Total pages in book: 175
Estimated words: 166095 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 830(@200wpm)___ 664(@250wpm)___ 554(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 166095 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 830(@200wpm)___ 664(@250wpm)___ 554(@300wpm)
Because it’ll make her that much harder for Jamef to find again.
I’ve been thinking about my ship for a while now, ever since that fool Zebah stole her from me. I know bounty hunters love to mess with each other and stealing a ship is almost a sign of affection, but this one is mine. Mine, because it represents the game I play with her first owner, Jamef sa Raan.
Are you out there watching?” I purr, sliding my hands over the controls, imagining that the battered-looking cyborg bounty hunter can hear me. “Do you have a secret feed here on the bridge? Do you see what I’m doing to your ship?” I lean in and lick the control panel, swirling my tongue over one of the buttons. Tastes like success to me.
Success and dust.
I know Jamef must hate me. He thinks I’m doing all of this to get back at him somehow. That I keep kidnapping him and “oops” letting him escape because I’m a feline playing with my prey. And while I do love a chase, it’s more than that. It’s me seeing how he responds to my overtures. It’s me pushing to see how far I can go before he breaks and loses interest.
I glide my tongue over the keys again. Somewhere in the ship, a door opens and closes again, but I ignore it. I grin and straighten again, winking at nothing in particular. Jamef is someone I understand. He’s a busted, ugly thing—the ones that always fascinate me—and I want to play with him. I’m not sure if I want to treat him like an insect—pin him down and pull off his wings—or if I want to kiss him.
I suppose half the fun is figuring out which one it’s going to be.
“Come and get me, Jamef,” I call out coyly. “I’ll make it fun. I always do.”
We’ve played this game for a while now. I stole his ship because it appealed to me. I like how it’s so keffing ugly and yet the engine is so well-tuned. It’s obviously loved and cared for, and yet the owner gave no thought to its appearance. It’s more than camouflage, this piss-ugliness of The Pleasure Spot. There’s something deeper and it calls to me with its weirdness, just like Jamef himself. I mentally picture the male. His is the same story that a lot of mesakkah my age have—he lost several limbs in the war and they were replaced on the cheap. His prosthetics are clunky, and the only credits he seems to have spent are on the cybernetic eye…and there he goes for function over form once more. It very clearly does not match his other eye. It’s bright red and mechanical and it’s like he’s daring people to notice how much of him is no longer mesakkah.
I notice, all right. I notice, and I find it arousing.
Just being back on the Pleasure Spot makes me a little turned on, because I know Jamef is going to hunt me down. I know he’s going to come after his beloved ship and try to steal it back from me. I figured once I stole it he’d either report me to the authorities, or come after her himself. I’ve stolen it three times now and he’s never once reported me, which tells me that she was stolen in the first place.
That, and Jamef likes this dance as much as I do.
Just as long as he leaves the little fluffit alone, we can dance as much as we like.
Three
DORA
A FEW DAYS LATER
As a freeloading human on a mesakkah vessel, I’m determined to earn my keep on Bethiah’s ship.
There’s just one small problem—there’s nothing for me to do.
When we first arrived on Bethiah’s ship—she’s calling it The Bearded Lady because for some reason the name cracks her up, and apparently this is just the latest iteration in a string of weird names—I saw an opportunity. There was dust all over the ship from being abandoned, the filters leaving a fine mess of gray particles on all flat surfaces. The screens had smudges (Bethiah is a screen toucher, which drives me crazy) and the tiny mess hall in the clunky ship was a disaster.
Cleaning, I can help with, I figure. I can’t read the Homeworld language or speak it. I can’t fight worth a gosh-darn. I can’t shoot a gun or fist-fight or anything good like that. I sure don’t know how to operate the ship. The other day I closed myself in the supply closet and accidentally got stuck there for four hours because I couldn’t figure out how to operate the door. Bethiah had to come rescue me and she laughed in my face.
It wasn’t my favorite moment.
But Bethiah is giving me a place to live, so I want to do my best to please her. So…I can do housekeeping.