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Chapter Twelve

S hadow

My plan to avoid Petra has been a disaster. I’ve been trying to avoid her for two days. I should have known that although every other female on board wouldn’t even consider darkening the door of the ludus , Petra has practically camped out here.

She found a rope somewhere on board and asked Dax and Theos to hang it in the rafters.

She’s been here all morning practicing her moves. It looks like what she did at the Golden Pussy was child’s play compared to some of the maneuvers she’s performing here. She’s fully clothed in her tight black pants and black t-shirt that has a picture of a bearded male on it, perhaps one of her gods. She’s no less alluring than she was half-naked at the bar.

I’m using supreme self-control not to kill every single male in the ludus . They’re all attempting not to stare. I’m sure they can smell my rage, but they can’t keep their eyes off her. Who could? No male in the galaxy could watch what she’s doing and not find it sexy.

All sorts of things are going through my mind, from killing them all in a fit of rage, to cutting that dracking rope down, to pulling her off that thing and mounting her on one of the mats on the floor right here in front of everyone.

But I just keep adding weights to my barbell, my muscles aching with the effort, and trying to avert my eyes. Which, of course, I can’t.

I’m lying on my back on the weight bench; a blind man with a cane could see my hard-on at fifty paces. I need to leave. I thought the ludus would be my salvation for the time it will take to recover from this Petra disaster. It has turned out to be my ruination.

“Shadow and Petra, please report to the bridge,” Zar announces over the comm. I have no idea what’s going on, but this is the last thing I want. Rather than getting away from Petra, we’re being forced together. I look up at her; she’s hanging upside down with the rope tied around her ankle. She glances at me before she extricates herself from her pose and scrambles down. Even from that height, she probably didn’t miss my erection.

" C ome, sit down,” Zar says when we arrive at the bridge. Dr. Drayke is already here. “Go ahead, doc, give them an update.”

“Hello,” he begins politely, then launches. “I’m extremely worried about Tyree. He’s not doing well. He’s not recovering. If anything, he’s getting worse. For a day or so he faded in and out of consciousness. Now he’s out cold. He’s so ill I didn’t want to leave him alone. I’ve asked Grace to sit by his bedside and alert me if his condition worsens.

“I did some research on his home planet and can’t find a thing; they have no technology, they’re not connected to the Intergalactic Database. I found no comparables in the literature. We’re forging new territory here. I think I discovered something in his blood work, though. If my hypothesis is correct, he might respond to a compound made from the flower of the vulcana tree. I won’t go into the research or the chemistry, I’ll just tell you that I think a tincture of this drug might be Tyree’s only hope.”

“Captain Zar and I have looked at the star charts,” Axxios, the pilot, interjects. “ Vulcana only grows on three planets in the known galaxy. Luckily we’re less than a day away from Ortheon II, which has several massive groves of vulcana . This planet is not a destination for anyone other than big mining companies. It’s remote but rich in ore.

“The inhabitants themselves are unsophisticated, they’ve only been visited by more advanced civilizations for the last few annums . Most Ortheons aren’t technologically savvy. Your mission would be to go in, pick some flowers and get out.”

Okay, sounds great, but I’m wondering why the heck Petra and I have been called in on this. I’m listening for the catch.

Zar continues, “The vulcana trees grow high in the mountains. We’ve found a range with immense groves of trees, far from any settlements. We figure we’ll be less likely to encounter any of the native population there. Lower probability of trouble.”

I’m still waiting to hear what they want from us. I glance at Petra and note her furrowed brow, she appears skeptical. I figure she’s wondering the same thing.

“What exactly is our job?” Petra asks respectfully, gesturing between her and me.

“The trees are enormous,” Axxios answers and flashes pictures of a grove of them up on the windows that double as huge vid screens. “It’s hard to get a scope of these things from the pictures, but they’re wide and tall and look difficult to climb. The useable flowers are the buds, which at this time of annum on Ortheon can only be found on the uppermost branches of the tallest trees.”

He gives a pointed look at Petra. “This is where you come in. We couldn’t figure out any way to get at the flowers without your climbing and acrobatic ability.”

