by Alana Khan
“Let’s quit this charade, shall we?” the Emperor says, his tone sharp, his lips curled in derision. “I was aware of exactly who you are within an hoara of your arrival on this planet, my planet. You males are escaped gladiators from the Warbird One, a MarZan cartel ship. I assume you, Miss Grace, are one of the Earth females the ship was reported to be carrying. A breeder, I’m told.”
I’m trying not to freak out, but I’m certain my trembling chin and flaring nostrils reveal my burgeoning terror.
“Did you not think I would thoroughly investigate every living being who sets foot on my planet? Who do you think told the cartel of your presence here? The fact that your comrades took off and left you was a nice turn of events. I received a hefty reward from the syndicate, as well as the spoils of war my dear...which is you.” His polite facade is long forgotten. His face is angry, lips pulled back into a snarl.
“You bastard. You can’t do this. You don’t know who she is. She has family on Morgana, her father is a prominent businessman. I’ve been her slave since birth.” Tyree tries to break free from the six guards surrounding him, but his effort only results in a nick on his throat from Mauritious’ long, sharp knife.
“Shut. Up,” the Emperor spits. “I’ve contacted the authorities on Morgana. She has no wealthy father there. You two are on the run from the cartel. They’re going to decimate your little ship, kill all your friends, and I…” He reaches across the table and grabs my throat. “Will take possession…” He squeezes harder in tiny increments until I’m gasping for breath. My fingers clawing at his hands can’t pry him off me. “Of the two of you.”
He turns to face Tyree, his grip on my throat so tight I’m seeing stars and getting lightheaded. “You’ll be quickly dispatched, well...not too quickly. The longer it takes, the more amusing it will be to watch. She...,” he releases me and I breathe in deep gasps of air. My throat is burning, my eyes are tearing, and my head is spinning with this latest turn of events. “She will be the newest addition to a small but fascinating collection I keep for my personal amusement.”
Tyree
I quit struggling. I need every ounce of my energy to focus on getting us out of here, or at least getting Grace out of here; I consider myself expendable. I need to think this through. The bastard has us captured. He has an unlimited supply of armed guards at his disposal. I’m a single male with marginal fighting skills and no gun. I can’t count on being rescued. From what the Emperor says, MarZan knew exactly who we were and exactly where to find us. I can only believe my friends are dead.
I have only one thing I can use to escape—my mind. They have no idea of my psychic ability. If I can think of a way to get us out of here, my piloting skills are strong enough that if I steal a ship I can get us off this planet. The odds are not in our favor, but I can’t give up.
I slacken my jaw, loosen my muscles, and give every impression I’ve surrendered. The less the guards pay attention to me the better. I don’t need to read the Emperor’s mind to know where he’s taking Grace—either his bedroom or the dungeon. I shiver, then strengthen my resolve to figure this out. My sweet Grace couldn’t tolerate either of those.
Grace, I thrust my thoughts at her. Amara, I’m trying to think of a way out of this, but things don’t look good.
Oh my God, Tyree. I’m afraid. Did you see the expression on his face? He’s going to kill you!
Don’t worry about me. Grace, I’ve looked inside his mind. He’s a monster. Grab the paring knife near your plate. No one’s paying attention to you. Do it now! Good. You don’t want to hear this, but if I can’t get us out of here you may want to use it on yourself.
What are you saying?
They’re talking, Amara, I need to pay attention to what they’re saying.
That had to have scared the drack out of her, but death by her own hand would be a far better fate than what awaits her as part of his slave harem like that poor girl in her cell.
“Take him to the killing room in the dungeon. Secure him to the wall. I think the lady and I will watch. It will get us in the mood before I take her to my bedroom.” He turns to Grace and asks, “Would that please you, my lady? Seeing your lover die by my own hand?”
“He’s not my lover,” she protests. Good, the more she distances herself from me the better. It might save her life.
“I’ve watched you together. I have my doubts about that. Guards, let’s move.”
In all the confusion transporting us out of his suite, no one notices my wrist comm light up. The ship! I press the face of the comm against my thigh so the light attracts no attention. I hope it’s Shadow. And I hope to every God in the heavens that my psychic powers have increased enough for me to accomplish everything I need to do.
I push my thoughts up through the ceiling, through the roof, and up into the atmosphere to Shadow’s signature. I had to establish a mental link with him two lunar cycles ago when we took over our vessel and killed out captors. I was little Tyree then, and he was an asshole whom I hated. I have more powers now, and we have an almost-brotherly bond. My mind strains to reach him.
Shadow. Shadow. Shadow. Please. My life depends on this. Grace’s life depends on this. Shadow!
What, brother? How are you in my mind?
It doesn’t matter. Listen closely! The Emperor is a madman, a sadist, and he’s dragging us to his dungeon to kill me, then…harm Grace. He said you all were dead. I guess he exaggerated?
We outran MarZan and doubled back here. Glad we had time to repair our hyperdrive. We’ve got to get you two off the planet before they find us here.
