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Sophie.
I freeze in horror as I realize what this means. Her strange response while she was in the lavatory. Her refusal. I didn't think it was like her…because it's not. Terrified, I turn on the intercom in the lavatory, listening in. Sophie's weeping can be heard over the patter of the shower, and my chest tightens. Her crying always tears at me, because I want to fix it for her.
Then I hear another voice. A male, speaking to her. Asking her where the credits are hidden.
My sadness is replaced with cold, hard fury. So that's it, then. It's a robbery. We were allowed to leave with the Sister because they knew she wouldn't be going anywhere. They plan on robbing us, most likely killing us, and then taking both ships back to port. I listen to the man harassing Sophie. There's only one voice in there with her, and judging by their conversation—Sophie's answers panicked and afraid—the V'tarr male is speaking with another V'tarrian. I turn on the overhead cameras and see only the one male in the lavatory with her. Sophie is on her knees, naked, crying but otherwise unharmed.
He won't harm her, just like they didn't kill Sleipnir. Both Sophie and the carinoux are valuables. That part makes me feel better, at least, as I storm out of the kitchen and head for the engine room, where the secret compartment full of guns is located. And…then I stop. They don't know where the guns are hidden, but that could change if I open the stash. If I'm being watched, I'll lose all leverage and they'll kill me, or space me, and then I won't be able to help Sophie.
All right. I'll have to do this with only the weapons I can make for myself. I turn—
—and stare right into the barrel of a blaster. Another V'tarrian has come out of hiding, and he studies me with that avian way of his, head cocked slightly.
I put my hands up. I don't like the idea of surrendering, but this way they'll take me to Sophie. When I'm with her, I can comfort her and come up with a plan. This isn't over. Not by a long shot. So I do my best to look worried instead of furious as I raise my hands higher in the air. "Don't shoot. I'll do whatever you want."79JERROKI haven't survived on my own this long on the edge of the universe out of sheer luck. I know how to swim with the pirates and murderers that inhabit these waters. It doesn't matter that I don't have a weapon. By the time my captors lead me into the rec room with a dripping-wet Sophie, I'm already setting the stage for my plan.
I limp heavily as I walk, deliberately placing my feet in a way that adds pressure onto my prosthetics and makes my circuits jump. I act as if they're worse than they actually are, as if all my limbs are weighing me down and it's effort just to move. Let them think I'm slow and broken. It'll give me an edge when I strike.
Sophie jumps to her feet as I shamble into the rec room, a choked sob in her throat. One of the V'tarrians immediately grabs her by the shoulder and slams her back down onto her knees, and she weeps even louder, her gaze on me. I fight back the surge of anger I feel at the sight of her. They didn't even give her a towel. She's dripping water and shivering with cold.
The aliens nudge me in the back with a blaster, pushing me forward, and I mock-collapse at Sophie's side.
Her crying becomes louder, her hands moving all over me. "Jerrok!"
I pretend to struggle to sit upright. I hate that she's so worried, but her tears are just helping sell this moment. As I sit up, I mentally assess the room. There's a crystalline vase with a plant growing in it at the far side of the room. There's a large curved vid screen mounted to the wall. There's a comfortable couch with pillows, and other seating, but I don't see a lot that can be used as a weapon. If our captors leave us alone in this room, I can take apart the electronics and use the pieces to craft some sort of weapon. I can take the long sleeves of my uniform and rip them off, fill one end with bolts and gears and use it as a bludgeon, like putting a heavy rock into a sock and swinging it. It's crude but effective.
Sophie's hands caress my face, and I look over at her. She's terrified, her pupils large in her face, and instinctively, I wrap my arms around her. I need to comfort her.
The butt of one of the blasters slams into my shoulder, right where my prosthetic is attached to my body, and sends a bolt of agony flaring through me. "Let go of the female."
