His Human Prisoner (Zandian Masters 2)

Who.

His body went slack. “Get off me.”

They must have seen the return of reason, because his friends helped him to his feet. “We need to see Prince Zander. He has battleships, and he wants Lily, too.”

Chapter Six

Lily sat on the hard plastic bench, shoulder to shoulder with other prisoners in the death pod. Her head still pounded, but one of the soldiers had taken pity on her and run a medical scanner over her bite wound then delivered the antivenom.

No one knew how long they had to live. The Ocretians kept the death pods largely a secret and, obviously, those who went in, never came out. It seemed they were still filling it, though. Prisoners had been filing in for three planet rotations.

Crazy though it was, she felt certain Rok was working to get her out. He’d been there when they took her. She’d heard his anguished shout, seen his friends wrestle him back into their ship. He did care about her—she knew it!

That thought alone kept her from sinking into the darkest despair. Rok had to get her out, because they belonged together somehow. She didn’t know how, nor did she care. Even if he wanted nothing more than to keep her as his sex slave for his entertainment on his flights, she’d be on board. But he’d already been willing to teach her to fly. Perhaps she’d find some use other than sex. She could be one of the crew—have a family of sorts for the first time, ever.

A human mother and child were led into the pod. The guards split the two, putting the child in Lily’s cell and taking the mother away.

“No!” the woman screamed. The walls echoed with the ripping pain in her voice. “Carmeela! Give me my baby back!”

Something scraped at the back of Lily’s memory—her own mother’s cries. Someone had screamed for her like that. Someone had screamed herself hoarse while Lily was carried away, kicking and crying, from some kind of factory housing.

There’d been another, too. A man had tried to block them, had reached for her as she screamed his name, but he’d been stunned.

Tears burned behind her eyes. She had been loved, once.

The little girl, who couldn’t be more than six sun cycles, appeared in shock. She didn’t cry—perhaps she’d already had that response beaten from her.

“Hey,” Lily said softly. “It’s going to be all right.”

The girl stared at her, brown eyes wide. Her dark hair fell across her face in matted clumps; her skin was too pale. “You can sit

over here, with me,” she offered, though there was no room left on any of the benches.

The girl ignored her offer, though, and sat down on the floor, cross-legged. She began to rock, silently mouthing something.

“That just isn’t right,” the being beside her muttered. “Separating them like that. Why not let them die together?”

Lily lifted her chin. “We’re not dying,” she said firmly. She didn’t know what made her say it, except it seemed important to keep that child from floating off, the way Lily had learned to. She didn’t want her to stop living until her body died. And she sure as hell didn’t want that body to die any time soon.

The old human male on her left snorted.

“It’s true. We’re all going to get out of here, and we’re going to live on planet free of slavery. Things will grow there—beautiful plants and flowers. And the light will come down in rainbows.”

The little girl lifted her head and stared at her.

She nodded, emphatically. “Everyone will be free there. No slaves. Different species will live in harmony, with a fair government that never puts being to death. The worst punishment will be exile, and no one will ever want to earn that punishment because it’s so wonderful there.”

“People will sing,” a cracked voice spoke from the corner.

Lily peered around to see an old Stornigian. The reminder of Janu and Jaso squeezed her chest, but she smiled encouragingly.

The female cleared her throat. “Music will be everywhere. Songs and instruments. And dancing.”

“There will be enough food for everyone. Delicious food they grow right there,” another being chimed in.

The little girl listened, eyes round, expression rapt.

“Are you hungry, girl-child?” Another being produced a bit of a nutrition bar and offered it.