by Celeste Raye
“I think it’s just a coincidence, and a rather unlucky one. Let’s see if we can use her for something. She can sure fight.”
Talon chuckled. “I agree. She clocked me a good one.”
Renall took a seat. Marik appeared, a frown on his face. Renall asked, “What is it?”
Marik lifted a hand to his hand and rubbed at his forehead but didn’t manage to work the frown off his face. “One of them won’t make it.”
Renall asked, “Why not?”
Marik’s lips twisted angrily. “She’s carrying Low-rot.”
Talon said, “I hope you quarantined her.”
“I need to do more than that.” Marik’s eyes were troubled. “She can’t be on here when it starts getting worse. Why her government saw fit to sell her off in that condition is beyond me.”
Renall shook his head. “They likely didn’t know, not if she was not showing signs. The cryo pods would have kept it from getting worse.”
Marik’s lips went flat. “No, they knew. They just didn’t care. Her family sold her to get a brother out of pawn. Seems he’s a better-tiered worker. She is sick. So.”
Renall shook his head yet again. Humans never ceased to amaze him. “What do you propose?’
“Fast gas,” Marik said, “She won’t know it’s happening. We’ll jettison her. Best thing, really.”
He didn’t say that lightly. Taking a life was serious business. They all had, of course. Nobody could be in their business and not, but they usually reserved blood and death for heated battles, not the way that Marik was describing killing—and a woman too.
Renall blew out an exasperated breath. “Where’s Jeval?”
“Here.” Jeval appeared. “Just finished helping total up the take. Minus the cut for the crew and those bastards on Hylion, we still come out flush. Not bad for a little work.”
“We need to fast gas a woman that was on the ship,” Renall said.
Jeval groaned. “You know we don’t kill hostages unless they’re a danger.”
“She has low rot,” Marik said.
Jeval recoiled. Then he said, “That makes it different then, doesn’t it? Will it be painless for her?”
Marik nodded. “Fast too. I’ll make sure.”
Jeval asked, “Are we all in agreement?”
They were. That brought Jessica into play. Again, they all agreed she might be useful, and that the odds of her being a Capo spy were low enough to keep her onboard and not fast gas and jettison her along with the other woman.
Renall explained the situation with Clara and, as he did, her face swam up into his mind’s eye. Desire hardened his body. Ire came with it. The last thing he needed was an attraction to a human. Humans were untrustworthy and fickle. They had the temperament of children and lived far too short lives for them to ever be romantic life partners.
Besides, they had all agreed to marry the daughters of the ruler of the planet not far from the one they were eyeing. They needed alliances, and that meant that Clara Waters, the alluring human, had to stay out of his bed, and head. Not that he was considering bedding her. He needed her cooperation more than he needed sexual encounters in his life.
Chapter 3:
Clara and the others were rounded up hours later and led, by Marik, to a tiny and fairly dingy room. Marik went to a wall and punched in buttons. He said, “We load as much fresh stuff as we can of course, but we have to rely on the printers for food often. They go out equally often. We do our best, and you won’t starve, but we have some rules around cargo here.”
Clara glanced at Margie. As soon as she’d turned her back, the door to her chamber had closed, and there had been no way to open it from the inside. Jessica wore a wary expression. Ariel and Margie looked stunned and exhausted, and there were clear tracks along Ariel’s cheeks that indicated she’d been crying. Clara had no idea where the other women were and worry set in. What were Renall’s plans for them?
Marik continued, “Only take what you need. We don’t ask that you starve or do without if you’re hungry, but if it’s not something you need, don’t take it.”
The printer whirred. Food appeared. Clara eyed it suspiciously. Marik lifted the top of the small box he held to reveal some sort of oddly shaped things that were either fruit or vegetables. Clara was not sure which. He said, “I’ll leave you now. Do any of you know how to work the printer?”
