by Joanna Wylde
In record time they made their way through the mining complex and reached an area that could only be the central hub of the pinwheel. Jess noted with satisfaction that there were four portals leading into the hub, each of which had a large shield capable of cutting off the corridors if there were an emergency. The mining dome was already theirs. If they could close the doors, they would be able to pick off the inhabitants of the other domes at their leisure. One of the domes appeared to be a greenhouse; the second public rooms and the kitchen. The third housed the apartments, and would be their primary target. Jess marveled at the foolish arrogance the Pilgrims showed yet again. Everything was clearly labeled. It had simply never occurred to them that they might have a security risk in their slave compound. They’d made moving through the station laughably easy for the escapees.
The men split into their pre-assigned teams and prepared themselves to storm the apartment block. A small group of four men would remain behind, ready to close the blast doors if needed. There probably wasn’t anyone in the other domes right now anyway, but they didn’t want to take any chances. Logan gave the signal, and they started their assault.
Jess and his men split off from Logan almost immediately, moving to the right side of the dome. Moving silently, they forced open the first apartment door. Two of the men slipped in, prepared to capture or kill the inhabitants. Jess waved the rest of the men on; there were more apartments to enter. Everything was going off without a hitch. No alarms. What had happened to Bethany? Had she changed her mind about alerting the station? Maybe she hadn’t even found her way out of the mining dome, he realized. He was surprised how much relief the thought gave him; he wanted her to live with emotion bordering on desperation.
He and his men had just reached the fourth apartment when a blast rocked the station. Alarms shrieked to life around them.
“Get back to the central chamber and see if they need help,” he yelled to two of his team members. “We’ll keep moving through the apartments. If you get the blast shields closed we’ll be able to take them out one dome at a time.”
He grunted as he pushed his way into the next apartment. There was a man stumbling out of his room. Without thinking Jess shot him, and a little girl screamed. He gritted his teeth, ignoring the wave of horror that washed through him. Grimly, he pointed the blaster at the child and her mother, directing them out into the hallway. There was already a small group of women and children huddling there against the wall; one of his men watched over them grimly. Would he be able to keep them safe? He turned to look down the hallway, assessing their next move.
He heard a scuffle, then the little girl ran by him. He jumped after her, missing the fabric of her nightshirt by inches. She darted around the corner and was gone. Already Jess could hear blaster fire breaking out in the distance. What if the Pilgrims managed to get organized and mounted an assault on their position? He and his fellow slaves were hopelessly outnumbered, but they did have one thing on their side, he thought. They were desperate. They weren’t going back to slavery, even if it meant blowing apart the entire station.
Somehow the thought was small comfort in the face of a child running for her life…
* * * * *
Smoke billowed through the corridor as Bethany ran toward her apartment. Immediately the air scrubbers kicked into action, adding a high-pitched whine to the noise around her. Men were spilling out of their apartments, some pulling their pants on as they ran. Each and every one of their faces held an expression of grim purpose. They were preparing to fight for their lives.
She turned the corner to her father’s apartment at a run, and flung herself against the door. It slid open. She stepped in and locked it behind her.
Now what?
Before she had time to think, someone was pounding on the door. She looked at the small monitor next to it, the one connected to the security camera, to see who it was. Amador, captain of the station’s guards. She opened the door.
“Where is your father?” he asked, his voice tight.
Without thinking, she replied, “He’s dead.”
The words startled her; she should have lied. Now she would be caught. The thought was cut off as another explosion rocked the station.
Amadar cursed, running a hand through his hair.
“I didn’t realize they’d gotten this far in yet,” he said. “What happened?”
She looked at him, startled. Then it fell into place. Naturally, he assumed Bose had been killed by the slaves. Relief washed through her and a detached part of her mind noted that her entire body seemed to be trembling.
“I don’t know,” she said quickly. “I escaped the mining compound and came to warn everyone. By the time I got here he was already dead. They killed him in his bed,” she added for good measure, trying to inject a sense of outrage into her voice.
“It’s horrible,” she added in a strained whisper.
Amadar looked at her sharply, then turned as another man called his name.
“Lock your door and stay hidden,” he said quickly. “We’re going to fight them. Be prepared to defend yourself.”
He turned and ran down the hall. She closed the door behind him and leaned heavily against the wall. Suddenly her strength gave out, and she felt herself sliding to the floor.
It was too much. Tears welled up in her eyes, but before she could give in to hysterics there was more frantic beating on the door. She looked to the monitor, but didn’t see anyone. The camera was sweeping across the hallway, and to her disgust she realized she must have activated a “search” sequence. Some good the damn thing would do her now.
“Who is it?” she asked anxiously.
“Let me in!” a little girl’s voice called. Bethany jumped up and opened the door, pulling in a child who could be no more than six or seven years old. She was a wearing a nightgown. Her brown braids had come loose, and her cheek was streaked with black soot. Bethany took one look at her and picked her up, hugging her fiercely.
