Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 63580 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 318(@200wpm)___ 254(@250wpm)___ 212(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63580 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 318(@200wpm)___ 254(@250wpm)___ 212(@300wpm)
I come upon the scene as they are trying to disentangle her without losing their fingers. She keeps lashing out and biting and though her teeth are blunt, they dissuade most of her captors.
“Let me go!” I hear her shouting. “Stop touching me with your gummy hands! What’s my crime anyway? Trying to leave?”
One brave soul is tasking himself with the attempt to extract her. She is doing her best to remove his fingers with her teeth. She can be quite a feral little thing when she wants to be.
I have a pang of sickness seeing her like this. I don’t want to keep her in the same kind of captivity that I found myself stuck in. I wonder, briefly, if what I am doing is wrong. Then I dismiss the thought. If anything, this shows I am right. A human female on her own is going to be taken by someone at some point. The only real question is when and by who.
“Stop biting, please,” the crewman says, speaking through gritted oral nubs. I am sure that it doesn’t feel pleasant to be bitten by a human. They are quite efficient biters, even without many canines, and relatively small mandibles.
“That’s enough,” I say, stepping into the fray.
I quite literally have my leg in the way, which results in it being bitten by my feral little pet. I’m surprised by how hard and sharp a bite it is. It doesn’t break my scaled skin, of course, but it is impressive nonetheless.
She is a naughty thing. I do wonder if her flooded ship has anything to do with her temperament. Had she managed to annoy the wrong person? I wouldn’t put it past her. I wouldn’t judge her either. That’s a talent I also share.
I reach down, grip her by the back of her neck to immobilize her, and slowly pull the net away from her limbs. I am gratified to see that she has the scruffing reflex. That’s one way to keep her properly under control, though it does require me to be physically touching her.
I am going to have to find a way to contain my pet until she is well trained. A cage, perhaps. Or a collar with a lead that can be fastened to a wall.
“Behave yourself, pet,” I growl, smacking her pleasingly round rear just hard enough to make her yelp.
“I’m not an animal! I’m a person!”
The crew and I exchange looks. People are, of course, animals. But they do hate hearing it.
“Of course you are,” I say soothingly. “But you’re causing a panic on the ship, so it is time to go back to our room. I don’t want to hear any arguments.”
“He’s not who you think he is!” She panics and starts throwing accusations around wildly. “Don’t you think it’s weird he’s in his underwear?”
The crew look at me, and for the first time, notice that yes, I am technically only wearing what most would call underwear. In the eyes of the others, I am wearing business attire. Each of them sees slightly different details, but overall they can be certain that I am looking refined and appropriate. I don’t even look like a Psyon to most of them.
Unfortunately, the illusion breaks when it is pointed out. I am going to have to train her not to do that. In certain circumstances, that could be wildly dangerous.
“Let me take my pet back to my quarters and get into more suitable attire,” I say. “I did not have enough time to dress properly when I realized she was missing.”
They accept this, because of course they do. My influence is already back upon them.
I pick my pet up, throw her over my shoulder, and carry her back to the cabin. I might have to stay with her here until we depart if she’s going to try to escape. I would have thought she’d be pleased to be part of this expedition with me, but my powers seem to be slightly slippery where she is concerned. Humans really are a particular kind of animal.
I put her down in the room, shut the door, and turn to face a barrage of questions.
“What the fuck can you do? Is it some kind of psychic power? They didn’t know you were in your underwear until I said it,” she says. “I saw that on their faces. And there’s more, too. You can fuck with minds, can’t you? I want to know what, and how, or it’s not fair!”
She is not the only one with questions.
“Why were you trying to leave the ship?”
“Because I want my stuff from my ship.”
“The flooded ship that will have almost certainly destroyed everything inside it that was organic or electronic, which is most things? The ship that is, right now, well over three lightyears away?”
“Yes,” she says.