Ghwenn paced the cell given to her. Technically, it was an airlock, the same one the chief engineer had threatened to eject her from. But he never pressed the button.

A small mercy, which meant she had no idea what to expect. He’d certainly been angry when she’d tried to influence him.

And failed.

Fatigue, hunger, and stress had rendered her powers weak. She’d used them so much in her escape with little time to regenerate. Now, when she needed it most, she couldn’t draw on it. She had to rely on the dubious mercy of a man whose cold gaze let her know he would have killed her without a second thought.

And yet, he will be important to me.

She looked upon the man towering over her and it was as if a clarion went off inside her. A certainty overcame her, one that insisted this man would play a part in her destiny—and she in his.

If he let her live long enough.

She paced, pivoting every four steps, the space not giving her much room to fret. Her view consisted of four walls, two with grills inset within, allowing for pressurization—or depressurization, depending. The exterior wall did have a window giving her a view of the outside. Not much to see. Distant stars. Definitely no safety to be found, only cold darkness.

The wall with the door back into the ship also possessed a window, currently shuttered. What happened on the other side? Beside the frame of the portal, a control panel that didn’t respond when slapped. Which might have been a good thing given she’d hate to accidentally trigger the wrong door.

Step, step, step, turn. She hated being caged.

But it was still preferable to the alternative. Would he really have ejected her into space?

What kind of person ignored her plea for sanctuary?

The same one that fought back against her voice.

That just didn’t happen. Not with biological creatures. Cognitive beings were especially vulnerable to her skill of compulsion. But he didn’t succumb.

Why? Had she truly grown so weak, or was he just that strong?

Could be he’d used a rare mind shield. But she’d not seen him wearing one. Usually they circled the forehead, disrupting attempts to control thoughts.

Whatever the case, he foiled her. Which intrigued to the point that he consumed her thoughts. She couldn’t help picturing him. Big and frightening. The bulk of him pure muscle, the top of his head quite bare of hair. His countenance fierce.

He could crush her with one hand if he chose.

Instead he’d shoved her into an airlock and abandoned her.

An eternity passed. She spent it wondering if this was the end for her. All that running only to end up as space dust.

Better than dying as a pawn of her father’s machinations.

When the whir of machinery occurred, she fought to not scurry for the door, rather choosing to slowly turn, hands clasped over her stomach, head and eyes downcast. A properly subservient look that she’d used on Father the times his temper got the better of him—which was often. A daughter did not disobey her father.

Until now.

“Hello.” A smooth voice spoke, certainly not the gruff one of the man who’d put her in here.

She glanced upward and saw a new human sporting a brown complexion, his hair cropped close, matching his beard. He wore a dark uniform, the tunic fresh, free of adornment and rank. Yet there was something about his bearing, his very presence that shouted he was in charge.

On a hunch, she declared, “I seek asylum.”

“So I hear. What makes you think I can grant it?”

“If you can’t, then I wish to speak to the person in charge.” She gave the words a little push, and the man smiled.

Not a reassuring one she might add. He didn’t melt to her command. Didn’t do anything other than get an amused glint in his eye.

The dark-skinned man in uniform tapped his head. “Metal plate. Your tricks won’t work, and I see Crank didn’t imagine it. You’re a mind manipulator.”

The fact that he recognized it so quickly made her realize she’d gravely erred. By using her power without thought, careless really, she’d given away her secret.

The question was, what would these people do with her? There was a reason her father bargained her life away. A reason why she was so coveted.

As a valuable object.

Not a person.

Despite having been caught, she kept her head high. No point in cowering now. “I apologize for having made an attempt to nudge you—”

“Nudge,” the chief of engineering snorted as he shouldered his way in beside what she assumed was the captain. “Nice one.”

She continued as if Abrams hadn’t spoken. “I only did so because I am in grave peril.”

“The fact you truly believe your life is in danger is why we’re even talking. Give me a reason why I shouldn’t eject you from the nearest air lock.” The captain crossed his arms.

“I’ve done nothing to harm you and your crew. I pose no danger and just ask for asylum.”

“For how long?”

The one question she couldn’t really answer, but given the stern stare, she’d better create one. “I only seek passage until we reach a large port.”

“Then what?” her captor rudely interrupted. “You ain’t got nothing to your name. We searched the crate you were hiding in. Nothing but protein bar wrappers and an empty flask.”

“I am not without resource.”

“Then why didn’t you use your resources at the refueling station we just departed?”

Why? Because her ship had got taken over by pirates and she’d narrowly escaped being sold into slavery by a pair of brothel guards who probably regretted attacking the frail young woman. Her suggestion they become whores in her place also had the added instruction that they not use lube.

Served them right. But she didn’t dare say that aloud. Instead, she chose her words carefully. “I was accosted before I could make proper arrangements for an escort.”

“What happened to your previous escort?” the bald man asked, leaning across from her, arms crossed. She noted a band of metal around a finger.

“What makes you think I had an escort?”

“Pretty girls don’t travel alone. What happened to them?”

The questions began to irritate. “Take a wild guess as to what happened.” She’d left those guarding her behind to make her escape. “Will you help me or not? Because if you aren’t then let’s stop wasting time.” Playing meek hadn’t gotten her anywhere, and her patience began to wane.

“I’m good with flushing you out an airlock.” At her glare, his lip almost quirked. Almost.

It set her off. “What a disagreeable person you are. And to think I’d heard humans vaunt themselves as one of the evolved races, taking care of their fellow kind.”

“We do. Can your people say the same?” This time definite lip action from the rude human.

