I did, nanites from my fingers worming their way through the touch screen to form a connection between its systems and mine. It didn’t take another second for the crate to let out a thump as the locks disengaged. The lid lifted, then slid back out of the way.
The eyes looking up at us through midnight-black hair were frightened, tear-strewn, and defiant. She was Feyn, and young. Mid-teens? It was hard to tell with them. There was certainty on her face that we were there to hurt her. When her eyes fell on the monk, his muzzle still in a half-snarl of anger, the thin skein of defiance in her almost broke and fell away.
“You’re okay, sweetheart. Don’t look at them.” It was Paige, doing something she almost never did, projecting herself in public. She leaned over the other side of the crate and smiled down at the Feyn girl. “I know they’re ugly, but they won’t hurt you.”
The monk was somewhat confused by Paige’s sudden appearance, but as his flaring nostrils told him no one was really there, he seemed willing to accept her holographic presence. The girl didn’t have a lynix’s sense of smell, though, and reached for Paige’s hand only to pass right through it.
“Sorry, girl,” Paige said, wincing. “This pretty face is just a projection. But Link over there is real, and he’s a very close friend of mine. If you’ll let him help you out of this crate, I promise he’ll keep you safe.”
I extended my hand over the crate and held it there, letting her make the decision. After a moment’s hesitation, she grasped my hand with her left one. Her right hand wrapping around my forearm, she hauled herself up to stand in the crate, shivering in a thin white shift that barely covered her. The monk quickly shrugged off his robe and handed it to me. I wrapped the oversized garment around her, then helped her step out of the shipping container she’d been locked in for God knew how long.