Page 18 of My Tiny Giant

“Do you think it’ll work this time?” This was said in the clicking language of yirzi, sending a shot of alarm through me.

Why were the Voranians here with yirzi ? It made no sense.

Slowly, I opened my eyes.

I was lying on my side, my cheek pressed to the cold tiled floor. Without shifting from my position, I took a moment to gather my bearings.

I was alone in a cage, its bars fixed to the floor. Agan was nowhere to be seen.

Agan.

The image of the brilliant green eyes of that cocky golden boy flashed through my memory. It was tempting to blame him for distracting me so much that I’d failed to check our surroundings before walking under those trees by the creek.

We equally shared the blame, though. I shouldn’t have allowed myself to be distracted by his pretty eyes, his cocky grin, and his insufferable attitude. No man had ever made me forget caution during a mission before. It was my fault I’d let it happen this time.

And now, here we were...

Where exactly were we?

I took another look around.

Two yirzi stood just outside the bars of my cage in a large, white room. I quickly closed my eyes, not ready to reveal the fact I’d regained consciousness. Their ignorance could be used to my advantage.

“Who knows if it’ll work.” One of the yirzi shrugged. “He’s fucked up lots before.”

The two appeared too preoccupied with something to pay attention to me. I opened my eyes once again. The yirzi focused on whatever was happening behind a large wall of glass that divided the room in two.

It wasn’t easy to tell with this species if they were coming or going. Two of their four feet pointed to the front and two to the back. Their arms could bend either way at the elbows. And their heads rotated three-hundred-and-sixty degrees. To change direction, all yirzi had to do was simply turn their heads. In addition, their eyes swayed on tall antennae over their heads, easily allowing the yirzi to glance backwards if I made a sound.

Thankfully, their attention remained firmly on something that was happening behind the glass.

My upper arm, pressed to the floor, was sore. Trying to remain as quiet as possible, I patted it, surprised to find the laser knife still in my sleeve pocket. The yirzi either didn’t know where to look for weapons on me, or they mistook the protrusion for a part of my bodysuit. Either way, having a weapon on me, no matter how small, lifted my spirits and gave me hope.

Slowly, I shifted closer to the door of my cage. It had a fairly primitive lock on it, with a deadbolt I could cut through with my laser.

Sliding the knife out of my pocket, I carefully rose to my knees.

In this position, the scene behind the glass came into view.

Agan was sitting on the floor, surrounded by several pieces of machinery and equipment. His head drooped between his wide shoulders; he appeared to be not fully conscious.

A Voranian male, wearing lab coveralls, stood just outside of the red circle painted on the floor around Agan.

I used to find Voranians terrifying looking. Their long horns, scruffy charcoal-gray fur, arrowhead tipped tails, and hooves could have come straight out of a nightmare. When I first met them in person, I had to make an effort not to scream and run.

The few Voranians I’d gotten to know a little during the past year, however, turned out to be friendly people. As a species, they were very fond of flowers and bright colors. I loved visiting their planet, Neron, whenever I had a chance. The City of Voran was an exciting and beautiful place. The buildings looked like luscious indoor gardens concealed behind round glass domes of various sizes.

The Voranian behind the glass in this room emitted a different vibe, though. The cold look in his burgundy-colored eyes was far from friendly when he stared at Agan.

He pressed something on a flat, clear rectangle in his hands, and a silver cone descended from the ceiling. A wide ray of purple light shone down on Agan, washing over him in a multi-colored glow.

With a brief curse under my breath, I quickly lit up my knife and slid the laser blade between the cage bar and the door, aiming at the deadbolt. Whatever the Voranian was up to, I feared it might not end well for Agan.

The humming noise of the ray cone filled the room, drowning out the soft hissing of my knife as it cut through the metal of the deadbolt.

The air around Agan wavered suddenly, distorting my view of him.

Then...he disappeared.