thefiremargins Read Free

captives. His uniform jacket was stripped off him then, just as abruptly, he was released. Naked apart from his pelt, he staggered, trying to keep his balance, but he was too weak to stand. The heavy chain attached to the rigid metal collar round his neck dragged at him, pulling him down to the floor again.

He'd barely had a chance to see the same had been done to his three companions when they were hit by a jet of freezing water. Claws extended, his feet scrabbled against the metal-plated floor as he tried at least to get up onto his haunches. He'd expected to be killed, but not by drowning! Turning his head away from the stream of pressurized water, he bit down hard on his lower lip, trying not to yell curses at them in the few words of Valtegan he'd managed to pick up over the weeks they'd been on board.

Turning back to look at the others, he saw that even Miroshi had roused herself enough to try and keep her head free of the water. Their captors had quickly realized she was the most vulnerable member of the group and had targeted her for their special attention. What they'd done to her would have been despicable even had she not been a telepath. Her mental scars, like those on her body, might never heal.

Jeran's chain was just long enough for him to reach her and while the water was playing on the other two, he crawled along the floor toward her. The jet hit him again. Ears plastered flat to his head, he held her close, turning his back to take the worst of the torrent of water, lending her what little strength he had in an effort to keep her from falling back down to the deck.

The water stopped suddenly, gurgling as it flowed down the drains to the reservoir. He let Miroshi go, not wanting to add to her pain by continuing to touch her. As he turned back to the guards, one of them stepped forward and threw a bundle of cloths at him. Jeran grabbed at them instinctively, managing to catch them before they fell onto the wet floor.

The guard snapped an order at him. Confused, Jeran shook his head, blinking as he wiped his forearm across his eyes. The officer at the door spoke and the guard stepped forward. Leaning down, he snatched a cloth back from him and began rubbing it across his own arm.

The officer spoke again, this time addressing Jeran briefly, then they all turned and left.

Tesha looked over at him. "What did he say?" she demanded, curling her tail, which now resembled a piece of old rope, protectively round her haunches.

Jeran handed two towels over to her. "We're to dry ourselves."

"Even I got that!" she said acidly, passing the other to Tallis.

"I didn't get it all, but it had something to do with us being put down on this planet we're orbiting in exchange for ... supplies, I think," he said, hunkering down beside Miroshi again.

She stirred, taking the towel from him.

"Can you manage?" he asked.

She nodded, beginning to wipe the cloth along her arms.

"So why the cold shower?" asked Tesha, shivering as she began to rub herself.

"Don't want the goods to be seen covered in matted fur and dried blood," said Tallis bleakly as he made an equally half-hearted attempt to dry himself.

"There was an implicit threat concerning J'koshuk," added Jeran.

"He's selling us," said Miroshi, speaking for the first time in days. "He said if he doesn't get a good price, he'll give us back to J'koshuk."

Tesha broke the silence that followed. "Well, what do we do? Make a break for it so that they kill us, or go down to this world like tame rhaklas?"

Jeran began to dry himself, trying not to knock the scabs off the half-healed wounds. His fur was matted into the cuts on his face and arms but there was nothing he could do about it.

Before he could answer, the door opened again, this time to admit the ship's medic, flanked by two guards, one carrying a tray holding four beakers.

"Eat," said the medic as the guard came over with the tray. "Been cooked. Need eat. Soon you leave."

A beaker was thrust at Tallis.