They all nodded. He said, “Very well,” and walked out. The door closed behind him. Clara darted to the door and felt around. “Dammit. No inner latch on this one either.”
Jessica asked, “Did you expect there to be? I think we’re in the hostage quarters.”
That made sense. Clara drew back to the short-legged table and took a chair. They all reached for food. Ariel poked a finger into the box. “What is this?”
Jessica said, “No idea, but if it doesn’t bleed or fight back, we should probably eat it.”
Clara chose a small thing from the box. It was the size of her fist and a violent purple color. It was crisp and sweet when she bit into it. “It’s pretty good. It tastes like an apple, sort of.”
Ariel gawked at her. “You’ve had an apple?”
Clara felt a smile form. “Once, and I only got one bite. There was a very rich man who liked the tables, and he had a greenery house on his property. I heard tell he had apples by the thousands there but all he brought to the table one night was one.”
That had been a good night. Clara’s eyes filled with tears she blinked back. She asked, “Have they said anything to any of you about what they want?”
Jessica nodded. Her skin looked like it had been stretched too tight across the high bones of her face and she applied herself to the food issued by the printer with real gusto despite its being nothing more than a pasty series of vitamins and proteins shaped like small round cakes. Between bites, Jessica said, “I think they have different plans for us than the rest. And each other. Talon came to see me. He offered me a chance to act as a security officer, on the ship and beyond. At their gaming house.”
Clara’s eyes fastened on the fruit in her hand. “I’m to run a table.” She didn’t mention the rest of the terms.
Margie spoke up. “He asked if I could really sing like my crypto file said.”
“Singing is illegal,” Ariel pointed out.
“Only on our planet,” Jessica replied. “What else did he say?”
Margie’s lips compressed. “He said if I want to be a singer in one of the halls, he will give me money and my crypto at the end of a year.”
But not the surgery? Clara didn’t ask. She had a feeling that Margie had been offered that and was keeping it to herself in case the rest hadn’t been. Smart girl.
Ariel sighed. “Talon talked to me too. Said I could marry if I chose. That I could find a husband in the halls if I wanted one. Or that I could be a Gurley girl.”
In other words, a prostitute. Clara looked away. Ariel added, “But he also said I could have part of what I make if I chose the latter. Better than what our government offered, I guess, but still not a big choice.”
Jessica took a break from the food to ask, “Anyone talk to the others?’
Ariel shook her head. “No, the doors closed before I knew it was happening. I think they were all in one room though. Not like us. All of us got our own rooms.”
The special treatment had to mean something. Clara asked, “Why are they not here eating?”
Jessica said, “I don’t think they find any of them valuable.”
Ariel’s mouth hung open, revealing a bit of food. “You don’t think they plan to not feed them do you?”
Jessica stopped eating. A shadow lay on her face. “I don’t know.”
Margie began tucking the printer cakes into a pocket of her suit. Ariel asked, “What are you doing?”
Margie said, “The doors open from the outside. Maybe we can sneak them some food.”
“There’s no need for that.” Renall’s amused voice cut into their conversation. C
lara jumped. She hadn’t heard the door open, or him step inside. Her eyes went to him. He added, “They will be fed. It’s just that they are emotional just now and we are waiting for them to calm down.”
Ire swept up again. Clara said, “Maybe they would calm down faster if they weren’t locked up in a room and hungry.”
His eyes studied her. He said, “I will admit my human level is low. Maybe I should try that.”
He turned and walked out. The door whisked closed. Margie tucked another cake into a pocket saying, “Just in case,” as she did.
Jessica said, “It seems to me we were talking about escape earlier and they have neatly given us all a reason not to. Not that we could aboard the ship; none of us are flight able.”
Clara said, “Anyone?’
Margie and Ariel shook their heads. The door opened again. Three women came in. Renall didn’t. He hit a button, and the door whirred shut again. Clara smiled at the three. “You hungry?”
