Zar

by Alana Khan

  An unknown number of Marauders rush through the doorway. I’m in the second cell with Dax, but I can see their reflections in the metal wall. They look crazy as shit. A few are naked; a few are wearing bizarre layers of clothes and blankets. Even though I’m seeing all of this so quickly and through a distorted reflection, the most striking thing I see is all the red. They all seem covered in red. I don’t know if it’s blood or paint or both, but they’re screaming and laughing and singing—their obvious insanity could terrify an untrained enemy.

  They stop whooping and hollering all at once. They’ve discovered the guards in the first cell. There is a long eerie moment of silence and then the sound of intense laser fire. I stand ready with my weapon.

  If I’m not mistaken, I hear laser fire being returned by the Urluts. By the sounds of things, they may have even slain a few of the enemy.

  A moment of calm while the Marauders take a moment to reload. As soon as they step into our line of sight, Dax and I fire. “Now!” I yell to the others. I’m too focused on firing my weapon to look down the hallway, but I imagine Steele and Stryker coming out of hiding and firing into the bottleneck of aliens.

  The fighting is intense; the noise of laser fire is thunderous and nonstop. There is a smell so putrid it literally steals my breath. I have no time to pay attention to anything other than firing my weapon. There are so many of the enemy that even though we’ve killed perhaps a dozen of them, the rest keep coming. They’re just stepping over their own dead, streaming down the hallway, intent upon killing whatever living beings they find.

  They’re slipping on the blood of their comrades, still whooping and singing as if they’re at a party. I could never have imagined behavior like this. There is no organization, no plan, just forward motion and laser fire.

  The way the cell block is set up they don’t have a chance. They’re easy prey with nowhere to turn, just working their way forward into our line of fire.

  Within a minima, laser fire stops. I take a moment longer to make sure there isn’t another phalanx of them on their way. But this wing of the ship is quiet.

  “Ho,” Stryker shouts, “all seems clear.”

  “Females! Stay down,” I holler in a rush. First I count heads of my gladiators. All present and accounted for—good. Then a body count of the pileup near the first cell where all of the action was. It looks like twenty-one dead. I see movement near the bottom of the pile and spray the entire mound with enough laser fire to kill a battalion.

  When I look into the first cell, I see Lurco’s body has been all but obliterated by laser fire. Helix appears badly wounded, but still breathes.

  “Dax, come with me. We need to search for any who might be hiding.” Having seen the insanity of the Marauders’ behavior, it’s hard to imagine any of them could be lurking quietly in the shadows. They would more likely be singing or screaming somewhere.

  “This may not be over. The females need to stay where they are,” I say with authority.

  We search the hallways, cargo holds and rooms thoroughly, but it looks like no Marauders survived. We run into three other gladiators when we’ve almost reached the bridge.

  “We killed a dozen,” Shadow reports. “We’ve searched the starboard side for stragglers. The ship’s clean.”

  I heave a sigh of relief and lead my men back to the cell block, my stomach clenched in worry about Anya with every step. When we arrive there the captain booms over the loudspeaker, “We have subdued all intruders on the bridge. How are things in the cell block?”

  Helix presses his com and weakly relates, “Lurco is gone. I’m wounded. All Marauders are good and dead.”

  It’s only now that I grab Dax’s arm, pulling him to the back of the cell block so he can help me remove the bed frames and release the women.

  It’s the work of a moment to heft the bed frames out of the makeshift wall. There are spots that have been hit by stray gunfire and are covered with black char. I breathe a sigh of relief when I see Anya’s beautiful face, though her pale skin and enormous eyes reveal the toll the last few hoaras have taken on her. I quickly check and see that none of the other women have been hurt, and then my entire concern is on Anya as she hurries to my side and nestles under my arm. She gets so close it’s as if she’s trying to meld into my body.

  “Zar.” She puts her palms to my cheeks, then pulls back to inspect me from mane to toes. “You’re safe!” She squeezes next to me again, hugging me tight enough to almost steal my breath.

  “Yes, Little One. We’re both safe.”

  Chapter Eight

  Anya

  We spend the rest of the day cleaning up the mess. At first, my hands are shaking so hard I’m basically useless. I’m still so unnerved I don’t want to be more than two inches from Zar. I was a boring office worker in my past life. I didn’t grow up in a family that hunted or collected guns. The closest I’ve been to anything like this was...never. I can’t even think of a time in my history where I was ever in real danger. But after a few minutes at Zar’s side, I begin to calm down, and my system moves from high alert to code yellow.

  As I move along the cellblock corridor, it’s my first interaction with most of these...beings. I’ve seen most of the men march past me twice a day on their way to and from the ludus. I’ve seen the women on their way to medbay. But now we’re allowed to work shoulder to shoulder, and I get some up close and personal time with a few of them.

  I’ve only seen Shadow when I’ve been marched past his cell in the mornings. He’s pretty creepy. He looks very humanoid, but he’s one scarred-up mess, with a robotic-prosthetic eye and left arm. No one here is really a happy camper. I mean we’re all slaves, right? But Shadow is like the black hole of anger. Zar mentioned even the gladiators give him a wide berth.

