2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Tareq

I gingerly touch my chin, hissing at the pain. My jaw doesn't feel broken, though, which is good. You've got to stay positive, right? Even when your meticulously crafted plan falls apart at the first contact with reality.

"Finding positives, right," I murmur, doing my best to ignore the cellblock stench irritating my sensitive nostrils.

Positive number one? I'm alive. That's a good start.

Originally, I'd planned to infiltrate the ship as a guard, not end up in a cell with a slave collar around my neck, but at least I'm on board. That's what counts. I can still complete my mission. I just need to get my bearings, remove the collar, escape this cell, then find a comms station. A piece of Karetelan pie.

My stomach rumbles as I think of pies. Damn, I'd love a piece of a Karetelan pie. Or any pie for that matter.

One of the Genixarian guards in front of my cell holds up a ration bar, waggling it before me as if bribing a pet with a treat so it will perform a trick. "Will you stay quiet and not cause trouble?"

I suppress a snarl, but just barely. "Of course, I'll be a model prisoner," I smirk.

Not recognizing the sarcasm, the Genixarian nods. "Good." He tosses the package through the bars and even adds a bottle of water. How generous of the prick.

"What are we going to do with him?" the other guard asks. This one seems a little younger, although it's hard to tell. The Genixarians are all vat-grown clones. They look identical and have limited personalities of their own.

"What do you mean, Omicron 18-L?" the first one responds.

Omicron shifts his feet. "Our orders are to capture rare species from the forbidden planets. This one is a Syndoran," he says, pointing at me. "They're not rare, nor coveted as slaves. I believe we're wasting resources by keeping him here, Gamma 2-A."

Well, fuck. It sounds like my situation is about to take a turn for the worse. I quickly assess my options, desperate to think of something that won't get me thrown out of an airlock. There's really only one option. "Please, don't hurt me," I beg, cringing internally.

I hate pretending to fear these dickheads, but I don't have much of a choice. Still, begging eats at me. The last time I'd begged for anything I was five and my brother was threatening to throw my toys out of the window. It hadn't worked then, so I'd never bothered again, until now. "I won't cause any trouble, I promise!" I continue, dutifully playing my part, even though my very soul rebels against each word.

It seems to be working this time, at least. Gamma waves his hand in my direction. "See? He's harmless."

I lower my head to hide my smirk. Oh, I can't fucking wait to show these bastards just how "harmless" I am.

"Hmm," Omicron muses, unconvinced. "I doubt his sincerity."

"His sincerity is irrelevant. He's locked up and if he doesn't cooperate, we'll feed him to the other creatures. Now get moving, Omicron 18-L. You have duties to perform."

Grumbling, the younger Genixarian stalks away. Gamma shoots me a warning look before following his buddy out of the cellblock.

The moment they leave, most of the lights go off, immersing the place in darkness. I don't need much light to see, though.

Looking around, I take in my surroundings. I'm in one of the storage rooms that they've crudely repurposed to serve as a cellblock. Sturdy bars have been welded onto the floor and ceiling by someone who is good at his job. They don't budge, even as I yank on them with all my might.

Accepting that I can't break free by brute force, I observe the creatures in the other cells. Most look somewhat sentient but not intelligent or advanced enough for their races to be allowed into the United Galactic Congress yet. I don't recognize a single species, which means my intel was correct—the Genixarians are somehow landing on forbidden planets without being detected by the UGC then kidnapping unevolved creatures to sell as slaves.

Slavers. A shudder of revulsion runs through me. The Genixarians are known for their lack of empathy and general disinterest in other races, but I didn't think they'd stoop so low as to sell sentient beings into slavery.

Slavery was outlawed by the United Galactic Congress centuries ago, but that doesn't mean it doesn't exist. Everywhere there is civilization, there's organized crime, and where there's organized crime, there's slavery. Plus, the UGC doesn't have power over the entire galaxy.

As I watch two yellow-scaled creatures hug each other in distress, my tail swishes from side to side, betraying my irritation. I suck in a deep breath, doing my best to calm myself. I need to concentrate.

My cell doesn't offer any luxuries aside from a waste bucket. There's nothing I could use as a tool to escape unless I want to hurl my shit at the Genixarians through the bars. Amused by the idea, I file it away for later.

The cell to my right is empty. The one on my left houses several insect-like creatures with more legs than I can count, especially since they constantly move around their cell.

"Hey," I call out to them, keeping my voice down so as not to draw the attention of the Genixarians.

The insects stop skittering, lining up along the bars to look at me. They're about four or five feet tall. Too big to sneak through the bars, but small enough for the Genixarians to cram several of them into a single cell.

The largest one buzzes and chirps at me while the rest stay quiet, waiting for my response.

My translator nodes don't pick up anything, not that I expected them to. While some of the languages used on the forbidden planets are in the database, most people don't download them into their nodes. There's no need. Most folks have a bigger chance of surviving a hyperspace jump through a black hole than meeting a creature from a forbidden planet and needing to communicate with them.

I could have had the language pack downloaded before departing for this mission, but I decided against it. Since it's not a common thing to do, it would draw attention and raise questions. I was supposed to pose as a simple guard for hire. Had I known I'd be stuck in a cellblock with dozens of primitive creatures, I would have gotten the damned language pack update in order to understand what they're saying.

"Look, I don't understand you and you don't understand me," I tell the insects, keeping my voice calm and even, "but that doesn't mean we can't be friends."

The largest insect chirps again. It might be a response to my words. It might be that he's asking me to get closer to the bars so he can eat my face.

I decide to give them the benefit of the doubt and break the ration bar in half, offering one half to the insects. The moment I slide it between the bars, they jump on it. I wince, expecting a fight, but I'm pleasantly surprised when they split the food into equal pieces and each of them only takes one. No arguing, no fighting.

The leader buzzes at me before digging into his share.

"You're welcome, friend," I tell him, revealing my sharp teeth in a wide grin.

Prison 101? Make friends. You'll need them later.

I examine the lock on the door of my cell. It's an old-fashioned one that requires a simple keycard, but it's very sturdy. My squad mate, D'Aakh, could probably rewire the lock and get it to open, but my tech skills aren't so great. I'll have to take the old school approach of stealing a keycard from a guard. Along with a slave collar controller, ideally.

It's not a brilliant plan. In fact, it would hardly be considered a plan at all, but I'll figure it out. I didn't become one of the most elite soldiers in the galaxy by giving up or avoiding arduous tasks.