Page 13

Chapter Thirteen

A nya

It’s after lights out and I still hear sounds of sex echoing up and down the hallway. Zar and I have a lot of organizing to do. I call Tyree through our telepathic connection—it’s faster than email!

She makes her way quickly to the cell block and soon we’re communicating in person, though still through our telepathic link.

How are you feeling? I ask. I’ve been pretty worried about her. She looked like shit when I last saw her.

I think I’m coming down with something.

Is she hedging, I wonder?

Should you see Dr. Drayke?

I’m sure it will pass. I’m just under the weather.

I peer into the darkness, trying to get a better look at her. Tyree, if anything I think you look worse. Will you promise to talk to Dr. Drayke?

Long pause. I have enough of a psychic connection to get a clear impression that she’s withholding something from me.

Anya, I don’t think he can help me. I promise I’ll talk to him if I need help.

It’s like she pulls an iron shutter down, immediately severing the connection between us. She’s never done that before. I believe her powers are growing by leaps and bounds. This has to be good news for our rebellion.

Okay, I’m just worried about you. I can feel her open the line of communication again.

I promise, I’m fine and this will not interfere with our plans. We land on Hyperion in a few days. When are we going to try this overthrow? I think the timing will be important.

Yes, I agree, I nod, not sure if she can even see me. The males will be in the ludus. They can’t start the attack until the collars are disabled, but how will they know you’ve accomplished that?

I’ve been pondering that myself. I have to develop a connection with one of the males. A good enough link that I can reach them from my spot on the bridge all the way to the ludus on a lower level of the ship.

Who?

No idea, she answers forlornly, lips pressed tight.

Why don’t you go up and down the hall and see if any of them can hear you? Then I listen intently, trying to discern if any of the other couples are still engaged in lustful activities. That would be awkward!

I think all is clear, she answers my unspoken question. I’ll try it right now.

Tyree

I try again to establish a connection with Zar. I know him, feel somewhat comfortable with him, and he doesn’t scare me as much as the others. But he doesn’t even stir.

Then I begin down the line of cells toward the far end of the hallway. I make an effort at each cell, but no luck.

I make my way back down the hallway toward the exit. When I pass Anya’s cell again, she asks, So? Anything encouraging?

I shake my head, then move toward the last two cells on my way out. I pause in front of Grace and Shadow’s cell. Shadow, frankly, scares the drack out of me. He’s one of the hardest, most brutal, and callous males I have ever met. I don’t allow my thoughts to connect with the Urluts, they are simply too brutish for me to tolerate even the smallest psychic interaction. So, other than the Urluts, Shadow is the harshest male I’ve ever encountered. Worse even than the captain.

I tamp down my fear, knowing I have to try every possible avenue, which means attempting to connect with him. First, though, I watch them both from the dim light of my hiding place.

Dr. Drayke found Grace some clothes shortly after her arrival. It was one of his own blue jumpsuits. The legs and arms were way too long, so they’re rolled up at the ankles and wrists. The rest of the suit is still huge on her. Her form looks like a blue blob. But at least she has a modicum of dignity and isn’t running around almost nude.

I mostly avoid this cell like the Zonarian plague because of Shadow’s cruel energy, so today I pay attention to Grace almost for the first time. She’s really pretty. She’s not tiny like me, but she’s the smallest of the Earth females.

She seems so unhappy! I certainly understand why. I wouldn’t be able to tolerate living in that tiny cell with Shadow.

I begin telepathically calling Shadow’s name, softly at first, then louder. I quickly know he’s getting my signal. At first, he sits up in his bunk. Then he looks around, confused. Then he stands, comes to the front bars of the cell, and peers directly at me even though I thought I was hidden in the darkness.

“What’s going on?” he questions angrily.

I’m Tyree. I’m talking to you in your mind. Can you hear me? It’s a ridiculous question I realize immediately.

“Yes, I can hear you!” He’s talking pretty loud. Is he not afraid of the guards?

Talk back to me in your head, I practically order him. The last thing either of us needs is to be discovered plotting together.

Who are you to order me around? He demands, but at least his lips aren’t moving and he’s not verbalizing his imperious commands out loud.

As I said, I have no idea where I got the nerve, but I’m trying to get the upper hand with this hostile barbarian. I’m Tyree. I’m the one who’s going to get the collars disabled.

And? He challenges arrogantly.

And, I answer back haughtily, I need one of you gladiators who can hear my thoughts so you’ll know when the collars are disabled and you can start fighting.

This seems to put him in his place. I can feel him stand down from his aggressive stance and begin to cooperate with me.