“It’s okay, I’ll take care of you,” she whispered into the little girl’s ear. The child’s body shook as she burst into tears. Bethany searched her memory, trying to remember the girl’s name. Was it Sara? Dara?
Before she could ask there was more pounding on the door.
“It’s me, Moriah!”
She set the girl down and opened the door a third time. The younger woman stumbled in, baby clutched in her arms.
“It’s horrible out there,” she said, voice high-pitched with fear. “I don’t know what’s happening. They’re fighting in the hallways, and someone came to my door and told me to run while I still could. I think that our men are losing control of the dome.”
“The slaves are escaping,” Bethany said quietly. “I tried to warn the elders, but I couldn’t get here fast enough. Do you have any idea how many people have died? Are they hurting the children?”
“I have no idea. We’ve got to find a place to hide,” Moriah said. “They were coming this way. Where can we go?”
“I tried crawling through the air ducts earlier,” Bethany said tightly. “But that won’t work now. The air scrubbers are on. If we go up there now we might smother.”
“There’s no way in or out of the apartment except the front door, is there?”
“No,” Bethany said slowly. “I think we’re trapped here.”
“Let’s barricade ourselves in your bedroom,” Moriah said in desperation. “They’ll come looking for your father. Maybe they won’t look there.”
She and Bethany exchanged a long look, and Bethany smiled gently. They both knew her bedroom wouldn’t be safe. There weren’t any safe places left to hide.
“All right,” Bethany said finally. She turned to the child, suddenly remembering her name. Zara. It was Zara.
“Zara, we’re going to go back here now,” she said, reaching out a hand. The girl took it slowly, and together they walked toward the back room. All they could do now was wait.
They sat in the back room, huddled, fo
r what seemed like hours. Explosions continued to rock the station. Zara cried and moaned while the baby grew fussy. Moriah tried nursing her, but she was too afraid to eat. Bethany held Zara tightly, and watched her small clock.
Less than ten minutes had passed since they’d gone into the back room together, but those minutes had lasted a lifetime.
They started hearing noises out in their own hallway. Bethany and Moriah looked at each other, and finally Bethany spoke.
“I have to know what’s going on,” she whispered. “I’ll be back in a minute.”
“Don’t,” Moriah said. “It’s too dangerous.”
“It’s dangerous no matter what we do,” Bethany replied grimly.
She stood and walked shakily out into the main living room. The noises outside were growing louder. She could hear men calling to each other, and the sounds of blasters firing. The worst of the fighting seemed to be right outside the apartment.
She walked up to the door and looked at the small screen next to it. Now she could see into the hallway through her father’s ridiculous security camera. Jess was standing directly outside the apartment door, face twisted with rage and triumph. His pressure suit hung in tatters around him. His arms, strong and roped with muscle, held a blaster pointed at the locking mechanism. Terrified, Bethany ran toward the back of the apartment; they would be inside any minute. She had no idea what would happen to them. Jess had told her the women wouldn’t be hurt but she didn’t believe him. She had seen the bloodlust in his eyes.
She and Moriah pushed into the closet, pulling an old blanket over themselves and the children. Would the slaves realize they had found her father’s apartment? Of course, she thought in disgust. The door was clearly labeled. Everything was labeled, she realized, shaking her head. How much easier had the Pilgrims made it for the slaves?
Yet another explosion rocked the apartment, and then they could hear the men’s triumphant cries as they came inside. Jess’ voice sounded above the others, giving an order.
“I want Bose,” he said. “And I want him alive.”
The men hooted in response, their voices sounding triumphant.
“Good news, Jess,” one of them called. “Logan just radioed a message. The second dome is fully under our control. The men over there have surrendered; they’re locking them up right now.”
“Jess, get in here,” another man called. “Bose is dead. Looks like someone did him in a while ago, a day at least”
“What?”
Bethany shivered in the closet, pulling Zara closer to her body.
“Stay quiet,” she whispered to the child. Zara nodded.
Then the baby sneezed, and all hell broke loose.
Chapter Eight
Jess stood over Bose’s body, his moment of triumph feeling empty. The bastard was already dead. Someone had gotten to him first.
A baby sneezed.
“There’s someone in the other room,” he said, voice tight. Two of the men nodded, and went into the smaller room in back. They had already cleared out nearly 20 apartments; they had come to realized just how important it was to keep each other covered.
And instant later one of the men gave a startled yelp. Jess brought his blaster up, ready to fire. A small child streaked through the room, hair flying behind her, teeth grimly clenched. Jess gasped; he’d almost shot her. Just one more close call. One of the men took off after her.
“Zara!” a woman’s voice called. Bethany’s voice. The child was forgotten; Bethany was in there. Hiding from him. He could feel a fierce grin spreading across his face, blood surged through his body to his groin.
The station was all but theirs; now she would be, too.
He stalked into the room to find two women huddled in the closet. One of them clutched a baby. The other one was Bethany.
He nodded at Kresn.
“Take her and the kid out to the other prisoners,” he said in a grim voice, pointing to the other woman. “I’ll take care of this one.”
