Mirelle
Mirelle“Hurry, hurry,” I whisper, my voice hoarse with urgency. “Faster.” I nudge the taller female with my hand. “Come on.”
Her wide eyes, glazed with anxiety and stress, are uncomprehending.
“Do you speak Ocretion?” I swipe sweat from my brow and cough. It’s the most common language in the galaxy, and these are human slaves—surely they understand my words. “If you want to leave, we do it now.”
The smaller one lurches into motion. “Mama, come on!” she wails, and tugs at her mother’s hand. “Please.” Then she coughs; the air here is inhospitable for human lungs. But the woman stands frozen and starts to tremble.
Fuck.
I’ve rescued over fifty humans, and this isn’t anything new, but it’s awful timing. Because out of the corner of my eye, I spy a being across the galactic ship l
