Page 4 of Gladiators of the Vagabond Boxset

I came to with a pounding headache and adrenaline surging through my system.

My entire body came to life in fighting mode, flailing, roaring, firestarter already clicking.

There was no immediate target, however; I was locked up tight in a cell, my body draped across a tiny bunk bed with zero padding and light coming only from somewhere distant.

Forcing myself to stay still—to assess as calmly as I could—I noted the three black metal walls that surrounded me, leaving a fourth made up entirely of vertical bars. The space was tiny and filthy, with a round metal toilet bowl in one corner that stank of old feces and piss.

The place was illuminated only by a dingy light in the corridor right outside my cell.

A hum came from beneath my feet, making it obvious I was aboard some kind of vessel.

Worse still was the constriction of a pain-collar around my neck, pain throbbing where they’d ripped one of my blades out of my spine to make room for the damn thing.

A pain-collar was something I knew was used the universe over to control slaves, especially the more dangerous and unruly kind used in gladiator rings. There was not a single doubt in my mind that this was what they intended me for.

Standing up, I only had to take one step to reach the bars and look out into the cell across from mine.

The ceiling was low, so my horns scraped across it with a nasty grinding noise.

I groaned when I spotted four of the large primates from my jungle planet locked up across from me.

Their hairy bodies were big and burly, with four arms meant especially for climbing.

Their flat faces held terror and aggression; they didn’t understand what was going on, and they’d see me as much a foe as our captors.

A glance down the corridor told me there were a dozen more cells, and though they were all quiet, each cell had been filled with the planet’s locals.

They weren’t meant as trained fighters to bet on, these were fodder for the arenas, meant to provide a brief moment of entertainment only.

My stomach roiled at the thought that these unsuspecting creatures were finding their doom at the end of a slave’s blade; maybe it would even end up being mine.

Tapping one hand against the side of my head, I noted with relief that they hadn’t messed with my implant.

I tried to reach Akri, dreading the possibility that the connection wouldn’t go through.

“Ziame? Where are you? I cannot locate your life sign on the planet any longer!” Akri demanded the moment I made contact.

My ship’s normally calm and calculated tone held a slight tinge of panic.

“Slavers stole me, Akri,” I said in my native Lacerten tongue. Aware that no language database would contain it, to my captors—if they were listening—it would sound like clicks and growls. “I must still be in range. Can you scan for a vessel?”

“Already scanning Ziame,” my ship responded immediately.

I folded my hands around the bars keeping me in, testing their strength and noting that they didn’t budge.

Maybe if I wedged my horns in there just right, I could use leverage to wedge them open.

I suspected I wouldn’t have the time to do so; they’d be watching these cells for tampering and would activate my newly fitted pain-collar the moment I tried anything.

Pacing away from the bars, I needed only two steps to cross the tiny space.

I lashed my tail angrily behind me as I took stock of my injuries.

There weren’t any of note, just some bruises and the missing blade from the back of my neck.

There was no residual numbness in my limbs from their stun blasts, though my head ached from what I suspected had been a hit to my left temple.

The scales there were a little dented, nothing that wouldn’t heal by tomorrow.

“Located a Battle Class Cruiser rapidly departing the system. Locked in pursuit. I will get you out, Ziame,” Akri said.

I winced. Battle Class? No, Akri was only a tiny little ship, it would be like a tiny gnat trying to take on a Lacerten male by itself.

Useless and ineffectual, Akri would only risk its own discovery—something I couldn’t allow.

Our tech could not fall into the hands of the wider universe—certainly not into the hands of slavers.

If they captured Akri and broke into its navigational console, they’d have the coordinates to Lacerten.

“No,” I told Akri, even if it pained me to say it. “What is the protocol for these situations?” I knew the answer, but I wanted Akri to acknowledge it to me. The ship was quiet for a brief moment, calculating the best reply, no doubt, but in the end, conceding to my direct question.

“In the event of my captain’s capture, when the odds of a successful rescue fall below seventy percent, I am to self-destruct to prevent my tech from falling into the wrong hands and to prevent the discovery of Lacerten itself.”

“What are the odds of a successful rescue, Akri?” I said with a sigh, already knowing the answer.

Dread pooled in my stomach, not for my own fate so much as that of my friend.

If I hadn’t taken a damn nap, I wouldn’t have been caught by surprise, I might have escaped.

Then it wouldn’t be Akri’s life on the line.

Sure, Akri was meant to be just an AI; my ship should have had no hesitation over starting the self-destruct.

“I know you are more than your programming Akri,” I said to it, wanting to give it that acknowledgment before it had to do what it was programmed to do. My heart felt heavy with grief, for losing my friend, losing my freedom, and for these poor creatures stowed along with me aboard this vessel.

“You are not… angry about that, are you, Ziame?” my ship asked in what could only be described as a timid tone of voice.

I rushed to reassure it. “I’ve known from the moment we met, Akri.

I’m glad you were my friend all this time.

I wish things could have gone differently.

” Because Akri was now supposed to end itself, to kill itself, if you considered its form of sentience life. I did, at least, and I’d mourn it.

“This is my fault, Captain,” Akri responded.

“If I hadn’t been running diagnostics, I would have noticed their approach and warned you.

” Self-recrimination. I was sorry for Akri to realize he’d evolved far enough to have feelings like that.

“I ordered you to run those, Akri. This is not your fault, it’s mine. ”

“I should have noticed your elevated heartbeat!” Akri exclaimed, which actually made me scoff out an angry laugh.

“Yeah, and I wanted to masturbate in peace. This was the perfect storm of bad luck and bad timing. That’s life.

” “If that is life, then I don’t want it!

” Akri answered, angry and petulant. I heard that my ship was in pain, grieving.

Hearing the sounds of footsteps coming down the hallway outside my tiny cell, I knew I didn’t have much time.

“Akri, you can’t rescue me from a Battle Class Cruiser, you’ll get caught, destroyed, or end up leading them right to Lacerten when they crack your nav-console.

I’ll survive. I’ll escape. Don’t you worry about me. ”

I didn’t know how to reassure my ship; I didn’t know how to say goodbye to it.

But when my captor showed his face, I could only give it a sad farewell.

Staring a man in the face, one who at a glance looked wholly evil, I knew I needed to keep my wits about me.

Akri responded by fiercely ordering me to survive, I didn’t know what to make of that.

I was torn in two, hoping he’d done the right thing and self-destructed, and also hoping he hadn’t—that he would continue to exist and come find me someday.

I felt it when this Battle Class Cruiser flew out of range of my connection to Akri. Though only our connection cut out, it felt almost like something was ripped from me, my connection to a friend.

Then I stared at the glowing red eyes and the pale, round face with no nose, which made his face oddly flat compared to my snout.

The jaw was sharply pointed, with what looked like a sharp horn protruding from it and capped with gold.

When this guy grinned, he exposed rows upon rows of needle-sharp teeth, partially visible through vertical slits in his cheeks.

To me, he said in this quadrant's traders’ common, “Well, look at you. I think I’m going to make a fortune on you.

” I eyed him, snorted hard through my nostrils, and then clicked my firestarter and sent a plume of fire arcing his way—just enough to make him back up, not enough to hit him.

He grinned wider, threw back his head, and laughed. “Oh yeah, a fortune.”