Page 48 of Gladiators of the Vagabond Boxset

A hard thud on the outside hatch had me jumping back in shock, and then suddenly, Sunder’s fearsome face was peering in through the small window.

Heart pounding from fright, I hurried to pull the hatch open.

I struggled with the heavy weight of the thing, using the manual opening mechanism and not the automatic one like we’d used in the hangar bay of the ship.

As soon as the door started opening, Sunder shouldered his way in, then leaned out to pull someone up from the tarmac.

A moment later, two bags were thrown inside, and a woman followed the big gladiator into the small airlock.

The two barely spared me a glance but instead quickly shut the hatch, leaving only a tiny crack, then peered out as if checking whether they were followed.

“See any?” Sunder rumbled in his low, gravelly voice.

“No, I think we took care of them all. They won’t be able to guess which ship we boarded out of the dozens there.”

The female didn’t speak English or any Earth language I could recognize, though, much to my surprise, she looked entirely human. Her hair was a shocking shade of red, and her eyes—when she finally glanced my way—were this beautiful shade of gold. That was definitely not human.

When she straightened to her full height, I realized she and I were the same size, which was a surprise because I rarely met a girl as tall as me.

She cocked her head, red hair sliding over well-shaped, muscular shoulders.

This chick was stacked. Wearing a tank top and work pants with scuffed boots, covered by a long leather duster, she clearly looked like one tough lady.

She looked like she could bench-press me if she felt like it.

Still, when she moved to turn toward me and get a good look, she moved gracefully, womanly.

She might be tough-looking and strong, but she was all woman, with makeup highlighting her striking eyes and red coating her full lips.

She smirked at me. “Well, hello there. Aren’t you a cute one?

” I had the unsettling feeling that this woman didn’t generally think much of other women.

She shrugged her shoulders and then strutted to the airlock exit. “Show me what I’ve got to work with, then, Sunder the supposedly dead one.” Another cocky smirk was aimed at Sunder, who looked pensive and maybe a little miffed, though that was hard to tell since he always looked growly and fierce.

I was about to pass the new nav to point the way to the bridge when Sunder grabbed my arm and held me back.

“I’ve got what we need. Strewn, it’s a shipyard two weeks out from here.

” From the excited tone of his voice, I knew he was happy that he’d managed that part of his task, arguably the hardest part.

“That’s fantastic, Sunder. I guess we’ll be headed that way the moment the others return.” As he let go of my arm, I gently patted his shoulder, not in the least surprised that, unlike the insides of his palms, the skin there felt pretty much exactly like touching stone, except it was warm.

The tall, red-headed woman behind me scraped her throat in what was obviously annoyance. “Are you guys always this slow?” From the corner of my eye, I saw Sunder glare at her disrespectful attitude, and I matched his glare.

“This way,” I said, gesturing for her to finally head out of the airlock. As we started walking, I told the Tarkan male, “Sunder, can you let Tori know you’ve returned?”

At my words, the male brightened considerably, and with a nod, he shouldered the two bags our new nav had brought a little higher. “I’ll drop these in your cabin.” We split up in the corridor, and I led the new female toward the bridge while Sunder headed for the cabins and mess hall.

“Welcome aboard,” I said, trying to be friendly even though the female was making me a little uncomfortable.

She was probably just rough around the edges; a little abrasiveness was to be expected from a woman picking up a job like this on her own.

That was risky, after all. “I’m Abigail. What can I call you?”

She appraised me again with those sharp gold eyes.

“Abigail, huh? Human, I presume? Freed slave just like the rest of this lot?” I couldn’t tell if there was any judgment in her tone of voice, so my spine stiffened, worry curling in my belly.

Was this going to be a problem? Did we need to make sure she didn’t send out any comms?

Shrugging, I said, “What makes you say that?” striving for nonchalance without confirming what she said was true.

But a pit of worry was opening up in my stomach.

I should have thought of this problem; we should have prepared for it.

Although it wasn’t as if we had much choice, either.

If we wanted to fly anywhere, we needed a navigator.

The woman raised a shoulder to her ear. “I have eyes. And Sunder’s face has been plastered on posters all over the city for weeks, announcing his match.

