Page 47 of Gladiators of the Vagabond Boxset

Abigail

Kitan had put the fights up on the screen the moment they started.

I’d watched through my fingers as Jakar fought and won, and then, a while later, when Fierce did the same.

Kitan cheered openly and shouted instructions or insults as if he were simply watching a football game; it was a little unsettling, to be honest.

It was barbaric—far worse than simply watching an MMA match on TV. For one, these guys were actually equipped with weapons; at least, Fierce had been wielding an axe and shield, and his opponent, a net and spear. Jakar had, thankfully, fought unarmed against an unarmed male.

Kitan explained that the unarmed fights were the warm-up for the more action-packed weapon fights, but they had looked extremely brutal to me regardless.

I was certain Jakar wasn’t seeing straight out of one eye and had a broken arm, even though he’d actually won.

With his four arms, that seemed like the most likely outcome in a wrestling match, though—no wonder his opponent had played dirty.

Never mind Fierce, who’d taken several jabs and cuts before he’d managed to get his adversary disarmed and tapping out.

Then there was the actual arena, which looked like how I’d expected it: a sci-fi version of a coliseum, with metal and stone seating in a circle around a big expanse of sand.

Fancy seating boxes separated the rich from the less rich crowd, and vendors hawked food and drink.

The crowd itself was made up of hundreds of different species, some I recognized as similar to the males on the ship, many completely strange.

Most prevalent was a species that looked covered in feathers—bipedal but with raptor-like legs and winged arms with clawed hands at their tips.

They had maws with sharp teeth, a long feathered tail, and an impressive variety of feathered crests on the heads of what I suspected were the males.

They looked like raptors with opposable thumbs, though they came across as fairly fragile and slender compared to many of the other species.

When I asked, Kitan explained that they were called Xionians and that the tropical planet Xio, where we had landed, was their home.

The Xionians were a versatile race that had managed to remain a separate entity, holding off annexation from more powerful nations near their space.

Mostly, they had done so by being a good place for relaxation for the rich.

They also had enough natural resources to sustain themselves but not enough to become interesting to their neighbors.

“Oh, Thorin’s fight is starting,” Kitan warned me, and I sat up a little straighter to watch, already raising my hands to my face in case I needed to cover my eyes.

I hated it when the violence became bloody.

“Is Ziame fighting with weapons?” I asked as I watched Thorin strut onto the sand as if without a single care.

He was kitted out in a leather kilt of some kind, composed of many thick strips of leather hanging vertically from a wide belt.

Vambraces covered his forearms, but otherwise, he wore nothing else.

For weapons, he wielded only a single long knife and a slightly longer, curved sword.

His opponent was dressed the same, but he had a shield and a sword; it hardly seemed a fair match.

Kitan chuckled as if I’d asked a dumb question, but his entire posture was strained—he was in a lot of pain. “Ziame is always armed. But no, no additional weapons. His opponents will all use the weapon they’re most comfortable with.”

Shit… how was he fighting goons with swords when he had nothing to deflect them with? That sounded extremely risky and dangerous. Why had he ever agreed to this? This was crazy.

Possibly sensing my spiraling thoughts, Kitan eyed me and said, almost gently, “Look, he has knives all over his back and tucked against his arms. He can hold his own. Now watch Thorin; he’s almost ready to finish the fight.

” I tried to see what he’d seen as I eyed the screen where Thorin and his opponent were circling each other, each dripping blood from various cuts.

What made him say Thorin was winning? It looked like they were equally wounded.

Then Thorin made some kind of whirling, fast move that sent the other male’s shield spinning through the air.

The sword swirled around his curved blade, then spun away in another direction.

With a final, decisive spin, Thorin kicked his opponent in the head, and it was lights out for the big guy.

I stared in utter shock, I had no idea the male could move that fast. Had he been holding back all along?

At my surprised look, Kitan chuckled again, but then he groaned and clutched at his midriff with his right arm, the one without a cast. “Yeah, Thorin tends to play with his opponent. He thinks it’s fun, and the crowd likes it.” Then he shook his head. “Dumbass.”

