Page 42 of Stolen Slave

I nodded and almost groaned at the pressure. I couldn’t wait to mark her again.

After she finished, I carried her to the nav center where I planned to have her wait while I went to the surface. She sat on my lap, once more spread wide and hugging my ambal with her flank. Together, we both watched the ship’s entry into Davos One’s atmosphere.

The arm I placed around her waist kept her from slipping from my lap during the turbulence. It also supported her jostling breasts. But it didn’t prevent her flank from bouncing on my ambal.

By the time we broke through the atmosphere, she was leaning heavily on me and gripping my arm. However, only a hint of fear bled into her scent.

“You will grow accustomed to the landings,” I said, smoothing my hand over her arm.

It took her several prexels to loosen her hold and several more for her to recall how to change the screen views between the cargo bay and outside the ship.

“Command Khorahn, navigate us to the dark edge of the twilight band,” I said, standing and setting Vya on the chair.

Unable to help myself, I leaned in and hugged her close, pressing my nose to her hair and inhaling her scent.

“Wait. What’s going on? Are you leaving?” Vya asked, that hint of fear returning to her scent.

“Yes, my sweet female, but I will return. You can monitor me from here.” I tapped the screens again, flipping between the views.

I squeezed her shoulder and left her looking sad in the nav center.

In the cargo bay, I ran another test on the life suit and then checked on the ship’s progress.

“One prexel until dark edge alignment.”

I moved to the cargo bay doors.

“Begin Divos One landing protocol.”

The ship began counting down the halo-flashes, and a blue glow of the habitat field rose from floor to ceiling within the bay door in front of me. It was programmed to keep everything from Divos One out and a certain human female in if she happened to wander down here.

“Ten.”

“Nine.”

“Eight.”

I felt the sudden drop as the ship plunged closer to the terra. The plan was to dump the waste right at the edge to maximize the time I had to work.

“Five.”

“Four.”

The cargo bay door opened, and I pushed the first crate over the edge.

“Three.”

“Two.”

The cable attached to the drop bin pulled taut and flipped the bin, spilling the mineral waste on the terra as the darkness gave way to twilight.

“Retract cable one,” I barked out, already pushing the second bin over the edge.

I moved fast, pulling the first one in, tossing it to the side, and connecting the cable to the next container. Five loads of waste emptied onto the terra, creating one large pile. I grabbed the cargo bay’s utility stick, retracted the second to last cable, and attached myself to it.

“Initiate monitor-and-retrieval protocol,” I said a moment before I jumped out of the cargo bay in a free fall.

The surface’s air immediately warmed me within the suit. And I knew the temperature would continue to rise with each passing halo-flash, going from reasonably pleasant to scorching. Which is why I needed to hurry. I had less than an arc before the light of the system’s burning sun would consume the narrow rim of twilight.

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