The first thing that registered was the sterile smell of recycled air, laced with the sharp scent of antiseptic. A cage that had been scrubbed clean.
It made the back of her throat tighten.
Then she heard the low, background buzz that vibrated through the metal deck beneath her. The constant, soulless thrum of a Conservatory warship.
Violet opened her eyes.
The world was uniform and white. The walls, the ceiling, the floor—all made of a material that seemed to neither drink nor reflect the light. Magnetic restraint cuffs locked her legs to the hard chair, her wrists bound behind her back.
She took a slow breath, analyzing the situation.
Across the medium-size, hexagonal room, Veolo was already awake. She was strapped into an identical chair, her muscles flexed taut with silent rage. Her jaw was clenched, her silver hair was matted with dried blood at the temple, and her eyes burned with cold fire.
To Violet's left, Tamiyo sat as still as a statue, bound just as they were. Her face was a perfect mask of calm, detached observation, her antennae held in a neutral, relaxed position. But Violet saw the tension in her shoulders. She was running a thousand scenarios in her head on how to escape.
Violet began to process the variables as well.
Three of them. Where was Pulse? They wouldn't have killed him—not yet. He was too valuable. So they had separated him. Smart. He was the biggest immediate escape risk, the ghost they couldn't afford to let slip through the cracks.
Her gaze swept the room again, and she spotted a medical drone hovering up near the ceiling, out of the way. Its optical sensor glowed with a soft, red light, recording everything. Tamiyo turned and stared directly at it with a cold expression. Violet got the feeling they were more than just prisoners.
They were specimens.
But why now?
The door hissed open, and there he was.
Sable entered, still in his combat armor, the immaculate white plates contrasted by his black undersuit. He moved with an air of arrogant, clinical detachment, his helmet tucked under one arm, revealing a face that was handsome in a severe, joyless way. He was not a soldier here to gloat, he was a scientist entering his lab, and they were the experiment. He recognized the danger they posed, even bound and helpless, and he had not made himself an easy target.
The mere sight of him made Violet picture Elias’ desecrated body—made her smell the burnt hair and singed flesh. She tasted vomit in her mouth and forced it down by pure, livid willpower.
He was flanked by two lab-coated technicians, their faces pale and serious. They moved quickly, each holding a tablet, their eyes already scanning the readouts from the medical drone. Sable stopped in the center of the room, his gaze sweeping over each of them in turn.
"Begin intake," he said calmly to one of the technicians. "Log their baseline physiological and psychological responses. I want a full spectrum analysis before we transfer them to the primary research facility."
"Yes, sir," the technician replied, fingers already dancing across the tablet.
The medical drone whirred softly and moved closer, focusing first on Veolo. A series of faint, multi-colored holograms washed over her, scanning and cataloging.
"Specimen LV-01," the technician read aloud in a flat, emotionless monotone. "Lacravida, female. Estimated age: twenty-seven standard years. Vitals are elevated. High aggression markers, low-impulse control..."
Sable listened, his expression completely unchanging. He was not here to interrogate them, not with words at least. He was here to reduce them to a series of data points, strip them of their identities and turn them into entries in a file. He was here to prove that they weren't people.
They were just abominations.
The technician's voice was a scalpel, methodically dissecting Veolo into a list of observations. Violet watched as her friend slowly bared her teeth, the veins in her neck arriving on time to herald the announcement of her boiling rage. Malice appeared in one eye, mania the other.
"I'm gonna rip your fuckin’ throat out for what you did to Elias," Veolo seathed. Her whole body strained against the restraints and the chair groaned under the force of her fury. Her nostrils flared. “I'm gonna watch you bleed."
If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
Sable didn't flinch. He didn't even seem to register the threat. He simply looked down at his tablet, his expression as placid as a frozen lake.
"Ah, yes," he finally responded. "Emotional response to a fallen comrade. Predictable. Log it." Then he looked up, his gaze locking with Veolo's. "Such a primitive, furious creature."
He stepped closer, leaning so his face was just inches from hers. "Let’s not forget—you attacked first on Piria. Your human companion might still be alive if you had simply learned to keep your temper in check."
Veolo's rage faltered for a fraction of a second, a flicker of raw pain in her eyes. Then, it returned, hotter and more focused than before. She snorted and spat a thick glob onto his face.
The technicians gasped.
Sable tensed.
His hand came up, ready to backhand her.
And then... he stopped.
