by Sara King
“They want a man,” Dallas spat, without moving. “Not a weakling.”
“You’re one to talk, bitch,” one of the slaves spat. She was silenced with an electric goad from one of the guards.
The slaver moved back to the male pen. “I assure you, our stock is healthy. We are one of the only companies in the Straw District who have a guarantee.”
“How much?” Dallas asked.
“Thirty thousand credits,” the man said.
Dallas winced inwardly, but said, “We’ll see. Money isn’t an issue, but my employers will not be happy if the stock dies en-route. They would punish everyone involved, so it’s in both of our interest that I find a slave that’s healthy.”
The man rubbed the stubble on his chin. “I see. Very well. We have a partner company up the street. In-House Auctions. Specializes in on-planet transactions. For fresh stock that’s still sensitive. Might be more spirited, but definitely more healthy.” He pointed up the street.
“Thanks,” Dallas said. She started walking, glancing inside every cage she walked past. Slavers walked to meet her as she passed, but she waved them away.
Walk more slowly, Stuart warned. You’re almost running.
“I want to get this over with,” Dallas said. “This is horrible.”
You’ve still got two and a half streets to go. People usually take an entire day to walk through the Straw District.
“I don’t have a whole day. I have two hours before Rabbit finds whatever he’s looking for and leaves me here.”
Actually, less. Maybe an hour and forty-five, tops.
Dallas walked faster.
She hurried down each side of each of the three streets of the Straw District and never saw Tommy. She had even gone inside In-House Auctions and had looked around, but the cages contained no one she knew.
Dallas stopped at the end of the last street and turned around to stare back up the rows of cages, in a state of shock. She had twenty minutes to get back to the ship or be left behind.
It’s possible I picked the wrong province, Stuart admitted.
Dallas glanced up at the setting sun. It was one of the aspects of being planetbound that always disoriented her. She quickly looked back at the street. Did she try to find Howlen or go home?
Go home, Stuart said, apologetic. You tried, Captain.
Dallas turned from the street and hailed a passing green cab. She got inside and told the driver that she needed to pick someone up from the shuttle. Once they were at the terminal, she stalked inside the terminal, where she cleaned up as best she could.
Her sense of smell was just beginning to return when she felt gravity disperse as the shuttle broke through the atmosphere. A queue at the dock, however, left her several minutes late before she actually stepped into the hub. Then, to her horror, she realized she was in the wrong hub. She ran to the tram, got aboard, and fidgeted anxiously as it took her to the proper hub. As soon as the tram stopped moving, Dallas jumped off and raced to Retribution’s bay. In the split-second it took for the ship to recognize her and open the airlock, she thought maybe Rabbit had already departed.
Breathlessly, she sprinted inside Retribution and doubled over, holding her knees and gasping.
“Curse of the Father!” a familiar male voice roared. “You stink, girl!”
Dallas glanced up, shocked.
Tommy stood inside, his black-and blue face twisted in disgust. “Did the worm put you through some twisted mating ritual? What’s that smell?”
“Where were you?” Dallas blurted.
“Obviously not in a bar, rolling around in feces.”
Dallas stared. “What happened to your face?”
“Just some locals, girl. Nothing I couldn’t handle.”
“That’s Captain, you ungrateful piece of shit.”
“The only piece of shit here is the one clinging to your coat. Get to decon. I’ll tell Rabbit you finally decided to show up.” He turned to leave, then paused and looked back. An almost patronizing look on his face, he said, “You know, when you get to be a real captain, you’ll learn you have to lead by example. Until then, try to show up on time.”
Dallas watched the Colonel walk from the bay with an open mouth.
Remind me again why you wanted to help him? Stuart asked.
“I honestly can’t remember,” Dallas said.
Custody Battles
The woman in the brocaded white clothes came to their cell again several days later. Having been left with nothing aside from the thrice-a-day platters of food shoved under their doors to keep them entertained, Ragnar and his relatives all sat up eagerly when they heard the rattle of the lock.
