Page 40 of Gladiators of the Vagabond Boxset

Ziame went first, saying that he could fly small ships and knew the basics of mechanics, which was useful, and that he had a specialty in anthropology, which wasn’t as much.

He admitted openly to the others that his species was highly advanced and had hidden from the rest of the galaxy, and he’d like it to stay that way.

They made some solemn vows that they would keep his secret, and then Sunder moved on.

He’d been a gladiator the longest, having trained new ones for nearly fifteen years, and it seemed he easily slipped into a kind of counseling role.

As the greetings went on, with Jakar, Fierce, and Thorin, it became evident that none of the others knew even remotely how to fly a ship. Ziame was the closest thing to a pilot, let alone the difficult job of navigating, which was a very select skill. Then Thorin raised another issue: money.

Ziame was scrubbing at the spiked ridge on his head, clearly frustrated.

I understood how he felt; we weren’t safe when we had no money, no supplies, and no ability to fly this ship.

As long as we were floating in space, it was unlikely we’d be found, but at some point, we had to get more food.

It was also best to at least vacate our last known position in case Frek had managed to get off a message to his boss.

“Okay, here’s a really crazy idea,” I said.

“What’s our most marketable skill as a group?

These gladiator fights, am I right?” At the nods and interested looks, I squared my shoulders and continued, “So what if we still head for Xio? That’s our current heading, and Ziame can get us going that way at least, right? ”

There were uncomfortable looks now, especially from Sunder, but Ziame had caught on.

“We pretend we’re still owned by Drameil, win our fights, and collect the purses in his name.

By that time, Kitan might be healed enough to get us going, and maybe we can pick up an actual navigator while we’re there. ”

Sunder nodded. “That sounds like a solid plan. Most of the fights planned weren’t death matches, right? Only mine?” He said it casually, like he was telling us the sun was out today or something. Like it didn’t matter.

I swallowed in shock. “Oh no, Sunder, you can’t fight! We’re not letting you kill another enslaved gladiator.” The barbaric practice was really sinking in now, and I felt sick to my stomach for even suggesting this hare-brained idea.

Fierce smiled a wide-toothed, fanged smile at me and chuckled while Sunder scratched at the crown of short horns circling his head. Was he embarrassed? “Thank you, Abby, for the vote of confidence, but, eh… I was the one set to die in that fight.” My horrified gasp filled the silence on the bridge.

I stared at the gargoyle-like male as I tried to understand what he was saying. “What do you mean, you were set to die?” A really bad taste was forming in my mouth now. Was he saying these fights were rigged? Or just his?

With his arm around my shoulder, Ziame squeezed me to him gently.

“It’s very common for a portion of the fights to be rigged.

That way, owners make a lot more money on them.

Sometimes, when we head into the arena, we’re told to lose.

Sometimes, we’re purposely set up in unfair fights, and sometimes, it’s a way to get rid of an obsolete or obstinate slave. ”

Eyes wide, I looked at the muscular, stone-skinned Sunder with his large wings. “And you’ve been obstinate, is that it?” I asked, appraising the stubborn angle of his slate-gray jaw.

Now the male laughed, his gray eyes twinkling. “I am old, female, far older than the rest of the males here. I was a trainer for the past fifteen years, not a gladiator. I pissed off Drameil, and so here I am, slated to die.”

With the stone skin, I couldn’t possibly tell how old Sunder was, and he looked to me as fit and muscular as any of the others.

I eyed him a little more closely, but no, I really couldn’t tell.

It seemed the male took pity on me. “This is my stone-skin form—battleform, if you will. You’d see gray hairs when I shift back, if I could, but I’ve gotten stuck.

” He shrugged and made a ‘what-you-see-is-what-you-get’ gesture.

Oh, okay. Sunder had another shape that he couldn’t reach right now.

That was hard to wrap my mind around. “Sunder’s not the only fight that’s out; obviously, Kitan is too, and so is Pu’il,” Ziame said solemnly.

At the mention of Pu’il’s name, I saw all of the gladiators raise their fists and tap them to their chests in a gesture of respect.

“And I don’t know about you guys,” Thorin said after a respectful pause, “but I don’t feel comfortable putting the Ferai beast in a fight either.

It has no ability to choose this at all.

” The others all made sounds of confirmation, and my respect for the former slaves rose.

Some of them might look beastly, and they’d terrified me that first night; now they were showing they were good men at heart.

“Okay, so how many fighters does that give us?” Ziame asked.

“Five?” he guessed, then shook his head.

