Page 9

Chapter Five

Orbiting Earth

Onboard the Conqueror.

V ic hadn’t been able to sleep, thrust into a world not of her choosing. She tried to think of ways to escape but ended in the same spot, here, in a bunker beneath Ande, on a spaceship orbiting Earth.

Trapped.

Running a fingertip over the neck device, she winced at the raw skin where she had tried to scratch it free.

Snores peppered the barracks. A dim glow illuminated the path to the ablutions.

Her cheeks warmed, and she ran her hands along her thighs.

Before light’s out, men and women had disrobed, standing in the sol rays without shame.

Ande had stared at her, his lips curling, as if her clothing was hideous.

Sure, it was stained and brown, but then working on machinery would ruin her best clothes.

Though, nothing she owned could compare to the soft pants he’d given her.

She rolled her lip to swallow a whimper.

Her things were gone, lost forever, along with her cycle.

She had nothing and no one. Gathering the thin blanket around her, she crushed her shirt’s hem in her fist. Fire ebbed and flowed, climbing up her chest to squeeze her throat.

She blinked back the tears brimming on her eyelashes. Farg, I hate my pa.

Sucking in slow breaths, she struggled to clear her vision. This was her life…for now. Her ma hadn’t raised a fool. Vic was a hard worker. She would knuckle down and earn her freedom.

A low drone began, building in volume until it vibrated the beds. She flung the blanket aside and her legs off the bed as the other captives did. The boy with the busted arm sported a cast.

Relief was swift to slump her shoulders. At least, medical treatment wasn’t denied to them.

Ande rolled off his top bunk and glowered. So, not a morning person?

“Get dressed.” He gathered her folded garments and shoved them at her.

“Canteen is a free-for-all. If you want the most palatable food, you get there first.” He stomped off after yanking on similar clothing to yesterday’s.

Watching him disappear into the ablutions, she hurried to snap her boots on, not wanting to lose her one ally, as grumpy as he was.

“Mm, you’re too old for this. Where’ve you been?” With her hands on her hips, a dark-skinned, black-haired girl smiled at Vic.

“Working my sol farm.” Vic rose, forcing the girl back.

“Name’s Fiona.”

Vic stared at the outstretched hand. ‘Nice to meet you’ seemed trite.

“Vic,” she muttered and took the offered hand for a quick shake.

“Got to get food.” She darted around Fiona for the canteen.

Used to odorless, cubed pastes, the unusual aromas were intriguing.

She hoped it was edible and would assuage the ravenous monster in her belly.

A wall of muscle halted her progress. Blond, tall, and solid, the blue-eyed boy side-stepped when she did.

She’d dealt with his kind before, thinking his God-given attributes entitled him to ‘special’ treatment.

A knee to the groin would be a treat. She smirked and dipped her head to hide it. Aggravating him wouldn’t help her.

“Name’s Devlin, princess. Ready for some serious action?” He rolled his hips, his meaning clear, despite his gaze resting on Ande. Why he bothered with her, she couldn’t say.

“Devlin working his magic.” Someone laughed.

His eyes narrowed before he settled his focus on her, at last.

“I’m used to real men.” Lies, but he didn’t need to know that. She patted his chest and slipped past him, throwing an arched brow at Erv leaning against the canteen’s metallic wall.

“Sleep well?” The older man pushed off the wall to approach her.

She glared at him. Like he cared. “Perfectly fine.” She grinned to show him her teeth, all of them.

He grunted and gestured to her to follow. Her stomach cramped. She cast a longing glance at the trestle tables and the colorful food items she wouldn’t get to sample. Sighing, she trailed Erv, hesitating when he pointed at Ande. “To me.”

Ande grabbed round objects and shoved one in his mouth as he clambered over a bench to reach them.

He pressed the softness into her hand when he fell into step beside her.

She sniffed the sweetness and bit into the warm gooey substance.

Moaning, she shoved the thing in her mouth, barely able to chew.

That wasn’t necessary when it melted on her tongue.

Licking her fingers, she asked, “what was that?”

“Sugar bun.”

She slowed to a crawl while she gaped at him. “Real sugar?”

He smirked. “Of course not.” He wrapped his fingers around her wrist and tugged her to catch up. Erv hadn’t waited, but when he reached the massive obstacle course set to the side of the training room, he stopped.

“Farg,” Ande whispered. “Good luck, Vic.”

Cold drenched her spine. A white metallic drum, its diameter about ten feet, spun but switched direction without reason.

Rectangular cutouts made running through the drum more difficult.

Dark red splotches on the gleaming metal suggested blood stains.

She clenched her jaw, praying the red was paint and not…

well, the real thing. Before the drum, massive arms with spiked balls swung across a narrow bridge.

The starting platform was wide enough to stand on but nothing more.

To reach it, she would have to climb a ladder.

The end platform on the other side of the drum held a flag—the target.

She settled a wide-eyed gaze on Erv, who waved that wretched device that triggered the thing in her neck.

“Didn’t peg you for a coward.” He nudged his head at the death-defying contraption.

“Nor am I stupid.” She folded her arms, challenging him.

“It’s too soon, Erv.” Ande slid glances between the drum and Erv.

“If she grabs the flag, Ande, it will determine what training she receives. Mr. Carne wants her in the arena tomorrow. I must know who to pit her against.”

