Captive

by Cheryl Brooks

  “That part makes sense—in some bizarre way, although I can’t help remembering all the Zetithians you guys killed. You can see why that would make me less than trusting of you.”

  “Yeah, I get that, but there was only a bounty on Zetithian males—and Grekkor wanted them dead. Since both males and females wear their hair long, it was hard to tell the difference sometimes, especially from a distance. Some guys killed anything that looked Zetithian and sorted the males out later.” Leaning closer, he added, “That was all before my time, though. Never killed a Zetithian in my life.”

  His confiding air was undoubtedly intended to make him seem trustworthy, but Klara wasn’t buying it. She reached for the door handle. “I think I’ll go back inside. Something tells me talking to you isn’t going to do me any good.”

  She’d learned a little more about what motivated the Nedwut hunters, but in her present situation, she might give him some trinket to let her go only to have him run her down before she reached an exit. Then he’d haul her back to her room and the cycle would start all over again. She doubted he would get many honor credits for that. Then again, he might not care.

  “Suit yourself.” He leaned back against the wall. “I’m not going anywhere. Not for a while, anyway.”

  She thought for a moment. “Since I’ve already been caught, I could bribe you with something to let me go, couldn’t I?”

  He appeared to give this option careful consideration before shaking his head. “Nope. It’d be different if I’d caught you myself. I’d have a tough time explaining how you got away from me.”

  Personally, Klara didn’t give a damn what happened to him in the wake of any escape attempts. The only thing stopping her was the safety of her friends.

  It always comes back to that.

  That and a Nedwut guard bent on covering his ass.

  “Do you like working here?”

  “Not particularly. Most of the time it’s boring as hell. Wouldn’t mind a little action now and then.”

  “Are you saying I should make a run for it?”

  “Not unless you enjoy getting stunned. Don’t especially care for it, myself.”

  She’d never encountered a Nedwut this chatty before. “You’re more talkative than most Nedwuts. Why is that?”

  “No idea. Unless it’s the being bored thing. Guard duty is pretty easy, but you practically have to kill yourself trying to stay awake.”

  “I can understand that.” She thought for a moment. “What if you were to say I’d escaped while you were asleep?”

  He shook his head again, but with more vigor than before. “You don’t want to know.”

  Klara was about to deny being squeamish when she recalled a few of the atrocities she’d witnessed, and some of the victims had been Nedwuts. “Okay. I won’t try to escape. But if you could get me something to eat, I’d really appreciate it. After all, I’m eating for—” She nearly bit her tongue in two to keep from finishing that sentence.

  “For what?”

  “The, um, first time today.”

  He slanted a glance at her through narrowed lids—including one that swept toward her lower abdomen. “That isn’t what you were going to say, is it?”

  “No. But that’s something you don’t want to know.” Unless he was into blackmail, which, given the usual Nedwut proclivity for illegal dealings, he probably was.

  “Then you need to get back in your room before I tell Pelarus about my, um, suspicions.”

  Great. She’d unwittingly given him more power over her than he already had. “Okay, but don’t forget you were the one who left the door unlocked. And you were asleep.”

  “Guess that makes us even, doesn’t it?”

  “I guess it does.”

  She could only hope that Nedwuts, particularly this one, were as honorable as he’d claimed. Otherwise, her babies were as good as dead.

  With no one to talk to and nothing else to do, Moe fell victim to a hearty round of shoulda, woulda, coulda. Why had he ever come here to begin with? He could have dealt with his anger somewhere else. Luxaria would’ve been a great place to pick a fight without getting kidnapped. He’d been there plenty of times. Why the devil hadn’t he done it then?

  Because Klara wasn’t there. Oh, yeah. That old bugaboo fate had taken a hand. After all, she’d needed a Zetithian male in order to reproduce. The gods apparently didn’t want the Zetithian species to become entirely extinct.

  If that was the case, why hadn’t they intervened sooner? Crippled that Nedwut ship before it redirected that asteroid to its collision course with Zetith? Killed Rutger Grekkor long before he began his crusade to wipe out every Zetithian in the galaxy? Or at least put Moe in the way of falling in love with someone else?