“At least my people don’t treat their guests like barbarians.”

“Only because you’re so snotty you never have visitors.”

“Why are you even here? Go away that I might speak with someone more civilized.” She batted her lashes, looking her most innocent at the man with the dark skin. “Is there somewhere we could speak in private?”

“Mind games don’t work. Going to try and shag the captain next?”

She wasn’t quite sure what he meant by shag, but she could guess. Her lips flattened, mostly because he’d guessed her intent.

“Go away.” She shot a dirty look at the current bane of her existence.

The cad rubbed his chin with a middle finger, and a definite smirk hovered around his lips.

She didn’t recognize the gesture, but she had a feeling… She turned away from him to the other man. Abrams called him captain. Someone of rank who could help if she convinced him.

“Please, I need your help.” Said in her most helpless tone.

The captain didn’t melt at her wide-eyed gaze. “Who are you running from?”

If she said it aloud, there might not be any more discussion. They’d just flush her out the nearest airlock. However, the rumors floating around might have reached their ears. How could she discover exactly what they knew? “You’re asking for an awful lot considering we’re strangers.” A weak excuse.

“Then let me introduce myself. Captain Kobrah Jameson, and this is Chief of Engineering, Craig Abrams.”

“Crank,” retorted the rude one.

“Is that on account you’re old and crotchety?” She hoped the barb hit home.

“She’s trouble. Let me flush her,” Abrams grumbled.

“Maybe later.” The captain fixed her with a stare that had her turtling in her hood, as if she could hide. “How long have you been hiding on my ship? Crank says he found you hiding in the silicia crate from La’zuun. But I’m going to wager you boarded after we picked those up.”

“It was during your last rendezvous with the way station that I became a passenger.”

“You snuck aboard,” Abrams interjected.

“Approaching you directly would have proven detrimental to us both.”

“So you’re admitting by your very presence on my ship you might bring trouble.” The captain latched onto the small revelation.

“No,” was what she said when the real answer was yes.

She heard a snort. A deep sound from the chief engineer. “She’s lying. Anyone can see she’s just gonna bring a shit storm down on us. Do we really want to do that? Haven’t you and that woman Damon married been harping on about the fact we need to be on our best behavior for this wedding party gig that we are grabbing at our next stop?”

Jameson frowned. “The contract for that one is tight. Huge payout for a successful trip. Big cuts in it if we don’t. Crank is right. We can’t afford any trouble.”

“Especially for someone who still hasn’t shown her face. We don’t even know what you are.” The cyborg smirked.

What were the chances she could remain hidden inside her cloak?

She didn’t want to show her face. What if they recognized her? What if they kept her alive to sell her later on?

Hmmm. That would work. So long as she lived, she could escape.

Her fingers clutched the edge of her hood and pulled it back. She knew what they would see. Her large eyes which, while similar to a human’s, were larger and could glow in the dark if she willed them to. Her skin was paler than the sand slopes of the barren Salia planet, a world made entirely of salt. Her hair, a short-cropped mess of black spiked strands. Her ears, with their pointed tips, bare of jewelry. Her nostril had a simple stud in it. No ring for the merchant class. No chain of nobility linking it to her ear.

“You’re a Driadalys maiden,” Jameson exclaimed. His surprise understandable given they tended to be a very reclusive race.

“An elf,” Crank snorted, using the more vulgar term for her kind. “Should have guessed. Sly bunch.”

“We are not sly,” she retorted. “It is not our fault that our superior genes are misunderstood by a race still considered in its youthful stage of existence.”

“Are you implying we’re unevolved?” Crank exclaimed. “That’s priceless coming from a woman who’s probably hiding from her own family.”

There it was, that disparagement again. Not that she could do much about it. She was in a position of supplicant. She needed their help, which meant, as much as she’d like to defend herself, she had to tread carefully.

It didn’t help he was correct. She did hide from her father. But someone as uncouth as Crank would never understand the intricacies of a Driadalys family.

“What’s your name?” Jameson asked.

“Ghwenn.”

“Ghwenn who?” Crank snapped.

“Only the royal lines have second names.”

At the explanation, the captain’s gaze narrowed. It flicked to the single stud in her nose. Then her hair, which didn’t match her eyes. Only purebreds could make that claim to fame.

“I need asylum to a new world. Will you please help me?” She tried to shove down her pride.

“No.” The chief of engineering didn’t even hesitate.

“I wasn’t speaking to you.” She glared.

“We could always dump her on the moon before Kluuma where we’re supposed to pick up the wedding party,” Jameson mused.

“That’s a few days from now,” Crank remarked. “You’ll need to stash her in the brig.”

At least he spoke of putting her somewhere. The brig must be their guest quarters. She hoped they would have a cleansing unit to remove the grime of her recent exertions.

“Actually, the brig is full.”

“How can it be full?” Crank exclaimed.

“The majority of them are still being repaired.”

“How much damage did that Brtuski do when he busted out?”

“Enough,” grumbled Jameson. “Which means we need to put her somewhere else.”

“Shouldn’t matter where so long as you lock her in.” Crank eyed her. “We can’t have her roaming the ship unattended.”

“I mean you no harm,” she said.

But they spoke on as if not hearing her. “I agree. She’ll also need to be guarded.”

“Guarded by who? You do recall she plays mind games.”

Abrams would remind the captain of her ability. As if it were her fault biological manipulation was possible to those with weaker wills than hers.

“I promise to behave,” she interjected. “I just want safety.”

“And so do I,” the captain said. “For my crew. Which is why, Crank, I am assigning you as her guard until we reach our destination.”

“What?!”