Page 155 of Commander’s Mate

Harper inhaled sharply.

I released the tablet and stepped back.

A small, private smile touched her mouth.

Then she turned to the room.

“Listen up,” she called. “We have something in writing.”

Women leaned forward. Whispering died. Even those who did not understand her English heard something in her tone and waited for the translation chips to catch.

Harper looked down at the tablet and read slowly, stumbling once over Farseek legal phrasing. “All persons rescued from the Ursaga auction facility and transported aboard Farseek Dreadnought One are recognized as free persons under temporary Farseek protection…”

I watched faces change.

Not all at once.

When Harper reached the line about no labor, sexual access, debt, or service being required, a woman near the back began to cry silently. Another covered her face. A third looked at me as if seeing me for the first time.

Harper’s voice shook by the end, but she finished.

Then she looked at me. Not as a captive. Not as a prize. Not even only as my mate.

I stepped forward and addressed the room.

“I am Commander General Zared Maktu of Farseek. My warriors took you from the auction house because no being should be sold. We cannot promise to return every person to their homeworld. We cannot promise comfort. We cannot promise that fear will end today. But under my command, you will not be bought, sold, used, or forced. If any warrior under my command violates this order, you may bring complaint to Harper Avery, Lieutenant Avantu, Admiral Degatu, or me.”

Harper’s eyes widened slightly at her name.

Yes, solmatu, I thought. You wanted work.

“You are free,” I said. “We will do what we can to help you decide where that freedom takes you.”

Silence followed.

Then one of the rescued women bowed her head. Another did the same. Not submission, I realized. Acknowledgment.

Harper turned back to them. “All right. We keep making the list. Names first. Needs second. Questions third. If you don’t want to give your full name yet, give whatever name you want used.”

I watched Harper return to the floor, tablet in hand, Scarlet and Nora already leaning over her shoulder.

Harper looked up.

Go, she mouthed.

A command from my mate.

I obeyed.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Harper

The argument started over laundry.

Not weapons. Not politics. Not mating. Laundry.

One of the rescued women—Ari Venn, according to the registry—had been assigned a clean uniform shirt and soft trousers. She stood in the distribution room holding both pieces against her chest and refusing to leave.