outside the ship. Very few of the thousands of Korozhet on the ship ever left the vessel, and, from what he could gather, slaves never did.
That made sense, of course. Until the Magh'-clients had finished clearing away the humans and the new world was open for Korozhet settlement—or, at least, until all subterfuge had been abandoned—the Korozhet didn't want the humans seeing their existing slaves of many species, or they might just guess what the Korozhet were up to.
It appeared that all pretense had now been abandoned. Yetteth was one of a group that were ordered to go out to the slave preprocessing station where the humans were being mindwiped. Someone had to move the empty and comatose bodies across to the implant station. It was not an easily mechanized task, and Korozhet did not do manual labor. That was for the lower phyla.
The alien air smelled sweet. After the naphthalene reek of the ship any air would have smelled sweet, but this was really pleasant. A little dry and rather warm, but certainly something to set the scent tendrils tingling. Yetteth fluffed them out slightly, picking up every nuance as the second force field was dropped and they walked across to the preprocessing station.
Yetteth nearly earned himself a nerve-lashing. He stopped . . . His scent tendrils flared, nearly doubling in size.
The breeze brought him a scent he never ever expected to smell again.
One of the People.
Female. s
That made sense, of course. Until the Magh'-clients had finished clearing away the humans and the new world was open for Korozhet settlement—or, at least, until all subterfuge had been abandoned—the Korozhet didn't want the humans seeing their existing slaves of many species, or they might just guess what the Korozhet were up to.
It appeared that all pretense had now been abandoned. Yetteth was one of a group that were ordered to go out to the slave preprocessing station where the humans were being mindwiped. Someone had to move the empty and comatose bodies across to the implant station. It was not an easily mechanized task, and Korozhet did not do manual labor. That was for the lower phyla.
The alien air smelled sweet. After the naphthalene reek of the ship any air would have smelled sweet, but this was really pleasant. A little dry and rather warm, but certainly something to set the scent tendrils tingling. Yetteth fluffed them out slightly, picking up every nuance as the second force field was dropped and they walked across to the preprocessing station.
Yetteth nearly earned himself a nerve-lashing. He stopped . . . His scent tendrils flared, nearly doubling in size.
The breeze brought him a scent he never ever expected to smell again.
One of the People.
Female. s