Page 34 of Gladiators of the Vagabond Boxset

Ziame

“We cannot risk the new woman. She’s pregnant,” Sunder told me under his breath while the two of us sparred on the mats farthest from our Krektar guard.

I knew that—that’s exactly what I’d told Abigail that morning—but unease ate at me; we needed to move fast. The closer we got to Xio, the smaller our window of opportunity became.

“Tonight, I’ll get my collar off,” I said to Sunder as softly as I could so that not even any of our fellow gladiators would hear.

Out of everyone here, I knew I could trust him the most. Sunder was solid and dependable—he was a survivor—but he also had honor.

“Tomorrow during our workout, I’ll take care of our guards. Then we move.”

His slate-gray eyes appraised me for a moment as we circled each other, and he gave me a curt nod.

“I’ll wait for your signal, brother,” he said, tranquil patience in his expression, which told me he was capable of containing himself until then.

After that, neither of us spoke, focusing on the mock fight, keeping up appearances for the time being.

A while later, I was settling on a bench to lift weights when the Sune male, Kitan, came over to spot me.

I figured this was to talk because, on this journey so far, the male had generally paired up with the extremely morose Xurtal, Pu’il.

Pu’il was sparring with one of the others, though, so it could also be chance.

Especially when Kitan just silently helped me adjust weights and carefully watched my form as I did my reps.

For the longest time, he said nothing at all, though it wasn’t uncommon for the males to joke and talk about previous fights when they had breath to spare.

Of course, I’d never been part of these conversations because I’d carefully kept up the appearance that I couldn’t talk in anything but grunts and had no translator.

The truth was that no translator in the galaxy had the Lacerten tongue uploaded to its database. If I wanted to make myself understood out here, I had to speak one of the known languages, typically the most commonly spoken trader's common.

Eventually, Kitan said what he came here to say, his growly voice pitched low so only I would hear: “You are the sneakiest male I have had the good fortune to meet. Whatever you have planned, you can count on both Pu’il and me to back you up.

Give us a sign, and we’ll fight.” Ah, so he and his friend had spoken about this.

“You know Pu’il well enough to be sure? I didn’t realize you two knew each other,” I said.

Only Sunder, Kitan, and Geramor had previously been housed in cells near enough for me to know them.

Pu’il, like the rest, had only come aboard for this particular flight to Xio.

They had been picked up at another location.

“Yes, he and I were in the same stable for a year. We’ve trained together often,” the Sune male simply said, not in the least offended that I’d asked. That was good enough for me. I couldn’t be picky, after all, and the goal was to free everyone by the end of this revolt.

I needed to know where I stood with these two a little more, though.

Sunder, I knew, had a death sentence hanging over his head; he had nothing to lose fighting this fight, and his matriarchal society made him more inclined to want to protect the two females aboard.

Kitan and Pu’il were both strong fighters; it was likely they’d come out victorious in their upcoming matches on Xio.

“This could end in death for any one of us. You understand that, right?” I asked the male, eyeing the Krektar at the door to make sure they weren’t paying attention to us. The guard was propped against the wall, fidgeting with his gun and clearly bored. Good.

Kitan shrugged, rippling his fur-covered shoulders in a fluid move while he kept one hand out beneath the bar as I lifted.“At least we’d die free.”I couldn’t argue with that.

“Thank you, I’ll be counting on you,” I offered, happy to know that these males were backing me up in my crazy plan to break out. “What we need,” I added, deciding to unburden just a little now that I had the chance, “is someone who can fly this damn ship once we’ve killed the Krektar.”

Kitan chuckled and sent me a wicked grin.

“I’m your male then, brother. Aren’t you in luck?

” He flexed his free arm, wiggling his fingers.

A spark rose in his golden eyes—one I was familiar with—the desire to fly, the true drive of someone who’d sought out space to be free.

I was pretty sure I’d once had that same spark in my eye when I’d been granted permission to leave Lacerten and explore the universe.

“You’re a pilot?” I asked, a little incredulous, because I hadn’t pegged the always restless and active Sune male as someone who could sit in a pilot’s chair long enough to fly a ship with any skill. He was always in motion, and flying a spaceship could become boring very quickly.