“Come with me,” the woman in white said. She had opened the door herself, with no other guards in attendance. Ragnar stared at the key in her hands, debating whether to try and take it from her.
Paul even went so far as to take a step toward the woman, but Morgan shook his head. Reluctantly, Ragnar and his brother fell in behind her. The woman gave Morgan a slight smile, then led them out of the cell and back into the windowed hallways of the massive stone palace.
The woman guided them through the maze at a brisk walk, the whole time without encountering another person. Ragnar paused casually at a window, thinking he might be able to escape through it. When he looked outside, however, he forgot to breathe. Aside from the sheer dropoff that was the massive wall of the palace, there was nothing within sight but deep blue ocean.
“The largest landmass on this planet is only two miles wide,” the woman said, watching his expression. She had stopped at the next window down, and was looking out over the massive ocean beyond. “The oceans harbor aggressive naturals, so we have been forced to build up what dry land we have.”
A hundred feet below, the surf crashed against enormous boulders in a white froth. As far as he could see, the ocean continued in an endless expanse of blue.
Ragnar backed away quickly, sweating.
“Further,” the woman said, “The only vessels between the islands are owned by the Emperor, since the distances are too great and the voyages too dangerous for private ownership. And, since this is the only landmass with a spaceport, it would be unproductive for you to flee.”
Ragnar glanced at her, prepared to run. Paul and Morgan had also distanced themselves. She might be able to catch one of them, but not all three.
Then her words hit him. “The whole…planet…is water?” He swallowed, hard.
She gave him a wry smile. “Now you understand why I am unconcerned with any attempts at escape. There is no escape. Not off Xenith. Something I learned long ago.” Her smile turned bitter.
“This was a prison planet?” Morgan offered.
“A colony,” she said. “A colony that officially did not exist. Then, once our fuel and supplies had run out, we discovered that we had been abandoned, our program terminated without recalling us. We were left to our own devices. Two hundred and thirty-two of us.”
Ragnar whistled despite himself. “You’ve been here a long time.”
“Yes.” The woman turned and began to walk again.
The three shifters reluctantly followed.
“You must have had to re-invent the wheel,” Morgan said.
“Yes. We had databases, but they were basic encyclopedias, very little technical non-mission information.”
“What was the mission?” Ragnar asked.
“To breed psychics.”
“Seems like you’ve been doing a pretty good job,” Ragnar offered.
The woman eyed him briefly. “It is slight-of-hand. I am no closer today than I was when the mission first began.” She stared out the windows at the blue ocean. “What infuriates me is the naturals have all of the capabilities I’ve been trying to produce. I’ve studied them, dissected them, evaluated their diet, their habits… Nothing makes sense. They simply defy scientific explanation. Only their essence seems to have any effect on human abilities, and only for brief periods of time.”
&nb
sp; The shifters looked at each other. “Their…essence?” Ragnar asked.
“It’s a fluid taken from the core of their cerebellum. It’s odorless, tasteless, and feels just like water, but when ingested, it produces feelings of euphoria and, in a select few, the ability to pick up telepathic signals from others.”
“Are you one of those few?” Ragnar asked.
She gave him a bitter look. “No.”
“The Emperor?”
“Of course. The Emperor is determined by how well he can use the drug.”
Ragnar glanced out at the ocean. “These naturals… Do they often attack?”
The woman scoffed. “Of course not. They are aquatic. The bastards are helpless on land.” She began to walk again.
“But shipping is tough,” Paul offered.
“Half of all our water-borne vessels were lost, in the early years,” she said.
Ragnar pursed his lips. No wonder she wasn’t worried about them escaping.
“In here,” the woman said, guiding them into a smaller hallway. “We’ve been collecting your kind for awhile now, but we’ve been waiting for ishala. We want our forces to be able to perform the yeit. It will be more terrifying to the enemy.”