  He doesn’t pay any attention to his cellmate, Grace. Most of the other couples are working together to get the bunks put back together, but Grace is on her own while Shadow prowls around. What a dick!

  All the other guys seem considerate of “their” women, though. I notice the males doing all the heavy lifting. The women seem at ease with their cellies. It looks like they are faring okay. Good, I’ve been worrying about their treatment.

  The Urluts are down one man, two if you count the guy who got injured pretty badly. So since that pile of dead Marauders was unceremoniously dragged out of the cell block and dumped, I assume, into the silent depths of outer space, we’ve been locked in the cell block together with no guards.

  I decide it’s a good time to quietly conspire now that we’re mingling together. I still assume someone might be listening, so I put myself on stealth mode.

  “Zar, is there anyone who’s not on board with the escape?” I whisper when he’s within earshot. “Could I talk to them?”

  “Steele is non-committal. I think he’s worried about his female getting harmed in reprisal if our attempt fails.”

  Gee, that warms my heart. Glad to hear he cares about one of my comrades. Her name is Zoey; she’s in the cell adjoining us, on the opposite side of Grace and Shadow. I’ve tried to strike up a conversation with her a couple of times, but she’s super timid. She doesn’t really talk. I think that educational video of exploding heads we were shown when we first boarded made quite an impression on her.

  They’re both in their cell; she’s basically crouching in the corner, and he’s screwing bolts back into the floor. She’s a tiny woman with nondescript shoulder-length hair. She was kidnapped in jeans and a t-shirt and if I’m not mistaken, she’s wearing a bra. Lucky her! She gives me a shy smile when I introduce myself. I don’t hold out my hand for a shake, I figure being forced to touch me just might tilt her world off its axis. I want to gain her trust, not scare her.

  He’s a humanoid guy except his skin is silver. His name certainly fits. He’s built like a brick house and is sexy-looking in a dangerous sort of way.

  “So,” I barge in pretty much without preamble, “we’re arriving on Hyperion in a matter of days. I’m
told that it’s basically a hellhole where the scum of the galaxy gather and do dirty deals.” I whisper matter-of-factly, “My understanding is that we women will probably be sold off to the highest bidder. We’ll probably fetch a higher price if we’re already pregnant with a gladiator’s baby. The guys will be sold off as well; they know the drill. I don’t see any particular reason we’d be sold off as pairs.” I figure if these two have bonded, this might be a motivator for them to want to escape.

  “I think we’ve figured out a way to turn off the collars,” I pointedly look at Zoey, who’s been fingering her collar since I whispered the word escape. “I had figured our chances to liberate ourselves were good before one of the Urluts was killed and another seriously injured. Now I think our chances are even better.”

  Steele still appears skeptical, and Zoey looks at him expectantly, waiting for him to make the decision.

  “Steele, I think everyone else is on board with the plan. If nine out of ten gladiators are revolting, frankly no one’s going to give a shit if you’re in or out. You’re a slave—they’re going to kill everyone in the uprising. They’re not going to spare you because you didn't participate. I think Zoey would be better protected if you were fighting with us than if you were hanging back trying to keep out of it.”

  I have his full attention at this point. He has an intelligent look about him. I assume he’s weighing all the odds while he doesn’t take his eyes off Zoey for a second. Aww, that is so cute. I think he really likes her—so protective.

  “Where will the females be when we attack?” His look is so serious I imagine he’s running scenarios in the back of his head even as he’s listening to me.

  “The attack will be when you’re training. Usually, they leave us in this cell block alone during that time. Being two guards down, I think it’s a safe bet we’ll be unattended. You guys will be making your move and hopefully kill your two guards, get their six weapons and be on your way to the bridge before anyone knows there’s a problem. At that point, the folks on the bridge will be preoccupied with saving their own asses from a marauding band of angry gladiators. The last thing they’re going to throw resources at is even thinking about the women who are locked in their cells.

  “Worry about yourself, Steele, taking over this ship will be a true battle. I think we women will only be an afterthought.”

  He nods thoughtfully, then eases over to Zoey. He slowly leans in to talk to her, as if she’s a shy baby doe he’s afraid will bolt. He whispers. She listens and then nods cautiously.

  “I’m in.”

  I start to thank him, but he interrupts.

  “One condition.”

  I wait, no idea what he’s going to ask.

  “Zoey’s...fearful. I worry about her when I’m not here. Will you talk to her when I’m in the ludus? Will you take care of her when things go down?”

  “Absolutely, Steele. Absolutely.”

  “Okay then, we’re in.”

  A moment later, I’m telling Zar that those two are on board. He beams at me with pride. Him looking at me that way feels almost as good as when he looks at me like he wants to eat me up—and I mean that in a good way.

