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“Yes,” I say, my voice sounding a little stronger than last time. Even if it takes a minute or an hour, I’ll take the pain if it means the damned thing will be gone from my neck.
“Brave girl,” he praises, then lines the tool to my neck. “Ready? On three. One. Two.” He never says three, the conniving bastard.
Sharp flaring pain rushes through my entire body, my vision darkening as it feels like my brain is being fried. I dig my fingers tightly into the side of the bed, squeezing the mattress to give myself something to focus on. The pain is overwhelming and though I try my hardest to fight against it, my mind simply shuts down.
I wake up crumpled against Zarkan’s chest. Unlike the electrifying tingles I get from touching Nikolai or the bone chilling fear I’d have at the hands of a master, being held by the captain feels surprisingly warm and comforting. Conjuring distant memories of being held by my own father, I feel safe.
I must have only been unconscious for a few seconds but it’s messed with my head pretty badly. The world is spinning and I feel like vomiting. Zarkan helps me to sit back, holding me up by my shoulders to support me.
“I’m sorry. I had no idea the anti-tampering mechanism would be that strong. Are you alright?”
“Hmm,” I hum, trying to focus my vision.
He holds up a chunk of metal in front of me, my eyes immediately snapping to it. In my astonishment, I almost forget to breathe.
It’s the collar. The same damned collar that has been locked around my neck for more years than I can remember now lies in Zarkan’s large hand, damaged beyond repair.
I run my fingers over it, needing to confirm it’s real before raising my fingers to my throat. Scarred tissue greets my fingers and I wince at the unfamiliar feeling.
When my first master gave me the collar, it would constantly rub and grind against my skin. It hurt terribly and I bled a lot during those first few weeks, something my master enjoyed seeing. Then the skin must have finally scarred over, becoming thicker and more resilient, no longer tearing when the collar rubbed against it.
The collar is gone, but the scars remain. They’ll probably always be there, reminding me of what I’ve been through. But they’ll also remind me I got a second chance. I’m not sure what I’m going to do with it yet, but I’ve got it. I’m not a slave anymore. My collar is gone and I haven’t dissolved into nothingness. I’m Z’Ree again, not merchandise.
“T-thank you,” I whisper, my voice trembling. “Thank you.”
Zarkan squeezes my shoulders comfortingly. “You’re welcome, Z’Ree.” I love how he deliberately uses my name to make me feel more like a person. Just like Nikolai does. “I know you’re probably scared of the future,” he continues. “But you have options. We’ll go over them later when the ship isn’t falling apart because a few crazy bugs chewed on essential cables, but for now, I want you to know that, if you want to, you are welcome to stay here on this ship with us. For as long as you want. Days, months, years, whatever. Keep that in mind, please. I know your situation is terrifying and seems hopeless, but it’s not.”
Tears roll down my face, tinkling as they hit the table and floor. How did I find a group of such amazing people? My throat is too constricted from holding back a meltdown for me to speak, so I wrap my arms around Zarkan and hug him to show my immense gratitude. I’m not actually big enough to wrap my arms all of the way around him, just reaching as far as I can around his wide torso, but it’s the thought that counts.
He holds me tenderly, like a father would comfort a crying child. “It’s alright,” he soothes. “You’ll be just fine, little one. The crew and I will make sure you’re safe.”
“Thank you.” I’m repeating myself, but what else do I say? That he reminds me of my father? That would probably weird him out.
As he pats my back, the scarf over my hair shifts, setting several strands free. “Oh, sorry,” Zarkan apologizes and begins to fix the scarf back into its original position.
I shake my head to stop him and pull it all the way down. I only wore it to hide my crystalline strands which easily identify me as a Silithrae. Since everyone knows what I am, hiding is pointless.
I run my fingers through my hair, wincing at how filthy and tangled it is. Every part of my body feels filthy and suddenly, I can’t stand it anymore. As if reading my mind, Zarkan smiles, “There’s a shower in the back. I see Astra already gave you some clothes but if you need anything else, don’t hesitate to ask. Have you got a comm?”
The world sways a little as I jump off the examination table but it only takes a second for my vision to focus again. Picking up the datapad, I wave it at Zarkan to answer his question.
“Good. We can get you a wrist-mounted comm later so you don’t have to drag a datapad around with you everywhere but this will do for now. I’ll go check on my dear crew and make sure D’Aakh hasn’t strangled anyone. Let me know when Nikolai wakes up.”
Feeling exceptionally brave and playful, I give him a mock salute and mouth a hoarse, “Yes, sir.”
Zarkan laughs as he turns and leaves the infirmary. The sudden silence is deafening and I feel a little queasy from being left alone after being surrounded by so many people. Or perhaps it’s just a side effect from when the damned collar tried to fry my brain.
I glare at the monstrosity. There were so many times when I’d considered prying it off somehow. Now, I’m glad I never tried. It would have probably killed me long before I’d gotten it off. Or it would have knocked me out cold and the tracker would have guided my master straight to me. A chill creeps up my spine at the thought of the likely punishment.
I shake it off. I’m no longer a slave. I won’t be punished anymore. Instead of worrying about collars, I should beworrying about finding a shower because I can smell myself and it’s not pleasant.
I gather the clothes from Astra into my arms and head to the room where Nikolai is sleeping. My heart aches seeing him lying there motionless, hooked up to a machine and with a large bandage covering half of his head. His readings are normal, at least.
I don’t understand the individual readings, but the machine displays them all in nice, neutral white, which means they’re probably within expected parameters. If something was wrong, it would be highlighted in orange.
Nikolai is doing well. He’ll be fine. He’ll wake up, open his eyes and smile at me and… I’m not sure what happens next.
Touching my lips, I remember the kiss we shared right before the ship’s systems failed. Was it real? Or did I bang my head too and the kiss exists merely in my imagination?
