Kept by the Zandian (Zandian Brides 5)

I pick my way through the tall grasses that have razor sharp edges, like back on Romon-3, and gag a little as we pass a rotted out tree stump that holds a fetid pool of green liquid in a black cavern.

“We are nearing his place.” I raise my voice. “I will be glad to have you meet my Master and discuss a trade with him.”

I wait in anticipation. Any second now, my Zandians will leap out and overpower this Ocretion. They will save me.

But nothing happens. “It’s just ahead,” I promise. “We will see him soon.”

The guard snarls and pokes my back with his shock stick. I scream as a bolt of electricity enters my spine, paralyzing me with a burst of pain so intense that I can’t see. I bend over, retching, gasping, sparks of color popping behind my lids.

“I am tired of your faltering.” He hits me with the stick on my temple, this time without energy, but the new pain makes me cry out. “You are taking too long. Where is he??

?

It’s almost like a baby animal whining for its mother.

“I-I…” I gasp, unable to get out words. He knows I’m lying.

While I am lying on the ground, I fumble blindly for the discs. He is going to rape me and kill me, or take me back to slavery, and I need to get this data uploaded before it happens. At least I can save some children. “Leylah, forgive me,” I whisper.

I double over and manage to pull my cloak over my body. I frantically scrabble to insert the first disc into the slot on my comm. I practiced on the ship, and it’s not hard. It’s only a few moments before I hear the “bip” that signals the completion of the upload.

But I still have one more disc to go.

“Get to your feet.” The guard hauls me up by the neck of my cloak. “Do you think that humans get to lie around, lazy, any time they like?”

His lip curls in a vicious snarl and little bits of foam form at the corners of his mouth. “Or are you a slut, hoping to entice me to to give you a pretty reward, like a coin or a piece of fruit?”

I choke back my sob of fear, pulling away from him, still managing to keep my hands and the discs hidden under the cloak.

Wrong move.

He slams me again on the temple with his stick, and even without electricity, it’s such a strong blow that my mind goes black for a second. I fall back down, heavily, and land on my wrist, the one that holds my comm.

There’s a dull crack and then a pain that radiates up my arm, and now I can’t move it all at.

But I persevere. “Please, I’m sorry.” I gasp out the words, little choking sounds. “I beg for your leniency.” While I’m back down here, I insert the second disc into the slot, wincing as it moves my broken bones against each other, trying not to pass out. With the cloak over me, I can barely breathe, but it gives me the moment of privacy I need.

When the beep comes, I feel a burst of energy.

“If you’re just going to stay down there, it seems I will have to try you out.”

The Ocretion kicks me in the ribs, then I hear him start to fumble with his pants buckle. “We’ll see if you’re more obedient once you’ve been used like human slaves deserve.”

I push the upload button.

The guard stills.

“Wait. What was that sound? What are you doing?” He stops with his buckle and leans down. “Give me the discs.” His voice rises. “Are you wearing a comm?” He’s completely taken aback at the possibility. “Human slaves never get comms. Where…” He furrows his brow.

I was supposed to dig a hole and push the self destruct button on this specially engineered comm, starting a small explosion that would then burn the items in a contained but hot fire, leaving only ash behind.

But the Ocretion grabs at me, urgency in his hands, pulling at my garments.

If he sees me doing this, surely he’ll call on his comm for backup and tell them I’m a spy. They’ll find the discs, unscramble the comm, and come after Zandia.

I need to get rid of this immediately.

I activate the destruct button under my cloak, hoping it will mask the fire from burning me too badly.