  “Fate is a cruel mistress, my friend.”

  A glance toward the doorway proved those words hadn’t issued from his own mouth or even his own thoughts. “Figured you’d come down here to gloat eventually.”

  Pelarus lounged against the wall just inside the door, leaving it tantalizingly open. “I thought I might give you one last chance to save your worthless hide.”

  Moe jumped to his feet in one swift movement. “I’m guessing I won’t like your terms.”

  Pelarus sighed. “You probably won’t. My suggestion is that you leave this world and never return.”

  “That was my plan all along until your people stole my ship.”

  “We didn’t steal your ship. Your own henchman took off before my acquisition squad could accomplish their mission.”

  Moe chuckled. “Acquisition squad, huh? Fancy name for a gang of thugs.”

  Pelarus’s initial response was a moue of distaste. “I have to call them something, and Nedwuts do relish titles of distinction. Plus, they’re surprisingly honorable for a gang of thugs. Believe it or not, there are some things they actually refuse to do.”

  “You mean like capturing Klara?”

  He tilted his head as his brow rose ever so slightly. “Something like that. In the end, I had to take a hand in her capture myself, proving precisely how simple it could be.” After a moment’s pause for a careful inspection of his fingernails, he returned his gaze to Moe. “I didn’t even have to get them dirty.”

  “Well, thank the gods for that.” Moe had done his best to maintain an even temper, but Pelarus seemed to know exactly which of his buttons to push and how hard to push them. Between his captor’s taunting tone and the lure of the open door, anger began to cloud his judgment, and he began gearing up for a burst of speed. He could easily blow past the man. If Vessonians had ever been known for their speed, Moe hadn’t heard of it. Then again, given Pelarus’s reputed wealth, a genetic manipulation wasn’t totally out of the question.

  I’m thinking too much. I should make a break for it. That’s what Mom would do.

  He’d never considered himself to be quite as gutsy as Captain Jack. Then again, he was her son. She would never forgive him for going down without a fight—or taking Pelarus up on his ridiculous offer. “I’m assuming I’d have to leave this world without Klara.”

  “Oh, but of course.” His smug, lilting tone made Moe long to flatten his big ugly nose.

  “That’s the whole point, isn’t it?”

  “Maybe for you. But certainly not for me. Klara is my mate. I will not leave without her.”

  “Then death in the arena it must be,” Pelarus said with mock regret. “Although I do imagine watching you before you die will be good sport. I have several opponents in mind for you.” He tapped his chin. “Choosing the right one is so difficult. Perhaps I should simply pit you against all of them at once.”

  “Have them gang up on me, you mean?”

  Pelarus nodded. “They’ve been spoiling for a fight for some time now. Keeping them penned up any longer would be such a shame. I believe five against one should be sufficient. Then they will only have to defeat each other. The last combatant standing will go free.”

  Moe couldn’t imagine Pelarus granting his fr
eedom even if he did win the match. He had two choices: a mad dash for the door or the chance of victory in the arena. The very slim chance…

  He cocked his head as a very Captain Jack-like strategy took shape in his mind.

  Why not both?

  “Conversing with you has been such a joy, truly it has. But I really must fly.”

  Moe was through the door and halfway down the corridor before Pelarus could shout for the guards. Knowing that a wide stun beam could take him down at any moment, he turned on the speed and never looked back.

  Unfortunately, he had absolutely no idea where he was going. Spotting another open door, he ran toward it without bothering to feint in a different direction. As he approached, the door began to close. He made it to the door before it slid completely shut, only to be pinned against the jamb. A quick dislocation of his hip and shoulder let him through. Pausing only to snap his joints back into place, he aimed for the stairs at the end of the hall. He’d only gone a short distance before a phalanx of Nedwut guards came thundering down the steps. They’d seen him, of course—Moe’s pace wasn’t such that he phased out of sight—but Nedwut reflexes, while better than most, were no match for his top speed. By the time they raised their pulse rifles and fired, he had already broken through their ranks to dash up the stairs.

