Plutonian

Chapter 51

My eyes glaze over the script and I try to calm myself as I read the words that have been prepared for me while a public relations officer fusses about my make up and dressing.

One of them is busy fixing the collar of my army uniform and another Plutonian is rubbing my cheeks complaining that I look too done up.

Lucian sits on the opposite side of the glider and he is studying my face like a hawk.

I try not to look so angry at the ludicrous script they have written as my speech to the humans.

Each line is a lie, designed to dupe the human slaves that the life of a fighter is glamorous and wonderful.

It is almost as if Lucian knows that this will piss me off and is studying my microexpressions like it is a textbook.

I pretend like I'm trying to memorize the lines and ignore him the whole journey. The closer we get to the human quarters, the more nervous I feel.

When we finally reach the North City gates I exit the glider after he does. He places a hand on the small of my back and I gaze up at him.

"Nervous?" He asks me and I nod my head slightly.

"You'll be fine." He leads the small group of us into the human quarters and numerous guards flank our sides as we walk through the building.

I almost laugh at all this protection. Do they really think the humans are dangerous enough to assault us?

The all too familiar grey walls and the smell of the horrible cafeteria food wafts through the air. It floods my senses and my mind with all those memories of waking up in this place to yet another miserable day.

I peer into one of the bunk rooms that we pass and see the many rows of beds that take up most of the room. Some of the blankets are made, some are strewn to the floor.

It brings me back to the days where the alarms used to force us to wake up and get ready for a long day's work.

We reach the end of the corridor which leads to the courtyard behind the human quarters.

I've rarely been to this part of the city before. We are usually too tired to do anything but sleep once we get back from our duties and are brought to our dorms immediately which locks from outside.

One of the public relations team members opens the doors while the others fiddle with some contraptions on their shoulders to record everything.

My breath catches in my throat when I see that the whole courtyard is packed to the brim with humans. They stand shoulder to shoulder, the size of the large courtyard is barely enough to squeeze in so many people.

Everyone turns to watch us walk in and head for the make shift podium at the side of the yard. The sheer number of humans in front of me causes a surge of panic to flood my veins.

All their unrelenting gazes threaten to crush me under their weight.

We step up onto the podium and a PR team member forces the piece of paper into my hands.

Someone adjusts the speaker stand in front of me and asks me to test my voice by starting.

I clear my throat and the scratchy sound it makes reverberates through the air like grating sandpaper.

I hold up the piece of paper and look down at the words. I can't help but sneak a look at the vast number of humans gathered here.

My eyes briefly scan the faces in front of me but I don't recognize any of them. The faces here are so young, the girl standing right in front of me can't be more than ten years old.