“It’s soothing,” he said, then, with a glint in his eyes, added, “And fun!” The Krektar were looking at us now, probably because Kitan had spoken just a tad too loudly, and I wasn’t supposed to be a conversationalist. “Oops,” the male said with a gleeful chuckle, and then he abandoned me to join up with Pu’il and start a practice fight on the mats.

I was left to angrily glare at the weights and snort tendrils of fire in the Krektar’s direction, which served to make them back away.

The rest of the day, I spent carefully going around each of the other males, making it a point to work out with them or next to them so I could check that each was on board with this rebellion.

I even spoke with Geramor, who’d given my Abigail the creeps when he’d started eating the Krektar guard he’d killed.

All day, I was anxious to return to my cell and see Abigail again.

Every hour I was away from her, I worried she was being harmed while I wasn’t there.

The Doc wouldn’t conclude she was pregnant, obviously, but maybe that Krektar Frek would get impatient.

He was a sniveling bully, after all, and with Farn dead, he was in charge of this ship.

***

Abigail

I was actually sort of happy after Thonklad returned Tori and me to our cells.

It was still cold, but the Doc had scrounged up some old jumpsuits from somewhere to wear over our clothing.

It was big on me, but Tori was positively drowning in the thing, which meant her pregnant belly actually fit. It helped immensely to stay warm.

On top of that, the Doc had delivered: both Tori and I had gotten to shower and wash our hair. I felt like a new person—almost. Rebellion? Bring it on! And cuddles with Ziame, too. Now I didn’t need to feel self-conscious about my scent, even though he’d assured me I smelled good to him.

I was pacing in the cell, heels clicking along, when the doors finally opened and the men were escorted back inside.

This time, there weren’t four guards but eight; they clearly weren’t taking any chances this time around.

I hoped that meant Ziame wasn’t going to try and kill any of them tonight, I wasn’t sure if I could handle seeing that a third time.

Ziame, in the light of the hallway, looked magnificent to me, huge, even compared to most of the other males.

His green-scaled skin wasn’t just latticed with emerald on his ears; I could see that the same pattern also curved over his flanks and the outsides of his arms. His wide horns made the hallway seem small, and as he lightly flared out the row of knife-like spikes along his head and spine, he looked super intimidating.

He looked nothing like a human man, that was for sure, but I couldn’t help but feel this primal tingle of appreciation.

That creature could protect me and provide for me; it ticked all the right boxes, and on top of that, he was kind and sweet.

What more could a girl want? The glowing green of his eyes seemed even brighter when he caught my look, and I just knew he was happy to see me.

Even though he didn’t change his expression all that much, he seemed brighter at that moment.

The transfer into the cells went smoothly, even if I could see how nervous the Krektar were, their hands hovering over their pain switch buttons.

They expected trouble. I knew Ziame wanted to whittle down the number of guards, though, so I wasn’t sure if this was a good thing or a bad thing.

I was relieved anyway; I hated how Ziame had paid in pain each time.

Once we’d sat down and eaten our terrible ration bars, I carefully told him about my day and inquired about his.

That felt so very domestic and normal that it was a little jarring—especially after that intimate moment we’d shared that morning.

Part of me wanted to just leap into his arms, but the bigger part of me felt a little awkward. How did we go from here?

Ziame brought up the fact that he’d spoken with every male, and they were all on board with our plan—which almost seemed too good to be true.

Maybe that wasn’t so surprising; living as a gladiator had to be really hard.

But fixing my focus on planning our escape was good, that helped settle me again.

Then he said, “Tomorrow. We’ll do it tomorrow while we’re at the gym.

” His worried eyes focused on me. “I just worry about leaving you here in the cell alone. I don’t like that part.

” My nerves came roaring to the forefront at those words, but I pushed them away.

I could handle this. It was quick, but quick was good.

“I think it’s likely that Tori and I will be with the doctor for some portion of the morning, try to time it then?

We’ll be safer there, I think.” The thought made me nervous too, but it was better to be out of the cells and with Luka, who could help fight if it came down to it.

In the med bay, we’d have access to sedatives and more scalpels.