The meeting runs a good hour over time before the juniors are ushered off to their dinner with threats of the kitchen staff shutting the whole thing down if they don't get to it. I am then free to board the shuttle that will whisk me off to the next stop on my promotional tour.
“Good work today, Tess. We already have a hundred signups for the training program.”
Yes. Aren’t I a good little recruiter, convincing these bright young things to throw their lives away. Most will not pass the training. Perhaps one out of the hundred now submitting their applications will be accepted into the covert operations team. Out of those, a significant number will die on their first mission. It’s not anybody's fault. It's just that covert operations are harder than anybody can ever explain.
The shuttle is waiting for me at the Authority docking bay, just one ship among dozens. I board it with a sigh. I don't like these PR trips. They’re not what I was made for. I can do them, of course, but they bore me, and a bored Tess is a bad Tess. I wonder what my life will be like when it is all diapers and colored blocks. Will I find it tedious? No. Of course not. I will have a baby, and the same biology that makes me crave cradling a little innocent life in my arms will make me believe that she, or I suppose, he, is the most fascinating thing in the universe. My world will become pleasantly small and unimaginably safe, and that will be better for all concerned.
I board, lost in these thoughts. This is not a large vessel. That means I am transported in the same area as the pilot, a bridge/lounge combo. There is a private bathroom and one room of sorts, but it is typically put to use as a cargo hold. There are four lounger chairs arranged, two on each side. I pick one and sit down, leaning back to close my eyes just for a moment. I don't often get a chance to truly relax. I’m always on my guard, in the mode of survival. At least with this junket I can assume I’m safe for a while.
I can hear the pilot running through launch procedures. It’s quite soothing to hear a soft and competent voice murmuring along with the powered hum of the ship. There’s a slight jolt as we depart and then nothing.
I’m almost asleep when someone speaks to me.
“The last time I saw you I was under the impression you were a male.”
My lashes fly open at those words, delivered in a harsh, sibilant tone. I look into the slitted, venomous eyes of the Dinavri Lord Sithren. This isn't possible. He can't be here on an Authority ship. I can’t possibly be looking into his scaled face.
But I am. His powerful presence cannot be emulated and definitely cannot be explained. I don’t ask the obvious questions. I don’t want to sound like an idiot, shocked by this turn of events. My training is kicking in again. In an instant, I am in survival mode.
I don't want to seem shocked or scared. I want to normalize this. Obviously, Sithren has commandeered this vessel. Any humans on board can be assumed to be corrupted.
“Surprised to see me? I am sure you are. No. Don’t get up. You look so comfortable reclining.”
Oh, he’s smug. Very pleased with himself. And very dangerous. He is wearing traditional Dinavri attire which covers the more human appearing parts of his body and instead mimics the scaling on the rest of his skin. Dinavri do not wear much in the way of clothing. Their scaled exterior ensures they are protected from most dangers. Engineered plating that blends in with their natural scales is highly sought after by them. Sithren’s is nearly indistinguishable. That means, to all intents and purposes, he appears muscular and naked. He’s not, of course. His privates are discretely covered, kept from view. There are no current accurate descriptions of Dinavri dick. His presence on this vessel suggests that is a situation that will soon be remedied, whether I like it or not.
I have to pick my first words to him very carefully. I cannot give him what he wants, the satisfaction of my fear.
“Sithren, I have places to be,” I say. “Let's not waste each others’ time. I don't know how you got hold of this ship, but it's going to cause an intergalactic diplomatic incident. It could spark war.”
His powerful jaw and the harsh lines of his face barely twitch. My words make no impression on him whatsoever.
“Cute that you think you are important enough to go to war over, you mateless, ownerless, childless little wretch. You have no mate. No family. There is nobody to take up arms for you.”