They came forward slowly. One of them was older, at least forty. She shook like she had fever. Her face was soaked, and white rings of shock stood up all around her eyes. The other two were near Clara’s age, mid-twenties. They looked enough alike to be related, and after a few minutes, the four women discovered that the older woman was Dana and the two younger women were her daughters, Sanar and Lois. They’d all been sold, and by Dana’s husband to satisfy a hunger debt.
Dana was angry. She said, “It’s not fair. I was a good wife. They were good daughters. They had their work and did it well. They brought home credits. We just had a bad year. And we have four sons too. One of them would have satisfied the debt.”
Sanar said, “But they wouldn’t. Besides, only men can pawn, and they never pawn themselves or their sons, just their women.”
The bitterness was real, and Clara understood it. Back on their home planet, men were always in charge. Some women like Jessica held higher positions in the Capo and other agencies, but a male family member too could pawn them, even if they were valuable government workers. Had Jessica been pawned or outright sold? Was she just too ashamed to admit it and saying she had been sent away by the Capo to cover that? It was possible. A woman who had been pawned or sold bore the family’s shame. They bore the stigma of hunger and debt, and their sale or pawn negated the debt from the men in the family but left the shame on the women.
It was a pretty vile system, especially now that Clara knew the government was sending women to Narnlia, and likely other pleasure planets too as slaves.
But why Dana? She was old and tired. Her hair was lank and her back a little stooped. Dana answered that by adding, “And I was not even to be a wife, but a servant. That was so hurtful to me.”
Lucky her. Now she wouldn’t have to be the cleanup crew at a brothel her daughters were held prisoner in. Dana surged onward. “Lois, eat.” To Margie, she added, “You’re hiding food? That’s smart. But it shows. You need to…” Her forehead puckered. “Well, the suits are so poorly designed, how could you help but be noticeable with the food?”
Lois said, “Mom sews. She’s a seamstress.”
It was the first Lois had spoken, and Clara realized, with a sinking heart, that the girl was simple brained. Jessica looked away, pity on her face as Dana smoothed Lois’ hair away from her forehead with a tender hand. “It’s all right. We’re safe anyway.”
Yes. But for how long? Clara had to wonder, and when she asked, “Have they spoken to you?” her fears grew deeper as Dana said, “No. Why?”
Jessica said, “Just wondering.” She shot Clara a long look that held both empathy and resignation. Clara sighed inwardly. She asked, “What jobs did you have?”
Lois piped in, her childish voice trembling. “I make buttons and sew them. Saran works textile. Factory work.”
Clara’s heart sank even further as she realized that those three’s fate hung in the balance.
After they’d eaten and Renall took them back to their chambers, she said, quietly, “I need to speak with you.”
He entered her chamber, and the door whirred shut. She watched it close, wondering how he would get back out. Her heart pounded. Her every instinct told her to say never mind, that she had forgotten what she had to say. Instead, she drew a deep breath and said, “The mother and daughters, what will happen to them?’
Renall’s handsome face was so close to hers, and a strange and wild longing overtook her. That feeling was so strong, Clara had to look away as he said, “I have not decided yet. They are not valuable.”
“I…” Don’t do it, she warned herself. Don’t make yourself responsible for them. “The mother is a seamstress. You have halls, and maybe…” Inspiration struck. “Maybe she could make costumes for the girls. The one, Lois, she’s too simple. You can’t sell her off and send her away from her mother. She won’t survive.”
He came closer. Her heartbeat ticked up yet again. Her pulse pounded against the skin of her throat. She stared down at her shoes, but his finger lifted her head, forced her to look at him. His odd eyes stared into hers, and Clara had the uneasy feeling he was seeing far more than she wanted him to see. She closed her eyes, deliberately walling off all thought.
Renall spoke. “You’d take charge of them?’
No. Say no. Her eyes stayed tightly shut. Every lesson she had ever learned swam up and warned against her agreeing to that bargain. She had enough on her shoulders. She was trying to build alliances with the others, in case escape presented itself in a way she could not say no to—and in case he decided to break his word about the rewards of working his tables. “I didn’t say that.”
