His first reaction was amazement that any of the locals actually washed their clothes. That was, until he snatched a bit of gray fabric as he ran past, figuring it was most unobtrusive of the lot. One whiff proved the cloth had only been hung out in the hope that the wind and sunshine would remove the worst of the dirt and stench. Obviously, this one hadn’t been hanging long enough to make much difference, although it was relatively easy to tear into strips. He crouched behind a ramshackle shed and managed two braids in short order. As disguises went, it wasn’t much, but it was the best he could do on the fly.
A hood would be better. One like hers. Whatever her name was.
Trag’s daughter.
That she would be the one to attempt to capture and sell him into slavery was wrong on so many levels and amazing on several others. The odds against running across her in such a manner were mind-bogglingly huge.
I should’ve taken her robe. Then she wouldn’t be able to hide. The Nedwuts would find her and—
No. He wouldn’t wish that fate on her, even if she had tried to turn him into a gladiator slave.
His mother would laugh at that. She’d done her best to see to it that her sons could defend themselves against any foe. She probably never dreamed that one of their own kind would be the one to finally catch him.
But she hadn’t held onto him for long, and if he had anything to say about it, she wouldn’t get another chance.
Still, her very existence intrigued him—almost to the point of trying to find her again.
What a stupid idea.
The gods had caused their paths to cross for a reason. If he ever got back to a decent, civilized world again, he would tell Trag about her, regardless of what he’d said to her. Her father had a right to know he had a daughter. What he would do with that knowledge was up to him. Considering his aversion to Davordians and their blue eyes, Trag might refuse to acknowledge her. Although, somehow, Moe doubted she would care.
Satisfied that his hair would at least stay out of his way, he started moving again, keeping an eye out for any other likely additions to his disguise. He couldn’t help wondering why she even bothered to come after him. He was a free man. She didn’t own him and had already profited from his capture. If he’d been in her place, he wouldn’t have wasted the time and effort to find someone who had already caused her a fair amount of trouble.
But then, he wasn’t in her place and couldn’t understand her reasoning. If his own fortunes didn’t improve soon, he might find out exactly what motivated her. For now, however, hunger was a pretty powerful stimulus, and that one slice of pizza wasn’t going to last very long.
Chapter 3
If there’d been any wild animals around, Moe could’ve hunted well enough to feed himself, but so far, he hadn’t even seen a dog. There wasn’t even anything worth stealing on this disgusting planet. At least, nothing he could see. Even the beer was nasty.
His reasons for going to Haedus Nine had faded in the past few hours. Sure, he’d delivered a load of cargo and been paid handsomely, but sticking around was as stupid as it was unnecessary. Anger had brought him to this point. His own unfathomable anger. If only he could determine the cause, he might be able to overcome it. However, this was not the time for soul-searching. He needed a strategy for survival, and he needed it now.
Think, Moe.
As he crept from one shadow to the next, he decided his best bet was to find the spaceport. On any other world, he could’ve consulted his comlink for directions. Not so on Haedus. The computer network idea hadn’t caught on there—possibly because it was too expensive for most of the inhabitants.
Maybe that was what Trag’s daughter was trying to do: get enough credits to kiss Haedus Nine goodbye forever. If that was the case, he could almost understand her actions—as long as those actions didn’t include capturing and selling him. There must be other ways for her to earn a living. Her mother had been a hooker. Even if she didn’t care to engage in the oldest profession, there were plenty of respectable ways to earn cash. She didn’t have to resort to kidnapping and theft.
A soft, scuttling sound caught his attention. Rats? Or were his pursuers catching up with him? Something as big as a Sympaticon couldn’t morph into anything as small as a rat, but Rackenspries weren’t very big to start with. Little better than vermin themselves, Rackenspries were furry and ferret-faced with long pink tails—the way a rat would look if it had evolved into a primate instead of a rodent. They were also inherently nasty, the sort of minions the average villain would hire to do their dirty work.
