Total pages in book: 175
Estimated words: 166095 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 830(@200wpm)___ 664(@250wpm)___ 554(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 166095 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 830(@200wpm)___ 664(@250wpm)___ 554(@300wpm)
Frantically, I search the control panel, looking for the carrot squiggle. I swear she’s moving the buttons around when she thinks I’m not looking, because I can’t find the damned thing. “If I say no, are you going to get mad?”
“It’s right here,” she tells me and taps the display. Sure enough, the moment she taps it, the correct symbol displays. Ah. So it’s a different symbol until it’s depressed. I stare at it, making a mental note. Stick-man with four legs and no arms turns into exploding carrot, I repeat to myself. Stick-man with four legs and no arms to exploding carrot—
“That’s always a delightful sight, isn’t it?” She sighs, leaning forward on the controls display and gazing up at the screen. “So much opportunity.”
I look up from the control panel. For a moment I watch her face, and her eyes are shining with excitement, her lips curved. She’s so pretty, I realize. Pretty and strong and confident. I want to be just like her. Then I look over at the screen.
And bite back a yelp, because we’re awfully close to what looks like an enormous space station. It looks like a child’s ring-toy but inverted—neatly stacked rings with what look like thousands of tiny windows curved around a large central tube. As our ship flies overhead, I see lots of other ships zipping past, and the ring on the top looks as if it’s full of holes, which more ships come in and out of. Docks, I think. It all looks incredibly busy and far too close. “You should take the controls,” I say to her, jumping to my feet. “You need the chair.”
“You wanted to learn, right? Now’s a good time to learn. Go ahead and fly us in there.” Her eyes gleam with a zealous light and she grins at me, all teeth. “We talked about how to establish landing protocol. You should have this.”
Is she kidding me? She tells me how to land the ship once and she assumes I’ve got it? Does she forget that she’s also told me about the environmental systems, the defense systems, and how she used to mend the bots on some farm she hid out on for six months? All of that jumbles around in my frightened head and I make a terrified squeak. “I can’t.”
She waves an airy hand. “Of course you can —”
“Bethiah,” I snap, pointing at the vacant chair. “You take these controls right freaking now and you fly us in!”
Her tail swings back and forth, almost like a happy puppy. “Is that a command, fluffit?”
“Yes!” I bark out frantically, wringing my hands as our ship continues to creep closer and closer to that massive station. “Please! I can’t fly us yet! I’ll mess it up! I…I…” I try to think of something that will make her take the controls. Something. Anything. “Just do it! Or I’ll…”
“You’ll what?” she teases. “Spank me?”
“Yes! If that’s what it takes!”
Bethiah leans over and hits a single solitary button on the control panel. “Initiate docking sequence, computer.”
“Initiating docking sequence,” the computer chirps back. “Please remain seated.”
I’m positive she didn’t show me that button before. I’m also positive I’ve never interacted with the computer. Is this another game of hers? To push me until I break? I huff, glaring at her, and then storm off of the bridge.
“Does this mean I don’t get my spanking?” she calls after me.
Eight
BETHIAH
Humans. So adorably fussy.
I let Dora have her little fit as I watch the ship dock itself at the main port of Three Nebulas. I’ll have to pay quite a few fees for my impromptu visit, but I can make the credits back. It’s more important that my little human companion get the gear she needs in order to succeed. She’s been improving over the last few days, but she’s still a panicky thing, prone to anxiety. Sleeping in my bed has helped, but she’s still got a long ways to go before she’s a take-charge sort of female.
As we dock, I activate a script on the ship that feeds nonsense information to the shipyard records. The crew at the docks will know it for a fake, but a few credits will have them look the other way. Time to get to work.
I head to my quarters, putting on my rattiest-looking jumper and a pair of worn boots. My blaster-belt is equally tattered-looking, but the weapons inside are top-notch. When it comes to visiting a station, it’s best to look as if you don’t have two credits to rub together. The only problem with this sort of disguise is that Dora has to come with me, and Dora’s not a cheap sort of pet. Someone who’s broke wouldn’t have a plaything like her.
We need a solid plan, and most importantly, I need for Dora to go along with it.