Izara took in the scene quickly.
The yautja was completely exposed at the waist. Along his stomach, genitalia, and upper thighs he was covered in a sheen of brown spray. Most likely a modified betadine scrub solution for prepping the surgery area. And from the position of the hovering plasma-saw above the creature, said surgery area was no doubt the creature's genitalia.
"Dr. Andrew," Izara began firmly taking a decisive step forward until she was on the other side of the operating table. "I cannot let you continue," she said evenly.
Dr. Andrew's cold inhuman gaze snapped up from the data pad in his hand and pinned her with an icy stare. Perfect in every way, Dr. Andrew looked like a model out of a fashion ezine. No, more like something ordered out of a catalog, she inwardly amended with a laugh. Every strand of his dark pelt of hair was perfectly combed back accentuating the strong lines of his perfectly structured face. It was just a façade. It didn't matter how many millions of credits were spent on creating the man in front of her, it would never hide the cold unfeeling emptiness in the synthetic's ice-blue eyes.
"You are not to be in here," his even voice was void of any feeling.
Between them, the creature's angry roars settled to an ever-constant growl that reminded her of the heavy engines on the hulking forklift vehicles kept in deep storage. Sometimes on her breaks, Izara liked to go down there and watch the automated goliaths silently follow their programmed instructions as they carefully moved the trapped detainees encased in a forever sleep in their storage capsules. It was an oddly chilling yet mesmerizing procession to watch. Thousands of lives forever trapped in endless sleep and unknowingly shuffled about like a bad game of Tetris in a warehouse in the middle of nowheresville space.
She narrowed her eyes at the doctor. "Yes, I'm aware you wanted that, but as you're aware I am to process all the incoming non-human detainees after your last infrac-"
The rest of the words never made it out of her mouth.
Moving faster than any human ever could, Dr. Andrew rounded the table and had his hand wrapped around the column of her throat. With two steps, he had her back against the far wall. The cold metal of the wall bit into her shoulder blades. Leaning in close, the doctor stopped his face only centimeters away from hers. This close, Izara could almost appreciate the stark differences in their bodies. Like for the pesky fact that she could barely breathe and he wasn't breathing at all. Stupid synthetics. Whose bright idea was it to make a superhuman, never eating, never sleeping, monster man with an ego? Because that totally sounded like a good idea.
"Infraction?" Andrew repeated as one perfect brow raised in question. "Let's talk about yours shall we, defect? Starting with your insubordination of a ranking officer of this ship. An interruption of a private processing of a detainee. Or-"
Izara's eyes flicked to the monster's on the table and she could see him thrashing against his diaminium bonds. Looking back to the doctor, she tried returning his frosty glare but feared she wasn't successful judging by his slowly forming smirk.
"You mean a mutilation of a detainee," she managed to cough out.
A flicker of anger flashed through the synthetic's eyes as he computed her insubordination. His hand around her throat squeezed her harder, lifting her higher off the floor. Pain seared all over her neck even as her vision went dark at the edges.
"You cannot kill me," she wheezed with the last of her air. It was more of a hope and a prayer rather than the determined words she meant them to be.
The doctor scowled for a moment before smiling coldly. "Your favor with the commander will run out soon and once that happens you will be the one on my table."
YOU ARE READING
When Izara crash lands on an uncharted planet, she's sure her biggest problem is her prisoner--a seven-foot, highly dangerous yautja. But as they struggle to survive on a hostile tropical island, they discover they're not alone. There is something m...