So, it’s obvious you can receive my thoughts. Obvious, too, that you can send, I say, more than ready to terminate the conversation.

His belligerent energy is soul-sucking. I’ll try to connect with you in half an hoara from the bridge. Let me know if you receive my thoughts. Tomorrow I’ll connect with you in the ludus . If that works, we’ll be much closer to taking over the ship.

Fine, is all he says dismissively, then stalks back to his bunk.

I take a glance at Grace, who can’t hear either of us, but is aware that something is going on. I spare a quick moment to pity her. She’s the only female on the cell block who hasn’t made some peace with her situation. Her misery is palpable. I send her calming and healing energy, not knowing if she has the capacity to receive it. But her body jolts a bit as if something got through to her. I see her shoulders relax in the dim light. Perhaps I gave her some comfort.

Anya

Tyree doubled back to give me the good news that Shadow is our new interlocutor. Neither of us speaks the obvious, which is that although he is the best qualified psychically, he is the worst qualified temperamentally. Oh well, we’ll take what we can get.

Zar receives this news with excitement. “Anya, all the big problems are out of the way.” He’s practically crowing with satisfaction. “We just have to hammer out the details and we’ll be ready.”

We put our heads together as we kneel on the floor in front of the bed. We’re whispering so low I can barely hear him, although his mouth is inches from my ear. We trace our fingers on the thin surface of the blanket, drawing hallways and schematics with nothing more than fingertips and imagination.

Luckily, the males are now well acquainted with the layout of the ship since they were shown the way to the bridge during the Marauder attack.

Over and over again we ask each other questions. With each “what if,” we struggle for an answer or a logical workaround. Each time we review, we get down to smaller and smaller details.

Who should receive the first weapon? Zar has fangs and claws, Shadow has prosthetics that are stronger than flesh; Axxios and Dax are gargantuan and innately strong. Steele, Zar points out to me, has almost as few natural protections as humans. Gee thanks, honey.

Who should run point as they proceed from the ludus to the bridge? We arrange a clear hierarchy for that. When should the women be included? Never—we both agree. We will most probably be safest in our little cell block. We’ll have to trust the males. This wasn’t an easy decision to come to. Trust is not my strong point.

Then we get down to the nitty-gritty of “the list” as I’ve been calling it in my mind. Talk about playing God. We are writing a list of who shall live and who shall die. How very Old Testament of us.

It doesn’t turn out to be as difficult as it sounds. We come up with plan A and plan B. Plan A is to try to kill no one but the Urluts. The other people need to be subdued and put in the same cells we’re currently confined to while we figure out what to do with them. Plan B, though, is that if challenged, keeping the gladiators alive and safe is job number one. If one of our enemies does not stand down, they will have to be expendable.

I’m not super happy about this, but it’s logical and they haven’t exactly treated us like BFFs.

Then we get to the little issue of Dr. Drayke sun Omrun. At first, Zar advocates for his death. Upon discussion, however, I discover that he mostly wants Dr. Drayke dead because he’s been intimately acquainted with my vajayjay. I remind him that the doc has been helpful and basically kind. He tried to make the invasive exams as painless and quick as possible. He feels remorse, and since it looks like we’re going to be on this ship for a while, it would be nice to have a real doctor in medbay. Ultimately, Zar grudgingly agrees to let the poor guy live.

Zar and I briefly discuss the elephant in the room, which is what we are going to do after the revolution. If we lose, there is no problem—we’ll all be dead or sold into slavery and will have absolutely no decisions to make. If we win, however, well that’s the big question.

We’ll have ten gladiators, ten Earth women, and a few stragglers from the original crew. That’s over twenty mouths to feed. We have no idea how to find the money to pay for fuel or food. We’ll be homeless, with no welcoming planet to go to.

“Zar, I don’t think any of the women can go home.” I hate to verbalize this fact out loud, but it has to be discussed. “Some of us might be pregnant. Humans are…” I’ve told Zar all the good things about Earth. I hate to admit how judgmental and bloodthirsty some of us can be. “Humans can be tribal. We choose sides and don’t like or trust people who are other than ourselves. If we came home with hybrid babies… we’d be targets for people who hate. And there are a lot of haters in the world.”

“The babies wouldn’t be safe?”

“None of us would be safe.”

His shoulders tighten and pull back. He’s gone into protective mode even though we’re millions of miles from Earth.

“And even without babies, if anyone on Earth found out aliens are real, it would cause pandemonium. Or, more likely, they would accuse us of being insane and lock us up forever. I don’t think any of us can ever go home.”

