by Joanna Wylde
She caught sight of her apartment entrance and relaxed for the first time. It always seemed to greet her from the distance, a small, blue door tucked in the corner of the hallway. She wasn’t scheduled to work the next cycle, and she was damned glad of it. She could use the rest. She reached the door and leaned forward to press her eye to the retinal scanner when she heard them to her right.
“You haven’t paid up, Sula,” a man’s voice said. Catching her breath, Giselle swiveled noiselessly. They were just a few feet away, down the other end of the hallway. Two guardsmen stood over a young woman, their stance anything but friendly.
Sula.
An unlicensed prostitute who worked the port. A sand junkie who was high ninety percent of the time, Sula slept in the corridor sometimes, and Giselle often left her food out of pity. The girl was harmless. Now she lay huddled against the wall, tears running down her always-pale face.
One of the guards kicked at her, and she whimpered, pleading wordlessly for mercy.
“Sula, you know what it means if you don’t pay up on time,” the man said. His friends laughed, as if they were sharing some sick joke. “This is the second time in row. Didn’t we tell you what would happen if you did this again?”
“I’ll do better,” Sula whimpered. “I’m gonna do better. Just give me another chance. Please.”
“I don’t think so,” the guard said, his tone deceptively light. “I think it’s already too late for you, Sula. You keep doing this and people will think it’s all right not to pay. We’re gonna make an example outta you.”
Giselle caught her breath as the guard pulled a blaster out of his belt and pointed it toward the cowering girl. She knew, deep down inside, that there was nothing she could do to help Sula. Nothing. That didn’t make her feel like less of a monster for watching.
With surreal slowness, the guard raised the gun to Sula’s head and pulled the trigger. There was a bright flash, and the corridor was filled with the smell of burnt hair and flesh. The body slumped to one side, and to Giselle’s horror, she could feel her fingers loosen. Her bag hit the floor with a loud thumping noise, and the guards whirled to face her.
“I didn’t see anything,” she muttered, turning away from them and fumbling at her door. Had the computer already recognized her? Would it open? They were going to kill her. She knew it.
She could hear them stalking toward her, and then the door opened. She stumbled through, slapping it closed and screaming, “Lock!” to the computer.
A small light glowed red. How long would it hold?
The door shuddered as the guards shot it with a blaster. She scrambled to her feet, running across her small, one-room apartment toward the fresher. She dove in and scrabbled at the shower’s back panel. She’d wondered if she was paranoid when she’d decided to get the apartment. The landlord charged her extra for an apartment with an escape hatch. Who the hell would be after her? Why would she need a second exit?
But she’d always had a hint of paranoia, and it had saved her ass more than once. This time was no exception. The panel slid open, revealing a narrow service shaft. She crawled in, pulling the panel closed behind her. She figured she had about ten minutes before they figured out where she had gone. More than enough time to get away if she hustled. As she crawled down the narrow shaft she whispered a prayer of thanks to the Goddess for saving her yet again.
* * * * *
Jerred smiled broadly as the security captain offered him a drink. Amazing what kind of service a few credits could buy, he thought in amusement. The bastards must feel like they’d won a prize, a man who was willing to pay almost anything to make the little run-in with station security go away.
“It’s a real pleasure to deal with such civilized representatives of the local government,” he said, tipping back his drink. The captain gave an oily smile.
“We do our best,” he said. “Of course, we wouldn’t want to have to go through this with you again. I’m sure that Manya can be persuaded to drop any charges against you, and as the representative of the port, I can assure you that we hold no grudge, but we really will have to ask you to leave within the next cycle. A little time does wonders for hot tempers.”
“That won’t be a problem for me at all,” Jerred said, mulling over the idea. A full cycle was more than enough time to find the girl and get out. Mission or no, he wasn’t going to leave her behind. He’d already decided that.
She’d cost him far too many credits.
“How much longer will you need me to stay here?” he asked, rolling the sharp liquor in his mouth. It was decent stuff, far better than anything he’d had in a long time. The captain and his men seemed to do pretty well for themselves. Idly he wondered if their Imperial keepers got a cut, or if this was strictly a local enterprise. If so, it might come in handy for Nicolai down the road. He made a mental note to tell the general about the captain in his next report.
“You can leave as soon as all the credits are transferred into the escrow account,” the man replied. “This would all be much simpler if you would simply authorize it directly.”
Jerred didn’t reply, simply smiling at him. If he authorized it directly, the price to leave this room would almost certain to go up. Immediately.
Finally the captain’s computer bleeped, and he nodded.
“It looks like everything is in order,” he said with a smile. “You’ll need to authorize the release from escrow before you receive clearance to leave the station.”
“Naturally,” Jerred said. “May I leave now?”
“Of course,” the captain replied. “In fact, I’ve even arranged for you to get your blaster back. Carrying such a weapon illegally is a serious infringement of port regulations, but I’m certain we can trust you not to do it again.”
