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laser
weapon before?” He pointed to Meir—already guessing the truth.
    “Yes.”
    He turned to me.
    “No.”
    He sighed.
    I bit my lip and studied Meir’s hold on the
weapon. I moved mine, trying to mimic him, but lost my grip and let
the rifle fall to the ground.
    Malik growled and stooped down to pick it
up. “Try to look like you know what you’re doing.” He grabbed my
hands and forcefully—painfully—put them in the correct positions.
“You hold it tight against your body, like this, with one hand on
the barrel and the other grasping the pistol grip. Whatever you do,
do not point it at anyone unless you mean to shoot them.”
    Indicating a small red button on the side
near the trigger, he continued, “Press this to turn it on.
Hopefully, you won’t ever have to as you aren’t actually a real
guard.” He sneered. “But, if you do, you have to allow the weapon
5.3 seconds to warm up before firing. You’ll know it’s ready to
fire when the switch turns green.”
    I clenched my fingers around the weapon,
completely humiliated and furious that Malik couldn’t give me a
little leeway. Of course I’d never handled a weapon. His people had made sure of that.
    “Fine,” I snapped at him.
    “I’m guessing you know how to pull the
trigger?” His lip curled up on one side and he chuckled.
    Right then and there my initial attraction
to him was completely tossed aside. The only thing my mind could
comprehend was a pure and utter hatred for this boy. I wanted to
burn the flesh from his bones and desperately wished I could
control my newfound power at will.
    I leaned my body toward him and
concentrated. Nothing happened. So, frustrated from not being able
to burn him where he stood, I growled.
    He laughed.
    I was just about to spring at him to wrap my
fingers around his neck when Pallaton stepped between us and put
his hand on his son’s shoulder. “Enough. The inspectors will be
arriving shortly and our friends should be in their places by
then.” I wondered if Meir had also caught the poison in Pallaton’s
words when he’d said “friends.”
    All sign of humor left Malik’s face as he
turned his dark, furious eyes on Meir. “Just make sure this girl
doesn’t mess up, or else it’s my head that’s going to need
saving.”
    Meir gave Malik a sharp nod, and then
motioned for him to lead the way.
    The ramp up the rear of the ship was fairly
steep and smooth. I had a hard time keeping my footing while
forcing my stick-like legs to push myself forward. Every time I
lunged one foot forward, the other would try to slip out from under
me. Meir had to wrap his arm around my waist and carry most of my
weight.
    Malik growled.
    I blushed a deep crimson, grateful my face
was hidden behind the mask. I knew I was weak, and I hated it. I
was tired of Meir having to help me, and of Malik looking at me
with such disdain.
    It was hard to believe I’d ever found the
young Mamood attractive. The little sneer that now seemed a
permanent fixture on his face pulled his features down and warped
what might’ve been pleasant to look at into something hideous.
    After a few precarious steps, during which
Meir had to catch me before I planted my face against the smooth
ramp, we walked into what I guessed was the cargo hold of the ship.
The small, square room was much darker than outside, but the lenses
on my mask adjusted quickly. After just a few short seconds, I
could see just as clearly as if I were standing in a well-lit room.
Dozens of metal crates littered the hold, piled in random heaps
rather than stacked up neatly against the walls. Long, narrow
spaces snaked among the piles like aisles in a maze. Each crate was
latched to the floor and bore the same “LM” initials, as well as a
diamond-shaped symbol.
    “Luminarium!” Meir took his hand away from
my waist and stroked one of the nearest crates. “That explains a
lot. I wondered why the Leaders of Talia would allow any ship to leave the planet.” He looked in my