“Please?”

“No.”

“Pretty please?”

“Not even for a Vox neytive.”

Islana clings to the Psyke neytive who happens to be working in the Bridge. “Just a little peek. I want to know what you do on Auroris.”

“How about I escort you to the Cells and lock you up with no meals,” the neytive shoves her away.

Islana isn’t doing anything special to sway him. She never had to do anything on the Isle of Vox. She was alluring to the eye. Clean porcelain skin, thick black hair tied into three long braids that reaches her waist and four black eyes, irises, scleras and pupils. The dark green paint over her eyes and cheeks are fresh. Any neytive on her island would swoon at the sight of her, but now she doesn’t think it will work on neytives from other isles.

He ignores her, set on the orders given by Zaccur. Islana will have to resort to her natural talents.

She turns back to him and wraps her arms around his neck. “Is there anything I can do to change that little mind of yours?”

“Get off of me!” the Psyke neytive grabs her forearms.

Islana moves closer to his face and green smoke escapes her mouth in puffs. The smoke surrounds him, sneaking into his mouth and nose when he inhales.

She steps away from him to see his scornful face turn into a goofy grin. He looks at her the same way the Vox neytives would. His motor skills also fail him when he tries to stand up straight. Islana adores the way neytives react to her poison trigger.

She raises her arms again and draws him into an embrace. “Take me to the Bridge, please.”

The Psyke neytive responds with a nod and leads her through the corridors. Since it’s already phase, no one should be awake. If they cross any candidate or crew, she’ll persuade the gullible neytive to act like she’s in trouble.

To her luck, no other personnel passes them.

Islana has spent seven dials on Auroris doing nothing but dine in the pavilion and stroll through the cold corridors. There wasn’t anything of use to her. The Psyke neytives have a lot of useful things at their disposal. If she can find one thing before they reach Novennéa, she won’t be bored anymore.

After many twists and turns, they reach the doors to the Bridge. To the right is a fingerprint and blood scanner. Islana isn’t personnel, but she knows a neytive who is. “Unlock the door.”

The Psyke neytive lifts his three fingers to the scanner. It runs his prints and flashes white. He then spreads his fingers wide and a thin needle pricks the center of his palm.

The panel shines white. Access granted.

The doors open and allow Islana to step through, but before she goes any further she has one last request. “Go back to your duties and forget everything after you saw me.”

Islana sees his dumb smile before he stocks off in the direction they came from. The doors shut behind her, leaving her to venture inside the restricted area.

The Bridge reminds her of the Dining Pavilion, without the wide spread of food and sense of ease. A single pane window surrounds the Bridge, overlooking the vastness of space. On the ceiling, fluorescent lights cast a golden glow over the tables, chairs and screens. At the center of the Bridge sits an enormous display table, with holographic sensors around the edge. Panels and chairs face the table, enough to place one hundred neytives for the crew.

Speaking of the crew, Islana spots four more Psyke neytives on the other side of the Bridge. She crouches down and scuttles over to an open screen. One with a few holocards slotted into the table.

She swipes her fingers across the keypad and the screen in front of her comes alive. The table lights up as well, showing her symbols and images from the holocards.

Islana opens the first file she sees.

It reads ‘Vitares Trackers’ on the screen and it goes blank. Blue and red pixels appear from nothing and gather together to form a replica of Auroris.

The blue pixels show the structure of the stellar vessel, the Dining Pavilion, the Medical Wing, and the Bridge.

Islana zooms the image closer to the Bridge and spots a cluster of red pixels. The image forms a body, pulsating like a heartbeat.

It’s her heartbeat.

“Sneaky neytives,” she whispers. They managed to put trackers inside them, and Islana can recall when and how they did it.

The thing about being a Vox neytive is that they know the difference between purified and tainted water. She felt it when she ingested a cup one dial. If something she ate or drank was laced with poison, she would know right away. Vitares Trackers slipped right through her. Now the trackers were inside all of them. It’s not in one spot, it’s coursing in their bloodstream; monitoring their health, their brain activity, their every move.

Islana can’t stop smiling at all the information the screen is telling her.

The neytives across the Bridge continue their conversation.

Underneath the table lies a tray of unused holocards. Islana picks one at random and slots it into the table. She slides the file over to the side and copies the data on the screen. She doesn’t stop there and copies even more data from the holocards into her own, before the neytives finish talking.

Her moment of delight is interrupted when the Psyke neytives start moving their conversation her way. She slides down the chair and hides herself under the table, while the holocard still uploads the data.

“You have wasted half of our resources on them!” a sharp voice echoes throughout the Bridge. “These criminals hardly deserve this chance!”

“As the Preeminent, I am obligated to follow the orders Chancellor Prime gives,” Zaccur speaks with a firm tone.

“You were claimed Preeminent less than 100 revolutions ago, and your qualifications do not compare to the previous one.”

Islana hears the sound of a screen cracking. She fears her actions were discovered. She peeks at the neytives and calms down when she watches Zaccur break a holocard to pieces in his hands.

“When we return to Myalón, you can report your complaints to the Chancellor. See if you get a new Preeminent before the next division,” Zaccur kicks the broken holocard under the table. “And if you speak out of line or cause trouble during the Knyghts Voyage, I will inject you with Flatline. Do I make myself clear?”

Two neytives respond with a clear yes. The one who spoke out grunts and nods.

Islana notes every word Zaccur says, including Flatline.

“There are problems with the Restoration Tank. We need to start screening the candidates,” Zaccur grabs a new holocard from the table. “I want you three to run the diagnostics and finish within two dials.”

The holocard in the table makes a soft ping that wasn’t loud enough to alert the Psyke neytives. She hopes they leave soon.

To her surprise, the neytives reach the doors and leave her alone in the Bridge.

She took enough of a risk and doesn’t want to get caught before the Knyghts Voyage can even begin. Islana quietly snatches the holocard and hides it in her pocket.

 She moves with caution to the door. Poking her head out and seeing no one around, she slips back into the corridor.

Islana walks back to her room, fiddling with one of her three braids. She acts nonchalant like she didn’t steal vital information from the Chancellor’s subordinates. There’s not a bit of guilt in her, just satisfaction. She finally found something useful on this vessel.