Kresn gave him a knowing look.
“Remember, we aren’t finished yet,” he murmured.
“I know,” Jess said. “I’ll just be a minute.”
Kresn reached down and pulled the other woman to her feet. He wrapped one hand around her upper arm, but she shook it off.
“I’ll go with you,” she said, her voice dignified and quiet. Kresn quirked an eyebrow and bowed to her mockingly.
“Of course,” he said.
She stiffened, but didn’t reply. Together they left the room.
Jess was left alone with Bethany. She was dirty. Her hair had come loose from its braids, flowing down her back in a river of brown waves. He’d dreamt of touching that hair, wrapping it around his fingers a thousand times; now she was his. He’d kill any man who tried to take her away from him, and he’d be damned if he’d tolerate her running away from him again.
“Get up,” he said. She stood, eyes darting around the room. Looking for escape? He laughed at her mockingly.
“You aren’t getting away this time,” he said. “The station is ours. Your father is dead. How did that happen, by the way? I was looking forward to doing it myself…”
She shivered, then lifted her chin defiantly.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said. “You must be mistaken.”
“Is that why you were so friendly earlier?” he asked coolly. “You killed him, didn’t you? You thought you were going to die. That’s why you fucked me.”
She refused to meet his gaze and he laughed. Without warning, she leapt for the door. He blocked her, wrenching a hand into her hair and pulling hard as she tried to knee him.
“Oh, no,” he whispered. “We’re not going to go through that again.”
He wound his fist tightly into her hair and pulled her through the apartment. As much as he was enjoying his moment of triumph, there was more work to be done. By his estimates, there were probably at least ten Pilgrim men unaccounted for in this dome. His hand clenched her hair tighter. She yelped in pain once, but any sympathy for her evaporated when he thought about the way she’d run from him earlier.
She had endangered herself recklessly; it was unforgivable. She belonged to him now and he wouldn’t tolerate losing her again. She would have to learn to behave from now on, to do as he told her.
As they came closer to the door, she started to struggle against him. There was a lingering smell of blaster fire and burnt flesh in the air. He shook her roughly, forcing her to keep moving. Then they were in the doorway. For one brief second her body pressed against his. Something in him snapped; he had to touch her. He pushed her up against the door-frame and kissed her. Not a tender kiss; his mouth claimed hers. He’d fought and killed to get her; now she was his. Forever. In that instant, he knew he’d never let her go.
She twisted against him, fighting and scratching to get free. She was panicked. He could feel it in the way her heart pounded. Her fingers clawed at his chest, and she ripped something loose. His necklace? Before he could fully formulate the thought, incredible mind-bending pain flashed through him and he dropped to the floor. He rolled there, his entire being pulsing with deep red agony. She had caught him in the groin with her knee. Again.
He forced himself to breathe, to push the pain to the back of his mind. He had to stand. Had to get Bethany. Had to continue the fight. Ignoring the agony that washed over him, he stood and faced her.
She was still at the door-frame, trapped by her own hair. It had wound around the destroyed locking mechanism. Smiling, he pulled a large knife from a sheath on his leg. He’d taken it off a dead Pilgrim just moments earlier. He raised the knife, and she blanched, whimpering. Her green cat eyes turned to his, and she whispered, “Please, don’t kill me.”
He laughed, the adrenaline in his veins turning to lust. Despite the lingering pain in his groin, he could feel himself swell with need.
“Oh, I won’t kill you,” he said, his voice low and threatening. “I’m going to fuck you. We’
ve got a lot of lost time to make up for.”
Then he raised the knife and sliced it neatly through the locks of hair that held her to the door. She quivered against him and he felt the power that was his. He was hard and ready for her. Without thinking, he lowered his mouth to hers again. His tongue pushed roughly into her mouth, branding her. He took no chances this time. His arms held her so tightly against his body that she could barely breathe, let alone attack. Finally he pulled away.
As much as he’d like to take her right then and there, he had work to do. Lifting her easily, he threw her across his shoulder and started back down the hall. She’d be safe enough with the other women for now. They’d have plenty of time to finish what they’d started later.
* * * * *
Bethany and Moriah sat huddled together in the slave barracks. They were surrounded by women and children. Almost all of them, actually. As far as she could tell, only two women were missing and none of the children. Somehow they had all managed to survive the attack.
There were no men, however. No one seemed to know what was happening to the men, although rumors were running rampant.
They were all dead.
The other domes had been blown up.
They were going to be left here to starve to death.
They would be raped and then tortured; they would be sold as slaves.
The list went on and on…
It had been hours since the last group had been brought in. They had heard several explosions, including one massive one that had to have destroyed at least one of the domes. Hopefully not the greenhouse, Bethany thought. If they destroyed that there was no way they’d have enough food to survive. What wasn’t grown in the greenhouse had been stored there.
Finally, the door opened. Two of the former slaves, heavily armed, stepped through. Behind them were Jess and Logan. The women quieted, holding each other and waiting to discover what their fate would be
