by Kiersten Fay
Ignoring the exhaustion and hunger that loomed over her, she moved quickly, seeing no promise of shelter. She was exposed, and if anyone spotted her now, all would be lost.
After passing through a few empty halls, guided by instinct alone, she spotted an open doorway. Beyond it, a sight she hadn't seen for a very long time.
Disbelieving, she was drawn forward.
The room was round with computer consoles wrapped around the edge. A center console near the back wall to her left stood alone. A massive window blanketed more than half the room and revealed a sight she'd been callously deprived of by Darius, a sight she had longed for.
Awe overpowered her as she gazed through the window.
Space!
Black. Deep. Vast. Speckled with pinpricks of light—endless possibilities masked in darkness. The power of it held her where she stood. Her tightly wound emotions nearly exploded at the beauty before her.
Only one thing was able to tear her eyes away and bring her back to reality.
She was not alone.
A young dark haired male sat facing the encompassing window with his back to her. His attention was on his computer console, clicking away, oblivious to her.
“Cargo's unloaded!” a distant voice came from behind. Someone was coming toward her. “The captain wants the ship ready to go as soon as he returns!”
Her stomach tightened, and a bead of sweat ran down her spine. Slowly, she edged away from the door and crouched behind the main console, the only place where she could hide. Unfortunately, she was but partially hidden. The approaching male might not see her upon entering, but if the other man sitting at his station turned, he would spot her instantly. She watched him intensely, holding her breath.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
After glancing around once more, a frightening realization hit her, and her throat went dry. She swallowed hard.
The control room!
The heart of the ship! A room that will soon be filled with bodies ready to take their stations. And the console she was crouched behind, considering its location in the room, must belong to the captain!
In a panic, she searched for another escape. There were no other doors. There was nothing else to hide behind, in, or under.
The station she crouched behind was only a few feet from the back wall, which was drawing her attention. She got the feeling that something was there. Something she was not seeing.
Then she caught it from the corner of her eye—a small latch near the floor, not too far out of reach.
The male entered the room. “Did you hear me?” he said to the other man. “Call the crew back to their stations. We'll be departing as soon as the captain returns.”
“Yeah, I heard you.”
Analia scooted out of view as the male advanced into the room to attend an unoccupied console next to his colleague, leaving his back to her.
She reached out and gently lifted the latch. There was a soft click. Her breath caught at the sound. Glancing at both men, she was relieved they didn't seem to have noticed the noise.
She pulled gently, half expecting the tiny door to squeak from lack of use, but it silently revealed a small opening just big enough for her to fit through.
Shuffling through the space, she pulled the door closed behind her.
Click.
She almost growled at the sound, which seemed louder this time.
After a moment of bloodcurdling stillness, she released the breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding and surveyed her new surroundings. It was a small, cramped space, seemingly for maintenance purposes. Tubes of varying thickness ran along one wall, lit by a dim line of lights. The space was barely large enough for her to lie down with her knees bent, which, at the moment, was extremely tempting. Every muscle in her body was pulled taut. Her heart still pounded with adrenaline.
Making herself as comfortable as possible, she fought against an exhaustion that threatened to drag her into oblivion. Passing out right now would not be good. Once she felt safe, she'd relent, but not yet. The ships had yet to detach and everything could still go wrong.
She tried to listen to what was happening outside her tiny enclosure. Nothing, it seemed. She pictured the two men clicking away at their computers.
Light and dark spots began to star her vision, indicating that she was losing her battle against the overwhelming fatigue pressing down on her. She had succumbed to exhaustion enough times to know that she was lost. Still, she strained to stay awake, rubbing her eyes to reinvigorate them in a near useless attempt to keep them from closing again. Her brain pounded with the need to shut down. Only now did her heart begin to slow. Breathing was becoming easier. Body relaxing, her head lulled.
Stay awake.
Vision blurred.
The last thing she heard was the voice of a man, someone who had just entered the control room. She was unable to make out what was said, but the deep masculine timbre seemed to ease her in some way. She allowed it to roll over her, a vibrating energy that wrapped her in a cloak of security.
Or was that just exhaustion making her delusional?
Still, she couldn't deny the energy she felt from him, even from within her enclosure.
His rumbling voice boomed again. There was no making sense of his words in her tired mind.
She closed her eyes as her brain fell into blackness.
Chapter 2
Sebastian Uthair sat in the all too familiar spot, across from Darius in a chair similar to his, but slightly lower to the ground. Darius was half hidden behind the large wooden desk, as usual. Wood was difficult to acquire in space, vastly expensive in its raw form. Fully crafted, it sold for astronomical prices, and was generally only acquired as a means to display status or wealth.
Wealth Darius had, which was made obvious by the overabundance of wood furnishings and expensive tapestries decorating his office. But status in space was meaningless. Space was a hostile environment that required a sharp and cunning mind over prestige any day. That, and a shit load of weapons.