Shadow, can you touch down and come to the concert hall? We’re going to be underneath the very rooms we’ve been sleeping in. I’m hoping my telepathic powers can disable the eight guards who are pointing their weapons at us. We can make a run for it, return to the ship, then leave atmo.
All that and avoid capture by the three MarZan ships that are on our tail? Sounds easy, Tyree.
I realize I’m asking you and the others to risk your lives on a fool’s errand. If it weren’t for Grace, I’d tell you to leave me behind.
I call you brother now, Tyree. And I still owe Grace more than I can calculate. I’ll be there. I’ll get two volunteers. Give me the coordinates.
I’ll keep our mind link open, Shadow. I’ll need to know when you’re close by so I can try to disable them at the perfect time.
They’re dragging us down several flights of steps to the dungeon. This place was built eons ago with stone and mortar. It’s dank, filthy, and poorly lit. I’m surrounded by the Emperor’s cadre of guards. He and Grace are behind me. I psychically reach out to her, but I’m hit by a wall of terror so impenetrable I can’t get through.
My pulse is pounding in fear. This plan, flimsy as it is, has a thousand moving parts and little to no chance of working. It hinges on psychic powers I’m not sure I possess. I would need to overpower the minds of every male in this room—all at once. The timing with Shadow would have to be flawless.
I feel like an idiot when I realize I don’t have to disable nine people. All I have to do is crawl into the Emperor’s mind and have him order his men to stand down and release us. I try to slip into his mind like I did yesterday, but I can’t get in.
Instead of sliding in like smoke, I push harder, attempting to force my way inside his thoughts. I have no luck. Perhaps it’s his high state of emotion—the bloodlust, the arousal—but nothing I try gains me access. Now I worry if I can overpower even one of the guards, much less eight of them. I hate to admit I’m losing hope, but I am.
I hear soft crying from down the hall. I assume it’s Tawny, the human female I saw in my mind’s eye, probably locked in her cell. The sadistic Suratan is probably down here, too. The evil bastard. If I do get off this planet, I vow to kill the Emperor and that demonic Suratan, Devolose.
“Chain him facing the wall,” the Emperor orders. I can sense the giddy excitement in his voice. I was inside his mind long enough yesterday
to know with certainty that he isn’t going to kill me quickly. It’s going to be a long, painful affair.
I put up no fight, what would be the point? They chain my wrists so high above my head my shoulders strain in their sockets. My ankles are cuffed tightly with my feet spread wide.
“Cut off his clothes,” the Emperor commands. “Having fun, Grace? We’re only getting started.”
“Get your hands off me.” I hear what sounds like Grace slapping idly at the Emperor. Then I hear a much harder slap, and Grace grunting in pain.
I can’t do anything for her right now. He’s not going to kill her. The next few hours are going to provide far too much enjoyment for that. I need to put my attention on the task at hand, which is to keep my wits about me and endure whatever his minions do to me until Shadow tells me he’s nearby. Then will I be able to disable all these men? Have I brought three comrades here only to be slaughtered by the Emperor’s guards?
Even though I’ve been expecting it, I’m still startled by the sound of Mauritious’ whip singing through the air, and then the pain of many strips of leather landing on my back. Agony sears through every nerve ending. The pain is hot and excruciating.
The level of difficulty of this mission just increased by tenfold. How do I use these brand new psychic powers when all of my conscious effort needs to be directed at tolerating this torture?
I’ll concentrate on what I’m grateful for. I’m thankful I’m not facing Grace. That would be too much to bear. If I was looking at her and had to see that asshole’s handprint reddening her cheek, I would be far too focused on revenge, and I’d never get us out of here.
I hear the sound of the whip whistling toward me again. I draw my thoughts out of my head and into Mauritious’. Getting into his mind seems like child’s play. I have a glimmer of hope. My plan has a slim chance of working, although I don’t know what will happen if all eight guards are disabled but the Emperor is not. I don’t know if he’s armed. Perhaps since he’s always surrounded by his personal protection squad he doesn’t carry a weapon of his own.
I’m in Mauritious’ body, looking out through his eyes. It is my hand on the lash. I see Tyree’s back, covered in thin ribbons of red. A few stripes of blood have trickled all the way down his ass to his thighs.
I vow not to look in Grace’s direction. I would be undone if I did. I look elsewhere and count eight guards, including the one in which I’m currently residing. I wield the whip toward the naked back of the fellow shackled to the wall. I slow my hand, administering less pain than the previous two strikes. Tyree makes no sound, nor does he flinch.
“Halt!” commands the Emperor. “The bastard has passed out already. After only two blows with the whip of ten tails. Weak little piece of shit. Throw a bucket of water on him.”
I slip back into my own form so my body will react to the water. I stay there for the next strike of the lash. I’ve never experienced this level of pain. Grace’s cries and pleas for leniency don’t make this any easier; my fear for her is overwhelming.
I can do this. I can withstand the pain. I’m certain every male on the ship has been through worse. The female down the hallway has suffered worse. I can and will do anything necessary to free my female.
