Page 24 of Gladiators of the Vagabond Boxset

Ziame

Something was different today; everyone on the block knew it.

There were restless pacing sounds coming from some cells and angry muttering from the winged Tarkan.

We knew the day cycles by the way the lights in the hallway dimmed or flared, and we filled our time with training for the arena in the ship’s gym.

Today, our escort hadn’t come. They’d left us to rot in the cells for the entire day cycle.

We’d docked. I had heard the changes in the engines as they idled down.

We all had, but nobody had been taken from the cells for a fight, and they hadn’t warned us that one was coming up.

We were supposed to be headed for Xio for a round of gladiator matches.

By my count, that was still at least seven cycles out.

After several hours, the engines had roared back to life, and we’d resumed our flight.

Were we still headed for Xio? Was I doomed to fight again in seven cycles?

I hadn’t moved from my meditative pose yet, but the restlessness was getting to me, too.

I found myself pacing my cell—slightly larger than that of the others—back and forth while my long tail swished behind me in frustration.

I needed to calm down; it wouldn’t do to betray my ploy.

As long as they thought I was a stupid, mindless beast, I knew they’d slip up around me again and again.

Say things I shouldn’t be hearing, maybe leave out a complex tool I shouldn’t know how to use.

I snorted in anger, and my fire-starter clicked in my throat.

Sure, how long had I been keeping up that ruse? Going on three years?

Flicking out my tongue, I caught the scent before any of the others did.

Female—tasty and sweet. Damn it, what were the Krektar up to?

Had the slavers brought aboard a female for their own sick games, or were they going to involve one of the males on the block?

Both my hearts pounded in my chest; I hated seeing the suffering of the females in this universe.

When the other males caught the scent a few minutes later, low murmurs passed between them. The Tarkan growled angrily, fluttering his wings in agitation; his species was matriarchal, like my own. Yeah, I got it, buddy. I wanted to rip, shred, and kill to protect the unknown female, too.

The screaming started not much later, high and fierce and heartrending.

They were hurting the female, and it didn’t sit well with any of us here.

“Damn it!” growled the Sune through his fanged maw, clutching the bars with his clawed hands.

Behind him, I could see his plumed tail ripple and split—an anomaly even among his own race.

Pacing back and forth, I growled in a low, angry rumble, and when the screaming halted, every single male held his breath, listening intently.

Did she live? As she screamed again, I figured she was getting translator tech installed without sedation, the barbaric assholes.

How could they do this to a defenseless female?

Her voice gave out halfway through that second time, and some of the males here flinched when that happened. “Did they kill her, or did she pass out?” the Sune male growled in concerned frustration. None of us had an answer, so nobody said anything.

The next while was hard because I wanted to know badly whether she lived or not.

In my three years as a slave owned by the shadowy crimelord Drameil, I had to learn how to steel my heart against these kinds of things.

Yet this time, it tore at me far more than it should have.

She smelled too soft, too sweet, I told myself.

She wasn’t like a Lacerten female, armed with toxic venom and a fire-starter.

This female smelled utterly defenseless; it wasn’t right to hurt such a creature.

When the cellblock opened, I retreated into the shadows, hiding from sight so I didn’t have to mask my expressions.

Relief bathed my features when I saw Farn and three other Krektar escort a human female inside.

She lived. She walked proudly on shiny black stilts, and she held her chin up high despite her fear.

Her dark skin gleamed in the low light; she was the most beautiful creature I’d ever seen.

Tiny and delicate, with curves that made me salivate—and the hair!

I couldn’t believe the hair. It wasn’t like any I’d ever seen before.

So wild, so fierce, and so curly that it haloed around her delicate face like a cloud of the softest black.

I wanted to sink my clawed hands into it so badly my palms itched.

Shit, I was becoming a degenerate like these damn Krektar if I could have such lustful thoughts about a helpless human female like that.

She couldn’t fight back. She’d be so easy to dominate, to pin down.

They were headed right for my cell, passing the other males one after the other.