Most of the items in Darius' office were displayed to exude a sense of upper-class and distinction, objects placed meticulously to build a sense of importance. Sebastian saw it for what it was: a facade of an egotistical man. This man was no more important than a leaf on the wind. As a merchant, Sebastian had to deal with these all-too-self-important types constantly.
Darius dressed—same as he decorated his office—with the purpose of seeming more important than he was. His suit, expertly tailored, was made from the finest fabrics. Shoes buffed to a perfect shine. And his coffee-colored hair was molded neatly, framing his face.
He sipped his cup of steaming liquid while, in turn, scrutinizing Sebastian. Sebastian's clothes were simple. His style was more wear-whatever-you-grab and less preconceived, although today he put a little more thought into his dress. A pair of black pants—riddled with pockets, buckles, and secret places to hide his weapons—a pair of thick black boots, scuffed with overuse, and a dark coat lined with a light-grey faux fur over a simple white shirt. Around his neck he wore two heavy silver chains, which could double as weapons if needed. His short black hair was purposefully messed, allowing his horns to peek out. He too knew how to put on a show. His appearance projected danger and reinforced the common knowledge that one did not want to piss off a demon, especially this one.
Darius sat silently, giving off his usual air of superiority. Sebastian matched him with a quiet reserve, knowing what was about to come.
Negotiation time.
“I'll give you half the agreed price,” Darius finally declared in a tone meant to end the conversation there. He put down his mug and picked up his pen, readying to draw up the new contract.
Two items missing from the load and the bastard thinks he should get half off!
It was rare for any merchant to feasibly acquire everything on a client’s list. Especially one of Darius' lists. Most captains understood this, which was why many merchants catered to the same clients. It was
the natural ebb and flow of space commerce.
Yet, so was bargaining.
Stifling his annoyance, Sebastian replied, “That would not even cover my costs.” His voice was calm, a slight lift at the corners of his lips, his face a mask of arrogance.
“A few of the items I requested are missing from the load. I cannot pay the full amount we agreed upon. If I did that, every one of my merchants would bring me only half of my order and demand full price.” Darius tsked.
“There are only two items I was unable to acquire and those items are damn near impossible for anyone to get. I would have to risk my life or the lives of my crew, and you are not paying me enough for that.”
“I disagree.” A knowing smile played across his lips. “A few short weeks ago, a competitor of yours, Kierok, I believe was his name, was able to bring me one of those items and charged me less than you quoted.” A steely pause. “Perhaps I should do more business with him.”
Sebastian knew Kierok, a rival merchant and a heartless creature. He also knew that Darius was waiting for some kind of outburst at the prospect of losing him as a customer. He probably expected Sebastian to crumble at his words and beg for whatever pay he was willing to offer.
But Sebastian could not care less if he and Darius did business. There was something abhorrent about the man. Sebastian sensed he needed to tread cautiously around him and always kept his guard up, as though he were a snake in the grass waiting for the perfect moment to strike.
“Kierok doesn't give two shits about his own crew and callously risked their lives to procure your goods. I don't work that way.”
Darius studied him for a moment, frown in place. “Kierok could provide me with all the same services as you,” he pushed.
Sebastian only smiled, never taking his eyes from the man in front of him. “If that's how you feel, I will have my men pack up the cargo and we'll be on our way.”
Darius tried and failed to hide a sneer before saying, “Unfortunately, I cannot wait for Kierok. But I will not pay full price for partial delivery.” He slammed his hand down on his desk to emphasize his point.
Sebastian shrugged, unconcerned. “I will offer to take three percent off the agreed price.”
Darius, visibly agitated, leaned back in his chair. “Make it thirty percent.”
“Eight percent.”
Through clenched teeth, Darius replied, “I will accept no less than twenty percent off.”
Sebastian pretended to weigh his options. “Then I am sorry. I'll have to decline your offer.” He stood, indicating the end of negotiations and his patience. He had many other contacts that would pay adequately for his supplies.
He held out his hand in a businesslike gesture, resolution covering his features.
Darius eyed his outstretched arm with disgust. “Fifteen percent,” he growled.
Offering him a fake look of indecision, Sebastian pulled his hand back and contemplated the new offer. If he had more time, he would have argued further, but he needed to be on his way. “I think I can deal with that.” He didn't offer his hand again, and neither did Darius.
Darius bent to unlock a drawer low on his desk, lifting from it a small black box. He reached in and counted, then recounted the correct number of chips before tossing them on the desk in front of Sebastian.
Sebastian gathered the payment, bid Darius farewell, and proceeded back to his ship, passing a handful of bodyguards on his way out. He couldn't wait to get back. The next stop promised to be a big job, one of their biggest. He was about to negotiate a contract with the Serakians—an ancient and wise race known for their peaceful and gentle nature. When riled, however, they proved to be exceptionally fierce.
To anyone who chose to accept, the Serakians were offering a generous sum to transport a curiously small amount of cargo. Sebastian had received the notice just after he'd negotiated the contract with Darius. Now that the contract was fulfilled, he and his crew would head straight to the Serakian rendezvous point. Luckily, it wasn't too far from their current location, and should only take a week or so of travel.