The import of what I just said hits me—I feel gut-punched. Never is a long time. Never going home means no parents, no sisters, no Midnight the cat. No blue skies or my old Corolla or even my shitty job… none of it. Ever. I blink back hot tears.

We finally realize it’s been a long day. Between the gladiatorial competition, the world-class marathon sex, and the mental gymnastics of planning for any and every eventuality of overthrowing this spaceship, we’re tired. The Urluts’ morning wake-up call will come all too quickly.

Zar

At the Urluts’ command, Anya and I have that quiet intimate sex where we stare into each other’s eyes while we mate. It’s not the panting, hot, furious sex of yesterday where we couldn’t couple fast enough. It’s slow and breathtakingly intense and feels like there are two bodies and only one soul. Anya might not agree, but I think I like this even better than the other. It connects me to another living being in a way that even intense physical satisfaction cannot.

It doesn’t surprise me when I realize I would die for her. Easily. Almost happily. In a span of only a few days, I’ve discovered I have a reason for living, and that reason is Anya. She could casually ask me to walk into hell for her and I would, without question.

Perhaps Shadow is right when he says I’ve lost my mind.

I begrudgingly agree with Anya when she reminds me today cannot be the day to overthrow the enemy. We have to make sure “all systems are go,” as she says. We haven’t tested Shadow and Tyree’s link from the bridge to the ludus . It would be foolhardy to fight today without knowing if that communication will work.

This angers me. I’m ready to fight. Win or lose, I hate the waiting. Perhaps I wasn’t born to be the general who orchestrates the fight. I was born to be the one who rushes into battle and counts the bodies of those I’ve slain.

Anya

Dr. Drayke tries as usual to keep the exam quick and all business. I try to pump him for information. Today is somewhat different, however, because I’m not inquiring about the workings of the ship or trying to figure out why he’s here. I’m trying to determine what he’ll do when the shit hits the fan tomorrow.

With my feet planted firmly on the floor, I begin. “Have you ever thought about just leaving the ship? Maybe finding a passenger vessel at the next stop and just deserting?”

His deep-set blue eyes take my full measure. His entire demeanor changes, his muscles tightening, as he assesses me warily. “Why do you ask that, Miss Anya?”

“Well,” I hedge, “you just seem so miserable here. I know you don’t feel right doing… what you do. How bad would it be to just slip away and create a new life? They probably need doctors all over the galaxy.”

“Just slip away, huh? My contract isn’t with the Urluts or the captain of this ship. My contract is officially with the Trans-Galaxy Shipping and Transport Agency. It sounded legitimate enough when I signed it. It was only after the documents were completed that I learned Trans-Galaxy was just one of many front organizations for the MarZan cartel.”

He leans his coveralled hip against the exam table and folds his hands over his chest.

“They are one of the most powerful, cutthroat, vindictive confederations out there. If I just ‘slip away’ as you suggest, they will hunt me down and find me wherever I am in the galaxy. Yes, they will kill me, but that will be the easy and merciful part of what they will do to me. I won’t even mention some of the stories I’ve heard.” He breathes deeply and shakes his head ruefully.

“And that doesn’t even address what they will first do to my family. No, no matter how horrible my life is, I will ride out my contract.

“I try to help the people I treat. Above all, I try to be a healer. I’ve been nothing but kind to all of you females. I’ve patched up some of the gladiators as well, always attempting to be compassionate and caring. I sometimes even convince the captain to provide extra rations or other enhancements to the captives’ lives.

“I’m staying, Anya. It is hell for me, but I can see no options.”

I’m partly processing his words and what they mean to him, but mostly focused on the fact that even if we win this battle, we’re going to be hunted down by one of the most dangerous smuggling cartels in the galaxy.

I leave the exam knowing where Dr. Drayke’s allegiances lie. “Above all do no harm,” may be an Earth saying, but this male would never fight against us, would never harm us. If he’s smart, he’ll lock himself in medbay tomorrow and wait for the shooting to end.

Tyree

I wait for a quiet moment on the bridge, then let the tentacles of my mind reach through the ship. I’m still just learning how to make this happen. Even as I do it, I’m not sure if I find Shadow by mentally tracing my steps through the ship to the ludus , or if I find him by seeking his unique mental signature. Perhaps a little of both.

At any rate, it’s fairly easy to lock onto him and begin a conversation. Shadow, Shadow, Shadow, I call. I feel his angry awareness on me almost immediately.

You’re interrupting my sparring, he accuses.

We need to do this, asshole . Whoops, that isn’t my style at all. I’m not sure where that came from.