” Exactly what we’d worried about—so he’d been recognized.

At least he’d shaken his tail and gotten us a nav.

Though it remained to be seen if we could work with her, she still hadn’t given me her name.

When we stepped onto the bridge, the female’s eyes immediately went to Kitan, who was sagged out in the pilot’s chair. He straightened with a wince the moment we arrived, and then his eyes widened and stayed locked on our new nav. “Sune,” he said in a growl, which didn’t sound friendly at all.

The female shrugged and acted as if his hostility didn’t matter.

“So are you.” Well, that cleared up the species thing—not!

The woman looked nothing like Kitan; they couldn’t be the same species.

But listening to their speech, I could vaguely tell that they spoke something that sounded similar, even if my translator deposited it all in my brain as if I had just understood my own native tongue.

My attention was drawn to the viewscreen before I could ask anything because I suddenly saw that Ziame was moving onto the sand.

A close-up showed me his fanged mouth as he roared for the public, his spikes standing up straight all over his body.

“It’s started!” I yelped rather awkwardly, and I felt embarrassed when both Kitan and the newcomer turned to look at me in surprise.

Then the woman popped a hip against the nav console and eyed the viewscreen. “Ah, yes, the big fight with the Beast, two back-to-backs. I heard: impossible odds.” She sent a lazy look my way. “Hadn’t pegged you for a fan, pretty girl.”

I didn’t have an answer for a moment, rather insulted and shocked by her demeanor, but it was Sunder, who’d just stepped onto the bridge, who put her in her place. “That’s enough, Diamed. That’s the first mate you’re trying to insult there.”

The woman—Diamed, apparently—straightened and frowned my way. “First mate? Her?” This was the first I’d heard of it too, but I tried to pretend I’d always known that. I figured the males thought I was, because Ziame was captain. Who knows?

Pointing at the viewscreen, I indicated Ziame.

“And that there on the sand is your captain, and you better believe he’s coming back.

” I focused on Kitan. “All the betting closed yet on his fights?” I was suddenly filled with the desire to show how confident I was in his ability to come back.

I wasn’t about to let this ‘Diamed’ think I was worried.

He nodded. “They’ll open up the betting for a brief window after the first fight.

You betting on your male?” When I nodded sharply, he grinned with his scary fox-like snout—a big, cheeky grin that showed all those sharp teeth.

“I think I’ll do the same. We’ll put all the credits we found in the crew cabins on him, yeah? ”

“You can do that from here?” I asked, my eyes already focused on Ziame and his first three opponents. They looked fearsome and scary to me, but as they neared my male, I realized—just as the guys here would say—that they were nowhere near Ziame’s size.

Two were the same species, burly and muscled; they were red-skinned and covered with intricate swirling marks, but otherwise looked human.

I’d seen one of their kind before aboard this ship, the gladiator who’d sadly died in our uprising.

These two seemed to be working in tandem, each equipped with a spear and shield as they tried hard to flank Ziame.

The third male was a little bigger and less human-looking.

His skin was black and cracked-looking, with deep purple running between the fissures.

His head was adorned with two horns, far smaller than Ziame’s impressive set but lethal-looking nonetheless.

His hair was like a lion’s mane: wild, thick, and strikingly purple.

Clawed hands and feet added another dangerous element, and I figured that weird-looking skin was as tough as Ziame’s.

He held a long blade, a sword much like one of those two-handed medieval weapons—and wielded it effortlessly as he tried to drive Ziame into the spears of the other two.

“I can do it from here with the creds, but if we win big, we might need to ask the others to cash us out to gold,” Kitan spoke, but his words hardly registered.

“As long as we can get out of here as soon as possible.” I waved my hand at the new addition now sitting at the nav console, her large duster draped over the back of her chair.

Sunder came to stand at my shoulder then said, “He’s keeping the sun at his back.

That’s smart.” I eyed the fight again, watching how Ziame had managed to keep all three in front of him while he caught a spear thrust on his bladed forearm and twisted, breaking the spear shaft.

“Yes!” I cheered, but then gasped when the second spear went under his guard and caught him in the side.

“No!” Heart pounding, I frantically searched for any sign of blood, but on his dark green scales, I couldn’t tell.