by Alana Khan
I watch in slow motion as my mother is dragged to Khour. She fights, trying to pull away but she’s no match for the two large males who have her in their grip. I never realized until just this moment how courageous my mother was to fight them in the face of all their weapons. She stood up to them with nothing but a hayfork. Even after being beaten and ravaged she still fought them.
“Kneel,” Khour ordered.
She didn’t answer back, just slowly shook her head. He ordered it again, but she continued to shake her head until he grabbed the broadsword offered by the Skylosian chief, strode the five paces to her, and sliced her head off.
My eyes slam closed. I wish I could shut out the vivid picture inside my mind—the way her head fell from her shoulders and landed on the ground.
Prying my eyes open, I force myself back to the present. I can’t stay in the past one moment longer. I stare at Willa, hoping it will calm and comfort me, but it doesn’t work. She’s attuned to me and knows something is terribly wrong. Her concerned gaze undoes me.
I can’t speak. The only way I can function is to put my features on lockdown so tightly nothing moves so no emotion can escape. But it doesn’t work. I feel the telltale tightening in my chest that signals I’m about to shift. I haven’t done so in front of anyone since I came aboard the Fool’s Errand.
Kill him. WarDog is enraged, growling, snarling, his fangs are dripping with the desire to rip out the throat of the enemy in front of us. I can’t stop him. I throw myself to the floor and feel the painful process as, in a matter of modicums, my bones change form, muscles rearrange, and my face grows a muzzle. The growl that tears from my throat catches everyone’s attention.
I’m sentient in my canine form, just more bestial. I’m a predator with heightened senses and single-minded purpose. Ten annums in the arenas where he was forced to fight for his life has changed him from a hunting companion to a killer. WarDog wants him dead and so do I. He killed my mother and members of our tribe, decimated our pack.
He is my enemy. Attack! WarDog growls and snarls then lunges at one of the screens and bites it until I hear a satisfying crunch although his mouth is pierced with pain.
Zar and Shadow jump from their seats, grab him by his mane, and yank him back from the broken screen. He growls loudly, saliva and blood dripping from the cuts in his mouth. The males are strong, but he continues to lunge, trying to break free of their grip. WarDog is out of control.
WarDog stop, I command him but I can’t force him to let me shift back.
Willa rushes to him and in spite of the males trying to keep her away, she pushes in and wraps her arms around his neck, whispering calmly into his ear. WarDog resists for a moment, then responds to her gentle touch and voice. I shift, shuddering in her arms.
“Does he do this often Willa?” Zar asks. I’m shocked at how calm he sounds after what just happened. This is one of the many traits that has earned him the title of captain.
“I wasn’t aware of any shifts since we came aboard.”
The room is silent. Everyone is looking at me. I swipe my mouth with my palm and see blood. When I glance at the vidscreen I see the bite mark.
“Care to tell us what’s going on?” Beast asks.
I pull a small shard of glass from my tongue. I’m mortified at my loss of control and that WarDog damaged the vidscreen, but I owe them an answer, “I know that male. I have reason to hate him. He’s responsible for the destruction of my home, the deaths of my tribe, my capture, and the ten annums of fighting, locked in my canine form,” my voice is the same timbre as the growl still resonating from WarDog that I’m barely able to restrain.
“I guess we know what your vote will be,” Zar says. “Let’s reconvene in two hoaras. Enjoy Maddie’s feast.”
Willa’s wide eyes and open mouth indicate her shock at my behavior. My gaze darts from hers and I see similar looks on the faces of the females in the room. The males are all standing with a protective arm around the females with looks of concern mixed with understanding. A wave of guilt washes over me. I terrified the females, terrified Willa. I need to gather control.
“Give me some time in my room,” I say as I hurry past her, not wanting to get too close for fear of scaring her even more. Everyone clears a path for me to leave. Filled with shame, I put my head down and rush from the room.
As soon as I’m inside my cabin, I rest my back against the cool metal and force myself to breathe.
Kill him, WarDog insists.
Calm! Is my response.
Placing my palms against the hard surface of the door I return to the present because some of my thoughts are still lodged in the past—in the burning village on Skylose.
I look around the room which holds no personal belongings because I have none. I inventory every stick of furniture and metal rivet on the walls.
I occupy my brain by counting rivets. It soothes me. I allow the past to fade back into my memory. When that doesn’t work, I try to shove it back. The picture of my mother’s beheading fades to gray, then becomes smaller, then finally disappears. I believe I was happier when I had no recollection of my early life.
As I regain some semblance of peace, my canine stops his furious pacing in my head.
Kill our enemy, tear out his throat, protect Willa. He spears me with his angry stare.
He’s practically frothing at the mouth, pushing hard to be released to hunt and kill. He spent too many years in the fighting pits—I can’t let him control me. Now he's embarrassed me in front of the males I’m coming to regard as friends. He scared Willa and the other females.