  At the top of the staircase, he was confronted with two doors, both of them shut fast. A smack on the control box by the door on the left had no effect. He had more luck with the door on the right. The panel light illuminated, and the door sprang open. Moe ran through it into the light, only to be met by the roar of the crowd that filled the stands above a high wall surrounding a circular expanse of dry dirt.

  His escape had led him straight into the arena—unarmed with anything aside from his fists, his wits, and his speed.

  “Shit.”

  Chapter 22

  Klara was still chastising herself for letting the news of her pregnancy slip—and to a Nedwut, of all people—when the Zuterans returned, bringing clothes and enough food to sustain her gang for a week.

  She eyed the array of dishes with dismay. “I’m not that hungry.”

  Jaquet inclined her head toward the heavily laden table. “The Master wanted to ensure that you were served something you would like, so we were told to bring a wide assortment.”

  “I don’t suppose you could take the leftovers to Moe and my gang, could you?”

  “That is not permitted,” Jaquet replied with a haughty sniff.

  “You don’t throw away the leftovers, do you?” Klara was aghast at the thought of such criminal waste. “Not when there are starving people in the city.”

  “The remains of the meal will be distributed to those in need.”

  “Yeah, right. I’m guessing you’ll give it to the guards instead of the poor people in the street.” She hesitated, weighing her options before finally concluding that betraying her guard wasn’t in her best interest. That is, if she wanted to keep on his good side, which, oddly enough, he actually seemed to have. “Feed them too much and they might get sleepy.”

  “That is none of your concern.” Jaquet removed the domed lid from the largest dish. “You have here baked fish, roast chicken, and grilled dwithan, along with assorted vegetable options and sweets.”

  Klara could scarcely believe her ears. “Fish? Where on this dust bucket of a planet did you find fish?”

  “It is imported from offworld at great expense,” Jaquet replied. “The Master insisted that you have it.”

  “Killing me with kindness, huh?” Klara didn’t wait for a reply. “You can tell the Master”—she infused the word with as much disdain as she possibly could—“he can’t win me over by being nice. It can’t be done. Not by any method. I want my freedom and that of my friends. I’m not interested in anything else.”

  “Be that as it may, in the meantime, you must eat.”

  Refusing to eat was pretty stupid, especially since she’d already told her guard—she really should have asked him his name—she was hungry. “Oh, all right.” Grumbling, she pulled out a chair and plopped down on it. “It’s probably poisoned anyway.”

  Jaquet’s normally serene expression took on a hint of steel. “Your food is not poisoned! We would never betray the Master in such an audacious manner.”

  Klara picked up a napkin, flipped it out and draped it across her lap. “Hmm, yeah. Sure you wouldn’t.” She glanced at the feast spread out before her. “Okay, then, since it’s so very special, I’ll have the fish.” She knew precisely how special it was. So special, in fact, that given the local climate, she was amazed there was even a word for it in the Haedusian language. Must’ve been borrowed from Stantongue.

  After Jaquet placed a portion of the fish on a plate, Klara waved a hand in dismissal. “I can serve myself, thank you. You may leave me now.”

  “As you wish.” Jaquet signaled to the others who bowed and left the room. “You’ll need to finish eating and get dressed quickly. The Master wishes you to accompany him to the arena for this afternoon’s entertainment.” With a snarky laugh, she added, “I understand some friends of yours will be participating in the event. You wouldn’t want to miss it.”

  Seething with anger, Klara toyed with the idea of killing the messenger, but ultimately saw no point in making such a rash and useless move. Not when the lives of Moe and her friends were hanging in the balance. “I’ll be ready shortly.”

  After Jaquet left, Klara took a bite of the fish. Light and flaky with a delicately spiced flavor, the fish was better than anything she’d ever tasted in her life. “This would make an excellent bribe.” Getting to her feet, she heaped the plate with as much food as it would hold and carried it over to the door along with an extra fork. “Hey, Mr. Nedwut Guard! I have something here I think you might enjoy.”