“No, our Abby here killed Geramor, so that leaves four out of nine. That’s not good.

” I cringed at the reminder, vividly recalling the way my heel had sunk into the bastard’s ear canal.

I had really thought for long seconds that he’d actually lived through that, but he’d collapsed on top of me in his death throes.

If not for Sunder’s timely arrival, I would have suffocated under the heavy weight.

“So we say we’ve been attacked by pirates and lost half our fighters.

I mean, part of that is true, right?” I suggested.

How common were pirate attacks? Was that a believable excuse?

I didn’t really like that they were actually contemplating my stupid idea, so I was kind of glad that it had Ziame shaking his head.

“They’ll believe that, but they’ll still try to keep us to the right number of fighters. They’ll lose money if they don’t. These fights get promoted months in advance sometimes. Some of us have a reputation, a fan base; they make trading cards about us for kids.”

I groaned. Shit, this universe was a sick place.

Trading cards for kids on gladiators? I suppose this was like baseball to aliens.

“Then what? Xio is not an option, is it?” I sighed.

“Okay, we’ll need to figure out the navigation and a safer destination.

” I eyed the console with the holographic star charts hovering over it.

That was all about calculations, wasn’t it?

Maybe I could figure it out somehow… If only I could read the damn alien script.

“Or,” Ziame said, “I’ll offer to fight all of them on my own—six to one, or two fights back to back, three to one.

” No! Hell no! was my instant response, and from the stunned looks on the faces of the others, I thought maybe they were thinking the same.

I was about to object when Sunder nodded thoughtfully.

“That could work. What do we know of the opponents they’ve paired the dropouts with?

The organizers will probably prefer the two back-to-back fights—more airtime.

Can you sustain combat that long?” he said, raising a hand and ticking off fingers.

“I was slated to fight Doom—big, long reach, and thick skin. He’s a Kertinal. ”

Fierce added, “Kitan and Pu’il were set for a team fight against a pair of Asrai twins.

Telepathic, those two, but no flight and no armor.

You can probably fry them with your breath.

” The others also listed the remaining three combatants and were clearly considering this doable, so I had to interfere.

“Hell no! Are you even listening? No one’s risking Ziame in a fight six to one!

No amount of money is worth that!” I yelled.

Then, in the stunned silence that followed, I swung on the hulking male at my side and poked his scaly chest. “Stop it. I know this was my idea in the first place, but I don’t want any of you taking risks!

We’re doing this to live our lives free—to be happy!

Not to run off and get ourselves killed for money just so some jackasses are entertained! ”

Ziame eyed the other males over my shoulder and then took me by the hand.

“Excuse us for a moment,” he said, and he towed me with him into a room off the bridge.

There was a large smear of blood on one wall that I eyed apprehensively.

In explanation, he said, “Fierce and Thorin got into the ready room and took care of Frek at around the same time we rescued Tori.” Then he firmly turned me so my back was to it.

“I understand your fear, little Abigail,” he said, bending down a good foot so he could better look me in the eye.

“But we’re not talking death matches here.

These are fights until the win is obvious or until one opponent admits defeat.

This is my last chance to fight in the arena for us as well.

I am the only one of my kind; show up at a fight, and Drameil will know it’s me and come looking.

After this fight, I’ll never step foot in the arena again.

Let me do this for my brothers, alright? ”

Worry was still my most prevalent emotion, but I could hear what he was saying and what he was promising me.

I kept seeing images of him lying dead on the sands of some arena.

In my head, it was the Colosseum, as that was the only arena I knew.

It was irrational and far too quick to feel what I was feeling for him, but I was.

This wasn’t love—not yet—but it could be, eventually.

And damn it, I wanted that. I wanted to have Ziame for myself and to make this work somehow, in space.

I knew I couldn’t go back home—I’d seen too much, changed.

I didn’t know how long I’d been gone, but I could guess it was far longer than just a few weeks.

“Ziame,” I sighed, shaking my head, “you can’t get hurt. What would I do then?” Oh man, that sounded so clingy and needy I actually cringed, but when a smile broke out on his face, I couldn’t regret saying it.

He curved his hands around my face and leaned in, pressing his forehead to mine. “Abigail, my sweet-smelling, beautiful Abigail,” he whispered. “I’ll come back to you. Promise. I’m called the Beast for a reason. I’ve dominated the arena for three years, unbeatable. I’ll be all right.”

But he didn’t promise that he wouldn’t get hurt. I guess this was as good as it was going to get.