Snatched

Karina & Silo

Silo braced himself as he stood before his bedroom door. He hadn't returned to his room during the night, keeping a close watch on his female with his I-spy from one of the ship's communal quarters. It had been embarrassing. It wasn't done that Senior Operatives should share a room with regular workers. He couldn't get their smug, smirking looks out of his mind. The whispers. Rumours were now flying around the ship about what the Rictorians were putting them through. Most, unfortunately, were true.

And yet, he took some hope in the fact that he hadn't been the only one with limited success. Drake had also had to retire, defeated, to another set of communal quarters. Silo remembered how Drake's female had prowled around the lesson room, looking just as fierce as Silo's own mate—possibly even worse. Silo was ashamed to admit it but he was glad when she hadn't capitulated and put on the helmet. It meant he wasn't alone in this mess.

He and Drake had had a long and quiet conversation together as the others had watched their mates through the spy window. They would join forces. They would help each other. Tonight, if they still hadn't had success, they would sleep in the same communal quarters and bolster each other up; and damn to the furthest reaches of space anybody who made snide comments about them.

For now, he kept his I-Spy in his pocket, hoping he wouldn't need it to contact Drake, hoping against hope that some miracle had made her more amenable, despite knowing for a fact that she'd trashed his room and was now standing in the corner with her arms crossed and her chin to her chest.

Taking a breath, he pressed his fingers to the door scanner. He stepped inside, eyes darting around the room as the door shut behind him. The damage was certainly worse than what the I-Spy depicted. Now, he could see everything. Nothing had been left untouched. Even the cupboards had been emptied. Clothes were ripped and strewn over the floor. Food plastered the walls. The sheets had been torn from the bed, the mattress turned over. The shower was running and water was leaking onto the carpet. He hurried over and turned it off.

Everything she could move had been thrown. Anything delicate was broken. Even if they somehow made progress tonight, there was no way he could stay here. There was no way she could stay here. The hopelessness of his situation weighed upon him like an anchor. How was this going to be manageable?

He went to say something, then stopped. How was he supposed to calm her down when he didn't even know her name? When she didn't even know yes from no or hello from goodbye?

'Are you okay?' he said in a gentle voice.

She was glaring at him with those startling blue eyes. She didn't move. She looked tired. He doubted she'd slept much last night—if at all. She hadn't eaten either, going by the broken plates. Had she even drunk? He knew she'd gone to the bathroom, but that was about it. If he didn't resolve things soon, her situation could turn dangerous. He hadn't thought of that. He hadn't thought she might self destruct in such a way.

What if she starved? It was hard to believe, and yet he could see in her face that she might do just that. Remember the coop? he reminded himself. How she'd almost bashed her head against the wall? His eyes fell to her arms. Even at a distance, he could see the scars.

'I'm going to need some help, I think,' he told her. 'I wish it didn't have to come to this. But if you don't cooperate, I might have to restrain you, even sedate you.' He clenched his jaw. 'Is that what you want?'

She continued to glare mutely.

Silo sighed. He took a tentative step towards her, then stopped at the flash of fear across her face. She shifted her feet, as though prepared to fight. Her hands balled at her sides. This was not going to work. Instead, he turned to the kitchen panel. She'd managed to destroy most things but not the plastic tube. It was on its side, a large water stain on the bench. He went over and placed the tube it in its receptacle, turning the water on.