Page 14 of Stolen Slave

The ship chimed with an incoming comm. I returned to the nav center and opened the channel.

“State your business and duration.”

“Supplies. A few arcs.”

“Landing pad five-two-three,” the dockmaster barked. “You have two arcs before you start incurring dock fines.”

“Thank you, my friend.”

I knew how these places worked. They’d do their best to delay me in order to justify their exorbitant release fines, and I’d do my best to avoid that from happening.

Several prexels later, I waited at the bay door. The ship rocked as it docked, and I tapped the datapad and switched the system over to voice recognition.

“Defense sequence seven-two-one on my command.”

“Command acknowledged. Remote reentry enabled.”

The stim tracker buzzed my skin. Nothing would breach this ship. My female would be safe while I acquired what she might need.

The bay door slid open, and I strode out to inhale the metallic, recycled station air. As I took in my surroundings, I listened to the door close behind me. The landing pads around me were busy with supplies being loaded or unloaded by workers in dock jumpsuits. The two Ponraid assigned to my landing pad leaned against a stack of empty crates. One idly scratched his chest fur.

“Fortune find you,” he said when he noted my attention.

“And may fortune find you, my friend.”

I kept my smile as easy as my stride, and I moved away from my ship into the nexus of the station.

Vendor-lined corridors bled into one another. I followed my nose to the food district. My gaze swept over the stalls and the species that crowded each. Each species had foods they preferred. I just needed to find the human offerings. A void station was the perfect place for contraband items. And currently, anything pertaining to humans, the newest and most fertile species in the known systems, was a sought commodity.

I watched a Quanl move away from a vendor displaying a variety of fresh, well-seasoned meats, by the smell of things. His scaled skin reflected tan in the artificial lighting as he bit into his purchase.

“Is it worth the chit, my friend?” I asked.

He nodded and paused.

“Best the station has to offer.”

“Thanks for the recommendation. I’ll try it first, then.” I acted like I would leave, then hesitated as if struck by another thought. “Do you know of a vendor with human food? I haven’t tried any yet.”

“There’s one a corridor over, claiming to have human goods.” His forked tongue flicked out. “Wouldn’t trust him, though. Tuber tried serving his donor after he died last solar.”

“A welcome bit of information, my friend. You have my thanks.”

He nodded and continued on. I skipped his recommended vendor and sought rationed items, which were far safer to consume. After selecting a variety of standard processor rations, I found a few more exotic items.

With the packets tucked into my pockets, I started back.

“Move!” the shouted command rang out from ahead and warned me that a procession was coming this way.

I didn’t need to linger to see some rare female when I had one of my own waiting on the ship. Most likely, this was simply a stall tactic engineered by the dock master. Which was exactly why I stayed. Any healthy male would want to see a female. Unless he had a female of his own.

Stepping back into a corridor but not leaving, I made way for the procession. I wasn’t alone in the attention I gave the procession. The males around me watched as well. Heavily armed males strode by first, their angry glances sweeping over us all. Behind them, I heard the slight jingle of metal.

Shock robbed me of thought at the sight of the human female dressed only in bangles and decorative chains. Her skin was darker than my female’s, but not in a damaged way. It shined with health and scented oil. Her chest mounds swayed with her graceful movement, and the patch of curly hair between her legs glistened, begging for attention and exploration.

The scent of lust rose in the air around me, and her protectors worked to keep the surrounding males back. I paid them little attention. Instead, I focused on the female and the tremble in her fingers, which contradicted the way she held her head high.

She wasn’t a treasured breeder. She was bait.

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