Title: Revant Warriors The Complete Series (Books 1-6)

by Celeste Raye

“No. Yes. I mean, I miss my family, but I do not miss where we lived.”

  “What was it like?”

  They were standing in a hallway now. He was clearly interested in hearing what she had to say but she could not have said why he cared at all. She said, “It was dark and damp. The tables we ran were closer to the surface so the rich people could find us and there was better air there but…but mostly it was hard and frightening.”

  “But you survived.”

  “Most do.”

  The words made her shoulder lift. His eyes raked her face. He said, softly, “I hate the darkness. Even the darkness of space.”

  “Then why do you stay on this ship?”

  “I don’t, not if I can help it. I live on the surface of the planet where you will be working for me.”

  She regarded him. “I see.”

  He paused then said, “There is sun there. It is a beautiful place, if strict. You will be able to walk on the surface and in the daylight. Perhaps that will make you feel better about the bargain that we have struck.”

  Did it? No, she decided, it didn’t. She wanted to go home, even if there was no way that she could and even if home was nothing but a cheerless fight for her very survival, she wanted to be there. It was familiar, and she would not be alone. She would know the rules and the whys and the ways to escape notice and retribution from the government. Not that she had escaped any of that. She had let her wayward heart place her and her entire family into a situation which had only one out, and that out was the being staring back at her right then.

  She asked, “How do I know you will keep your word about my family?”

  “I will.” His sigh was heartfelt. “I never make promises I cannot or do not intend to keep.”

  She wanted to believe him. She did. But she knew from hard experience that believing someone was apt to get her into a lot of trouble, or worse.

  She said, “I never thanked you.”

  Renall studied her. “For what?”

  “For saving me from slavery.”

  Renall said, “I am glad to hear you do not think working for me is slavery.”

  An unwilling smile lifted one corner of her mouth. “I never said that.”

  His smile was reluctant but there. “Oh?”

  “I just meant at least my…oh you know what I mean. At least I will not be that kind of slave.”

  Renall surprised her then. “I do not keep slaves. I capture beings, yes, but slavery goes against everything I believe in. I offer indenturships to those I capture, much like the one I offered you. If you play well, you will make a lot of credits, and then you will be able to buy yourself a new life.”

  She asked, “Do many you take on do just that?”

  “Yes.” His fingers rubbed at the bridge of his nose. “I know what it is like to be enslaved. I would not wish that on anyone.’

  He had been enslaved? She opened her mouth to ask that question but then thought better of it. He started walking again, and she followed him. They stopped at the small room where they had been fed earlier. The other women were already there. Renal said, “There is a cleaning booth there. You will find that we do not have much in the way of clothing, but the booth will clean your clothes as well. You may eat too.’

  He left. Jessica sat at the table, her face flushed with color and her hair coated with blood. Ariel sat in another chair, pale and silent. Margie said, “Well. I guess we can all take turns at the cleaning booth.”

  Lois piped up. “You all look scary.”

  Dana hugged her hard. Clara said, “Jessica, you should go first.”

  Jessica grimaced and picked at a strand of her hair. “I think you are right.” She stood and paused. She said, “I don’t know what line they sold you about that ship, but I have to admit that I would never have imagined a bride ship being this exciting.’

  Margie waited until Jessica was out of earshot to say, “I think she is enjoying this.”

  Chapter 4 - Renall

  Renall sat before a large bank of control room equipment, his eyes narrowed. They’d land in an hour, and he had a lot of things to do before then. His thoughts, over the last few days, had been fragmented and hard to focus. They kept going to Clara, whom he avoided like she had low rot, over and over, angering him and confusing him.

  The human was beautiful, yes, but there was something else about her as well. Something indefinable. Something that made him want her no matter how hard he tried to deny it or ignore it. His body leaped into response every time he was near her, and he knew he should not allow that, should shut down all of his emotions and physical responses. Hell, he had tried to, but it did no good at all. It was like she had been made just to cut through all of his defenses.

  Take the mother and daughters, for example. There was any number of outlier colonies where females were a small presence and always in demand. He could sell them off and wash his hands of them, but instead, he had had them set to tearing apart a baggy space suit and remaking it just to see how much skill they really had. And he had essentially indentured them to a woman who was no more or less than a table slave to one of his halls. Or would be. He grit his teeth. He had no idea if she was even as good as the file suggested yet. But he was banking on her being so, which was both stupid and dangerous. It was possible that she wasn’t, but when he had asked her, everything about her words and body language said she was speaking honestly.

  But she was a human and they often confused honesty with their personal opinions. His mouth curled into a wry smile as he admitted that to himself.

  Outside the bay windows, the darkness of space had given way to the lighter hues of the atmosphere heavy planet they were heading toward. The gases that lay over the planet were remarkably similar to the ones that had once formed Earth, centuries ago before the humans had destroyed the ozone and then had to build plasma shields and high walls to keep their oceans from surging upward into their cities and killing off all life. Most had gone underground to escape the killing heat, and to be able to use the systems of underground rivers in order to have clean drinking water as well.