Well, you contacted me and I responded, what else do you need to know?

I terminate our connection. How can one male be such an annoying prick? Oh well, mission accomplished. I believe this is the last piece we needed to tie down to make certain we can fight the crew. I hope we can get this over with tomorrow. It’s getting harder to be in the same quarters with the captain. I hate him more with each passing day.

Anya

Zar can read my glum mood as soon as the Urluts push him into our cell. When I explain what we’ll be up against if we win and take over the ship, he doesn’t seem scared, he just appears thoughtful.

“This doesn’t worry you?” I’m pacing the tiny cell. “It overwhelms me.”

“In my life, I’ve found there is always one bad thing after another, Anya. How could you expect anything better?”

For the millionth time since my abduction, I realize my life on Earth, as shitty as I sometimes thought it was, was really freaking easy. In my old life, did I actually let bad hair days, running out of gas, or being ghosted by a mediocre date ruin my day? I wish I could take all that back. Now I know what a bad day really is.

“So, we just go from one crisis to the next? Just like that? We just learn to take it?” My voice has risen and a bystander might label the tone “hysterical.”

Zar’s lips compress. I think he might be figuring out how to “manage” me. Fuck him, I hate being “managed” when I’m losing control.

“Yes, Anya. Life is a series of events that often go from one dilemma to another. But it’s the middle that’s important. It’s what’s between the crises that’s so vital. Look at what’s happening here.” He gestures at the two of us.

“What’s happening between you and me, Anya. The sweet perfection of this. The miracle of finding each other in the midst of the crazy and the pain and the abuse. We’ve found each other. That is what makes life worth living.”

He’s piercing me with his warm golden gaze. My heart clenches in acknowledgment of the truth of what he said. Life is not just a bowl of cherries. As someone once said, it’s mostly pits. But when you find that one delicious dark cherry that bursts with sweetness in your mouth, you can savor it and enjoy it all the more.

I didn’t ask to be here. I didn’t ask to be on this ship, in a cell, away from home. But here I am, and I found my amazing lion guy, and I love him. We’ll fight this fight, and we will win. And then we’ll fight the next and the next. Whatever they throw at us, we won’t give up. But we’ll have each other, and Zar’s right, that’s what makes life worth living.

I throw myself into his arms, practically demanding his embrace. This male, with no formal education of any kind, is the smartest person I know. And patient. He’s so patient with me. I press my cheek to his soft-as-velvet pec and inhale the clean scent of him. I love the strong muscles under my fingertips, everywhere my hands roam.

My emotions are scrambled. So much fear, anger, and frustration are swirling around me in a jumbled mess. But as I sort through all those feelings, I find that I can relegate them to just background noise and focus on what I want. And what I want to focus on? Love. I choose love.

Zar

I’ve always been taught that sex before a fight drains your power. Anya tells me I’m crazy, that on her planet that’s been disproven. She’s pretty persuasive, especially after she adds kisses and caresses to the debate, but I don’t want to lose strength before tomorrow’s battle. She’s cute when she pouts, but then backs off and seems content to just rest in my arms.

Lying in bed, she peppers me with questions about tomorrow. I reassure her that every male is aware of the plan. I’ve shared every detail with Axxios and Shadow, and they made sure all the others are in agreement.

It was harder for me to catch Doctore alone due to all his duties as our trainer, and the fact that the guards watch him so closely. He was an honored champion in the arena for many annums. When he was in his prime, he was far more skilled than I.

He keeps his calm and does his job, but underneath his tranquil exterior, he seethes with anger. Rumor has it his owner cheated him out of buying his freedom, then sold him to an even harsher master. He’ll fight well for our cause.

Me, I’ve always known that I would never have freedom. I imagine it’s much easier to tolerate living in slavery than to believe you might one day be free and then have that snatched from you.

It strikes me briefly that I might have my freedom by tomorrow evening, then I push that thought into the far recesses of my mind.

Don’t dream too big. I learned that young. I learned that with my friend Pallatin. I hold on to just one thing right now. That is my little Anya. I have this magic with Anya. Even if I die tomorrow, I had these days with Anya and will die happy. If I perish during this rebellion, in my heart I know I will die a free man and not a slave, and that is good and right and just.

Anya is facing me, her head on my outstretched bicep. I stroke her soft hair with my fingertips, then use my claws as a comb, trying to reassure her with my touch. Her nervous thoughts flick from one worry to another as she voices them out loud. I must admit, my mind is full of worries too. The crew outguns us, we’re not sure we can turn off the collars. There are so many possible pitfalls. Everyone in this cell block knows we might not live to see another day.

