Zara Novak, Transport Room, Planet Trion
Zara Novak, Transport Room, Planet TrionI blinked. Then again. My eyes couldn’t be working correctly because I had n****e rings. Just a few seconds ago, or a few light years away, I’d been in a drab hospital-style gown. The last thing I remembered was the warden counting down… three… two… one, and I definitely hadn’t had n****e rings then. Sure, I’d had a needle jammed into the side of my head for a voice translator, but I’d have remembered having my nips poked.
When the warden had said I was to arrive on Trion prepared for the planet’s customs, this wasn’t what I’d expected. I knew it to be an arid place. Hot. Desert-like. Maybe I’d be in a ridiculous outfit from I Dream of Jeannie with billowy pants and bare midriff. Me, in harem pants. As if.
