two at a shipping panel, the one here with the data pad, four along each wall, a second station nearby with the same set-up, a control room above us…
"Where is the owner, then?" the V'tarrian asks.
Kivian strokes his chin. "Well, he should have been on this ship. Your guess is as good as mine."
The V'tarrian makes the hand gesture again from earlier, the gentle touch of one hand to the opposite ear, as if he's blocking the words. I've seen that gesture somewhere before, and when I glance at the other avians at the panel, I see they make the same gesture. A tidbit about our past floats into my memory, and I remember that the wars with the Slatran Consortium were fought over religion. Are they still religious, then?
"I need a release from the owner," the avian says.
"Well, I'm quite certain he would give you one if he weren't so very dreadful at leaving his toys unattended." Kivian's smile is bright and easy, likable. He toys with his rings again. "I'm sure we can come to some sort of agreement."
The avian just squawks, his downy feathers ruffling. "Do you think to bribe me, sir?"
"Bribery?" Kivian pretends to be shocked. "Not at all."
I turn around, as if politely adjusting my clothing, and duck my head. As I do, I speak into the communicator wired along the curve of my ear. "Try a religious angle," I whisper. "Tell them you need the ship for a vow to the gods of some kind."
"It's just…" Kivian continues smoothly. "I made a vow to the gods."
As I turn around, tugging at my cuff, I see the V'tarrian cock his head in a very avian manner, his round eyes blinking rapidly. "A vow?"
"Yes. I promised to the gods that if something ever happened to my brothers, I would do my best to bring them home." He affects a pious expression, bowing his head. "I'm not sure what happened, but I can at least bring their beloved ship back."