“What enemy?” Ragnar asked.
“The Utopia,” the woman said. She stopped outside a door. Sunlight spilled into the hall from windows on either side, but they were barred. When Ragnar peered through the bars, he could make out a walled enclosure on the other side obscured with thick vegetation. He could hear trickling water. Suddenly, on the other side, the bushes rustled and something big hurtled through the brush away from them, snapping brush and snorting.
The woman unlocked the door and pushed it open. “Enter.”
Ragnar and the others hesitated.
“What’s in there?” Ragnar asked.
“Your kind,” she said. “As soon as you are inside, I will remove your collar so you may propagate freely. Be warned, the door is programmed to lock at the sound of my voice. My biofeedback responses are also linked. Any increase in heartbeat or blood pressure will slam the doors shut.”
Morgan led them inside, pausing only briefly to gaze through the open door. The woman followed them inside and, as promised, began removing their collars. Ragnar was first. She had just finished entering the code when Morgan and Paul jumped on her, throwing her to the ground. The door began to swing shut.
“Ragnar, go!” Morgan shouted. “Yeit! Now!”
The woman on the ground threw the two off of her with the speed and strength of a master martial artist. She hopped to her feet, spun, and caught Morgan in the jaw with her foot, whipping his head to the side. He crumpled like a doll. Paul tried to grab her, but she swiveled and slammed her foot into his gut, then lashed out, hitting his temple with a knifelike hand. He, too, crumpled. Then she turned on Ragnar, the whole process taking less than two seconds. Behind him, the door was closing.
“Don’t do it,” she warned. “There’s nowhere for you to go.”
Ragnar shifted to the first thing he could think of and burst through the door at near-skimmer speeds. The door slammed on his tail, crushing part of it into the wall. Ragnar barely felt it as he tore away. He had left Paul and Morgan. He hesitated in the hall, wondering if he could still help them.
The door began to open and Ragnar could smell the gun on the other side. He spun, and took off in the opposite direction on six legs. He reached the main corridor and turned again, racing into the unknown, his claws clicking on the marble as he fled.
He raced past three startled guards, slid to a stop against a marble pillar, and took a huge spiraling staircase to the upper floor. Here, the décor was much less dramatic. The small, boxy windows were covered with utilitarian brown drapes, the floors made of a hard white substance that smelled of the sea. He paused to shift again to staunch the bleeding in his tail. He didn’t have time to concentrate on a localized yeit.
Ragnar raced down the hall in his new, blockier form, took the first stair he found, and doubled back. Ragnar found a niche and shifted again. He walked out of the shadows on two feet, his face an ugly image of a demon. He peeled off his torn clothes, leaving only his ragged undergarments, then stuffed the discarded items into an empty vase.
No one had come to stop him. He heard shouts, but they were distant, coming from the lower levels. Ragnar leaned out of the window on the landward side of the palace and looked down.
Morgan and Paul remained motionless on the grasses below, their collars intact, a group of humanoids gathering around them. As he watched, Paul woke up and vomited. One of the other shifters helped him to his feet and began asking him questions. Behind him, Morgan stirred.
Groaning, Ragnar turned away from the window and slid down the sill until his bottom rested on the floor. Three shifts in less than twenty minutes… He moaned, closing his eyes. Pounding agony lanced his body, starting at the center and radiating outward. He could feel each cell, each individual nucleus. They were all afire, exhausted from the misuse. He envied Paul his headache.
Ragnar forced himself to his feet and stumbled away from the window. Have to get away, find a way off planet. Find a ship. Get Attie. Must get Attie.
His thoughts were flickering, fading, as his core shut down to regenerate. He staggered, weaving as he walked. His extremities were going numb, the connections dormant. He stumbled a few more yards, then collapsed in a dark corner behind a decorative statue. His eyes closed and let the exhaustion overtake him.
“When I get out of here, you’re both dead.” Athenais fumed, stalking back and forth in her room. How dare Rabbit lock her in? And to give Fairy the captain’s codes… Rabbit was deliberately provoking her.