Jerred nodded then stood slowly to leave. A younger man waited in the outer office with his blaster. Easy enough, Jerred thought. It was refreshing to deal with Imperials who were so direct. Too bad the captain and his men weren’t guarding the Imperial court on Tyre. That would be a real treat.
* * * * *
Giselle crawled through the service shaft as fast as she could move, wishing desperately that she’d taken the time to explore it more. Where the hell was she? And perhaps more importantly, where should she go?
Manya’s was out of the question. It wouldn’t take them long to discover where she worked, and she’d brought him enough trouble already. If the station guards turned against him, he could lose his livelihood. But all her money had been in her bag. What was she going to do?
A glow of light appeared ahead of her. Was it a way out?
She headed toward it, trying to keep as quiet as she could. It wasn’t easy. Her breath came in loud, harsh gasps that seemed to echo along the narrow metal shaft, and every movement seemed to rattle the metal beneath her.
The light was coming from a metal grate. She reached it and peered out into a long, empty corridor. She had no idea where she was, but they had to have discovered her escape route by now. It was only a matter of time before they cut her off. It would be safer to head back into the main areas of the station, to try and blend in somewhere. With a sigh, she realized that she would have to leave her hard-earned savings behind.
Again.
Was she ever going to be able to keep the things she worked for? Was that really too much to ask?
She shook her head—no time for self-pity. Pushing at the grate, she managed to pop it free and crawled out into the corridor. She looked down at herself with disgust; she was filthy. She brushed the dust off, wiping her hands down her clothing to get at the worst of it. She twisted to reach her butt, and something poked her breast. Memory came to her. Jerred, sticking his fingers into her cleavage and tucking something in. How had she forgotten about it? Why hadn’t she checked earlier? She must have been too rattled. Hopefully it was something useful. She reached down between her breasts and pulled it out. A credit slip, wrapped around a plastic room key. There were directions written on t
he slip, and her lip curled in disgust.
What a bastard.
But, she realized, he was an incarcerated bastard. Unless he was able to come up with an enormous bribe, he would be in custody at least a cycle before he even saw a magistrate. There would be paperwork, fines, all of that. Until then, his room would be empty.
She smiled slowly, wondering if he had left anything valuable in it. Under normal circumstances she would never consider robbing someone. But this was hardly a normal situation. Her life was at stake, and he was at least partially responsible, she reminded herself. It was his fault she’d been so late getting home. His fault she’d witnessed the murder. The image of Sula’s lifeless body slumping in the corridor flashed through her mind, and she cut it off ruthlessly. Sula was dead. Thinking about her wouldn’t change anything.
She moved cautiously through the corridor until it branched with another. She followed the larger branch until she was in territory that, while still unfamiliar to her, was at least recognizable. Here were apartment doors and the occasional small business with the shutters down. The only places open on the station at this time of cycle would be the bars, the places that catered to drunken spacers on leave. Blessedly, everyone on this corridor seemed to be asleep.
She ran through the corridors until she saw signs she recognized. She checked the credit slip again, realizing how close she was to the hostel. There it was up ahead of her.
Deserted.
She walked toward it with a deliberately casual stride, then ducked into the doorway and pressed the key against the lock. It slid open. She held her breath as she crept inside, praying no one would see her. She was fairly sure she could talk her way out of anything that might come up, but it was always better not to leave a trail. There might be surveillance cameras, but nobody would bother to check them unless they had a good reason.
She walked swiftly down the corridor, checking off the rooms. There it was, number seven. The door opened smoothly and soundlessly when she slipped the card in. Then she was safe, the door shut behind her. She turned to survey his kingdom.
At first she wondered if she had made a mistake—it hardly looked as if anyone were staying there at all. Her visions of credit chits or valuable merchandise lying about vanished. Still, a safe place to rest was better than nothing, and now she had a few hours to figure out what to do next. Hopefully it would be enough.
She moved across the small room to the plain metal wardrobe, opening it to find a small rucksack. She picked it up, took it to the bed and dumped it out. A change of clothing. A small comp pad. Several entertainment disks. She looked at the titles, and curled her lip in disgust. Porn.
The man was truly lower than a krellet.
Nothing of any use, though, or of interest. On to the fresher.
There was a neat kit on the counter, containing several small packets of cleanser and a shaver. A brush. Nothing else. Was the man some kind of monk? She’d never heard of a male this tidy.
She stalked back into the room and sat down heavily on the bed, thoroughly disgusted. Not a damn thing of value in the place. She was going to have to find some other way to buy passage off the station.
Exhaustion filled her limbs and she scooted down into the bed, taking unseemly pleasure in the simple act. She checked her wrist chrono, realizing she had been up hours past her usual bedtime. She was wiped. Part of her screamed out that taking a nap at this point would be a huge mistake. She needed to move, to get going.
But on the other hand, when would she have a chance to rest again? She couldn’t keep moving forever. In fact, she couldn’t keep moving much longer. She needed to be sharp and alert if she was going to get through this. Perhaps taking a nap would be a good idea after all. It would give her subconscious a chance to work on an escape plan…
Before she even finished the thought, she was asleep.