What if I shift and can’t change back? I stand over him in my mind, asserting my authority and commanding his obedience. I force him to submit and push him into a corner of my mind until he sits, his head hanging and his eyes cast down.
I hold onto the only thing besides Willa that can give me comfort. Revenge. Zar just gifted me many things. He told me the name of my enemy and gave me the means to vanquish him. I will not rest until that male is dead.
Willa
Bayne’s been gone for at least an hour. I gave him space, but now I wonder if he could use the company of a friend, or at least some food.
I juggle a tray heaped with food as I knock on his door. When he doesn’t answer, I call, “Bayne! I thought you might be hungry. I’ll just leave this plate on the floor out here. Are you okay?”
After waiting a moment, I set the tray down and move to leave. Relief floods me as I hear the pneumatic snick of the opening door.
When I see the expression on his face, my hand flies to my throat in automatic self-protection. His eyes are slit, his nostrils are flaring, but the scariest thing I see are his bared teeth. Is he going to shift again? I shouldn’t worry. One thing I know is that no matter what happens, he won’t hurt me in his WarDog form.
“Thanks,” his tone is a low growl.
“W-want company?”
If I didn’t know he was alive I might think he’s a statue, that’s how still he is as he considers my offer. I hadn’t realized it would be such a hard question.
“Yes,” he says as he nods tightly. The expression on his face softens and he finally looks me in the eye as if he's seeing me for the first time since the door opened.
After taking the tray from me, he motions me to enter.
“You okay?” I don’t want to be intrusive, and doubt he wants to talk, but as of a few hours ago our status was ‘in a relationship’, so I should at least ask.
He sags onto a chair at the small table in the corner and gestures for me to take the other seat.
“Until recently, I hadn’t remembered much about my time before permanently shifting into canine form. Bits and pieces have been sifting in. Seeing Daneur Khour’s face filled in many of the blanks. How much do you want to know?”
I grab his hand from his lap and squeeze, making sure I have eye contact. Dear Lord, he looks haunted. Whatever is hiding behind his gorgeous golden gaze must be tragic. The answer t
o his question is easy. “As much as you feel comfortable telling me, Bayne. Now, or later, or never is okay. Just know one thing. I’m here for you.”
He lifts my palm in his and presses it against his cheek, then to his lips for a soft kiss. “Such a good female. I doubt I deserve you.
“Raiders came to my village when I was not yet twenty annums old. They set it on fire, molested the females, killed most of the inhabitants. My mother was one of those females. Then they rounded up the males they could repurpose. I was one of those, my function was to fight and make money for my owners. The invaders were led by an offworlder with purple skin. Daneur Khour.”
“It all just flooded back?”
He nods.
“Want a hug?”
His answer is to scoot his chair back and open his arms. I sit on his lap and snug my hip against his belly, pressing my cheek against his chest. He’s naked since his shift. I hadn’t noticed until just now.
There’s not much a person can say to a revelation like that. I won’t even try. What I can do, though, is provide the comfort of my embrace. He dips his head and lays it on the pillow of my breasts.
As passionate as our lovemaking was last night and this morning, what we’re doing right now is far from it. It’s interesting that I feel more like a mate now than I did when we were writhing naked in the sheets.
Chapter Eight
Bayne
We’re in the ludus. Some of us are on the floor, some on weight benches that have been pulled into a circle.
We voted several hoaras ago, with a resounding number in favor of attacking our enemy. I assumed the females would all vote no. From talking with many of them over the last lunar, I’ve noticed most of them have gentle souls. By their votes, they’ve proven their fierce loyalty. They want to protect everyone on these two ships to the best of their ability.
We didn’t want to hold this tactical meeting in the dining room. That’s where we held a party only last night. It’s where we laugh and joke and relax.
No, the place for planning war is in the ludus. Though the females call it a gymnasium, it’s where we practice our fighting. It’s fitting to be here.
Although the females are here with us, it’s an unwritten agreement that the males will fight and the females will cheer us on. I’m hungry for revenge, but above all, I want to keep my Willa safe. WarDog is still subdued deep in the recess of my mind, but I feel his agreement. He whines dejectedly, trying to regain my good graces, but I ignore him.
Erro was one of the males who came aboard when Beast killed his former owner and freed the males of his ludus on planet Trent. His cabin is on Beast’s ship, the Devil’s Playground. He tells us that he and his brother were both stolen from his homeworld. He was sent to be trained as a gladiator, his brother went to work directly for Khour.
“Since I was freed from Plenum’s ludus, I’ve spent every spare moment tracking down my brother, Turk,” Erro explains. “I found him about a lunar ago and we’ve engaged in encrypted communications. I discovered where Khour is, and I know some of his habits. It was only yesterday when I brought this information to Beast that we decided to call this meeting.