I shook my head. It had certainly looked like Thorin had enjoyed that fight, and I could see why the crowd was going wild.

Maybe not the safest thing to do, to prolong a fight when anything could go wrong at any moment.

I really hoped that Ziame wasn’t the type to do such a thing, but honestly, I doubted it.

He was so levelheaded and down to earth.

For a guy pretending to be a raging beast for near on three years, he was actually pretty calm and composed—a thinker.

There were another two fights between Thorin and Ziame’s bouts, so I had to sit tight a little longer.

Just as the first fight was finishing up, there was a sound, and then Sunder’s face showed up on the viewscreen.

“Got a nav, coming in through the backdoor as we caught some unwanted attention,” he said, and I could see he was running over the space dock, ducking around ships and stacked crates.

I wasn’t able to get a good look, but it was clear he was running with someone at his side.

“Shit,” Kitan muttered. “We can’t leave yet. How well can you shake them?” I didn’t know which “them” they were talking about until Sunder turned his com unit a little toward the sky, and I caught a look at several tiny drones following him.

“What are those?” I asked. But Kitan didn’t say anything in response, looking on with narrowed eyes, hands on the controls. They looked like just a little rotor to fly and a big bulbous body for a camera. Were they tracking Sunder back to our ship, or was it a bigger problem than that?

“I’m not the best shot,” Sunder said with obvious disgust, then he eyed someone at his side for a moment.

“How about you?” he asked over his shoulder, but whatever the other person said, I wasn’t able to catch it over the com.

Sunder turned his focus back to us, never losing his stride as he ran across the dock.

“We’ll take care of it. ETA ten minutes. ”

When the viewscreen turned black, Kitan cursed and appeared to struggle with getting to his feet for a moment before giving up and cursing even louder.

With a defeated sigh, he swiveled to look my way.

“Someone needs to go to the small side hatch and let them in manually. Preferably with a gun in hand for backup in case they need it.” He gestured at his injured leg and the severe array of sci-fi-looking bandages that covered his chest. “It can’t be me. ”

This left only Tori and me aboard the ship, and no way were we sending the pregnant woman into what might be a dangerous situation. “Okay,” I said. “Tell me how to get there and what to do. And where can I get a gun?”

Kitan pointed at what looked like a built-in storage locker at the back of the bridge. Inside was a neat row of large guns and a few smaller ones on a shelf below it. “Oh, a weapons locker right here?” I said in surprise, which netted me the dry response, “This was a pirate vessel.”

I picked a smaller gun that looked like it would fit in my hand and then turned to Kitan for a very quick rundown on how it worked.

Eyeing him as I did so and noticing how badly he was strained by his injuries at this point, I thought the poor guy should be in bed.

“Take the shot now, Kitan,” I told him and picked up the syringe Luka had prepared.

“We need you at your best for the next little while. It won’t be more than an hour now. ”

He eyed the thing with what was clearly distaste, but then gave a sharp nod, the fox ears on top of his head pinned back all the way. “Okay, go ahead,” he said, and I wasted no time pressing the injector to his bicep just the way Luka had shown me that morning.

A few minutes later, I was at the airlock door, leaning to one side so I had the best view out of the small window without being seen.

On my com, I gently informed Tori that Sunder was inbound with the new nav and that she’d better stay out of sight.

I promised her I’d let her know Sunder was safe and sound the moment I knew, but otherwise, she agreed to just stay in the mess hall.

I was expecting Sunder and the new guy at any moment, and I was anxious to get back to the bridge.

I hadn’t been sure if I wanted to see Ziame fight, but now that the choice might be made for me, it didn’t feel right.

I wanted to know what was going on, wanted to be reassured by the viewscreen that he was still alive.

I leaned a little closer to the small window to get another look at the dock on this side of the ship.

It was just a big stretch of tarmac with various spaceships parked all over and stacks of crates waiting to be loaded.

The entire place was busy with activity—small, floating, forklift-like things ferrying crates to and fro—and spaceships coming and going.

Then there were the various aliens walking around.

It was just one big hive of activity, and it was difficult to spot whether any of the moving figures in the distance were Sunder or not.