Total pages in book: 49
Estimated words: 46791 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 234(@200wpm)___ 187(@250wpm)___ 156(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 46791 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 234(@200wpm)___ 187(@250wpm)___ 156(@300wpm)
I blink and meet his gaze. My voice is dull. “No. I cannot.”
“Captain Rhob will take over, effective immediately. You will spend the necessary time to brief him. Then we will find you a position that better suits your talents.”
“Understood.” I keep my expression impassive, but flames of shame and regret lick my skin.
The king regards me. “We have no time for your deviations from protocol, Khrys.”
“Yes, my lord. I will do better.”
“See that you do.” He looks at me for a second. “You are dismissed.” He turns to his assistant, perhaps because he is truly busy but possibly to teach me a lesson about my place in his regard–which is clearly as low as a Zandian can fall.
I stride from the building, cursing my impulsivity. “Veck, veck, veck!” I stop and punch a tree, shredding the purple skin on my knuckles and causing lines of blood to well up. “Veck it all.”
Honor is everything to a Zandian warrior, and I just lost what was remaining of mine.
I wipe the blood on my tunic and stare at the setting sun. My hand throbs, and I welcome the pain. I should cut my vecking arm off to teach myself a lesson about being a stupid idiot.
“You all right?” My friend Gabin stands a few feet away, perhaps cautious about approaching me in such a wild and unpredictable state.
I don’t look at him. “You heard.”
“I did.” He shifts; I hear gravel crunch under his boots. “The crew will forgive you. They already have.”
“King Zander reassigned me.”
“Oh.” He steps closer. “I see.” He pauses. “Is there a way this can be a positive change for you?”
“Yes. It’s a great thing when an expert training captain is removed from duty. We should have a festival. Celebrate my fall from grace.” I glower at him. Once, sarcasm would have been foreign to me, but now that we have humans on Zandia, I’ve picked up the technique.
His voice holds reproach. “I thought perhaps the job was not a perfect fit.”
“A Zandian does the job he is given and loves it because he is serving Zandia.” My tone is stiff. “My father wanted me to be a training captain all his life, like he was. He sacrificed everything to get me into it and then died saving my life in the raids. Zandia has spent much time and effort on my training.”
“I know.” He comes closer.
“I’ve betrayed my father’s memory. Let down my fellow Zandians.”
Gabin stands beside me for a second, and neither of us speak.
I sigh. “I must go clean up.” I look at my hand. “Then I’ll speak to–“ my wrist holo blinks green with an incoming message from– “Captain Rhob. He’s eager to get started.”
Gabin claps my shoulder. “Khrys, you’re a good Zandian. You’ll find your place.”
He means well. But the words twist a dull knife deep into my gut because they only cement into my mind what I and every being know: I don’t fit.
“Regards,” I snap and stalk off. I don’t have the energy to show appreciation for his support.
Back at my domicile, I rinse my fingers and apply the healing salve created by one of the humans who works with Dr. Daneth, and in seconds, my wounds have sealed over.
The holo blinks again–veck that Captain Rhob. Of course, I correct myself, if I had such eager intensity for the job myself, I would probably not be in this excruciating situation of needing to train my own replacement. It’s my own fault I didn’t apply the right focus to overseeing my trainees. I don’t know why I can’t seem to stay razor sharp when I’m with the students in the craft–I know the rules; veck, I wrote them!
I shake my head. Well, I guess I don’t need to worry about that any longer since I’ve been demoted.
Before I connect with Rhob, I glance at my tablet monitor, checking the research which occupied my mind last night and filled my thoughts this morning before the unfortunate maneuver. It’s an image of a slave who’s up for auction soon; I found it by searching hidden channels on the holo-stream.
The human female looking back at me from the screen is gorgeous. Long black curls, eyes the color of the blue grotto waterfalls, and skin like a Chari fruit, an even golden brown, she’s one of the most breathtaking creatures I’ve seen.
But it’s not her looks that have me hooked.
“Human Female, age 28 solar cycles. Enhanced bio-abilities,” the dossier reads. “Muscle strength 1.75X strongest human female. Night sight ability. Lung endurance X 12. Fast twitch muscle reaction 8X stronger than best human on record. Gen-mod blood antibodies resist all known human viruses. Other details to serious buyers only.”
Gen-mod blood antibodies resist all known human viruses.
That was the part that caught my eye. What if this specially-engineered human held the solution to the Z4-A epidemic in her cells?