But was this woman an average villain? Was she even a villain at all? Or was she simply doing the best she could to survive?
Selling her captives as slaves? Well, yeah, she probably was a villain, no matter what her motives were.
He kept moving. A few blocks onward, a more habitable neighborhood came into view. The architecture hadn’t demonstrably improved, but he could at least see a few of the natives milling about.
Until they froze for a moment before scattering like roaches when the lights came on.
Moe couldn’t see any lights yet—daylight was only beginning to fade—but long, sinister shadows stretched across the street ahead.
Nedwuts!
At least a dozen of the snarling, wolf-like beasts were moving stealthily toward his position, spread out in attack formation with their rifles at the ready.
Were they hunting him or one who had posed enough of a threat to their kind that a reward would be offered for her capture?
She would just have to take care of herself. Her continued survival was her business, after all, and she’d done well enough so far. But outnumbered three to one?
Maybe not.
Moe found himself on the horns of a dilemma. If he took a detour around the Nedwut pack, he was pretty much guaranteed to elude his captor for good. On the other hand, could he, in good conscience, leave Trag’s daughter to face the Nedwuts alone? Especially since, given the tightly knit Zetithian community, she would have been more like a cousin to him than a mere acquaintance if things had gone differently.
Except she wasn’t alone. She had her gang, and she’d already admitted to eliminating a large number of similar adversaries. Still, he should at least warn her—shout a warning from the rooftop of one of these rickety buildings or something of that nature.
Then again, Nedwuts probably had a bone to pick with any of the surviving Zetithians. The bounty paid on male Zetithians had to have made enough of them rich for them to keep at it with such dogged persistence. Trag had killed the golden goose paying that bounty. How much hatred would they feel for him and any of his offspring?
Moe didn’t owe her a damn thing. She’d been responsible for his capture and had shown no remorse for having done so. None.
His feet were moving before he was even aware of having made a decision. Circling the building, he was already on a heading that would take him away from all of them.
Let them fight it out among themselves.
Unless the Nedwuts weren’t after her. For all he knew, they could be after him.
He needed a better vantage point. His kidnapper’s lair had been on lower ground than his current position. Unfortunately, the buildings were too close together for him to see much beyond the immediate vicinity.
Turning left, he picked his way through an alley filled with even more trash and rubble than the main streets. Sickly looking vines had made a feeble attempt to smother the foul-smelling piles of refuse, but whatever was in those piles was apparently toxic enough to stunt the growth of even the hardiest plant life.
Another left turn brought him abreast of the Nedwut pack just as they stopped in the middle of the dusty street. Moe darted behind a pile of rotten timbers and held his breath.
“I smell a trap,” the largest of the group said.
The apparent leader swaggered forward and snarled. “What you smell is the scent of that Zetithian bitch, Gehrad. Soon we will have her and enough credits t
o never have to set foot on this stinking world again.”
“This is her turf, Botwan.” the one called Gehrad insisted. “She knows it far better than we, and we know what she can do when cornered.”
Another of the beasts spat in the dirt. “She cannot take on all of us. Someone will survive to claim the bounty on her murderous hide.”
“Are the rest of us are to be sacrificed?” Gehrad demanded. “I would rather be poor than dead.”
Moe winced as a breath of air stole across his cheek. In circling around, he’d placed himself upwind of the pack.
Twelve heads went up, their canine noses sniffing the air.
“A male Zetithian,” Botwan whispered. “Time was, a scent like that meant instant wealth.”
Gehrad snorted. “Those days are long past. We’re hunting a female now. Or can’t you tell the difference?”
“Of course I can,” Botwan shot back. He eyed his compatriots with disdain. “Unlike you fools who only claim to be hunters.”
Gehrad howled with derisive laughter. “Who’s the fool? You or us? But with a male Zetithian nearby, I smell a trap now more than ever.”