He chuckled. Her eyes popped open. His face came even closer. The lush curves of his mouth drew her attention, and she found herself wondering what those lips felt like, would feel like, pressed onto hers. Heat hit her cheeks, and she swallowed hard then stepped back, putting distance between them.
He said, “You choose your words wisely, but not your alliances.’
“It’s not an alliance.” Her arms crossed over her chest, but the vulnerability stayed. Her breath came too fast, giving her away, so she slowed it. “I just don’t want to see them injured.”
“Humans.” His word held contemplation not condemnation. “You are a strange species. The government you choose to rule you is cruel and unforgiving and demands all from you, but yet you still have learned nothing about allowing someone else to gain your pity.”
“Maybe pity is all our government allows us.” Her words held rancor. “Or maybe it is because that is one thing I could never afford back there that makes me ask. Why do you care? Anyway, all I said was they can work, and be valuable.”
He stepped into the space she had put between them. His body had a pleasant odor that made her want to draw closer and inhale that scent. She stepped back instead. He didn’t come forward. His eyes darkened though, a slight shading toward an indigo color, then he looked away.
“I see,” he said softly. “Then, if you truly feel so, you shall buy them yourself.”
No. Goddamn it all to hell! Her teeth clenched. It was too late. He was heading for the door. She found her tongue. “How am I supposed to do that? I already am indebted for my family.”
“Then perhaps you better make sure they sew very well, and that you win a lot.”
He didn’t move, but the door opened anyway, leaving her puzzled. It must be a triggering mechanism, perhaps a scanning device that identified him as a jailer and not a captive.
He stepped out of the door, leaving her swearing and shaken.
Her confusion grew when a sudden burst of color lit the sky outside the bay windows. There was a tremendous boom, and the ship rocked. Sirens went off.
Clara shouted, “Not again!”
The chamber doors popped open. Jessica exited hers, her face already tight with fear and determination. Ariel and Margie came out as well. Dana clung to her daughters, and none of the three of them looked eager to find out what was happening.
Clara said, “Stay h
ere, okay?”
Dana nodded. The other four women set off down the hall, following the running crewmembers.
She saw Renall strapping on a weapon and shouted, “What is it?”
“Brigands!”
Brigands? “You’re a brigand ship!
He grinned at her. “There is no honor among thieves it seems. Here,” he handed her a weapon she had no idea how to use. Jessica and the others were being armed too. Ariel asked, “What do I do with it?”
Jessica said, “Point that end and squeeze that lever. Pray you don’t run out of burst before you kill whatever is coming at you.”
Okay then, Clara thought. She stood, her shoulder pressed against Renall’s. He whispered, “We can’t outrun them yet, but Talon will figure out a way to get past their ship. In the meantime, we are going to be boarded. Shoot fast. It doesn’t matter if you hit anyone, just keep shooting so those with better aim can have a chance to reload and aim and kill.”
Sounded easy enough. She asked, “What if I run out of bursts?”
“When you run out of bursts, run away.”
That answer hardly reassured her. She took three shaky breaths. Jessica stepped forward. She said, “The door.”
The line of beings waiting all tensed. Ariel let out a long whimper. Her weapon jerked and bobbed in her hand Clara felt sick to her stomach, and that sickness got worse when the outer door peeled back and a set of creatures wearing large suits on their bodies charged in.
The weapon discharged. It sent a long stream of blazing light at the creatures running at them. Clara had the sudden horrifying realization that if she accidentally fired into a floor or walk, she could destroy a vital part of the ship, but the idea of killing something was not what she wanted to do either. She aimed lower, at their legs. Two fell. Renall sent deadly fire at the ones she had downed, killing them instantly and sickening her even more. Her finger stayed steady even though her entire body shook like she had the low rot.