  The door swung open so quickly, he might have been expecting her to offer. “You bet I would. I caught a whiff as they brought in the trays.”

  “Ever have fish before?”

  “Not since I came to this world. Plenty of fish back home on Rusarck. Been mostly eating dwithans since I’ve been here.” He shook his head. “Never have developed a taste for them.”

  “I know what you mean. They’re kinda tough and stringy, no matter how you cook them.” She tested the grilled meat with her fork and found it to be surprisingly tender. “Although as dwithan goes, this doesn’t look too bad.”

  “That’s because they raise them in cages and feed them constantly so they don’t have to hunt and their muscles stay soft.” He gave the entrée in question an exploratory sniff. “Still don’t taste very good, though.”

  Almost anything was better than what Klara and her gang had been living on. “I’ve been hungry enough to eat it anyway. Tell you what: you take the fish, and I’ll have the roast chicken.” She paused, frowning. “Whatever that is.”

  “I’ve eaten it before,” he said around a mouthful of fish. “It’s a bird of some kind.”

  Klara recoiled in disgust. “A bird? You mean like a kradjet? They taste even worse than dwithans.”

  “They’re okay if you cook them properly. Kinda tasteless unless you hit them with lots of spice.”

  Never in her life would she have expected to be receiving culinary advice from a Nedwut. “Do much cooking yourself?”

  “Some,” he replied. “We mostly eat at the commissary cafeteria, though. Fuel for cooking costs a bundle, and by the time I go off duty, I just want to stuff my face and go home to bed.”

  “I hear you. Stealing food usually uses up more energy than it provides. Having some bird-women bring it to me on a tray is much easier.” Unfortunately, eating any of it made her beholden to Pelarus. She took a cautious bite of the chicken. “This isn’t bad. Better than dwithan, anyway.”

  He snorted with laughter. “Doesn’t take much to be better than dwithan.”

  “Very true, um…” She glanced up at him. “What’s your name?”

  “Harlex,” he replied. “At least, that�
�s what I go by around here.” He wolfed down the remainder of the fish and started on the dwithan. Clearly he was hungry enough to eat it whether he liked it or not.

  “So tell me, Harlex. How often do you guys get fed?”

  “Once a day,” he replied. “The Master likes to keep us hungry.” With a toothy grin, he added, “Says it makes us meaner.”

  She couldn’t help but laugh. “Guess I should have been bribing you guys with food instead of credits.”

  “Maybe. Although credits are easier to transport—and conceal.”

  Considering the rules Pelarus had laid down for his Nedwut guards, the need for secrecy was obvious. “So you’re breaking the rules by eating now?”

  “Something like that.” He shoveled in a forkful of dwithan meat that would’ve choked a Haedusian. “I won’t tell anyone if you won’t.”

  “Deal.” Klara didn’t know exactly how to make use of the guard she’d befriended—they’d already ruled out the escape issue—but an idea was bound to occur to her eventually. If nothing else, he was more fun to talk with than Pelarus or the Zuterans—a fact that was even more amazing than having fish for lunch.

  She ate a little more of the chicken—she was actually beginning to enjoy it—until she remembered what was in store for the afternoon. “Know anything about the fight in the arena today?”

  “Some offworlders, I think. Not sure. Might be your friends.”

  Klara’s heart took a dive toward her belly. “The Zuteran said it was them. I’d hoped she was only taunting me.” She laid her fork on the plate. “You have the rest. I’ve…lost my appetite.”

  He glanced at what must have been a timepiece of some kind that was dangling from his vest. “Won’t be long now. You’d better get ready.”

  “Yeah. I guess I should.” She looked up at him, trying to decide whether asking for his help in rescuing her friends would be worth the effort. After all, what could one guard do? Stop the fight? Overthrow Pelarus and rescue Moe and the gang? Still, it couldn’t hurt to ask. “I don’t suppose you have any friends who have a grudge against Pelarus, do you?”