“I know it will be difficult.” The words tumbled out in a rush. She’d already risked so much for me and Lilibet, and I knew what I was asking could cost her everything.
She grinned at my worried tone, her teeth gleaming stark white against her turquoise skin. “It might not be all that difficult.”
“What do you mean?”
Binwee motioned for us to follow her to the control panel just inside the kitchen doorway. A few punches brought the screen to life, revealing the guards’ dining hall. Hundreds of armored figures sprawled unconscious across the floor, their limbs tangled together like discarded puppets.
“Oh my God,” I blurted. My hand flew to my mouth. “Are they dead?” Tark made a low, impressed rumbling sound deep in his throat, his eyes widening as he took in the display.
“Probably not,” Binwee shrugged with casual indifference. “But they’ll be out cold for hours, and too sick to fight when they finally come to.” She grinned conspiratorially, her eyes twinkling. “When we landed here, I knew it had something to do with you and Lilibet, so I decided to level the playing field a bit. There are still about thirty guards out on scouting patrol, but thirty is infinitely more manageable than three hundred.”
Tark watched our conversation curiously, his dark eyes tracking every gesture and facial expression as I kept him informed as best I could with our improvised version of sign language. He nodded in understanding and held up one finger in a request for Binwee and me to wait. He slipped back toward the storage room, pausing midway to the hatch, and lifted his chin slightly. A low whistle pierced the air, followed moments later by surprised yelps and pained grunts as the Peecha eliminated the guards outside. The next whistle Tark released sounded lower in tone and warbled, each note carrying specific instructions. He stood motionless for a long moment, his head cocked as if listening for a response, then gave a satisfied nod and returnedto my side, gesturing that he’d sent his warriors to gather the others.
I quickly translated for Binwee, who gave a pleased grunt in response. “Right then, let’s go rescue your mate.”
Instead of heading for the door, she turned toward her spice cabinet, a tall wooden structure filled with dozens of small glass bottles. I watched as she reached for a single bottle, and upon touching it, the entire shelf slid aside with a soft mechanical whir revealing a hidden storage compartment packed with weapons and gear.
“I guess I should formally introduce myself,” Binwee smirked, her small hands expertly checking the charge on the blasters. “Binwee Jazarazant, senior operative for Asad Intelligence.”
“Huh?” I blinked at her, too shocked to form coherent words for several heartbeats. “Senior operative? What does that mean?”
“I’m a fucking spy!” Binwee announced with unbridled glee, still clinging to her fondness for Earth profanity.
A spy? She looked like my grandmother—well, if my grandmother was three feet tall and painted a lovely shade of blue. “But you’ve been with Qurbaga for years?”
“And you wouldn’t believe the intelligence I’ve gathered,” she winked with obvious pride, her chest puffing out slightly.
Tark followed our exchange with rapt attention, his dark gaze bouncing between me and Binwee like a spectator at a tennis match. Though he couldn’t understand a word we said, he was clearly enjoying the conversation nonetheless, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth.
Binwee armed herself with a sleek plasma rifle that she slung across her shoulder and stuffed two smaller blasters into her belt. She then handed one each to Tark and me. The weapon felt surprisingly heavy in my hands, the cold metal surfacehumming with barely contained energy that vibrated against my palm.
Tark examined his blaster with the bewildered expression of someone encountering alien technology for the first time. He turned it over in his large hands, cautious as if it might bite him, his fingers tracing the unfamiliar contours. Binwee noticed his confusion and guided his hands to show him the proper grip and trigger, grinning as understanding dawned across his features. Suddenly, he looked like an excited child on Christmas morning who’d just unwrapped the toy he’d been dreaming about all year.
“I’ve set the blasters to stun,” she informed me, rolling her bright cerulean eyes at Tark’s antics as he practiced his aim on imaginary targets, making softpew-pewsounds under his breath. “There are only a few guards left inside—the nicer ones—plus they might have intelligence about the other male that’s aboard this floating cesspool.”
“What other male?” I asked, my stomach clenching with sudden dread as I tucked the blaster into the waistband of my pants, the cold metal pressing against my hip.
Her small, rounded shoulders lifted in a shrug. The gesture didn’t match the gravity in her voice. “A shuttle docked with us just before we breached the planet’s atmosphere. From what I gathered, I believe it carried the male Qurbaga intended to give Lilibet to.” The words dripped with disgust, her face twisting as if she’d tasted something rotten.
A low growl rumbled from deep in my chest, surprising me with its ferocity. Tark echoed the sound immediately. He might not speak my language, but he recognized the unmistakable fury of a protective mother when he saw it.
“Who is he?” I demanded, my voice dripping with barely contained rage. I wanted to know exactly who to shoot on sight, so I could put a blaster bolt between his eyes the moment I saw him.
“I don’t know,” Binwee admitted, her face creasing with frustration. “I haven’t managed to lay eyes on him yet.” Her lips twisted slightly. “But some of the harem girls who, serviced him, said he looked similar to you.”
“Like me?” I blurted, my voice cracking with shock, then my stomach clenched into a tight knot as the implication hit. “Do you mean human?”
“Perhaps.” Binwee reached out and patted my trembling hands, her small fingers surprisingly warm and steady against my skin. “There have been persistent rumors circulating about the rise of an organization called the Consortium, a group working directly against the Alliance when it comes to humans. We’ve been investigating their activities for months, following every lead, but we couldn’t definitively link the organization to anyone other than Ambassador Yaard.” Her voice dropped to a grim whisper. “But if a human is involved in participating in the enslavement of his own species....”
She didn’t need to finish the sentence. The idea that a human would willingly help enslave his own kind made bile rise in my throat, acidic and burning.
Binwee gave me a moment to gather myself, watching as I fought to control the storm of emotions threatening to overwhelm me. When my breathing finally steadied and the trembling in my hands subsided to a manageable level, she nodded and led us out into the corridor, her small form moving with deadly grace.
The small Framaddi female led us through the ship with the confidence of someone who had memorized every bolt and rivet. The passages felt eerily hollow without the usual bustle of guards and crew. Our footsteps seemed to echo despite our careful movements, and every distant creak of the hull made me tense, my heart jumping into my throat.
The walls here were different from those in the kitchen, polished to a mirror shine and lined with softly glowing panels that cast everything in an unsettling blue-green light, like we were walking underwater.
“The dungeon entrance is just around this next bend,” Binwee whispered as she pressed against the wall. “Then down two levels through the....”
