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)
CHAPTER 6
Mara
It’s the first shore leave for our new crew, and Captain Freak Tasin is laying down the law while I enjoy watching him do it. We’re all standing on the port outside the Psyon ship, receiving orders. I can see how the others are keen to get into the crowd and start enjoying their recreation. Their impatience is palpable. But Freak isn’t going to let this get messy. He’s determined to run a tight ship.
“This is the first time we’ve been off the ship in normal space together,” Freak says. “There’s some ground rules I want you to follow. First, you stay with me, heeling range. I don’t want you disappearing into a crowd and getting lost. Second. No talking to strange aliens.”
I look around behind me, then back at him with a confused expression.
“What?” He asks the question.
“I’m just wondering who the hell you’re talking to,” I say. “Because I know it isn’t me.”
Freak scowls at me faintly, the scales above his brows drawing closer together. “I don’t want attitude from you right now, pet.”
“I have been in places like this my whole life. I was seven when I started going on trade missions with my father. You don’t need to worry so much. I can look after myself,” I tell him.
“You might be able to look after yourself, but you don’t have to anymore,” he says, his tone gentler. “I want to look after you. I want to know where you are. This is for me as much as it is for you.”
The sentiment is so sweet it catches me off guard. I feel a lump coming to my throat as tears start to fill my eyes. I’ve not had anybody care about me in that way for a long time. Not since my father disappeared, and even when he was around, he wasn’t this protective. He thought I could handle myself. And I could.
So Freak is wrong, but for the sweetest of reasons.
“And I’ll whip your ass until it’s bright red if you disobey me,” he adds as an afterthought.
Less sweet.
“Boss! Come on! We’ve booked one of the combat arenas. If we don’t get there on time, they’ll give the slot away!”
The other Psyons keep the whole thing moving and save me more threats from him.
They are moving toward a large dome in the station, a place that can be hired out for events, so the signs say, or for public displays. There are posters up for matches yet to come, and some older ones for matches that have been in the past.
The ring is large and sprung, and when the Psyons jump in they bounce a little. The four of them look perfectly at home in their underwear attire. I wonder what everyone else is seeing. I feel like I am the only one who really notices they’re barely dressed.
I watch them wrestle around for a bit. Freak is able to beat them each individually quite easily, so then they start 2v1’ing him, followed by 3v1, when the former does not work.
There’s quite a crowd that forms while they’re wrestling. A lot of aliens haven’t seen Psyons in action before, and quite a few of them want to test their mettle as well.
I let my eyes drift a little.
And then I see him. In the crowd. A human. A man.
He’s moving through aliens, so I only catch brief glimpses of him as he goes. But I am almost certain I know who that is. My heart is leaping wildly.
It’s my father.
I start pushing through the crowd toward him, but it is hard. There’s a lot of aliens of various shapes and sizes along the way. A little one squeaks because I’ve stepped on it. I apologize as much as I can without losing sight of the man. He’s moving away,
“Dad!” I yell out. “Dad!”
My voice is swept away in the general cheering and hooting of the crowd as Freak continues to beat the heck out of all comers in the arena.
I end up pushing my way through, elbows and all because everyone is staring at the show and almost nobody seems to notice anything else at all. I wonder if it is a Psyon trick to do that. They’re glamouring the entire audience. Or maybe it’s just the effect they have on people. Hard to tell.
“Rude!”
I don’t hear the complaint until I am grabbed by the arm.
“You sss-tood on my foot,” he complains.
“I thought the floor was bumpy there,” I say. “I’m sorry.”
I have a vague sense of what he looks like. Golden. Wearing a black coat. Lots and lots of scales and big eyes after the fashion of a gecko or similar. I keep looking past him to keep an eye on the man I think is my father. I wish he could just hear me.