“Then I guess I just won’t let you out,” Fairy said over the speaker system. “And stop pacing. It’s pathetic.”
Athenais turned to scowl at the cameras. Without the override codes, there was no way to turn them off from her side of the door. Seething, she said, “Fairy, have some decency and turn those things off. I deserve some privacy, at least.”
“You will refer to me as Captain or you will be ignored.”
Athenais’s hands fisted. “I want to talk to Rabbit.”
Nothing.
“…Captain.” Athenais choked on the word.
“Rabbit’s sleeping.”
“Goddamn it, Fairy, I’m gonna scalp you and feed your entrails through the exhaust system!”
Fairy ignored her.
Roaring, Athenais began kicking at the door. The alloy did not even dent. Screaming, she tried to rip the chair off the floor so she could throw it at the cameras. It was bolted to the floor and didn’t even move. In fact, everything in the room was either part of the design or glued in place. She tried bashing her fist against the camera, but the transparent lens shield was shatterproof.
Furious, Athenais went into the bathroom and started digging through the drawers.
“What are you doing?” Fairy demanded.
Athenais came out with a tube of toothpaste. With great satisfaction, she coated each of the lens shields with opaque white paste. The room began to take on the pleasant smell of mint. When she was finished, Athenais capped the tube and threw it back into the bathroom.
“Bitch,” Fairy muttered.
Athenais moved to the opposite side of the room and began methodically dismantling the standard picture-frame bolted to the dresser. She came back with two slim sheets of metal, which she slipped under the door. She slid them back and forth until they caught, then left them there and went back to the dresser. She tore the alarm from the wall and began stripping the wires.
“What are you doing in there?” Fairy demanded. “You’re paying for any damages, you know. This is my ship.”
Athenais ignored her and yanked another cable free, this one connected to the lamp in the wall sconce above the door. She pulled as much wire out as she could, then twisted the lamp free of its socket.
“You’ve gotta live in there, you know. Maybe for a
few months. Depends on how generous I feel. I’ll send you some food every once in awhile through the tube system. But then again, you don’t need food, do you, Attie?”
Athenais carefully removed the socket from the wire, sustaining several electrical shocks as she did so. The lights flickered, but she continued working.
“What are you doing to the power? Getting nice and crispy? Don’t think you can threaten me. The power to that room will shut off completely if the disturbances endanger the rest of the ship. You know what that means. Frozen space pirate. Sure, it’ll take a few weeks, but eventually it’s gonna get as cold as a freezer in there. You’ll spend the rest of the trip in cryo. How’d you like that, Attie?”
Athenais applied a wire to either metal sheet. She heard a solid thud in the bottom of the door and she pulled the two metal pieces free. Then she wedged them under in a different spot.
“You know, we might as well use this time to get to know each other. I worked for you for two whole years and you still don’t know me, really. Did you know I grew up on Derkne? My mom was a mathematician and my dad was a schoolteacher. They didn’t have the money for my education, so I had to work my way through college. Worked as a wildlife control agent. Flew skimmers out over the flats each weeknight, searching for redcats…”
Athenais rolled her eyes and applied the wires a second time. Another thump. She got up.
“Those things were always crawling around the garbage dumps around the big cities. We had to be real careful. Don’t know if you’ve ever dealt with a redcat, but even after they’re dead, the poison can kill you.” Then a pause. “Well, not you, because you’re a freak, but they kill most people.”
Athenais grunted, pushing, shifting her weight and straining.
“And it’s almost impossible to kill ‘em. Gotta get a direct shot to the lower chest. There’s a nerve center there that controls the rest of it. A lot of tourists think it’s in the head, because they look a lot like those big cats they’ve got on Earth. Those types don’t last too long out on the flats, though. The cats always get ‘em. They’ve learned they can get a free lunch just by letting those morons blow their heads off.”
