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So yeah, you don't spend extra time in the cell if you can help it.
I get to work quickly, crawling under the sink and turning off the water at the source. There's a panel in the wall that's been exposed, and I hit the button with the alien writing that I now know says “maintenance.” Someone will be in to fix it later. As I crawl out from underneath, I cast a glance over at the alien on the wall.
He's not asleep.
He's watching me with those slitted, predatory eyes.
My flesh prickles with alarm and I get back to work, sweeping as quickly as possible and mopping up water. When the cell is decent, I unroll another bed package and watch it inflate on the cot. There's so few comforts here. I wouldn't get in trouble if I skipped giving him a mattress and blanket, but I can't bring myself to do it. I know what it’s like to be a slave. I know what it’s like to look forward to the few things you’re given.
So I glance up at him as I smooth the plas-blanket onto the thin mattress. "Try not to destroy this one, all right? They'll make me quit giving it to you if you keep tearing it up."
No answer. Maybe he doesn't have a translator. Doesn't matter. With a shrug, I pull my cart back together and head out of the room, locking the doors safely behind me. I use the control panel again, letting the system know that I'm done. Reinforcements frame the doors, a bar sliding across the glass to ensure that he can't break free and follow me. I wait in the antechamber for the hallway doors to unlock. The magnetism hum ceases and it's so quiet I can hear my own pulse.
I should just get going, but I watch as the male slides down the wall and lands on the ground. He lands on his feet—but just barely. His movements are slow and heavy—drugged, I remind myself. He manages to get to his feet, straightening, and our eyes meet. He heads for the glass.
Oh no. That is just bad news. I grab my cart and head down the hall. I go to the elevator, my back stiff, and when I get inside, I cast one last look in his direction.
He's still at the glass, watching me. The alien has a hand on the glass and it looks as if his pants are unbuckled and he's taken himself in hand. Masturbating? It's typical gladiator bullshit, and disappointing to see in him.
A second later, though, there's a stream of bright yellow down the glass. He looks at me as he pisses on it, and I realize what he's doing.
He's making another fucking mess so I'll have to come back. That fucking bastard thinks this is a game.
Scowling, I punch the buttons in the elevator. Someone else can clean up his piss. I'll tell the overseer that I'm busy.
4
CRULDEN
The female doesn't come back.
I don't like it.
I piss all over the floor, just because she asked me not to ruin the bedding, and she doesn't come back. Instead, it's a different female, an ooli. She stinks of fear and the smell of her makes me furious. I rage against the cuffs, trying to tear myself free from the restraints until the scientist arrives and sedates me again.
When I wake up, I do not smell the female with the dark brows anywhere. She has not been in this building today. Is she scared of me now? If so, that is disappointing. When protein bars are offered for my dinner, I take them and then promptly step on them, grinding them into powder on the floor. I throw the container of water at the window. It feels like a childish tantrum—probably looks like one, too—but I can't get their attention any other way.
The scientist comes out and studies me through the glass for a long time. I bare my fangs at him, and I can smell the prick of fear racing through him.
"Would you like a better dinner, Crulden?" he asks through the thick glass. "Would it ease your rage if we sent you a better meal?"
"Female," I snarl, though I hate talking to him. I do not want to give him anything to use as leverage against me, but my desire to see her again outweighs everything. "Send me the female."
"I've seen vids of how you treat your females, Crulden. I'm afraid that's not possible." He clasps his hands behind his back and shakes his head. "How about a nice warm soup instead?"
I glare at him, stalking and pacing in my cell in the way I know makes him uneasy. Everything I do is designed to mess with my opponent's head. I want him to be frightened of me. I want him to have nightmares of what I'll do to him when I break free. I want him to fear.
