Page 28

Chapter Six

P etra

I have no idea how long I slept. I was so tired I probably missed breakfast. Oh well, I eat the terrible bar that remains from last night. My leggings are filthy, so I’ve just slipped into the horrendous blue jumpsuit they left in my room last night. I assume this was designed for the biggest gladiator on the ship. No amount of folding, bunching or cuffing is going to make it work for my five foot nothing frame. The crotch hangs to my knees. I’ll hack the excess legs off when I get a knife from the mess hall.

The knock at my door startles me. I still feel like an interloper. I haven’t handed over the money, and I have no idea if there’s enough to keep me out of the sex slave auction. I know Shadow said he’d fight for me, but I don’t trust his words. It was probably just post-sex man hormones talking. Besides, didn’t the doctor say he could lose his good eye if he strained himself?

“It’s Dr. Drayke, Miss Petra. May I come in?” He sounds as chipper as he did last night.

He doesn’t even make eye contact before he starts apologizing profusely. “I’m so sorry I didn’t bandage your feet last night. I don’t know what I was thinking. I knew you’d want a shower. I should have come back and…” he finally looks at me and smiles. “How did you get to your room last night?”

“Shadow carried me.”

His expression tightens. “Miss Petra, perhaps…” He stops mid-sentence, then starts again. “I think you should know…” He shrugs, apparently not knowing how to proceed.

“I’ve already been informed that he’s not a nice man.”

“I don’t want to carry tales, but you’re new here, and before you get off to a bad start... I just wanted to keep you safe.”

“Thanks for your concern. Frankly, he’s been nothing but a gentleman with me.” Well, if the definition of a gentleman is a male who will fuck your brains out and make sure you come before he does—twice.

He looks skeptical, opens his mouth to say something, then snaps it shut. Smiling again, he holds up something that looks like thick Saran wrap. “If I could just see your feet. I brought plasfilm, it’s impregnated with antibiotics. It won’t take a moment.”

He cuts the film to size and presses the sticky side to the bottoms of my feet. “There. Good as new. You shouldn’t have to worry about infection. It will fall off in a day or two. When it does, if you have any concerns, just pop into medbay and I’ll check you out.”

“Thanks, Dr. Drayke. This is my first house call.”

It takes him a moment to understand the idiom, then he smiles. I’ve noticed he smiles a lot. Though I’m not so sure he’s happy.

“Shadow told me food is to the right?”

“Yes, I’ll escort you there.”

I grab the backpack Shadow left in my room last night and off we go.

The dining room is filled with about ten people, males and females, who all seem to be paired up. The room quiets when the doc and I arrive, I assume because I’m the newbie. Then they all start talking at once. Maddy jumps up to get me a plate of food that’s heaped with several different dishes, none of which look like anything I’ve ever seen or eaten before.

“It looks crappy,” Savannah calls out, “but it tastes really good.”

I tuck in, tasting a bit of everything. I’m famished. “It’s delicious,” I manage to declare between unladylike bites.

The males, including Dr. Drayke, take their leave. All the gladiators are excited to get to the ludus , which I think is their equivalent to the gym. So now I’m alone with a bunch of women who all seem to be talking at once.

I’m so busy keeping track of names and general information I know I’ll forget half of everything they say. They’ve all known each other for weeks. They enjoy easy banter, laughing, and joking. I feel like an outsider. I think of my friends back on Earth. I miss them. I wonder if I’ll ever get back there.

“So all of you were kidnapped from Earth like I was? Are we routing a path back home?”

The room quiets and everyone gets somber.

“We’ve all been gone for weeks,” Savannah says. “How could we return with no good explanation of where we’ve been? We’d be interrogated and someone would tell them what really happened. My guess is we’d all spend the rest of our lives twenty stories underground in some black ops military site. We took a vote. We can’t go back,” her voice is sad and serious.

My chest tightens, then I feel like all the wind’s been knocked out of me. No matter how busy I’ve been saving my own ass since my kidnap, in the back of my mind I’ve assumed I’ll find my way home. ‘We can’t go back’ has a terrible ring of finality to it.