* * * * *
Jerred entered the hostel silently, aware that even the wildest of its residents were probably asleep by now. It would only take a few minutes to gather his things. Then he’d go and find the girl, and they’d leave the station. He was relatively certain the guards would love to arrest him again and get more money.
The door to his room slid open with a quick touch—he saw her immediately. She was sprawled across his bed with an arrogant abandon that brought a smile to his face. He shut the door behind him silently, and came to stand beside her. Here was one challenge resolved already. She was his for the taking.
He noted his belongings spread out across the bed and smiled. The little witch had tried to rob him. So much for her holier-than-thou attitude. It was just as well. He would have taken her with him no matter what, but now he could do so without guilt. The woman was a thief. She deserved whatever she got.
He reached down and grasped her shoulder lightly. She didn’t stir. Bemused, he sat down beside her and shifted her to the center of the bed. She muttered something in her but sleep didn’t wake. Her face seemed soft, almost innocent. He smothered a laugh. This one was anything but innocent—she’d made that clear in the bar. She might claim to be a waitress, but she was offering far more services than that with every step she took.
She would be well-paid for her time. But he’d make her earn every penny of it along the way. She rolled toward him, murmuring softly in her sleep. His breath caught. He had been so angry, so disgusted, that he’d forgotten the punch-to-the-gut kind of feeling seeing her gave him.
Her face was so lovely…
Reddish-blonde hair, wildly curly in a way he just knew had to be natural. He settled himself closer, running one finger lightly through a reddish ringlet of hair beside him. A smattering of freckles across her nose and cheekbones… They turned lighter lower on her face, but there was a darker one, right next to the corner of her mouth. Almost against his will, he leaned forward and kissed the small speck of a spot.
Her skin was smooth, soft. Wonderful smelling.
The adorable little spots continued down her neck, growing darker and more distinct across her chest and the slope of her breasts. Now there was something else that held his full attention. She wasn’t huge, but she was well-endowed. They were a woman’s breasts—full, with the kind of deep cleavage a man just wanted to sink into. He leaned forward and nuzzled down into her, kissing the exposed flesh, tracing his tongue down into the crevice that tantalized him so. He could feel himself hardening, feel the tension in his body rising. There was something so wonderful about being close to her, as if he could sink into her body and find a kind of peace he’d never dreamed possible.
No wonder he had lost his mind over this woman. No wonder he’d risked his mission without a second thought. In that moment, he knew he would have done anything to stay close to her.
Anything.
He pulled back, and looked down into her sleeping face. Her eyes moved beneath their lids, and he felt her draw in a deep breath. She was waking up.
Her eyes fluttered open slowly, pure and blue before him. She looked confused, and then her gaze narrowed. Her face transformed, all softness gone.
“You,” she hissed. “What are you doing here?’
“Don’t you think that I should be asking the questions?” he replied softly. “After all, it’s my room.”
She moved toward him suddenly, and he rolled on top of her. It was instinct, self-preservation, and not a moment too soon. Her knee slammed into his thigh; she’d been aiming for his crotch.
Witch.
She bucked against him, trying to escape. He held her down, imprisoning her with his body, allowing himself to simply enjoy the feeling of her moving beneath him. Every twist, every motion, rubbed her against his cock. He wanted to thrust into her and take her, but if he couldn’t have that quite yet, this wasn’t a bad alternative.
All too soon she caught on, and stilled.
“So, what do we do now?” she asked, her voice tight.
“Oh, I have all kinds of ideas,” he replied dulcetly. “But I don’t know if you’d like the
m or not. I suppose that before we get any further, we should agree on a price? I’d hate for you to think I’m not a man of my word, and I think we’re long past playing coy.”
Chapter Three
Giselle glared up at him, disbelieving. After all that had happened, how could the bastard still think she was for sale? She’d had him beaten and arrested, for love of the Goddess! Her eyes narrowed as she thought about that. “How did you get out so quickly?”
He smiled at her, a disgustingly smug look coming across her face.
“I’ve found that justice is for sale here on Transit Station Three,” he said slowly. “Remember, I told you everything was for sale if you were willing the pay the right price. Why don’t you tell me what your price is?”
“How did you manage to pay a fine that big so fast?” she asked. He merely looked at her, one eyebrow cocked in amusement.
“Your price?” he prodded after a moment.
“I told you, I’m not for sale!”
“Then why are you here?” he asked. “If the only reason you came here was to rob me, it seems that it may be in my best interest to call the guards and report you. What do you say to that?”
She froze, terrified. She had more than a guess as to what the guards would think of that… Time to try a new approach.
“Can we just forget this ever happened?” she asked suddenly, giving him her most winning smile. “I only came here because I needed a place to stay and I didn’t think you’d be around. I made a serious mistake, and I’m sorry for that. Can you just let it go?”
“Why did you need a place to stay?” he asked. She shook her head, disgusted for revealing so much.
“Tell me, or I call the guards,” he said with sudden insight. He knew something was up; she could see it on his face.
