Page 31 of Hooded (Gladiators of the Gryn #5)

FERN

Klynn holds his pulsar pistol in both hands up next to his handsome face, his dark eyes fixed on the door, every inch of his magnificent body, still somewhat streaked with dirt and blood, poised for action.

The door opens.

“Slowly.” I say quietly to Narlix as her beak appears. “We’re armed and you don’t want to attract attention.”

She hesitates briefly, then steps out of the lab, the doors closing behind her before she carefully looks, first at Klynn, whose jaw has gone slightly slack, then at me.

“He agreed?” Narlix says.

“We don’t have many other options, do we?” I respond. “It’s not like we’re staying here while I’m sold off and he’s made to fight to the death.”

Narlix gives Klynn a brief up and down glance. “He’s a gladiator,” she says. “It is his stock in trade.”

“I fight,” Klynn snarls. “I don’t die.”

“Then you have a use other than filling a female’s belly,” Narlix retorts.

It seems there is little love lost between these two, and I don’t have time to unpack it.

“Does Lord Halfen still have my ship?” I ask urgently as the lights flicker back on, then dim.

“He’s not disposed of anything since you were taken, but it’ll be the last one in the fleet. As you were the last to be brought on board.”

I look over at Klynn. He blinks hard, twice.

“I want my ship. Take us to the dock. I presume there’s an umbilical connecting all the ships?”

“There is, but to use it in this nebula…” Her voice trails away.

“I’m not leaving without my ship,” I growl.

She shrugs, and Klynn shoves his pulsar into her side, clamping his hand on her shoulder.

“What are you doing?” Narlix says with some alarm.

“If we’re caught, you don’t want Lord Halfen thinking you helped us,” he says, voice low and dangerous. “You want him to think you were forced. That way, you’ll stay alive.”

I feel warmth run through my chest. Klynn is absolutely correct. He might not care much for Narlix, but he’s not going to let her die unnecessarily.

“It’s this way,” Narlix says, moving ahead of us and heading away down the passage.

Klynn flicks out a wing, curling it around me briefly as we follow her through the ship to a travel tube.

“We need to go down,” Narlix says, opening the tube up.

Klynn’s wings flare at the sight of the small space.

“What’s wrong, gladiator ?” Narlix asks.

“I was dropped down a similar tube recently, landed on my head,” he says.

“I’d say unlikely to have caused you any lasting damage,” Narlix snorts, stepping into the tube.

I follow as does Klynn. He turns within the tube, and I get a face filled with fragrant feathers. Feathers which bristle with anger and concern. I slide my hand into those soft ones at the base of his wings and feel him relax as the tube closes up and then drops like a stone.

“Vrex!” Klynn growls.

“It’s the nebula affecting the systems,” Narlix shouts over the sound of grinding metal. “The brakes will kick in soon.”

I cling to Klynn, holding tight to his hard body, the sickening descent not filling me with confidence the braking system for the tube is going to work.

Until we come to a sudden, violent stop. I’m thrown hard against Klynn, and Narlix is plastered against the wall.

“The gravity is also being affected,” Klynn says to her, as if this is an everyday occurrence to him. “So, you’ll need to take care.”

The tube opens, and with my hand in his, he stalks out.

We’re in the docking area of the pirate ship. It’s vast but in disarray. It’s clear the forcefield keeping the vacuum of space out has failed at least once, causing some considerable destruction.

But also ensuring there are no living things down here.

“The umbilical entrance is over there.” Narlix points to a small airlock on the other side of the dock.

“You need a suit,” Klynn says to me.

“So do you.”

“They don’t make them Gryn sized,” he responds as he stalks over to a locker and wrenches it open, pulling out an anti-grav space suit and handing it to me.

I hold it up. It’s made for a Tormelek and has to be five sizes too big.

“They don’t make them for humans either.”

“It’ll fit. Get it on before the forcefield loses integrity again,” Klynn says, handing a set of anti-grav boots to Narlix as he pulls on a pair himself before grabbing a couple of re-breathers.

I pull on the suit. It is far too big, as I expected, but as I pull it up over my head, I see the small patch which will shrink it to fit. I’ve never liked these things, as I always feel like a piece of shrink-wrapped meat, but I mentally pull up my big girl pants and slam my hand on the patch.

The suit sucks itself around my form just as the artificial gravity fails around us. Our anti-grav boots take hold as debris rolls past us.

“We need to go,” Narlix says. “We’ll be out of the nebula soon.”

Klynn gives her a sharp look and sets off towards the umbilical entrance. I follow, soon puffing hard at the additional work it takes to lift and place my feet in the boots. All the time, we have to watch for floating pieces of junk which do their level best to knock us off the skywalks over the dock area.

By the time we reach the umbilical, I’m already exhausted. The airlock opens, and I see the waving, bouncing tube which will lead past a procession of ships before reaching mine.

My ship. She’s still there, and freedom is in our grasp.