  The planet they were headed toward was stunning, and so tightly organized by a committee that held not just the voting bloc that kept the citizens from making the same mistakes they had seen across the galaxy, but the purse strings. To live, work, play, or do business there took credits, and a lot of them.

  The credits they had gotten from offloading the oreonium a few days before were high enough to gain entry without having to dip into the coffers. The rest of the wreckers, all hired brigands who had nothing on their mind but building a massive amount of credits as their share of the spoils, often stayed aboard or headed out with Talon, Marik, and Jeval while he stayed on Orbitary, the planet the brothers did so much business on. He was better at business than wrecking, truth be told. He was also better at business than the others. Marik was a born healer who had studied hard to earn his license to practice medsites. Jeval was handy with every type of weapon ever created. Talon could fly like the ships he piloted were somehow part and parcel of him. And he, Renall, could make money. Those talents had combined in a unique way and as the ship drew closer to the docking station, the gases parting to give off glimpses of an achingly blue place with high ridges of land and long oval salt-less waters, his smile got wider.

  Being on the ship bored him, even after a big wreck. His true love was down there, working on some scheme and currying the political favor and credits that would get them all on that private planet and into a life more legitimate.

  The landmasses grew larger, coming into view now. The docking stations were not on Orbitary, but above. Only small ships could enter the planet, and with good reason. Larger ships could bring war parties and weapons Orbitary forbade. On Orbitary, business was the order of the day and any legal business that brought in high credits and paid a high tax was welcome. Thankfully, the committee was equally willing to overlook that illegal credits might have bought the legal businesses on their surfaces.r />
  Talon appeared at his shoulder. “I just got word that there’s a storm of renegade ships out in the Solarium.”

  Renall tensed. “That’s way too dangerous.”

  Talon grinned. “That’s why I like the idea.”

  Renall sighed inwardly. He would never understand Talon. Talon didn’t look at risk as something undesirable. He took it as a challenge. “I see.”

  Talon said, “The whole crew’s willing to go on and not drop in here.”

  “Marik and Jeval?”

  “Same.”

  Of course. Renall soothed away the irritation that wanted to surface. “Very well. I’ll take the women down.”

  “About that.”

  “Uh oh.” Renall lifted his eyes to Talon’s. “What?”

  Talon grinned at him. “What better disguise?”

  Renall shook his head. “You must be joking.”

  Talon said, “No, I’m not. Jessica, in particular, might make a damn good wrecker. She’s savage for one thing, and she has no allegiance to anyone from what I can tell. If we removed her device, she’d be able to get into places without setting off alarms.’

  Marik could remove them easily enough. Renall hesitated. “The others?’

  Talon said, “They’re both gorgeous. We’ll use them to send a distress call, pretend to be brides bound for the Golan system who found themselves abandoned when wreckers hit the ship.”

  Risky. Too risky. “You’d have to disable your shields and give the ship a battered look.”

  Talon’s grin was wide. “We’ve done it before.”

  They had, but he knew that ruse might be getting a tad old. Renall said, “I can’t talk you out of it.” It wasn’t a question, just a logical statement of fact. He asked, “Why remove the chips now?”

  “In case it all goes wrong.”

  Good plan. If they got shifted elsewhere and their chips bore out their true story of what had happened to them, they’d be screwed. Without the chips and files, they would have less credibility and be easier to send off to some planet where nobody asked a lot of questions about how females had gotten there. Which was generally what happened to females who were caught wrecking. Males were summarily executed. Not that Talon didn’t already know that.

  Renall said, “Fine. I’ll be here.”

  Talon said, “I know.”

  Renall’s teeth ground together as the ship hit the dock. His nerves tautened as the ever-present threat of danger loomed up at him. He had plenty to worry about. Any day now someone might mark their ship as a wrecker ship, or decide to wreck it. Wreckers attacking each other were not unheard of. In fact, most wreckers managed to avoid the government but rarely managed to evade rival wreckers out to plunder whatever the ship they decided to take on had stripped. Talon loved nothing more than hitting fellow wrecker ships. He had a love for it that was almost pathological, in fact. He said it took out their competition and kept them from being told on and he had a point, or two, but it was even more dangerous to go after a wrecker or a brigand ship than it was a government ship. Brigands and wreckers had longer memories.

  Not to mention half the businesses on Orbitary were funded with illegal credits and allegiance was not a strong suit amongst creatures determined to garner as much credit and power as possible for themselves.

  He stood and stretched, his long body working against the breathable fabric of his clothing. The sound of footsteps behind him made him tense all over again, as did the light scent of Clara’s body. She smelled like soap and something else, something wholly natural and lovely. Tempting.

  She paused and said, “We’re landing.”

  “Not exactly. We have to take a smaller tug-in to the actual surface. They don’t allow large craft on the surface.”

  Clara didn’t ask why. Her eyes moved over his face. His body reacted to her the way it always did, disconcerting him. He did not want to be attracted to her in any way but he was. She said, “Thanks again for giving Dana and her daughters the seamstress jobs.” Sarcasm lit her next words. “And for indenturing them to my debt.”

  He repressed a grin. She was obviously angry, and why wouldn’t she be? “If they work well, they will be out of indenture in a matter of a few years.

