Page 330 of Gladiators of the Vagabond Boxset

There was definitely someone approaching now, their gait uneven, awkward. I had a sudden inclination that I knew exactly who was about to come around the corner. Pressing my back against the wall, I pushed myself to my feet, my hand finding the knife in my pocket but not actually pulling it out.

I saw the tip of a tentacle first, curling around a corner.

Two shuffling steps later, I was face to face with that weird orange alien from before.

He was awkwardly leaning one shoulder against the wall, frozen in place as he watched me.

I wondered why he wasn’t using his hands for support like the last time I’d seen him walk, and realized he was clutching a bag with both hands against his belly.

Dressed in what was essentially a pair of cotton pajamas, he looked sort of innocent and a little…

broken. Maybe he was a mental patient, or maybe he was just sick.

Maybe that was why he couldn’t walk right.

Suddenly, he didn’t seem like much of a threat at all, despite being several inches over six feet tall, with shoulders that strained at the seams of his shirt.

“Uh, hi. Can I help you with anything?” I asked him tentatively. Despite feeling less threatened by him than by any of the other people I’d met so far, I still kept my hand around the handle of the knife. Nobody was going to get the upper hand over me again. I was ready.

His face wasn’t so alien. He had a nose, a pair of eyes, and a normal-looking mouth.

It was just a strange shade of orange and ocher, kind of pretty, actually.

His mouth tilted into an amused smile, his weirdly white-speckled eyes going wide, as if this surprised him.

Then he spoke in English, with a deeply cultured tone to his voice.

“I was about to ask you that, Miss Kocchar,” he said.

Uh, what now? Since when did the aliens around here speak English?

Since when did they sound so freaking posh?

He must have seen the confusion on my face, because that surprised smile came back.

“I thought I might assist you with the collar here, where it is quiet. The noise in the med bay is interfering with my processing ability.”

The collar again. I touched it with a finger, recalling all too well what it had felt like when it was activated.

Yeah, I really did want it off. I would be much safer when it was gone.

Did I trust this weird guy to do it? He seemed unable to walk well.

If he tried anything, I could probably outrun him.

Heck, with my knife, I could probably take him.

The thought soured in my stomach, but I didn’t dwell on it.

Right now, I needed to be strong like that, even if I hated it. This was about survival.

When I nodded, he shuffled carefully closer, shoulder pressed against the wall.

The two tentacles that sprouted from his head like weird hair writhed and moved almost as if he had no control over them.

As he got closer, I made myself stand up, not pressing away.

I couldn’t do that if he was going to remove the band around my neck.

Close enough to almost reach me if he lifted a hand, the stranger suddenly started sinking to the floor until he was kneeling.

“I apologize. I do not have sufficient control of this body to remain standing if I am to remove the collar.” He had a very odd way of talking—control of this body?

What was he on about? That didn’t exactly fill me with confidence, considering he was about to cut something from my neck.

His hands were steady; however, when he opened the bag in his lap and pulled out what looked like tiny pliers and a weird-looking screwdriver, that filled me with more confidence than the scalpel that Noa had been holding, even though I’d seen her calmly remove pain collars from some of the other humans with it.

Sinking to my knees next to him and lifting my chin, I silently gave this guy the permission he needed to get to work.

My eyes were on him like I was a freaking hawk the entire time, but that didn’t seem to bother him in the least. I barely felt a single thing, but I heard a popping noise, and then a small black square—like the lid of something—fell into my lap.

His eyes were really intense; the pinpricks of white almost seemed to twinkle like real stars.

The collar suddenly loosened around my neck, sliding down my front until I caught it with one hand.

Immediately, I felt as if a weight had been lifted from my shoulders.

I felt better. I also felt like an idiot for running from the med bay, as this weird alien had called it.

The people in there were only trying to help; they hadn’t meant any harm.

I also shouldn’t let it bother me that the other woman, who’d been dressed like me, was acting so boldly while I was a shivering mess.

