Page 129 of Gladiators of the Vagabond Boxset

Camila

I was jittery from nerves when we docked at Yengar Spaceport.

Chloe had told me this place was lawless and pretty derelict, held together by a shoestring and a prayer.

It was located in a fairly central but neutral area of the Zeta Quadrant, a hub of trade, mostly of the illegal kind.

The place was filled with brothels and pubs, subpar sleeping accommodations, and a whole host of illicit activities.

My first look at the port through the viewscreen had shown me a large rotating cylinder, responsible for generating gravity on the port.

It was a fairly outdated method, which gave me a good idea of just how old the port was.

The place was a hive of activity, with ships of many different sizes docking and departing.

I noted at least three Battle Class Cruisers of the same category as the UAR Battleship Praetor, the ship I’d arrived on in this quadrant.

“So this is Yengar,” Thorin murmured, his head canted as he appraised the many spokes and drifting ships surrounding the station.

We were on the bridge, watching how Chloe and Kitan worked together to expertly bring the ship in close to dock at our assigned berth.

You’d think a blind girl would struggle to navigate a big Star Class Cruiser like the Vagabond, but I quickly realized that, when plugged into the navigational system via the jack located at the back of her neck, she saw plenty.

When she was plugged in, the ship’s AI sounded positively punch-drunk, courtesy of being able to use Chloe’s brain to calculate at near-instantaneous speeds.

“We are docking now. This might be a little bumpy. There are no dampeners in this berth,” Kitan warned with a grin.

Then he gently put the massive Vagabond down in its assigned spot without so much as a jostle.

Chloe rolled her blue eyes at him with a grin. “Show-off.”

“Listen,” Ziame said, standing up from his captain’s chair to face Thorin and me, “you are going in and out, quickly. We are only staying here as long as it takes to unload some of our trade goods. Report back every hour on the dot.” He swished his tail behind him as he spoke, then darted the tip of it at Thorin’s chest. “You got this?”

At my side, Thorin straightened his shoulders and gave a firm nod.

This morning his blue-and-blond braids were different—not the thick, boxy half dozen I’d gotten used to.

Now his hair was braided back across his skull, the cornrows neat and tight, with the rest in sleeker, smaller braids that dangled down his back but stayed out of his face.

This meant his pointed, elf-like ears were on full display, and because of that, the chain with the small medallion dangling from earlobe to nostril was also more noticeable.

I had a feeling that, dressed in leather and covered in tattoos, he’d fit right in with the rest of the crowd on the station.

In my EV suit, I’d be a little more noticeable, I thought, but Da’vi had given the suit a paint job, taking it from camo green to a matte black.

I thought I looked pretty badass today, and I felt better with a power rifle slung over one shoulder and a laser pistol on my hip.

It didn’t appear as though Thorin had any weapons on him, just a thick chain dangling from the loops of his pants on one hip.

I imagined that could be used as a club in a pinch.

Neither of us said much as we exited the ship and wound our way into the station at a fast walking pace.

Hooked into a link with Akri via Thorin’s com, the ship was giving us directions to where this information broker was supposed to be.

We had to cross several levels of the station, and I had to try very hard not to stare at all the strange alien species that populated it.

Some were of the species I’d already come to know aboard the Vagabond.

Kertinel like Da’vi or Tarkan like Sunder.

I spotted Aderians, such as the Doc, and the Pretorians—with their four arms—stood out as well.

I wondered if any of the gladiators aboard the ship would want to make contact with members of their own species.

Jakar, maybe—the youngest gladiator—seemed like the type to value that kind of connection with his fellow Pretorians.

Then there were the new types, some stranger than others, some close to human-looking.

I even spotted one or two humans, or at least I thought they might be actual humans.

Thorin definitely didn’t stand out; there were plenty of Elrohirians with their pointed elf ears and various long braids.

Each of them wore a chain across their face like the one Thorin wore, and I quickly realized that, unlike Thorin, they wore many different medallions, not just one.

I considered asking him about it, but decided against that, this was hardly the time or the place, and it could very well be a sensitive topic.

So I focused on my surroundings, trying to ignore how every Elrohirian who noticed Thorin would turn up their nose and openly snub him.

He hid his tension about it well; if I hadn’t gotten to know his body as well as I had over the past few days, I probably never would have noticed.

The many brothels peddled all kinds of flesh, females hawking from the doors naked or in little more than scraps.

They were well visited, as were the stores that peddled drugs.

The whole place had a sticky, grimy feel to it, making my skin crawl.

I couldn’t believe that Chloe had once risked her health by getting a jack installed in her head in a place like this.

We had to cross at least four decks, winding our way deeper and deeper into the place. The pathways were becoming narrow and steep, with a stench of unwashed bodies and overworked air scrubbers filling every nook and cranny. Many lights were out or flickering, giving the place an eerie atmosphere.

I was getting stares from males and females alike, standing out as the rare human and as the only one wearing an EV suit, even if I hadn’t actually put my helmet on.

“There should be a door to your left, Thorin,” Akri piped up through his com.

The AI’s voice was cheerful and bright, coming through far louder than necessary now that we were in the bowels of the Yengar station.

I could tell that the cluster of five aliens standing around a small open flame and smoking something that caused a haze of purple smoke were now avidly watching us.

One male—a squat, gray, leathery-skinned type with a mouth full of shark teeth—grinned and licked at nonexistent lips as he ran his eyes over me.

I flipped him the bird behind my back, aware that he wouldn’t know what I meant by that.

“I see the door,” Thorin said, flicking a switch on his com to drastically lower the volume.

“Almost there. Thanks, Akri.” He stepped up to the rusted brown panel, and when it was apparent there was no doorbell or anything like it, he knocked his gloved fist on it.

Above the door, a camera panned, zooming in on our faces, a red, blinking eye taking our measure.

There was no response, but the males behind us had moved closer.

Their thick purple smoke drifted around our bodies in eddies and swirls.

I had a bad feeling about them and inconspicuously drifted a hand closer to my pistol.

Thorin tilted his head, his ear twitching in their direction, but otherwise gave no indication he’d noticed them.

However, he casually remarked, “I really hate it when people think they can just invade your personal space, you know?”

Just as the first one neared the bottom step to the door we were standing on, Thorin’s hand snapped to his belt.

The chain hanging there clicked free and went spinning whip-fast, slamming into the male’s wrist and sending a knife clattering to the ground.

He yelped and howled in pain, stumbling back into his buddies.

“What the fuck, man!” one of them screamed. “We just wanted a look at your female!”

Thorin’s mouth curled into a snarl, green eyes flashing.

“And cop a feel? Stab me in the back and sell her to a brothel? That’s all right?

Just a friendly interaction.” The sarcasm was heavy, and all the males were frantically shaking their heads now, backpedaling.

Could be they were just cowards thinking they’d found an easy mark but hadn’t.

Could be they were a little afraid of my power rifle, which I’d swung off my shoulder and aimed their way at the first sign of trouble.

My finger was hovering over the safety, ready to click it off and fire a warning shot should I need to.

They scattered, darting into the warren-like underbelly of the station, scattering to the winds, so to speak.

Thorin made a harrumphing sound, almost appearing disappointed at the lack of further resistance on their part.

He snapped out his chain and casually clipped it to his belt.

“Enough games. Let us in,” he said, lifting his head to stare directly into the camera above the door.

“Unless you want me to break some more wrists, I can do that.”

There was no answer, but the door slid open quietly, without a whisper of sound.

Beyond it was what amounted to an airlock, a small space blocked in by another door.

The panels were rusted and ugly, marked with dents and scratches.

There was another camera as well, blinking at us, almost daring us to step inside.