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)
She'll just have to get over it.
I spend the next few hours cleaning up. Her pet slinks in at some point and grabs the roast—and tray—I've left out for it. Sophie is utterly silent, and there's not a single sound coming from her end of the hall. I tear apart a few more matter conductors, and when I can't stand it anymore, I go and check on her.
The human is curled up in bed, asleep. The old-fashioned book she brought with her is still in hand, and the carinoux is on the floor, gnawing on what's left of the metal tray. He watches me as his teeth work over the metal but doesn't move. I notice that even though Sophie's asleep, her shoulders shiver and her face is wet, her eyes puffy and red.
I don't care, I tell myself.
I don't.
I don't.
17
SOPHIE
Disguises.
Of course. The answer is simple yet obvious. Of course we're going to wear disguises. I can't believe I didn't think of it when Jerrok insisted that we go to the station. I'm all prepared to fight him the next morning, to stomp my feet and declare that I won't go, when he shoves a heavy, cowled robe into my arms and a mask. "When you turn this on, it'll disguise your features. It's illegal tech and extremely expensive, so try not to break it, all right?"
"Illegal tech?" I ask, curious. I put the mask to my face and the plas-film molds itself to my features. There's a small switch by my ear, and when I touch it, a pinkish film falls over my vision, a sign that whatever “masking” this is doing is actually working.
"Yeah. Not everything I get here is on the up-and-up. Shocking, I know." His tone isn't as caustic as it normally is this morning. "I'm going to do a last-minute check on the shuttle we'll be taking. Make sure your pet is fed and then meet me at the docking bay."
I put the cloak on and notice the sleeves are long enough to hide my hands. I check my face in the mirror and the face that looks back at me is ooli. It's shocking to see a froglike face blink at me when I blink. The disguise looks…real, as long as I keep my hood up and my hands hidden. I grab the huge tray of meat that's been prepared for Sleipnir and haul it to my quarters. The carinoux barely glances at my face, far more interested in his breakfast. I kiss his head a dozen times anyhow, because I've grown fond of him. He's the only thing really looking out for me on this end of the universe. "You're the best boy, aren't you?" I coo. "I wish you could come with me."
Sleipnir tears at the roast, the meat making a wet, ripping sound, and I remember what Jerrok said about getting between a predator and his food. Right. I scratch behind Sleipnir's ears one last time, then head out toward the docking bay. Normally it's empty—well, if you ignore all the trash and hulled-out vehicles stacked along the walls—but there's a far-too-small shuttle parked near the hangar doors. It's no bigger than a compact car back on Earth, and that's a little alarming to see. "Please tell me that's not our ride."
"It's not our ride," Jerrok calls in a flat voice on the other side of the shuttle, his arms moving as he tightens something.
His tone tells me otherwise. "Are you lying?"
"Yup."
"Goddamn it. I hate you."
He snorts and moves from around the wing, picking up what looks like an extremely heavy crate. He lifts it with a grunt, and I can hear his replacement arm creak as he carries it toward the belly of the shuttle. I stare at his face, because he's wearing a robe almost identical to the one he gave me, but his features are still mesakkah. They're just that of a stranger. Instead of his mismatched eyes, he looks at me with a level black-eyed stare, and his nose is wider than it usually is, his mouth small and flat. He looks normal enough, I suppose, but I prefer his regular face.
"Just so you know, the moment we leave this place, I am Lankham os'Riit, a junker who lives near Kadesh Station. You're my new ooli bride who I just bought because she doesn't talk." He levels me a look.
I want to bristle at how sexist that sounds, but given as I only speak English and a smattering of praxiian, it's a good call. I nod.
"Good. The less you speak, the less chance we have of anyone figuring out you're human." He grunts as he hefts the crate into the cargo area of the shuttle. "Go ahead and get in."
I lick my lips, studying the craft. "Is it just me or is this…small?"