“Thank you,” I said politely, rotating my head now that I could do so without the constant reminder of my ordeal. Okay, this was good. Now they couldn’t use a remote on me to harm me. If anyone got close, I still had the knife.

“You are most welcome, Miss Kocchar,” the alien responded.

He was tucking away his small tools into the pouch in his lap, his hands moving calmly, confidently, not at all like a man who could barely control the rest of his body to walk.

Maybe he’d been paralyzed or had suffered some kind of brain damage, and his hands were the first part of him he’d regained control over.

That seemed to make sense. If so, he’d probably suffered something traumatic as well.

“Oh, please, just call me Meena,” I responded, finally withdrawing my hand from the pocket with the knife.

A little self-conscious about my state of dress and the streaks of dirt and blood that still covered me, I tugged on the lapels of my coat.

His eyes focused for a brief moment on the coat pocket with the knife, but he didn’t comment on it.

“Very well, Meena. I will escort you to your assigned quarters so you can wash up and rest,” he said.

With a groan, he pressed himself back against the wall until he stood on swaying legs.

They were braced wide apart, a bit like a newborn foal’s might be.

I had to struggle to hide a sudden smile at the comparison.

He really looked like he was just learning to walk.

A room, a bed, a shower, all those things sounded great.

I just wasn’t quite sure if I was ready to undress, or to make myself that vulnerable by trying to sleep.

“I have keyed the room to your bio-signature only,” the strange male said, his back to me as he began his awkward shuffle along the wall, away from me.

“You will be safe, alone. No one can come in. That is your preference right now, correct?”

Did this dude read my mind or what? Yeah, that was exactly what I wanted, even if it was hard to believe that I’d be getting my way. Not that this meant they couldn’t just override the lock if they wanted to. I didn’t complain, however.

“Thank you. What’s your name?” I asked, and what’s your story?

But I didn’t ask that. I didn’t want anyone to ask me about my story right now, so I could hardly probe into his.

I did, however, follow his careful shuffle, daring to walk at his side instead of behind him so I could make eye contact.

Yeah, this guy wasn’t a threat. I felt safe around him; he was too uncoordinated to pose a risk.

That helped, even if I felt bad for him.

“My designation is Akri,” he responded. “I used to be the ship,” he added, confusing me even more. “Now, I am contained in this body. I am still learning.” He didn’t expand further, didn’t seem to notice the utter confusion on my face, and just kept on shuffling on his weird three-toed feet.

It was only a couple of turns to reach the desired hallway, but Akri didn’t go very fast. I was worried the entire time that we’d run into someone, but everything stayed peacefully quiet.

Then we were in a hallway lined with doors, though none of them were decorated like the ones I’d seen on the way into the ship.

He pointed at one door, seemingly at random, and when I palmed the little screen next to it, as my guide had indicated, the door quietly slid open.

“Abigail said I should remind you that you are safe, that this room is yours for now, your safe space,” Akri said, gesturing gracefully with one hand into the area I’d just opened up.

He swayed, seeming to lose his balance before catching himself with a hand against the wall, dropping his little bag of tools in the process.

I wasn’t sure if I remembered who Abigail was, but it was a human name, so it had to be one of the women living on this ship.

“Thank you,” I said to the strange alien, dipping down quickly to pick up what he’d dropped and offering it to him.

He was going to great lengths to try to help me—to reassure me—but it didn’t seem to come naturally to him.

Someone had been thoughtful enough to give him advice about it.

He reached out with one hand to take his bag, his eyes focused on my hand.

He seemed to be struggling with his balance when coordinating more than one limb at a time, and, taking pity on him, I shook out the bag’s strap.

“Here, hang this around your neck,” I offered, and he obliged by ducking his head, bracing his feet apart like he expected to topple over if he did that.

His two head tentacles stilled as I passed the strap over them, and then I considered that it might not feel nice to have the strap pinning them to the back of his neck.

Daringly, I picked up the heavy weight of one and carefully pulled it free.

It twisted in my hand, curling around my wrist for a moment, and Akri gasped, “My apologies, Meena. I have no control over them yet.”