Not Quite Terran Part 3 (Scifi Alien Romance) by Erin Tate Page B

He took a step away from her, his attention split between the message he’d received and her. “They’re going to… They ordered you to be released, but first they want to…”
    Sweat dotted his brow and panic was plain on his features. He glanced around the room; his attention darting to the camera perched in the corner and then back to the device in hand. A few key punches and then the red light indicating the camera was recording blinked out.
    “I have less than three tics. Poxu ordered your release, but the medical director doesn’t want to lose out on studying your hand. He’s an opportunistic bastard. And the orders aren’t very specific.” True fear and regret filled his gaze. “You’ll walk out of here, Rebecca, but it might not be all of you.” He glanced at her hand. “You understand what I’m saying?”
    Her initial excitement and anticipation at hearing she’d be released was immediately banished by a gut clenching fear. She’d heard of males like the medical director, those in power who, when it suited them, adhered to the literal word of an order rather than interpreting the spirit. Hell, most males in charge were the same way when it came to accomplishing their own goals.
    A ship carrying six million Terran tons of jittanian ore needs to be returned to its home world and the federation is tasked with completing the job. Well, that world would receive the ship. Not necessarily the tons of ore.
    “You’re joking.”
    “No, I’m not.”
    “Fuck.” She glanced at her hand. She was pretty damned attached to that part of her and not just in a literal sense. The twining vines—that’s what they were, vines—meant something to her even if she didn’t quite understand why. She just knew she couldn’t lose them. “When am I slotted for release?”
    He licked his lips, panic filling his expression. “This afternoon. Two zentics.”
    “So they’ll take it soon?”
    He nodded, regret now banishing the panic. “Just as soon as I go to the wall and request a hypo of sedative to make you compliant.”
    “I don’t suppose I can convince you not to sedate me?” He remained silent and skeptical. “Come on, give me a fighting chance here. If I can make it out the structure, he’ll be stuck. I’ll be out of his reach.” Two tics slipped past and he remained silent. “ Please .”
    He sighed, shoulders slumped, and the flicker of the red light on the camera caught her attention.
    That was immediately followed by a crackling voice filling the air. “Technician Atan, is all well?”
    She recognized that voice, the director himself.
    “Yes, Director. I shall complete my task shortly.”
    “As you should.” The man sounded like an asshole.
    No other words filled the room and the technician rose from the bed, still shooting her a look of regret. Hope withered in her chest and she stared at the vines that even now gradually slithered up her forearm. It was as if recent thoughts of Karru and his nearness encouraged the change to spread. She ignored the sounds the tech made as he prepared the hypo. She didn’t meet his gaze when he turned toward her, device in hand, and she focused on the far wall when he pressed it to her neck to deliver the sedative.
    She suppressed the need to fight her way out, to kick and punch and… Do all the things she’d done for the past wentics which had ended in beatings and unconsciousness.
    His voice was hardly a whisper. “Good luck and may the God of All bless you.”
    No burn from a sedative filled her veins, and she realized he was giving her a chance. Her shock fell away, and she had the presence of mind to pretend to succumb to the drug. She lowered her eyelids and let her body flop onto the bed.
    The technician leaned over her, fingers going to her wrist and then her neck before he finally retreated. “All is as it should be, Director.”
    “Very good, attendants will be there shortly.”
    He gave her one last, long look, a silent “good luck” and