I’m pulled back from these depressing thoughts when Savannah mentions they’re going into

‘town’ to get supplies, namely food and clothes. We’re all wearing awful blue jumpsuits in varying sizes of ‘way too huge’.

“Want to come with us?” Dahlia asks.

“I never want to step foot on that planet again,” pops out of my mouth before I can censor it. “Besides, I don’t even know if I have enough money to stay on the ship. I have to get that worked out before you spend even one credit on me.”

Everyone but Savannah has a puzzled look on their face. Savannah explains, “We had to buy her to free her from slavery down there. Zar wouldn’t let her come on board unless she could reimburse us.”

I hear a lot of “hell no’s” and “what the fucks.”

“We might not even have enough for the food and repairs. His decision wasn’t nice, but it was necessary,” Savannah explains to a crowd of women who look ready to mutiny.

“The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few, or the one,” I interject without irony, quoting Star Trek.

They’re still grumbling when I add, “He was right. He did it to protect you all.” The room quiets, but they seem to be looking at me with new respect. That will disappear when they see my bite mark on their most despised shipmate.

“Speaking of which, can someone take me to the captain? We have to discuss all this.”

“Sure,” Brianna answers, “but first, let’s get your measurements and a list of what you need. We’ll get you some clothes while we’re out.”

“Honestly, I’m not sure I’ll be allowed to stay.”

“We’ll figure out a way for you to stay, Petra. Just tell us what you need.”

I give them my size and height and they tell me they’ll take it from there. I want to keep my requests to a minimum, still feeling like I might be jettisoned at a moment’s notice for being a burden.

Anya steps forward, “Zar is the captain, he’s my mate. I’ll take you to the bridge. He’s a gentle male, but you might find him scary and imposing looking.”

“He holds my fate in his hands, that will be scary enough.”

“The fact that he looks like a lion probably won’t make it any easier.” She’s smiling sweetly, but I can tell she’s serious.

Lion? A deep breath escapes my mouth. “Lions and tigers and bears, oh my,” I mutter under my breath.

She delivers me to the bridge and I see she wasn’t lying. Captain Zar is a six and a half foot massive, muscled lion-man. He taps his chest with his fist and nods cordially to me, “Petra, welcome.” He’s not smiling, he looks deathly serious.

“Perhaps I should stay,” Anya offers, anxiously glancing back and forth between Zar and me.

It’s clear that this business is between the captain and me, but he doesn’t want to piss off his mate. I understand his dilemma. He’s got the welfare of everyone on board to worry about, and shouldn’t have to choose between appeasing his mate and protecting a ship full of people.

“I think this is just between us two,” I offer to get him off the hook.

His brow lifts in surprise as Anya leaves.

“I don’t know how to count the money. I sorted it this morning,” I say without preamble. I pull out the cash, all organized with similar bills together in a tall stack. “I have no idea how much this is.”

He lays it on an open computer station and silently counts it. He’s giving me no clues as to how much it is. I wonder if he’s stalling before he has to order me to leave the ship. I know Shadow offered to fight in the arena again tonight to make up the difference, but the doc had warned him about that. I won’t let him do it. I could never ask him to risk losing his other eye.

“You owe us 5,000,” his tone is firm, giving nothing away.

“There’s a 20% exchange rate for local currency. I believe I owe you 6,000.” My stomach is squeezing in absolute fear. I can almost smell the dank cell I might have to return to.

“Yes, that’s correct.” His face looks grim, his feline mouth is a flat line. My stomach lurches. I’m not only going to hate being sold back into slavery, I’m also going to miss these people. Especially Shadow, though I’m loathe to admit it.

“So here’s your 80,652 in change,” he grins and hands me the money. “Let me be the first to welcome you to your new home. You’re now the richest person here. You could buy and sell all of us. That must have been some performance you put on last night.”

Let me just say that I am not a crier. I don’t even tear up. It’s not in my makeup. I learned how to control that reflex when others were in preschool. So I have no idea how my body even figured out how to produce actual tears. But tears are streaming down my face and I collapse into the nearest chair. The more relieved I feel, the more these foreign, wet, salty streams drip down my face.