Petra scrutinizes the pictures as they scroll through. “Beautiful,” she says of the lavender flowers. “You’re right. Harvesting those buds looks almost impossible.”

“You two worked so well together on Numa, Shadow, I wanted you to go to the surface as a team,” Zar explains. “We considered sending a cadre of males down on protection detail, but as we thought it through, we decided it would bring too much attention to the mission. The inhabitants of the planet are simple rubes. If they see an armed band of gladiators marching into town they’re going to get suspicious. If it looks like a friendly couple that came to pick some pretty flowers, I think everyone will be safer.”

I’m busy running scenarios in my head, imagining every possible eventuality—everything that might go wrong. I’m considering all strategies that might keep Petra safe. With the info they presented this seems like the best plan.

“I want Petra equipped with comms and a laser. I won’t go unless both of us are armed. Too many unknown variables out there for us not to be as cautious as possible.” I didn’t phrase this as a question. It was a demand. I want to keep us both safe. I couldn’t bear for Petra to be put in danger.

“Oh, one more thing,” Zar adds strategically as if it’s an afterthought. “Off-worlders are mining gold. The company’s owned by the MarZan cartel. We’re hoping a swift in-and-out mission on the other side of the planet from the mining operations will garner no interest in our flowerpicking mission.”

“You’re putting our lives at stake, Zar? Everyone’s lives at stake? For this? We’re on the run from them. Their tentacles are in every illegal business in the galaxy. Technically this is still their ship. Technically, they still own every one of us but Petra and the doc. They’ve put a price on our heads. If they catch us we’re all dead, or slaves again.”

“A couple hours work, Shadow. Hit atmo, pick buds, leave atmo. We wouldn’t be free males without Tyree. He was the one who disabled the pain/kill collars for the rebellion. I feel in his debt. We all should,” he scolds, spearing me with a critical look.

I want to spit back, ‘every male for himself’. But I like the way Petra looked at me like I’m a hero. I don’t want to be a dick.

“Quick in and out, Zar. Well-armed backup ready to pick us up at a moment’s notice.”

He nods.

Petra

They told us we’d arrive on Ortheon II in five or six hours. I’m headed back to my room to sneak an hour or two of rest. I haven’t been sleeping well since I left Shadow in his room the other night.

I know he’s been trying to avoid me, but I’m not going to let that dictate where I go on this ship. If I want to exercise in the ludus , then so be it. I can feel his eyes on me when I’m on the rope. I may not be able to smell his arousal, but I can sense it. If I’m not mistaken, he’s aroused all the time. Now we’re going to be thrown together on this little flower-picking mission. I wonder if he’s going to talk or just give me the silent treatment the whole time.

Before I get some sleep I’m going door to door to see if anyone has any shoes that will fit me. I can’t do this in my flimsy pair of flip-flops. It looked like there were a lot of stickers on those trees, and the bark appeared really rough.

My search for footwear is fruitless. They were all kidnapped without shoes, so they're all wearing weird alien flip-flops. Great.

I comm the bridge with my concerns and I’m told to meet Dax in the cargo hold. He looks handsome in his haircut, and I think he’ll always have a sweet spot in his heart for me after I spiffed him up so nicely. Dahlia seems to look at him a bit more fondly since then; I know he appreciates that.

“I’ll do the best I can to make you some shoes that will protect your feet,” he says as he motions me over. He’s plundering through a box full of hides. “Contraband,” he explains. “Endangered animal hides and pelts from all over the galaxy. The assholes were going to sell them to the highest bidder. I hate to use them, but this is what we have.”

He finds a thick piece of black leather and bends it back and forth in his hands. “This is flexible enough for the soles of your shoes, thick enough to protect you.”

He keeps rummaging and shows me some honey-brown suede. “This is for the upper part of the shoes, or I can make you boots. How high up do you want them?”

“Up to my knees if you can, Dax.”

He has me stand on the leather he’s picked for my soles and cuts around the outline of each foot.

“I’ll have these done for you before you leave.”

“You’re a good male, Dax. These boots will be great. Thanks.”