I dart back into the torturer’s body and manipulate him into administering lighter blows. I pop back into my body after the stroke has landed, then groan and writhe in agony. I am in agony, still wearing the flesh of my body, but at least I avoid the blows themselves.
“That’s ten, your Highness. Certainly, you’ve punished him enough?”
I hadn’t realized I’d already endured ten lashings, but it pains me more to hear Grace’s sweet lips pleading with that monster.
Tyree, I’m down the street from the concert hall. I’m here with Steele and Dax. Tell me how to get to you.
I give the directions. Shadow, I’m going to try to disable all nine of them—eight guards and the Emperor. I’ve never attempted anything nearly this ambitious. If I do get control of all of them, I’m certain I can only do so for a few modicums, perhaps a minima at most. Give the signal “now” through our mindlink when you’re at the top of the steps. I’ll try to immobilize them. I’ll say “abort” if I can’t accomplish it. If you hear that word, promise me you’ll get back to the ship and leave us behind. Grace has a tiny knife. I’ve told her to take her own life. She won’t have to suffer. Save yourselves. I don’t want to lure you three to your deaths on a fool’s errand.
Drack you, brother. I’m not leaving you or Grace to die in a dungeon. The next word you hear from me will be “now.”
I feel the full force of the lash, twice in excruciatingly quick succession. I shouldn’t have wasted my effort trying to convince Shadow to leave us here. He’s a good male; he’d never do that. He, Steele, and Dax will die trying to help us. I hope they don’t have to.
I hear Grace slap away the Emperor’s hand, then his maniacal laugh. I hope he’s the first one Shadow kills.
Grace! Shadow and the males are here. If you have the chance, run to a corner, or down the hall. Flee to safety. Get ready. Any moment now.
Now! I hear Shadow’s voice and pull all of my attention to this moment. My mind reaches out to nine minds at once. The guards are easy. I don’t feel any resistance from them. The whip has stopped moving. Their raucous enjoyment of the “entertainment” has ceased. I’m certain they’re all paralyzed.
I hear three sets of boots pounding down uneven steps, even as I search for the Emperor’s mind signature. The sound of laserfire greets me, then I hear heavy bodies hitting the ground. I’m too focused on my task to count, I just know that several of their minds flickered out of existence, like a flame sputtering when doused with water.
I cast my mind to where the Emperor had been sitting. I try to find his depraved thoughts, but he’s not there.
“Guards are all dead, Tyree.” It’s Shadow. “Dax, shoot them all again, I don’t want to take any chances. Where’s Grace? And the Emperor?”
“Unlock these shackles. I can’t find the Emperor’s individual signal.” I’m frantic, trying to find Grace or the Emperor’s minds. I locate Grace but my connection’s weak.
“Dax, use the laser to cut those chains,” Shadow orders, his tone sharp, serious.
The tension loosens on my wrists and ankles and I step away from the wall. Grabbing a gun from a guard’s dead hand, I move to the left down the hall, toward Grace’s faint thoughts. She’s easy to find in the middle of the hallway that runs along the cells. She’s in her white dress, one sleeve ripped almost completely off. Hunched over a still form, her arm arcs up over her head then slashes down into the body—again and again.
Quirinus is beneath her, clearly dead. As I approach, I observe his glassy, unseeing eyes and realize why I couldn’t find his thoughts—he has none.
Grace is still stabbing his lifeless form, repeating “Fuck you,” over and over. With each thrust, she calls him another odious Earth epithet. The spray of his red blood has marked her white gown from hem to breast. Her face is almost bathed in it, and yet her arm will not stop piercing that little paring knife into his chest, his arms, and his throat.
“Grace?” I lean into her line of sight to grab her attention. “Grace? He’s dead, sweet.”
Her arm doesn’t slow, nor do the curse words.
“Bastard.” Stab. “Asshole.” Stab. “Motherfucker.” Stab. Then back to “Fuck you,” again and again.
“Grace. It’s me, Tyree. I’m safe. You’re safe. We need to leave and get back to the Warrior.”
This seems to bring her out of her trance. She looks down at her hands, literally bathed in blood. She glances at the body on the floor in front of her and shudders. “He’s dead?” Her hand still clutches the knife, at the ready in case he comes back to life.
“Dead, Amara. Dead. Can you run? We’ll need to hurry back to the ship.”
“Not far,” Shadow informs us. “Savannah’s piloting a hovercraft around the corner. Sai
d it was child’s play to fly. Not fifty steps from the door.”
“I can walk. We’re safe?” Her eyes seem huge in her blood-spattered face.
“We will be as soon as we’re back on board our vessel, Grace.” I stroke her back and help her to her feet. She’s completely dazed.
“Dax, Steele, can you get her to the craft? Shadow and I have one more thing we need to do.”
Shadow lifts his eyebrow in silent question. I watch as the two gladiators escort Grace up the first two steps, then see Dax scoop her into his arms and carry her the rest of the way. I feel no jealousy. She needed the help.
“There’s an Earth female down this hall. She’s in bad shape. We’re rescuing her.” I’ll brook no argument. We’re taking her with us even if Shadow objects.