Moe thought they were all fools. At a time when silence and stealth were essential to the success of their quest, they were arguing in the middle of the street in a very quiet, albeit virtually deserted, section of the city. If he’d been a little closer, he could’ve taken them out with a wide stun beam. Unfortunately, his hearing had a better range than his pistol.
She would be able to hear them too. They should’ve known that. Unless this was a ploy to draw her out, which Moe doubted. Nedwuts might be vicious and cunning, but he had never heard them referred to as geniuses.
Never ascribe to malice that which can be adequately explained by stupidity.
His mother had quoted Hanlon’s razor enough to imbed the idea in the minds of her sons. However, in this case, Moe wasn’t convinced it applied. Nedwuts might not be the sharpest tools in the shed, but they were certainly malicious.
A brief stock of his surroundings suggested his best bet was to either go up another block or retrace his steps to a parallel street. With the Nedwuts out of sight, he could get close enough to get off a shot when he rounded the corner. Retracing his steps would put him closer to the gang that really was chasing him. If the Nedwuts could smell him, so could she.
Damn. I’m in trouble no matter which way I turn.
Unless he followed his original plan, which was to get the heck out of Dodge.
No. His best bet was to use himself as bait to lure in and eliminate any threats to his survival. He could easily get the drop on the Nedwuts, who were still bickering among themselves, and keep right on going.
“Oh, what the hell,” he muttered. Within seconds, his use of the available cover brought him within range. Setting his pistol for a wide, heavy stun, he peeked around a rusty barrel and pressed the trigger.
One of the Nedwuts jumped as though he’d been pinged in the ass with a very light stun.
He fired again.
This time, nothing happened.
For the first time ever, his trusty pistol had failed him.
With a shout, the entire pack of Nedwuts charged toward him. Suddenly, running back to that woman and her minions didn’t seem like such a bad idea. At least they had weapons that worked.
Or perhaps he could bluff his way out.
Waving his arms, he leaped into the clear and shouted, “It’s a trap! A nasty Zetithian woman and her gang are headed this way, and she hates Nedwuts. Better run for it or you’re all dead meat!”
Their leader didn’t hesitate. He aimed his fully functional rifle at Moe and fired.
Once again, Moe awoke to find himself tied up on the floor of the cell he was beginning think of as his new home. At least this time he wasn’t gagged. To be honest, he wasn’t sure why he’d been gagged the first time. It wasn’t as though anyone could’ve heard him scream.
“So, you’re awake,” she said.
“Yeah, I’m awake.” From his current position, he couldn’t see her, although her scent proved she was in the same room. “But I gotta tell ya, I’m getting really tired of this shit, especially since I was trying to do you a favor.”
“By sending a pack of Nedwuts after me?” she drawled. “I’m not sure I would consider that a favor.”
“Hey, I tried to stun them. Can I help it if you idiots drained the charge on my pistol?”
“An understandable precaution should you recover your weapon and try to escape.”
“Yeah, well, if I’d had any sense, I’d have taken yours. But, no, I just had to be a nice guy and not steal from you.” Somehow, he doubted anyone could fault him for making off with a half a bottle of beer and one measly slice of pizza—although with renewed hunger gnawing at his belly, he wished he’d taken all of it.
“It’s a good thing you didn’t,” she said. “Otherwise, I might not have been able to rid the galaxy of so many Nedwuts at once.”
“You killed all of them?”
“Of course I did. That’s what I do. Remember?” Her callous tone sent a chill through him. Sure, his mother had killed a passel of the hairy beasts, but she’d at least done it in defense of her family, and she hadn’t needed to do that for nearly twenty years. This woman had done the same thing, but her motive was revenge rather than defense. She’d even managed to get them to come after her, eliminating the need for her to hunt them down.
“I haven’t forgotten. Have you forgotten what I said about getting your share of the trust fund? Seriously, you don’t have to live this way.”
“So what? Maybe I like this kind of life. Although ridding this world of the scum of the galaxy is a rather thankless occupation.”
