Still, I was nervous. I was ascribing human logic to an alien race, something the Pax had taught me not to do a long time ago. It was a big galaxy, and not everything had to make sense.
Like enjoying a casual fuck with a dragon raider who could order me executed or sold into slavery, I thought dryly. But let's focus on one mystery at a time, shall we?
When I tried the first sequence at random, a flat mechanical honk emanated from the pad, as if to say, TRY AGAIN, ASSHOLE, AND PAY ATTENTION THIS TIME!
I flinched. Yikes. Maybe they were harder on their cleaning staff than I'd expected. Maybe the next failure would result in an electric shock – or a spike through the eye.
But the second sequence did the trick. The force field fizzled off, and the door slid open.
I immediately flattened myself against the inner wall next to the doorway, glancing out to see the layout of the corridor – and to determine whether there were any crew members passing by. If there were, I could always play dumb and say the thing opened on its own and possibly overpower them. That wouldn't be ideal, though, since it would alert the rest of the crew to my escape much sooner.
The corridor looked empty, and I poked my head out warily, surveying my surroundings.
Christ, what a dump.
The lights were dim, and many of the panels were flickering. They were probably kept that way to reduce the power drain on the propulsion drive, which meant this was an outdated ship model and kept in poor condition. There were areas of the walls that had been opened up for repairs and left that way, with tubes, ducts, and glowing wires exposed.
I actually found myself feeling sorry for Dashel. If he'd been assigned to captain this repulsive old shit heap, it must have meant it was either his first command (which was likely, given how young he seemed), or he'd messed up his last command so badly that someone decided this would be a good way to punish him for it.
Either way, I was starting to understand why it had been so easy for me to seduce him. Anyone who'd been handed such a dismal job probably had to take his joys where he could find them.
The bottom line was that these conditions were ideal for me. A well-lit ship with smooth corridors would have been almost impossible for me to get around in without being seen. Here, though, the shadows and exposed nooks would be perfect for sneaking around and hiding. I could get to the shuttle bay, and...
...then what?
Any drop-shuttles they had were probably already deployed across Nort, trying to finish what they'd started. And even if there were still shuttles on the ship, how could I be sure I'd be able to fly one? I was familiar with Pax technology, but the Hielsrane systems would almost certainly be beyond my comprehension. In the unlikely event that I managed to figure out the controls, I wouldn't get very far before the main ship either recaptured me or blew me to atoms.
So think, Natalie. If you can't take a shuttle out of here, what's your plan?
Captain Dashel. He was my plan.
I'd already compromised him, hadn't I? I was his dirty little secret. If I could get to him, figure out how to properly exploit him, then maybe he would be my ticket out of here. Apply the right kind of pressure, and he might gladly aid my getaway, just to save his career and maintain the respect of his crew. Prisoners escape, after all. It'd be embarrassing, but not uncommon; nothing that would raise too many questions. The consequences of that were probably less severe than the punishment for fraternizing with them.
I darted out of the cell, keying the sequence to shut the door behind me so passersby wouldn't know I was gone. Then I skulked in the shadows and open panels, searching for clues that pointed to where I could find Dashel.
8
Dashel
I'd already taken three cold laser showers, and still, I was tempted to hop back in the hygiene chamber for a fourth. Maybe even a fifth.
At first, I thought it was just my usual germaphobia. I'd been with an Earther – a slave from the Pax mines, no less, who could be carrying multiple varieties of filth and bacteria no matter what Stal said. It was only natural for me to give in to my compulsion toward cleanliness.
But when I realized her scent was no longer clinging to me, I felt a strange sadness. Ordinarily, I'd be relieved to be rid of it. Not this time, though. Something about her was different.
No, she wasn't the one who was making me feel dirty. It was Ranel and Tarion. It was my own guilt and shame at how desperately I wanted to be with her again, even though I knew that giving in to such temptations would only put me at risk of losing my command.
And I knew I couldn't just scrub those feelings off my scales, no matter how badly I wished I could.
So I suited up and was just latching the last few notches on my uniform when the door chimed. “Come in,” I called out, knowing full well who would be standing there when it opened.
Sure enough, Ranel strode in, his claws laced behind his back.
“Have you come to berate me some more?” I asked.
“Self-pity is unbecoming of a captain,” he growled. “Tarion's ship has disembarked.”
“I assume that's not the only reason you decided to stop by.”
“No. It isn't.” He paused, then went on. “One of our drop-shuttles was shot down near the N-3 colony. The Pax managed to rig a portable surface-to-air explosive cannon from salvaged mining equipment, and they fired it from one of the canyons. Lieutenant Krelgir was piloting the shuttle. He's dead, along with everyone else aboard.”
The wind was knocked out