I hadn’t wanted to bring this up to Anya, I hadn’t wanted her to worry, or to grasp too clearly that one or both of us might die tomorrow. But she’s already terrified.

“Anya, I want you to promise me something.”

“What?” Her tone is immediately sober. It’s obvious I want to have a serious talk.

I place my palm on her belly. We’ve barely discussed the possibility that she might be carrying my young. Piercing her with my gaze, I tell her, “If I die tomorrow—” She interrupts me, shushing me to get me to change the subject. I place a finger on her lips and shake my head. I have to say this. She must listen. She understands, takes a measured breath, and nods her head to signal she’s ready to hear what I have to say.

“If I die tomorrow, if you live and have our young, I want you to tell him or her two things.”

Her eyes are luminous with unshed tears, her lips are clamped shut, she listens intently.

“I want you to explain that I saved their mother from slavery.”

Anya looks at me tenderly, stroking my arm. “If I carry your young, I will tell him or her about their father’s finest hour. But you’ll be there with me, to correct the story and make sure I’m getting all the details right.”

I don’t have the heart to force her to accept the fact that I might die tomorrow. We both know the reality here.

“And what is the second thing you want me to tell?”

I pierce her with the tenderest gaze. A flood of loving warmth gushes through every fiber of my being. I want her to remember this moment forever. “Tell our young how much their father loved their mother.”

Her tears spill freely now, and she nestles against me. She hugs me so tightly there is no air between our bodies. She kisses me wildly—cheeks, eyes, forehead, neck, anywhere her lips can reach.

She’s lying in my embrace, both of us on our sides. My palm slides down her neck, along her spine, to her sweetly rounded bottom. Then back up to her neck and down again. She’s focused on my hand, on this intimate connection. My fingers roam lower, stroking the globes of her ass, squeezing a bit. I’m certain I have her full attention.

She puts up no resistance when I slip her pants off.

“I thought we weren’t…?”

“ We aren’t, Little Anya,” I say as I slip one finger down her bottom from behind, between her cheeks to the waiting folds of her sex.

“Mmmm…” She lifts one leg and cocks it, resting her knee on my leg to open herself to my hand, giving me better access.

My finger presses from behind through her folds. She’s wet for me, as she always seems to be. I dip my finger into her core and she involuntarily sucks in a breath and clenches with pleasure, then opens for me again. My finger now drenched in her juices, I reach forward to swirl it around her little button of pleasure, then pull back to dip my finger in her wetness again.

Her breathing has changed completely from a soft, calm rhythm to open-mouthed pants. My finger continues to alternate between swirling around her clit to penetration and back again. At first just the tip of my finger, now all the way in to the hilt. Her hips are bucking, and she’s trying to stifle the moan that erupts from the back of her throat.

She flips onto her back, her knees splayed out in open invitation. I know what she wants—more pressure, more penetration, but I want to ramp her up even higher. Under the blanket, I kneel between her legs to get better range of motion and begin a steady rhythm of thrusts. After a moment of this, I press into her with two fingers. A soft moan escapes her lips even as her hips lift to meet me more insistently.

“Please,” it’s a breathy plea.

I move down and put my knees on the floor at the foot of the bed. I grab her ankles and pull her lower. Now she’s in the perfect position for my mouth, her heels on the edge of the bed, her knees splayed out, totally open to me, still under the blanket for some measure of privacy.

Two fingers in her warm core, I begin to lap at her little button. She hisses in pleasure. I was afraid that the burrs on my tongue would hurt her tender parts, but she seems on fire and isn’t complaining.

Her fingers alternate between combing through my mane and pressing my head down harder on her sensitive bud. I glance up to see her head thrown back in ecstasy. No, I don’t think my abrasive tongue is causing any pain.

“Zar.” It’s part request, part insistence. I can tell she’s close. I press harder with my tongue at the same moment I add a third finger to penetrate deeply into her drenched channel.

“Yesss,” she hisses, trying to be quiet. Her internal muscles clamp around my fingers as her entire body responds in waves of pleasure. It seems to go on forever, these deep spasms of ecstasy. I bask in the joy of giving her so much bliss. It feels so good to attend to my female like this.

After a moment’s recovery time, she grabs me and pulls me up until we’re both lying properly on the bed again.

“That was amazing. Toe-curling,” she says.

Yes, indeed.

“What about you, Zar?”

“Keeping the fluids in, Anya. It keeps a warrior strong. I want to be strong to fight for you tomorrow.”