From Ashes and Dust (Book One)

Chapter 11.2

A full day passed. Or, at least that was Vatra's best guess.

No one had entered her cell to question her. Nor had a single guard brought her food or water. She'd suffered hunger pains before, but the stabbing agony in her abdomen from the need to relieve herself grew even more desperate and turned unbearable.

Vatra pounded on what she remembered was the door. Any trace of a seam had blended into the mirrors around her, but she was certain the hall was on the other side of the glass her fist slammed against.

"Bastards!" Vatra yelled. "I'll piss on your floors!"

She didn't think the threat would mean much to them. They didn't appear like the type to care if their prisoners peed their pants. And, she had to admit, it wasn't a threat she was very proud of.

Surprisingly, the mirror slipped to the side. Instead of landing on glass, her closed fist hit an invisible shielding. The static that shot up her arm made her hair stand on end.

Lifting her gaze up in shock, Vatra raised her brows at two guards standing in front of her. Their faces were hidden behind the opaque visors of their grey helmets.

"Ah, so I take it you don't want me pissing on your floors?" she goaded. "Maybe I should just go ahead and do it anyway."

One of the guards made a quick gesture to the left of the door before reaching forward, grabbing her by the wrist. His grip was rough and careless as he pulled her into the hallway. Vatra stumbled to regain her balance.

She bit her tongue. It was pointless to try and get any information from them. They were obviously well-trained in the art of remaining unfazed by sarcastic remarks and relentless questions. She would only waste her breath.

Vatra blew air into her cheeks and allowed it to escape from her lips noisily.

The guards walked on either side of her. Their boots moved in step with hers, thumping along the pristine, white floors like they were marching to a slaughterhouse. Vatra kept her head straight but allowed her gaze to wander.

The walls on either side of her were smooth and seamless. White and grey tiles pieced together from the floor to the ceiling, where they turned into an elegant arch above their heads. She was reminded of older architecture, well before the time of the men walking beside her.

How odd, Vatra thought, these mortals are using something so trivial as an arch in the design of these ships. Maybe they just liked the look of it.

But, Vatra, having been one to not believe in coincidences, allowed the feeling of suspicion to build up in the pit of her stomach. Something else was going on.

They turned left, then right, and kept walking until Vatra felt like the hall was never going to end. Then, a metal door appeared to her left. For a moment, Vatra thought they were going to pass through it. However, she noted that neither guard made any movement toward the door.

The door was sliding closed as they neared. Another guard had exited the room, his head sharply turning to look at their approach. Curiosity begged Vatra to dare a glance over the guard's shoulder. Vatra's eyes fell on a sight that made her react without a moment to think.

Her left leg struck out—magnetic boot landing square in the guard's abdomen. The man flew backwards into the room. Her foot slammed to the ground, jamming the door open before it had a chance to seal.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" One of the guards at her side had managed to collect his thoughts, at last.

They're not the smartest bunch. Just my luck, Vatra thought.