I hadn’t realized how much I’d wanted to stay here. How terrified I was of being cast out on Numa again. I can’t even catch my breath as I hear Zar comm'ing Anya to return to the bridge. I’m sure he has no idea what to do with this crazy, crying female.

When Anya arrives and sees me crying she marches straight over to Zar, eyes slit in anger, finger pointed at his face. “You have to let her stay. We’ll figure out a way to make this work.

“Anya, I…”

“Zar, you know this isn’t right. You’re better than this,” her voice is a cross between scolding and pleading.

I’m still having trouble speaking, but I flap the wad of cash at her to get her attention. “This is my change,” I tell her through my tears.

It takes her a moment to figure out what I mean, then, “You’re staying?”

I nod.

She throws her arms around me, “Welcome aboard. Let me find you some tissues.”

While she’s rummaging for something I can blow my nose in, I hand the wad of bills to Zar. “Do you think you could have someone convert these to credits before we leave this planet?”

“Sure. Later today I’ll have the card returned to your room.”

Shadow

I shouldn’t even be in the ludus today. The doc said it wouldn’t be good for my eye if my head were hit. I’m not sparring with anyone, though, just lifting some weights.

It’s hard to remember a time when I wasn’t a gladiator. For so many annums my life has been a long, uninterrupted march of days that had no purpose other than training and fighting. Living in cells, being bought and sold and bought again. Learning how to use my cunning when my body wasn’t up to the challenge of a fight. Training as though my life depended on it, because it did. Then finally becoming strong enough to compete in a fair fight.

I gave up any hope long ago. I knew I would follow orders and fight when told until one day I would die in the arena. No hope of a normal life with a wife and family. Just a pawn in someone else’s game, sometimes matched fairly, sometimes put in great peril. My lot was to live and die at someone else’s whim.

It’s a wonder I’m still alive. I wasn’t supposed to live. When I was first sold into slavery, I was matched against a seasoned gladiator much larger and stronger than me. I’d had no training. I’d simply outlived my usefulness and was bartered off like a piece of trash.

I shake my head. I don’t want to go down this particular path of memories. Not today, not ever. It's ancient history. I know as well as anyone that life is not fair.

I had never anticipated the position I’m in today. I’m a free male, although I’m wanted by one of the largest outlaw cartels in the galaxy. It’s only a matter of time before we’re apprehended. When that happens, I won’t let them take me alive. Fifteen annums as a slave is enough.

So here I am in the ludus , still training as a gladiator even though I’m no longer a slave. If I told the other males I never want to fight in the arena again, no one would argue with me. We’ve experienced so much pain, I think all any of us want is happiness. But at this moment I have no idea what I’d rather do with my miserable life.

I know I’m not a nice male. I’ve spent my whole adult life garnering that reputation. I don’t want to be a nice male. I don’t want to be liked—I gave up trying long ago. I don’t even care if I’m respected. I just wanted to be left alone to wake, fight, and eventually die.

But our little revolution has changed all that. It’s like altering the gear ratio of a device that has run smoothly for decades—as if changing one small mechanism in a well-run machine affects every part of it. Now nothing works the same.

It's begun to bother me that my brother gladiators don’t really want to talk to me or even eat with me in the mess hall. It disappoints me that the women give me a wide berth. I feel like drack for the way I treated Grace when she shared my cell and we were forced to breed. For annums I nurtured the hatred and disdain of others. Staying isolated protected me from their ridicule. Trusting no one kept me safe.

But I liked the way Petra looked at me yesterday, not as a dick but as someone who rescued her, someone she respected. I was with a lot of females before I was sold into slavery.

However, as I look back, it’s clear they wanted me for what I could buy them, how I could pleasure them, and who I could introduce them to. I don’t know if I was ever with a female who looked at me the way Petra did when I helped her escape that club. She looked up to me like I was worthy. That felt good.

She’s been with the other females all day today. After what they’ll tell her, I doubt she’ll ever look at me that way again. But I want her to.

I don’t know who this new Shadow is. I’m not certain I like him.