Her face turns hard and I see her clench her jaw. When she speaks there is no hint of animosity, however. “Thanks again. You’re quite a gentleman.”
Smothering back a smile, I reply sternly, “No need to be insulting.”
“You’re a funny guy.”
“Do you have a name?”
“Yes, Tarion of the Hielsrane. I have a very nice name.”
Sighing, she seems faintly amused. “My name is Carissa Maeberry, or as you would say, Carissa of the Maeberry.”
Dipping my head slightly, I ignore her attempt at levity. Giving her a minute to get situated, I think about her strange name. Names are important and this small human has a ridiculous one. Maeberry sounds like Melberry, which is a flavorful fruit enjoyed by Drakon children. Only names ending in -rane are considered proper on my world. Frowning, I realize that I have no idea why that is. It’s tradition, I suppose.
She pulls the blanket tighter around her small body and opens the hydration packet. After taking a sip, she pulls off the wrapper on the food bar and takes a bite. She’s eager to eat. It makes me wonder when she last ate. The thought of a true brooder going hungry claws away at my honor as a warrior. Bringing my handheld communicator to my lips, I give orders for a stock of nutritious food bars and hydration packets to be brought immediately to her cell.
When she’s finished eating the bar, our eyes meet. She seems amenable to talking. “I’m curious about something.”
She takes another sip of her hydro packet before replying. “Ask me whatever you like. I’m not shy. I’ll answer truthfully.”
Looking at her earnest expression, I realize humans aren’t very good at hiding their emotions. That’s a real liability in life. I always wear the face of a warrior. It keeps people at arm’s length and doesn’t allow them to prey on my feelings.
“Try as I might, I cannot understand why you would run from a life on your back. Brood humans are afforded lives most beings only dream of, so it seems absurd to run from a life of luxury.”
Her brows furrow, making her appear almost comically confused. “What makes you think we’re living the good life?”
Taking a sip of my hydration packet, I explain, “My sire has a human brooder. She not only has her own quarters, but a large group of servants tasked with seeing to her needs. She goes wherever she wishes as long as it’s not dangerous. My sire allows her to choose her own escorts.”
“She’s had children for your father?”
“She has given but two daughters. Although they are weak like their mother, they are both growing into beautiful females. The males of my clan think the weakness is because they are not hatched from a shell. I tend to agree.”
“Wow. Does she hate being a brooder?”
“On the contrary, she once told me that of all the options for humans in this quadrant of space, her situation with my family was desirable.”
“Does she still wear a slave collar?”
Nodding, I try to remember how many she has. Besides the ones my father bought her, she must have at least thirty that she selected herself. “She delights in wearing them and insists upon purchasing new and ever more elaborate ones wherever we go. The collar with our family crest is a shield of protection. Anyone could lay claim a human with no collar.”
My human captor asks blandly, “Does the collar choke her when she tries to take it off?”
My wings jerk at the thought of such a thing happening to the sweet gentle brooder. Evidentially I have not thought clearly about the dangers visited upon some of the meekest beings in the verse. I choke out a reply, “Rest assured, Alana’s collar is merely ornamental. I do not believe my sire would chance the life of his favorite female on a unit malfunction.”
Gesturing to her neck, the slight human looks genuinely pained. “This one is still around my neck because if I mess with it, it will choke me to death.”
Indeed, I know this all too well, for she wears the collar of a worker slave, not a highly prized brooder. “I am in wonder that they put that one on you. Perhaps they thought fitting you with a tracking device would discourage you from absconding.”
“It did, until I realized that taking the chance of being found once I escaped and suffering the consequence was better than doing nothing. I have no wish to be bought and sold over and over again. Nor do I wish to be sold as a breeding object for whoever has enough credits to purchase me. That’s no kind of life for an intelligent being.”
“How did you come into service?”
“My mother and I were caught stowing away on a freighter when I was little.”
“They laid claim to you?”
“Yes. We were together for a few years. When I was about ten years old, they got mad at me for breaking a door release mechanism. After pressing the release over and over again, it stopped functioning. Being young, the danger of our situation didn’t really register fully with me. It was a foolish risk to take merely to watch the door open and close. I know it sounds stupid, but I liked having control over something in my life, even if it was only a door opening and closing at my behest. Little did I know, but my cool new hobby was setting off sensors and my owners were pretty damned furious. The next thing I knew, my mother was gone, and they weren’t mad at me anymore.”
I feel my chest tighten uncomfortably with vengeance. Rubbing my fist against my chest, I murmur, “She sacrificed herself for you?”
Looking down at the hydration pouch in her hands, I watch her head jerk to the side slightly. Though she does not say it, she obviously blames herself for her mother’s disappearance. “I don’t know what
