Chapter 2
Cold shackles send shivers over my skin, the hard metal pinching the delicate flesh around my wrists.
I stare at a bowl of gruel and a half-filled water cup pushed hastily beneath my cell door.
A woman, who I’ve heard the others call Ginny, smiles at me through the bars.
Despite her rigid posture and dirty-blonde hair pulled tightly into a bun, her eyes are a disarmingly charming deep-brown.
“Please eat. It’s been three days,” she pleads with an annoyed huff, as if I were a fickle child.
To my understanding, by the way the underlings excitedly salute her, she is high-up in the chain of command. But for some reason, she’s been tasked with the menial obligation of attending to me.
“Fuck you,” I snarl, kicking the tray. Gruel and water slop across the stone floor.
Ginny furrows her brows in discontent. “You have to drink water, at least. Or you’ll die.”
I stifle a laugh. She has no idea the cell guards are so disorganized, they often forget who is supposed to give me water — resulting in them all giving me as many cups as I desire.
I understand their inexperience as meaning they don’t keep many prisoners, but the rusted lock on the cell door is enough of a suggestion.
I maintain my glare, flexing my wrists against the restraints. “Isn’t that how I’ll end up, anyway?” I ask.
Ginny shakes her head, pinching the bridge of her nose between her fingers.“I told you. We are not going to kill you,” she sighs. The frustration in her voice grows with each syllable.
Her tone irks me. As if I’m the one being unreasonable.
“Then what? Abduct a surveyor for the fun of it? All I do is dump sand in a vial for hours on end. I’m not some sort of secret Nilsanian operative,” I snap. “You’re wasting your time with me.”
Ginny rolls her eyes coyly, leaning on one hip. “You’ll find out soon enough, so stop causing issues and behave.”
I utter a groan so guttural it makes Ginny grimace. “I said it the moment your subordinates tossed me in this cell and I’ll say it a hundred times until I either die or you let me go: I want to speak to the leader, now.”
Each time I ask to see him, I’m met with pursed lips and squinted eyes telling me I can’t, with no explanation. They act as if I’m some belligerent customer unwilling to wait in line.
I know very little about the leader of Gaia 4 other than that he’s a reckless hothead who would sooner blow up a food storage center than research the Nilsan city map well enough to know it’s not the correct target.
However true my preconceived notions of him are, I realize that my only chance at survival right now is diplomacy.
With that in mind, I’m unsure how receptive to negotiation an animal like him will be.
Ginny’s frown deepens, her eyes flicking between me and the splattered food tray. “Like I said, you’ll have to wait. Lowell’s busy right now.”
I’m nearing my wits’ end. Not only am I now multiple days behind on my work, these criminals have the audacity to place me on their “waiting list” while feeding me slop in a damp, dingy cell.
Anger heats my cheeks as Ginny’s face turns bored, her foot tapping while she looks down the corridor for the guard she relieved for a break.
“Busy?” I bark, my voice so loud it echoes throughout the cell. “Take me to him now, or… or—” I clumsily wrap the shackle chain around my neck, pulling down such that the metal crushes my throat, “or I’ll die on this dungeon floor before you have the chance to get anything out of me.”
Ginny heaves a sigh so exasperated I feel like a fool for my theatrics. Turning her chin over her shoulder, she shouts down the corridor, “Guy! Get over here!”
Barreling down the cobblestone comes a Lizardfolk who is not one of the many guards tasked with watching me. I assume he is her assistant of sorts — his body language and tone are more comfortable than what I have seen from the others.
“Give me the cell keys,” Ginny mumbles, her face scrunched into a tight expression as she holds her hand out. “She won’t eat or shut up about Lowell, so if she wants to see him so fucking badly, I say she can at her own risk. I’ve had enough of her.”
The sharp-scaled, bright-red Lizardfolk, Guy, fumbles with the keys around his belt. The spiky bumps where his eyebrows should be pinch together. “B-but he’s in a foul mood. He might just kill her if she says even the slightest thing to piss him off, and we need her to—”
Ginny lifts her palm to halt his words. “Nope. She wants to go, so she’s going. At this point, if Lowell doesn’t kill her, I will.” She glares at me from the corner of her eye.
Guy places the keys in Ginny’s hands tentatively. “If you say so, Gin.”
Unlocking the hefty cell door, Ginny commands Guy to unhook my shackles from the wall. The metal nearly disintegrates in his hand when he lifts the chain, and dust wafts into my lungs and eyes. He holds the space between my cuffs with his fingers, eyeing me with pity as I cough.
While I clear my throat, Guy leans into my ear, keeping his voice low. “Lowell is extremely angry right now, so play nice if you can,” he whispers, his scaled hands cool to the touch. “He’ll be gentle with you if you don’t agitate his hunting instincts.”
“Lizardfolk don’t have ‘hunting instincts,’” I correct.
It’s a known fact that any type of primal aggression has been bred out of Lizardfolk for over a century.
Their physical appearance and temperament may change depending on their region and habitat, but that’s par for the course for any creature.
Hunting aggression simply does not exist anymore.
Guy’s expression turns worried. “Yeah, I know that, but Lowell’s kind does. Just be careful.”
‘Lowell’s kind’?
Now they’re really starting to piss me off. Exhaling deeply, I steel myself from boiling over.
Stay focused on getting let go.
Once I talk my way out of this, I can get back to proving to Kinsley that I deserve to be Lead Scientist, and to the board why I deserve to be Director.
As far as Gaia 4 is concerned, I’m just some sample-taker who strayed too close to their base. The sooner I convince them I’m worthless, the sooner they’ll throw me back.
Pulling at my restraints, Guy leads me behind Ginny. I look over my shoulder at the cell, the rusted bars one kick away from complete collapse. I notice that the bed, despite its surroundings, remains clean and barely used.
It had never occurred to me before that the prison cells are not disheveled due to their lack of use, but rather because prisoners never survive long enough to be held in them in the first place.
My lips pull tight in a frown.