His hand froze mid-air, and he visibly forced himself to stand down. He took a single, sharp breath, and wiped the spit from his cheek with the back of his hand. But Violet saw the tell, the crack in his perfect facade. And she began laughing—a low chuckle in her chest that grew into shoulder-shaking, taunting cackles.
Sable's gaze snapped toward her.
Tamiyo spoke up. "You alright, Vi?"
Her laughter subsided, but the superior amusement remained in her eyes. She kept her eyes on Sable, staring cold daggers into the man as she purred, "I'm great, Tamiyo. He's under strict orders not to harm us."
The power dynamic in the room shattered, the air growing thick with defiance.
He was silent for a long moment, his jaw working as he visibly reined in his fury. Finally, his voice thick with disgust, he said, "You are correct. If it were up to me, I would execute you and have your abominable genetic code purged from the galaxy. But my superiors... they seem to think there is some 'use' for you.”
"What kind of use?" Tamiyo asked.
Sable turned his venomous gaze on her. "Quiet, machine."
Tamiyo's face broke into amused, mocking skepticism. "Suck my dick, you fuckin’ bigot."
Sable was left momentarily speechless.
Veolo seized the opening, loudly proclaiming, "Oh, I know what they want us for. It's the milk, isn't it? I heard the Conservatory's having supply issues, and they need a fresh source.” She glanced at the technician next to her. “This one can't keep his eyes off my tits.”
She looked back at Sable with an evil grin. “Your superiors probably miss having something real to put in their coffee."
"Nah, it's not the milk," Violet countered, a lazy smile spreading across her face. "It's a performance issue. You hear the stories. All that genetic 'purity' they're so proud of? It's left them a bunch of limp-dicked, pansy-assed bureaucrats who can't get it up without a government-issued stimulant."
The two technicians were staring at their tablets, their faces a mixture of horror and a desperate attempt to pretend they weren't hearing any of this.
Violet's voice dropped to a predatory coo. "Maybe they want to see what a little Aether Dust does to someone who isn't entirely human." She strained against her restraints to spread her knees apart. "Come on, big man. Which one of us do you want to inject? I'm ready."
Veolo stared at Sable, her eyes wide. "You mean inject us with Aether Dust, Vi?"
"Nah," Violet said, never breaking eye contact with Sable. "I think he wants to fuck us. I can smell it. The desperation. The loneliness. It's been a long, long time since this piece of shit got off."
Veolo leaned forward as much as her chair would allow, taking an exaggerated sniff of the air. "Really? Smells to me like they cut his balls off when they gave him that uniform."
Tamiyo snorted and burst into a bout of genuine laughter, trailing off into mocking giggles.
"Come oonnn," Violet taunted. She shifted her hips provocatively side to side. "Stick something in me. If you won't, I bet one of your men will."
Her gaze flicked to the younger of the two technicians, a man whose face had somehow simultaneously flushed with embarrassment and drained of all other color. He flinched, his eyes darting down to his tablet as if it could save him.
Sable's mask of perfect control was slowly eroding.
"He's too much of a bitch to try it," Veolo added, her voice dripping with contempt. "Can't even take a real woman. Too scared to fight, too inept to get laid by anyone he doesn’t pay or force."
Violet's eyes narrowed. She wasn't just mocking, she was hunting. "You know what I think? I think you're scared. Scared of what we are. Scared of what we can do."
She leaned forward. "You want to see a real weapon? Forget your guns. Forget your ships. You and me, little man, one-on-one. Or better yet, you and V—she'll shove her whole fist up your ass and wear you like a goddamn puppet!”
Violet snarled and spat, thrashing in her seat.
The younger technician took half a step back. His eyes flicked to a small, cylindrical injector holstered at Sable's hip.
Exactly what Violet was looking for.
Now she knew what it looked like. She just had to find a way to get her hands on it.
Sable had seen the glance.
He turned away from them, grabbing the tablet from the nearest technician, and punched it several times with his fingertips. The medical drone whirred, a thin needle extending from its chassis. It moved first to Veolo, injecting her with a sedative that took longer to knock her out then they anticipated.
As her head lolled to the side, she slurred, "Coward…"
After her, it moved toward Violet, extending a fresh needle, but she was already focusing. She closed her eyes, trying harder as she felt the needle pierce her skin. Her head swam, muscles going slack. Her eyes opened involuntarily, vision blurry at the edges. She reached out with her mind, stretching her perception across the void.
Soren... she thought, her consciousness fading into the dark.
We're here.
Find us.