Moe might’ve agreed with her if he hadn’t been among those she was trying to eradicate. “I am not scum. I’m a perfectly respectable businessman who happened to get drawn into a barroom brawl. You’ve already taken my credits. Therefore, you have no reason to sell me or cause me any harm.”
“Maybe I would do it because I don’t particularly like you,” she said, throwing his own words back at him.
“Not good enough. I never did anything to you, and if you’d left me alone, you wouldn’t know if you liked me or not. I know how many credits I had on me, and you couldn’t possibly need any more money than that, unless you’re the greediest bitch— No, wait. My mistake. We’ve already established exactly how greedy you are. If there’s so much money to be made on gladiator slaves, I’m surprised you don’t keep me as your own fighter.”
The lengthy silence that followed suggested she hadn’t considered that option. “If I sell you, I get my money whether you win or lose. If I own you and you don’t win, we both lose.”
Okay, so her logic was pretty good on that score. “But what if I don’t lose? We’d both be rich.”
“I doubt you would win every battle.” Her tone was changing, ever so slightly, with every argument he proposed. If he kept going, she might capitulate.
“Maybe not, but if I could win at least three, would that be worth the price you would get for me?”
“It might be.”
“And wouldn’t you rather live somewhere—anywhere—else?”
“Of course I would, but I had the misfortune to have been born on this world.”
“If you don’t start listening to me, you’ll die here—and sooner than you might think.” Moe grimaced as he finally realized what those heaps of refuse had been: Haedusian bodies, piled up and left to rot. “What happened around here, anyway? Some sort of plague?”
“More like a gang war,” she replied. “There doesn’t seem to have been a clear winner, and anyone left standing didn’t stick around. This neighborhood was abandoned a long time ago.”
“Not much here to spark any plans for urban renewal, either.” He shook his head as best he could, considering he was lying on his side with his feet shackled to a bolt in the wall and his hands tied behind his back. “I still don’t get wh
y you’ve stayed here. Hell, you could’ve stowed away on a ship if you couldn’t afford to buy passage.”
“I have friends here,” she said simply. “I can’t leave them behind.”
“Three Racks, a Sympaticon, and a Norludian? They don’t belong here any more than you do. You really should’ve taken me up on the offer of a ride to Terra Minor. Too late for that now.”
“Why? Was the offer only available for a limited time?”
“As it turns out, yes. My not-so-trusty sidekick appears to have absconded with my ship.”
“So you’re stuck here too.”
“I wouldn’t say that,” Moe argued. “You’re the one keeping me here, sweetheart. If you’d leave me alone, I wouldn’t be stuck.”
“With no credits and no ship? How?”
“That’s my business,” he snapped. “I would’ve figured out something. You keep screwing up my plans.”
She snorted. “Poor baby.”
Moe blew out a breath. “I am neither poor, nor am I a baby. You could get more for me by holding me for ransom. By the way, just so I understand your motivation, how much do you think you can get for me?”
A few moments passed before she finally named a sizeable figure.
Moe laughed. “I had more than that invested in the cargo I delivered here. Seriously, you should reconsider throwing your lot in with me. And purely out of polite consideration, what the devil is your name? I’m guessing you aren’t using Vladatonsk.”
“Since he never married my mother, I see no reason to take his name.”
“Fine,” Moe snarled. “I don’t blame you. But you still haven’t answered my question.”
“You’re the one trussed up on the floor. Why should I answer you?”
“Because in about thirty seconds, I won’t be the one trussed up on the floor. You will, which is what I should’ve done the last time, and then we would’ve been spared this conversation.” A few seconds of thought brought him to the next step in that scenario. “And if I had, those Nedwuts would’ve found you all neatly tied up for them. They would still be alive, I would be long gone, and your dead body would probably be well on its way to being redeemed for the bounty. But, no, I just had to be considerate enough to warn you they were coming. I guess it’s true that no good deed goes unpunished.”
Captive Page 3