Between

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Prison cell aboard the CRL Lorskoto, approximately 300 miles southwest of the Kinnarr ice barrier, Great Northern Ocean

The first rays of another dawn at sea filtered through the tiny round window of the CRL Lorskoto, and J'taka Den-Keerta scratched another mark onto the wooden frame of the cot. Atop it, the human woman named Isla Williams was still asleep, but her breathing was hoarse and shallow. Beneath the horrid, green, blood-spattered uniform he thought he saw the point of what must be a rib cage, and it spurred him to press his hand against his own keelbone. It was more prominent than he could ever remember it having been before. For the first time, J'taka found himself wondering not if he would die, but how. The meals provided by the Corzeans were hardly substantial, and in recent days had become less regular. At the current rate, and with their health already in decline, it wouldn't be long before both his and Williams' bodies would enter full starvation mode.

Something had to be done about their situation. J'taka knew he had done nothing wrong, that his continued presence on board the prison ship was due only to human cruelty, but until Williams had entered the picture he had not felt overly concerned he would die there. Perhaps he had been naive, but somewhere, inwardly, J'taka had always assumed the humans would eventually release him. Seeing the way they treated their own, though, had given him pause, and he'd spent much of the past night contemplating ways to escape.

It wouldn't be easy.

His wing, still injured, wouldn't be strong enough to carry him to the skies for several months. He was even concerned that it may never return to full strength. The damage done by both the ice storm and the Corzean scientists may have been too great. That meant he and Williams would need to escape on foot and, depending on the timing, possibly by way of one of the Lorskoto's life rafts.

At the thought of returning to the sea in a small boat, J'taka felt his muscles tense. It was not a welcome option, but it might be the only one.

Of course, if either he or Isla Williams could glean information about the Lorskoto's path or eventual destination, they might be able to make an attempt when the ship was closer to land. The question that remained, though, was how to gather such intelligence without making the plan obvious.

On the cot, Isla Williams stirred, gave a few ragged coughs, and sat upright. J'taka turned his head to peer at her out of one eye, his beak clicking absently.

"How are you feeling?" Williams asked, her voice crackly as she rubbed at her throat with one hand.

"It appears they are skipping yet another meal," the avian replied, the fleshy corners of his beak tipping downward into the frown he wore more often than any other expression. His crest drooped. "I am growing tired of this nonsense."

Isla got to her feet, clutching the headboard of the cot to support herself for a moment while J'taka kicked his bedraggled pillow from its place on the floor in front of the cot to a spot against the wall. They'd made an agreement to rotate usage of the cot, but whoever was sleeping on the floor was granted use of the pillow. He watched as Isla approached the small sink and turned the handle on the faucet.

The stream of water that left it was weak and tinged with rust. Beside the sink, a single curtain hung to conceal the toilet from the rest of the cell. She disappeared behind it while J'taka took to pacing circles in the room.

"They haven't taken any samples from us in several days," the Kinnarr heard Williams' voice issue from behind the curtain. "But they can't be done with us, or we'd already be dead. Don't you think?"

"Indeed," J'taka replied. Williams returned from behind the curtain and ran her hands under the now clearing stream of faucet water.

"So what do they still need from us? I already gave them that poor woman's identification. They can't possibly think I have more to tell, can they?"