The Krektar were debating her charms and shit; they were clearly about to throw her into my cell.

They wanted me to rape and impregnate this female.

Stars, no—never. If there was ever a time to fight for freedom, it was now, when I had a female who needed my protection.

Farn was ordering me into the light so that she could see me. I didn’t want to because I knew I looked monstrous to her. She had clearly only just come from a stasis pod; she’d never seen aliens before and hadn’t gotten used to all our variations. Seeing me would terrify her.

I had no choice, so I had to get it over with. She’d see me eventually, and I needed to win her trust. I wanted her to see me and not fear me, to see me and see safety and protection. Surely my fearsome appearance would evoke that? Once I’d gained her trust?

Still, I found my ears drooping at the horror reflected on her face.

It hurt to have this female fear me, to find me appalling to look at.

I was a Lacerten in his prime; I was strong and skilled, and my horns had been the envy of my peers back home.

It stung my pride a little, too. I was considered handsome before I’d left to explore the universe.

Not out here, though. As a gladiator, I was called an ugly beast and jeered at even as they applauded my deadly attributes.

I had to think fast now. Since they’d moved us from the Caratoa—the slave ship they’d been transporting us on to Xio—to this rust bucket, there had been considerably fewer guards.

We all knew the Caratoa had been attacked by pirates, and the ship had been too damaged to continue despite winning the fight.

This pirate ship we were now on housed us in improvised cells.

There were many weaknesses to exploit this cycle, and I had far more to fight for now.

When Farn tried to strike me a second time, I grabbed his shock stick, yanked him to my bars, and snapped his neck in a single move.

There. Now there was one less guard to deal with when I escaped.

I threw his lifeless body down the hallway, dismayed to see it land right at the pretty female’s stilt-clad feet.

I knew that they’d punish me with their pain collar, knew they’d hurt me until I passed out. Which was perfect. It would give the female a moment to acclimate to my presence while I wasn’t so threatening. It would give us both time when the Krektar wouldn’t expect me to get to it right away.

None of this was out of character; I’d carefully cultivated this rebellious streak, where I appeared too stupid to follow simple commands, like kneeling. In my cell, I acted territorial and aggressive without fail. They wouldn’t suspect a thing.

As the pain from the collar surged through my nerves, burning me from the inside out, I found solace in holding the female’s gaze.

I felt sorry for her—sorry she had to witness my brutality; it wouldn’t help us build trust. Sorry she had suffered so much pain already, and sorry she’d been ripped from her home with no way to return.

Five minutes I endured, aware that any less and they’d suspect I wasn’t really out.

They were agonizingly slow minutes, but I counted them down diligently.

Then I let my eyes roll back and my muscles go slack as I thudded to the cell’s unforgiving floor.

The pain collar switched off, but I kept my eyes closed.

And though it was hard, I stayed prone on the floor even as the bars to my cell lowered and they sent the female inside.

Escape now was foolhardy. Even if I could endure the collar’s pain, it did render me defenseless. I couldn’t escape with it on.

Then, it was time to wait for the female to calm down and the Krektar to leave.

***

Abigail

They’d left me in the Beast’s cell just like that.

No orders, no warnings. Clearly, they figured that the Beast would take care of the rest of their evil plan without further prompting.

Not for a while yet, though, as he was passed out on the floor.

At least they’d dragged Farn’s body out of the cell block.

For agonizing moments, I contemplated the scalpel in my pocket, courtesy of the slave doctor.

Was it smart to try to kill the Beast now, while he was out?

Would that actually save me from the horrible fate of rape and forced pregnancy?

Could I even do something so horrible—even to a creature straight out of a nightmare, who’d killed without remorse right in front of me?

“Get a grip, Abigail!” I ordered myself in a soft whisper, and I palmed the blade, getting up to kneel on the dirty floor next to his huge head.

How did I even kill a creature like this?

Every single part of him looked deadly. In the extremely meager light at the front of the cell, I could see how every defined ridge and valley of muscle cast shadows on his barely clad body.