  She didn’t answer that. They’d argued over it quite a lot already, and there was not much else she could say. He hoped. She had been both bitter and slightly vile when he had told her they were now her indentured servants and she owed a debt for their purchase.

  He said, “Please get them ready to go aboard.”

  Clara moved toward the door. He added, “Just you and the family.”

  Her shoulders went up. She turned to face him. He held up a hand. “Don’t question the reasons. I don’t have the time for that. We have exactly half an hour to be on the surface before they reject our boarding.”

  Her lips trembled. He knew she wanted to ask or argue. She didn’t. He turned toward the view and then began to gather his things for the transport ship.

  Chapter 5 - Renall

  Clara stood at a table, watching the players at her table with an eagle eye. She knew that many thought she was just lucky, but the truth was—she was skilled. Body language and facial expressions were the best thing a carder could learn. Every creature that sat at her table had a tell. All of them. She could read excitement in something as simple as a drawn breath or the slight tensing of a finger. She let her eyes drift across the group casually, but there was nothing casual about any of her observations.

  The human with the expensive suit and the Crag both had hands they thought could take the pot. The Borgite had already counted the cards and folded. The Habbin was sweaty and gross, but that was more due to its genetics than the game. However, the fast opening and closing of the gills at the base of its neck told a story that said nerves and a clear bluff.

  So the human and Crag. She eyed them both. The human added a pile of credits to the table, a slight grin teasing his lips upward just a hair. The Crag didn’t move a muscle. Then it too added credits. Clara considered the cards in her hand. She had a four-eyed king, a double jack, and a high queen. She could draw two and hope for the best or fold and let those two battle it out. Either way, the table took five percent of the credits in the pile.

  Clara couldn’t afford to take a five percent pot and then split it with Renall. She had her mother’s passage to pay before the body smugglers who’d bought her from serio-max would even consider sending her onward. Renall had refused to pay that. He’d simply said he had gotten her out and she already owed him for that.

  Her anger was still simmering, even after the scan call that had let her see her mother and know for sure she was safe and sound, at least for now.

  The Borgite lit a smoke stick. The acrid odor hit the already heavy air. The vents above Clara’s head whirred and clicked, endlessly cycling the air inside the hall. Air was not free on Orbitary; every creature there paid a surcharge to the committee to keep the air circulators, designed to take up as little of the atmospheric air and oxygen as possible, running. Everything on Orbital was about credits and the need to preserve the planet, which took a lot of credits and patience. Clara liked that the air was fresh and clean in the early mornings, but not so thrilled by the fact that, at the end of a night, the air had become thin and practically unbreathable. She longed to dash outside, under the vast arch of the heavens, and drag air into her lungs in great gulps.

  The music pounded along. Girls, most human, danced and shimmied to the heavy electro-beat. The crowd was a mesh of aliens and humans. Business was good, and so were the tips flying at the girls via the interface kiosks that allowed the crowd to give credits to the girls via a system that utilized the numbers each girl wore pinned to their skimpy costumes.

  The whirr of credits hitting and the click of the tethers that held girls to the stage meant a purchase had been completed and the Gurley had agreed to the customer. Clara wasn’t crazy about the prostitution going on around her, but she had to admit that she
did applaud Renall’s decision to enforce the rule that the Gurley had to agree to the sale before the tether would release her.

  The human’s pinkie twitched, just a fraction. Anyone else might have missed that nearly imperceptible motion. She didn’t. He was holding a hand that he wasn’t sure of. She drew two and tossed two. Now she held a ten, and a six. Nothing, in other words. She fought back a smile. Her eyes flicked up at the two still in and then quickly looked down. She shoved credits into the pot, still smiling and trying not to.

  The human twitched, harder that time. The Borgite looked bored, his fingers tapping the tabletop. The Habbin grunted out. “I won the last hand. I won’t win this one.” He tossed his cards to the table, face down. Now it was just Clara and the human. He shifted. His eyes went to the credit. Clara said, “Oh. Well then.” Her hand hovered over the credits beside her. “House calls the right to raise the stakes.”

  The man facing her swallowed. His eyes went to his hand, a sure sign that he was worried about what was in hers. He shifted. A bead of sweat appeared at his temple. He gulped out. “By how much?”

  “Two thousand credits.”

  It was a bold move. One that would screw her if he caught onto her bluff. She had been deliberate about hiding her joy at the fresh draw, but what if he considered the situation and decided she was not only bluffing, but to call her on it?

  She’d lose, big, and she’d piss Renall off and end up with a cut of exactly nothing for a twelve-hour shift. The Habbin leaned close. The Borgite even managed to evince a little interest. The man facing her gnawed at his bottom lip, the stress clearly getting at him now.

  Come on, Clara thought. Fold or go. I’ll keep upping it until you call or fold. Her face betrayed nothing. The man twitched a final time. His cards hit the table, face down. He said, “I fold.”

  Clara smiled at him and laid her cards down on the table, starting with the king. The man looked paler as each card hit. Clara held her final card and then laid it down. The Habbin released a phlegmy howl of laughter. The Borgite smiled. The man leaped to his feet. His voice shook with rage. “You goddamn bitch! You bluffed me!”