The commission from this coming job could feed his crew for months, maybe a year. Sebastian was protective of his crew. He was their leader, their captain. Every action he took affected them as much as it did him. Many in his crew were next to family. Of the more than two hundred crew members more than half were loyal friends, but only two were blood relations—his sister Sonya and his brother Calic.
With a sense of satisfaction, Sebastian crossed onto his ship. Calic grunted a nod at him. Calic was his second in command. He was a tough leader, and an even tougher adversary. When they would spar, Calic held nothing back, as if he possessed a deep rage clawing for release. He demonstrated a ferocity Sebastian had never seen the likes of.
Sebastian had the same rage bubbling inside him. However, he was able to hone it differently by focusing on the survival of his crew and on each commission. He understood where the malice came from, though. They'd both been betrayed by women they loved. Calic's beloved mate and their own mother had turned their backs on them at the worst possible moment.
As a result, both Calic and Sebastian kept their women at a distance, using them for what was necessary and discarding them the moment after. The only difference between the two was that Sebastian never slept with anyone aboard Marada, though more than enough women lived on the ship. A few had even propositioned him. It was a strict policy he tried to enforce with everyone, including Calic. But, like many, Calic refused to submit.
“Is everything unloaded?”
Calic nodded. “Yeah, how did it go with Darius?”
“He got fifteen percent off.”
“Huh. Not too bad.” Calic pressed a series of buttons on the control pad and the docking hatch began to close. Metal screeched against metal as the heavy locks moved into place and a faint hiss issued as the door sealed shut.
They made their way to the bridge, where Sebastian claimed his position at the center console. As ordered, the crew was at their posts with the ship ready for departure.
An unfamiliar fragrance filled the space around him. He sniffed the air. It was feminine. “Cale! Have you had a female in here?”
Calic laughed carelessly. Conceit dripped from his words, “Depends on when you're referring to.”
“Keep them out of the control room,” Sebastian scolded. If Calic was going to consistently break the rules, there were plenty of more appropriate places to do it.
So help me, if he had her on my console!
Calic just shrugged in response.
Not soon enough, the ship roared to life. Sebastian was eager to get to the rendezvous and accept the contract before anyone else beat him to it. His ship was fast, but they'd been delayed due to the contract with Darius. In hindsight, he regretted accepting that commission, but the deal had already been struck, and Sebastian always fulfilled his contracts. He just hoped the delay hadn't cost him.
He wasn't too worried, however. The Serakians stipulations were extreme, to say the least. Even though the pay was great, he doubted many would be eager to take on the job.
His crew barked out their actions as the thrusters fired, surging Marada forward. With the course set, Sebastian eased into his seat. The crew seemed to relax along with him.
For a long while, he watched the stars as they twinkled like trapped firebugs, thinking over his checklist of supplies. They'd made several stops before meeting with Darius, stocking up in preparation for the lengthy trip ahead. He wasn't certain how long their journey would take, just that it would be a great distance. That could mean weeks or months or, gods forbid, years. He wanted to make sure they were fully prepared for whatever was required.
Even though they were currently better stocked than they'd ever been, he would still barter for more supplies from the Serakians. Being over prepared would set him more at ease with what he was about to put his crew through.
* * *
——
* * *
&nbs
p; Analia woke. The unfamiliar rumbling of the ship reverberated through her core. How long had she been asleep? Obviously long enough that the scraps of food she'd last eaten were all but consumed by her body. The ache in her stomach punished her for it. She was weak. Struggling to even move her arms, she wrapped one around herself for added comfort. Icy chills racked her. Shivering, she stifled a groan, remembering where she was—a strange ship and an unknown crew. Her heart jumped as realization hit her.
I'm free.
It was done. She was no longer on the Hell Ship. Grinning stupidly, tears began to stream down her temples. She had to keep herself from laughing out loud. A weight seemed to have lifted from her chest, making her feel lighter.
Freedom! her mind repeated the word.
Her joy was cut short, feeling herself growing weaker by the minute. Her already cramped space seemed to grow smaller with each breath. Shifting her body in an attempt at a more comfortable position, she rested her head on the crook of her arm and stared at the blank grey wall. Once more, her stomach growled. She clutched her abdomen in an attempt to silence it.
She could only hope the crew decided to dock soon so she could escape this ship and disappear into a faceless crowd. Her pulse jerked at the prospect. Being away from Extarga was nearly intoxicating. But she knew, even though she'd escaped, she wasn't safe yet.
Getting on this craft had been easier than she could have imagined. Surely it would be just as easy getting off, right?
At the thought of Darius, she grinned anew, imagining the look on his face when he found that his precious Analia was missing.
Did I just giggle?
It was possible she was becoming delusional from thirst and hunger.
Just once, she would have loved to have seen the look of defeat on his face. To revel in the fact that she alone had bested him. Would he be engulfed in rage? Would he regret his treatment of her? Doubtful. Or would he set out straightaway to find her. Fear prickled her, and she lost her good mood. That's exactly what he would do.