“ Her is standing right here,” Vic snapped.

“ Her should be climbing the fargen ladder.” Erv threw out his arm in a wide sweep.

“Try, at least, Vic.” Ande patted her shoulder as if to say ‘it’s been nice knowing you, kid.’

She inched toward the ladder, then gripped the rungs, enjoying the solid feel of them beneath her hands.

Clambering up, she balanced on the small platform and eyed the static flag.

She wasn’t scared of heights. Some of the solar plates she’d worked on were high off the ground.

Placing her feet with care, she faced the swaying pendulums between her and the drum.

There was a timing to it. Thwack, pause, pause, thwack, thwack, pause, thwack could read as left, go, go, right, left, go, left.

Easy, except for the arrows whizzing across the bridge.

This was insanity at its finest.

Raising her foot, she waited. The unstable bridge was comparable to the platforms she balanced on when she did repairs. On Earth, the wind was at its worst behavior. Here, not a breeze stirred. She could do this.

The red flag beckoned.

“Left, go, go, right, left, go, left,” and she bolted.

Dodging left, she underestimated the moving floor and slipped.

She caught her toes on the edge of the bridge and teetered, throwing out her arms to catch her balance.

A faint whistle preceded an arrow. She ducked, mimicked the action of the first metallic arm and leaped forward.

On the padded floor below was a tumbling dart, as long as her forearm but as thin as her pinky finger.

If that had hit her, it would have killed her.

“Fargen hell,” she growled.

Taking a step brought her close to the second pendulum, as more whistles warned her to duck.

As soon as the arm swung past, she lunged across.

She cried out when a spike scratched her thigh, but she couldn’t pause to check.

Ignoring the blazing agony trembling her leg, she rolled across the bridge, a dart flicking out one of her curls while the third pendulum thrummed past her ass.

The returning swing of the fourth metallic arm descended.

She had a left, go, and a left to do before she reached the drum.

Why the hell was she doing this? A glance down caught Ande’s pensive face and Erv’s nod, his arms folded across his chest. Instead of inching across, she lunged for the pendulum, catching its arm with her left hand.

Its momentum dragged her off the bridge and flicked her up, her legs flying outward.

Ande whooped.

As she rode the pendulum, she grinned but didn’t dare focus on him. Three more to go, but from this angle, she swung from arm to arm and land firmly on the narrow section of the bridge between the seventh pendulum and the drum.

This close to the drum, she spread her legs to handle the shuddering bridge.

Before her tumbled the final challenge. The flag twitched, taunting her.

Seven feet of gaps and spinning metal separated her from the end platform.

Taking a moment to catch her breath, she waited until a gapless path aligned before exploding into action.

When her foot hit the moving metal, she lost her balance and had to leap over a gaping hole rolling toward her.

She slammed into the side, wincing when her shoulder took the brunt of it.

Panting for air, she splayed her fingers on the metal and watched the impending hole draw nearer.

There was no going back. Farg it. She jumped onto the side of the drum, sprinted high along the top, as far as the centrifugal force would allow her, and landed on the platform.

The seconds it took for her fingers to brush the flag’s course fabric sent her plummeting through a trapdoor.

A tear reached her ears despite the whistles and thwacks continuing.

“No,” she cried out, having not once considered the end platform unsafe. She landed on a padded mat, the wind knocked from her lungs. They could make the exit gentler, but she doubted they’d soften the blow of failure.

“What does this mean?” Ande asked Erv.

“No one gets the flag on their first try.” Erv’s words preceded him, then he rounded the corner and strode to where she lay under the massive rotating drums. It wasn’t just one but many, tumbling in opposite directions and often changing without warning. “You did well, gal.”

“Vic.” She huffed and rolled onto her side to meet his gaze. Her thigh burned, but she didn’t look away, just pressed a hand to the wound. Wet stickiness warmed her palm.

“You came close.” Ande crouched beside her and gestured to the elbow she leaned on. She twisted to find a piece of the flag.

“A part of a flag isn’t a win, but it’s fargen close.

” Erv grinned. “Vic for Victorious?” He offered her his back when he strolled off.

“Mm, I like that. Needs something, though.” Pausing when he was halfway across the practice mats, he called without glancing over his shoulder, “Have the medics attend to the scratch.”

“Holy farg, did she get the flag?” Fiona rose onto her toes to see better. Crowded around her were the other captives.

“A piece. It doesn’t count.” Devlin scowled. “Time to spar. Show’s over.” He stomped as he headed for the weights.

Ande helped Vic to her feet. “Can you walk?”

She tested her weight on her leg and nodded. With a last glance, she met Devlin’s gaze across the room. “What the farg is his problem?”

“You were close to beating him.”

Vic spun to gape at Ande. “He got the flag?”

“At his second attempt.” Ande paused by another door, no different than the others. “If you train hard, you might be his equal, Vic. Good thing Carne doesn’t mix genders. Devlin’s a vindictive bastard if he doesn’t win, in the arena or here.” Ande rubbed his shoulder as if he nursed an old wound.

“Right, so don’t get caught in a dark room with him.”

“It’s best to avoid his radar completely.” Ande settled his gaze on Devlin. “Although, I suspect it’s too late for you.”