“Khour has a sprawling compound on planet Fairea. Although the planet is a tourist haven known for what the females call a year-round Renaissance Fair, it has other attractions like relaxed law enforcement and enough traffic coming and going that smuggling is easy.
“Khour’s residence is in a huge wooded area far enough away from the tourism to have privacy, but close enough to the action to oversee his gun, drug, and slave-running empire.
“Turk reports that ever since one of the pirates threw acid on Khour’s face he rarely leaves his home base. He has a parade of doctors and charlatans coming to the planet. They all promise hope in the way of repairing his face, but Turk says if anything, his face is more ruined than it was before the medics began making pilgrimages there.
“Khour has taken up hunting. Turk jokes that it’s the only way he takes out his aggression that doesn’t involve harming sentient beings. He’s a motherdracker of the highest order.”
“Or lowest,” Stryker quips.
“Yes. Lowest. I was thinking there would be fewer guards on his hunting trips than at any other time of his week. It would be the safest time for us to take him out. That way we wouldn’t have to attack his stronghold. I’m told the compound is like a fortress.”
Satellite and drone footage appear on the large vidscreen. They show the compound from the air. It’s impressive and will be difficult to breach. Turk is right.
A picture of Khour cycles through the vids we’re watching and I can’t control my growl. Willa’s small hand slips around my waist and she tucks her hip closer to mine. Although her presence calms me, WarDog is close to my surface, snarling. Still angry and not wanting a replay of his behavior in the dining room, I force him back to the corner. The lingering taste of blood in my mouth doesn’t trouble me, in fact, it spurs me on.
“The forest is thick with trees and brambles. I propose one male go alone for recon. A single male camping alone wouldn’t look threatening if Khour’s males happen upon him. It could look innocent.
“There would be danger. I think the fewer weapons the volunteer brings the less guilty he will look if he’s apprehended and interrogated. No lasers. It might take several days, but the volunteer can gather enough information so our attack can be a surgical strike.”
Erro volunteers, as do many of the others.
“I’ll go,” I say loudly as I stand. “These pictures look a lot like my home planet of Skylose. I lived a simple life there in the forest. This mission was made for me.”
“I know you want revenge, Bayne. But we all want resolution,” Zar says levelly.
“I could hunt in the woods as my cover story. I’m skilled with a bow and arrow and could kill game and keep myself fed until I see him in the woods. I’ll comm the ships when I see him. I don’t even need to perform the kill, although I’d love to. I’ll give you his coordinates so we’re guaranteed a hit. I can protect myself without a laser better than anyone onboard—I can shift to my battle form.”
I look at the pictures scrolling across the vid screens. The geography is so familiar it could be Skylose.
“I think this is a good plan,” Zar says. “It might take days, but we have nothing else more pressing. We can stay in orbit, keep in encrypted communication, and wait until we have the perfect opportunity.
“I’ll give this mission two weeks. If Khour doesn’t go hunting within that time, we’ll have to run with our second plan and attack his stronghold. The hunting ruse will be the best way to avoid loss of life. Does anyone have another idea? Any objections?”
My heart is pounding. I feel proud and excited. I will kill the male who ruined my life, enslaved me for a decade, and destroyed my village. I will make him pay for murdering my mother. I’ll exact revenge just as my uncle urged when his wise words kept me alive on that fateful day.
“I’m going with him,” Willa stands as she says this. Her shoulders thrust back and her chin tips forward as if she dares anyone to argue with her.
“No,” I state it as a simple fact.
“In the dining room, you just showed us that your emotions are involved. Everyone on board this ship has a stake in this mission going smoothly. You’re the male for the job, you’re correct in that. But I’m the female who is going to support the cover story that we’re just hunting. And I’ll help you keep a calm head.”
“It’s not safe. You’re not equipped.”
“I’m from south Texas,” she says as if that explains everything. When I continue to shake my head, she explains, “I know how to shoot a gun whether it be rifle or pistol. I can ride a horse with no hands, hunt and skin my own food, and camp in the woods for weeks at a time thanks to my daddy and my daddy’s daddy who started taking me on hunting trips when I was seven. Don’t tell a Texas girl what she can and cannot do.”
She folds her arms across
her chest, spears me with a blistering look, and lifts her chin as if she’s daring me to argue.
Although I wonder if this might make her change what she calls our relationship status, I repeat, “No. It’s not safe. This is a mission for a male.”
Every female in the room makes a noise. Some just say, “Ohh,” some hiss, and others say, “He did not just say that!” or “You’re not going to let him get away with that, are you?”
What did I say wrong? I only want to protect my female.
“You’re too emotionally involved, Bayne. I calm WarDog. I did it at lunch and I’ll do it on Fairea if needed. I can take care of myself.”