Chapter 6
CHAPTER
SIX
Though the ship in no way reminded me of Ebyd III, I couldn’t help but feel I was walking into another prison.
Greabes led me through labyrinthine hallways, so smooth with black Uhkazant metal I caught my reflection in it a few times.
My face was pale, the blackness of the clothes Lunastra had dressed me in turning my pallor even more ghostly.
The halls were windowless and the ship’s hydraulics so smooth I could barely tell we were floating in space.
There was only the barest vibration beneath my feet and my ears popped as we rounded the corner into a wide seating area.
The hum of voices died away and the hair on the back of my neck stood on end.
Six people were gathered around the circular room, which appeared to split off into other halls.
Greabes slid past me, clapping the shoulder of a male with light gold hair who sat at a slim black table, tapping away at a tablet.
The male huffed, adjusting the brown vest over his cream long-sleeved shirt.
The silence thickened as Greabes touched a panel on the wall beside two twins with pale green skin and dark hair.
A cup slid from a compartment, filled with a sparkling red liquid.
He turned then, resting against the panel, and gestured to me. “This is Juniper, our final member.”
I gave them a small nod and flicked my attention to each in turn, noting the one with two hulking sets of arms next to a female who I thought might have been from Haptium with her silver skin and hair.
Her flowing light-purple clothes shimmered in the lights overhead and I couldn’t help but gape at the parchment book she held. A real parchment book.
“This is Rhiaon”—Greabes pointed to the twin beside him with long hair tied back before pointing to the one who kept it much shorter—“and their brother Rys. Watch your belongings around them.”
Rhiaon’s eyes raked over me, as if looking for said belongings. But their twin only laughed heartily and clapped. “Ah, yes, I suppose we do have a reputation for sticky fingers.” He wiggled the fingers in question at me while his twin huffed a soft, “We’d never steal from a member of our own crew.”
Greabes took a deep drink from the cup before gesturing to the male with golden hair.
“Maxtalen”—the male turned in his seat, a smile on his face as he waved—“is our quadrant genius and he’ll be getting us through most of our in-flight hops, as well as being our eyes and ears while we’re on the ground. ”
The male turned back to his tablet, shoulders rounding in as his fingers tapped across the screen.
Greabes pointed to the female with the parchment text, wiggling his fingers.
“Zoleka is our brilliant historian who has been kind enough to grace us with her presence and expertise.” The female huffed a chuckle beneath her breath and gave me a small nod before her attention fell back to the parchment.
Parchment…made from trees. More than likely harvested from my home planet.
A pang echoed through my throat as Zoleka reverently handled the book as if it was precious.
I swallowed, tearing my eyes away from the fragile pages and landing on the last two members of the crew.
One had two sets of arms crossed over a wide chest while the other stared at me with a piercing gaze.
I realized all of them were outfitted, save for Zoleka and Maxtalen, in similar dress as Greabes: black or dark gray fatigues lacking any insignia or marking.
Greabes gestured to the male who watched me intently.
His skin was pale like mine, but his white hair and black vein-like markings told me he wasn’t from Selhveina.
“Crux works in security under Hudzon.” Greabes pointed to the four-armed being beside him.
“If needed, Hudzon will outfit you with any weaponry you might require for whatever it is the captain makes us get up to. They’re the one you call if you’re in deep shit. ”
“You know how to fight?” Hudzon asked, their voice surprisingly kind in comparison to their colossal frame.
Their skin was tinged a light pink, with swirling dark red markings the same color as their hair sliding diagonally across their face and winding around their throat, which stretched as they frowned.
Their ice-blue eyes flicked down my frame, similar to the way Rhiaon’s had, but I figured they were assessing me for weakness. I didn’t respond and after a moment they raised a brow.
When I still didn’t answer, Rys huffed a laugh. “I like her.”
Hudzon shrugged their wide shoulders and turned back to the plate sitting on a tall table beside them. “I guess we’ll find out.”
Heavy footsteps echoed down the hall across from where I stood, the flare of a cloak announcing the captain’s arrival.
The paneled lights in the ceiling slashed across his black mask and somehow, I could feel his attention fix on me.
Last night as I’d lain awake thinking of everything Lunastra had told me and the job I had to do, I couldn’t help but wonder what exactly was under the helmet that he felt so compelled to hide.
It was probably something monstrous…or disgusting. Or monstrously disgusting.
A noise slipped from the respirator that sounded like revulsion, or perhaps it was disappointment that Greabes had actually retrieved me. His hands clenched into fists before slowly relaxing and he stopped in the center of the group.
“You will not cause problems aboard,” he rumbled. “You will keep quiet—”
“Doesn’t seem to be an issue,” Rys muttered under his breath.
“You will keep your head down.” The captain paused to glare at the male behind him, who raised his hands in surrender with a chuckle.
Regardless of the disdain Captain Ruciyah harbored for me, it was clear his crew liked him, perhaps even admired him from the way they gave him their full attention.
Slowly, the captain’s attention turned back to me.
A heavy weight landed on my chest with his stare and something like fear prickled at the back of my neck.
This male wanted a stone powerful enough to raze entire species, to destroy planets, and he wanted to sell it to the highest bidder.
Perhaps that was what his mask was hiding—the way greed twisted beings into something unrecognizable.
The spark of a soul winking out until there was nothing left.
I’d seen it on Ebyd III, the guards who rose in rank using violence and cruelty.
They were the same as the captains of ships who barely blinked an eye at the yeska labor crumpling within their engine holds and ventilator shafts.
For males like this, there was no Maker, no higher being.
They worshiped the wealth that they amassed, knelt at the altar of credits, and cared nothing for those who they destroyed on their path.
“And you will do everything that is required of you,” Captain Ruciyah finished.
Until he said those last words, I hadn’t realized there was any other option than doing what was required of me.
Endless cycles as a prisoner had taught me you did the job given unless you wanted to die.
Though there had been cycles where I’d thought death might have been preferable to the existence I carried, I knew better now.
I would do this job—I would help them find this stone.
And it would be his downfall.