Dualscar has had enough hoofbeastshit for one day; he can hear the helmsgirl's ragged breathing and quiet, pained little sounds behind him, and he's on the verge edge of control himself. Once the food is distributed and the slaves are back on the boat, he pulls the Crosshairs out of his sylladex and levels it at the captain's chest.

"Off my property and out a my wwaters. Noww."

The captain knows better than to press his luck, and goes scrambling back into his boat, and the slaves waste no time rowing it out into deeper waters. Good food or not, Dualscar is still a highblood, and something to be feared.

As soon as they're out of earshot, Dualscar lowers the Crosshairs and turns back towards the Psiioniic. Although his posture and the expression on his face don't change, his voice is low and urgent.

"Get her inside, help her howwever you can, the guard drones have some medical training if you need help. I'll be in as soon as his ship's gone."