  Zar’s busy mopping up gallons (and I do mean gallons) of blood that are coagulating near the door exiting the cell block. The Marauder contingent was truly a ragtag bunch of males and females. When I took a peek at that pile, I saw at least ten different species of aliens. I saw blue, red, green, and gold skin in all shapes and sizes. This was the craziest scum of the entire galaxy squeezed into one pirate ship.

  Somebody’s blood smells like moldy cheese on steroids and I think all of us are working really hard to stifle our gag reflexes. The quicker this gets poured down the toilets, the better we’ll all breathe. Thank God Zar is not asking me to help. I have my limits, and I think I’ve just reached them.

  “Anybody else I should talk to?” I ask, now more confident than ever.

  “I haven’t been able to catch Axxios. For some reason, we’re never alone with each other for even a moment.” He covers his mouth and nose with both hands, trying to get a breath of non-contaminated air. The wretched look on his face when he gets back to mopping tells me he was unsuccessful.

  “Axxios?” Sorry, it’s hard to keep them all straight.

  “He’s....” He leans his mop against his chest and encircles his neck, fingers three inches away from his fur. “Big. And gold.”

  “Got it, thanks.” I wander back down the hallway. Shouldn’t be hard to find Axxios.

  He’s a big man, and yes, his neck is...well he has no neck. His muscles just go from shoulder to head. He’s a gorgeous shade of luminous gold.

  “Axxios?”

  He looks up, politely nods at me, then bows. Sooo not what I expected.

  “You are Zar’s mate?”

  Well, I never thought of it that way, but, “Yes. I guess I am.”

  Axxios continues with formal introductions as he courteously motions for his cellmate to join us. “May I introduce Brianna?” She smiles cordially. “Brianna this is…?”

  “Oh, sorry.” I hold out my hand, “Anya. Zar’s...mate.”

  “Zar is?”

  “The lion guy,” I offer. “Down there,” I point to him, now mostly covered in stinky alien blood at the end of the hall. They wave at each other cordially. Could this get more surreal?

  I give Brianna a quick once-over. She’s a BBW, cute in a quiet, unassuming librarian kind of way. How she manages to look positively prim in that flimsy nightgown escapes me.

  I figure I’ll just launch into it before they offer me tea and crumpets. I lean close and whisper, “We’re planning a revolt.” Oh, this is a hard audience. Poker faces, both of them.

  I explain about Hyperion, being sold when we get there, the fact that the collars can be turned off, and all I receive are dispassionate stares. Are these two alive or are they wax figures?

  “May I ask who is going to fly this ship after we...dispose of the captain?” Axxios inquires good-naturedly.

  “We can’t kill the captain. We’re going to have to collar him and watch him 24/7.” 24/7? He won’t know what that means. Like a hawk? No. “We’ll have to watch him constantly,” I amend.

  “Would you be amenable to me flying the craft?”

  What? Either he’s delusional or we just stepped into the best piece of luck in the history of the universe.

  “Excuse me? Did you just imply you know how to pilot one of these things?”

  “Well, I haven’t captained a ship this small for many annums, but yes, I am authorized to fly a ship of this class. I was in the group that was on the bridge today. I got an excellent look around after we dispatched the Marauders. I can absolutely fly this craft.”

  I want to yell “holy shit,” do a victory dance, and high five handsome no-neck guy, but I think he might look at me like I’m a turd in the punchbowl, so I say only, “You, sir, have made my day.”

  “Yes indeed, what could be better than being attacked and almost killed by a troop of Marauders?” he asks with a deliciously wry sense of humor.

  “I think I like you, Axxios. So can I count you two in?”

  The two huddle together, well, not too close of a huddle; wouldn’t want to touch each other in front of strangers, would they? It doesn’t take long before they give each other the smallest of smiles and in unison tell me, “We’re in!”

  Chapter Nine

  Zar

  Perhaps our captors took pity on us; first, the males and then the females were allowed into the ludus to shower. None of us smelled very fresh, but because of all that blood from the Marauders clinging to my fur, I was the worst. My tail dragged through a river of it, even though I’d tried to keep it in the air.

  Another “bonus” is that we got some kind of rations other than the ubiquitous bars Anya says taste like glue and sawdust. I’m not sure what they served us was much better than our usual fare. It was tinned meat and starch of some kind, possibly rations hidden in st
orage in case we were stranded in space. I overheard a couple of the women in the cell block begging for bars after opening their cans.

  Anya sniffed hers, delicately dipped the tip of her tongue in it, pronounced, “Tastes like Sweet Sue Chicken and Dumplings,” and dug in. I followed suit. I’m not sure what Sweet Sue Chicken and Dumplings are, but I will guarantee little Anya enjoyed it far more than I did.

  The tins are now rinsed and placed outside our cell, we’re sitting on the bed, and Anya is swinging her legs. I’m content just watching her.

  She reaches out and runs her fingers through my mane. I’m always surprised at her little moments of genuine affection, and even more surprised at how deeply they please me.

  “I was worried about you today.” She looks into my eyes, her palm on my cheek.