Total pages in book: 119
Estimated words: 113058 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 565(@200wpm)___ 452(@250wpm)___ 377(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113058 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 565(@200wpm)___ 452(@250wpm)___ 377(@300wpm)
He sounded justifiably proud of his skill, Lan’ara thought. She didn’t know much about space flight but she had heard that astro-navigation was supposed to be tricky, so clearly her new owner was a smart man.
Two more people came out of the hallway that must lead to the back of the ship and to Lan’ara’s relief, this time they weren’t joined at the waist. One was a short humanoid woman, only about four and a half feet tall. Despite her diminutive stature, she had a fierce air about her. She had brush-cut salt and pepper hair and deep-set gray eyes. She was wearing a white, long-sleeved jumpsuit which was neatly tailored to her petite frame.
Walking beside the tiny woman and bending almost double to talk to her was a tall, slender creature who Lan’ara thought was probably male. He had short black hair and glowing pink eyes and he seemed to be made of some stretchy, bendy material that contorted easily as he walked. His body was so thin and tall it reminded her of a long bean.
“Laxah is the ship’s med tech,” Need murmured to her, nodding at the short woman. “She’s kind of cranky but she’s good at what she does—patched me up more than once after a job gone wrong.”
He nodded at the bendy male talking to the tech. “And that’s Psoas, the engineer. He’s got the heart as soft as a mallow sweet unless he catches anyone messing with the ship. He loves The Dark Heart like it was his own baby and he’s very protective of her so mind you don’t go anywhere near the engine room.”
“I won’t,” Lan’ara promised quickly. She thought she could safely promise not to go anywhere on the ship except the big Kindred’s quarters—unless she was allowed out to help with the cooking or maybe to watch a vid in the viewing room. That would be nice but she wasn’t going to count on it. Need still seemed to be angry about having bought her in the first place. And that thing he’d said about liking her too much—what had that been about? Anyway, whatever it meant, Lan’ara doubted he was going to be very lenient with her about her leisure hours.
“Well, well—and who is this?” Laxah, the med tech, had turned from her conversation with the bendy engineer and was studying Lan’ara with sharp gray eyes. She looked from Lan’ara to Need and frowned. “I wasn’t informed that we had a new crew member aboard.”
“This is Lan’ara,” Need said, nodding at her. “And Lan’ara, this is Laxah.”
Well, at least he knew her name! He just called her “girl” so often, Lan’ara had wondered if maybe he had forgotten it.
“Hello,” she said politely, nodding at the med tech. “It’s very nice to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you too, my dear, but what is it you do? Why are you here?” Laxah demanded.
“Oh, um, my Lord—I mean Need—bought me at the slave auction back on Yys,” Lan’ara faltered.
“What?” Laxah’s gray eyes widened, then narrowed as she glared up at Need. “I thought the Kindred didn’t believe in dominating and mistreating females! I actually respected you—despite the fact that you’re male. And now you go and buy a female slave?”
“Now look, Laxah—it’s not like that,” the big Kindred protested uneasily.
“Then what is it like?” Laxah demanded. “Why would you buy her if you weren’t looking for a female to hurt and molest?”
The tall bendy pilot called Psoas had taken an interest in the conversation now. Though he was standing on the other side of the table from Need and Lan’ara, he stretched his long torso across the room to study Lan’ara with his bright pink eyes.
“She’s pretty—at least by humanoid standards,” he remarked to Need. “And don’t mind Laxah,” he added, speaking to Lan’ara. “She’s from Zetta Prime so she pretty much thinks all males are scum.”
“They are and there’s the proof!” Laxah exclaimed.
“But my Lord is not abusing or molesting me!” Lan’ara protested, quite forgetting in her rush to defend the big Kindred what he had told her about calling him by his first name. “He saved me.”
Laxah’s salt and pepper eyebrows rose nearly to her brush-cut hairline.
“My Lord?” she asked, looking at Need. “Is that what he has you calling him?”
“No, damn it,” Need growled. “It’s what they taught her to call her, uh, owner—at the fancy academy she attended before the pirates stole her and sold her to the slavers.”
“Who sold her to you, which makes you a slaver too!” Laxah snapped. “Or at least a slave owner.”
“Who’s a slaver?” the female head of the Duplo demanded. Both the male and female torso of the being was turned towards them. Clearly they had lost interest in their own argument in favor of paying attention to what was going on between Laxah and Need.